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sagasofazeria · 3 years

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Stranger In A Strange Land

Song of the Seven Suns, Part 1

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @hellishhin

Faulkron Rhodes was a long way from home. He stood on the deck of a small sailing ship, the golden light of the late afternoon sun glinting off of the sapphire waters, searing his eyes even as he shaded them with his arm. Looking past the glaring reflections of the sun, he could see the shoreline ahead, and a port city bustling with all kinds of ships. He was relieved to see land again, after being on the open water for so long. He had almost begun to regret his somewhat on-a-whim decision to cross an ocean and leave the land he’d grown up in. However, with a new land in sight, his faith was reaffirmed. Readjusting his leather armor and his greatsword on his back, he couldn’t help but be eager to see the new land ahead. As he stated at the port, he heard the captain of the ship called out to him from somewhere to his right.

“Hey, adventurer! We’re about to dock in Corias! Welcome to Leinos!”

From what the crew had told him along their journey, Leinos was a young country. Corias was just one of many ports along the coasts of a massive continent, and trade thrived there. Leinos had access to seas that connected it and every country Faulkron had heard of thus far, and more. An up-and-coming mercenary like Faulkron would do well there, he hoped. Supposedly, they were a peaceful nation since the end of the war between Leinos and the peoples further inland, so Faulkron hoped to have luck fighting problems they might not want to solve with their personal swords.

Eventually, the ship had docked, and as the sailors began to unload their cargo, Faulkron took his leave. He walked from the docks through the town, taking stock of the city. He could see tiled colorful roofs, and lots of hanging colorful cloths around the streets, partially shading the many people walking around, going about their business. Clay pots, cloths, art, all sorts of things in a variety of styles were being sold all along the streets, by people who looked to be from all over. He recognized very little of what was being sold here, and realized growing up on a small farm in the middle of the hills back across the ocean in Unterras probably wasn’t the best environment to meet new people. Regardless, he walked on through the city, taking in what he could. He saw numerous guards as well, dressed in silver-painted, hardened leather armor, with blue crests of dyed horse-hair adorning the helmets. An amount of guards he wasn’t expecting for a supposedly peaceful nation. In addition to the guards, he also thought he could make out some sort of fortress further inland, situated on a hill that overlooked the port, hanging banners depicting a blue flag with silver bordering, a stylized crest of some sort emblazoned on it.

He eventually found himself in a town center, with even more market stalls than by the docks. He could see storefronts of buildings on the edges of the square, as well as some sort of pavilion with what appeared to be people drinking and talking. He also noted a statue in the center of the square of a sitting man. He was well dressed, in long flowing robes. He had a thick beard, and curly hair down to his shoulders, his head adorned by a crown. Faulkron, in a remarkable display of intelligence, deduced this guy was probably important. He couldn’t read the plaque beneath it through all the people, but as he got closer he realized he wouldn’t have recognized the language anyways. He looked at it for a little longer, looking for some translation in Common, but was startled out of his search by a voice.

“Hey there. Noticed you looking at the statue, and I haven’t seen you around before. Who are you?”

Faulkron turned to the voice, looking for its owner. In front of him, standing significantly shorter than him (most people did, at his nearly 6 foot height), was a human woman. She was wearing simple light cloths and leather bracers. She had a lyre on her hip and a wooden violin case that appeared to double as a scabbard for the sword on her back. She had wavy brown hair in an undercut swept to one side that was dyed a vibrant purple at the ends, and tanned skin, like many of the Leinai he’d seen so far. He stared for a moment, still slightly confused as to who she was talking to, but she kept looking at him, and there was no one behind him but the statue.

“I’m Faulkron, Faulkron Rhodes. Who are you?”

“Well met, Faulkron. I’m Jetra, I’m a storyteller of sorts. This guy right here—“ she pointed at the statue “—is King Akeron II. He was the last king of Leinos. His son is Akeron III, the current king.”

“Oh. Didn’t know... Wait. Why’d you say you hadn’t seen me before? Isn’t this a trade city? Wouldn’t most people be unfamiliar?” Faulkron took a step back. He couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the ‘storyteller’. She seemed overly friendly, and he wasn’t exactly used to just being approached and talked to like this. In response, the woman just laughed.

“You got me. I just thought you looked interesting. Plus, most of the people here are selling something, so that limits our conversational opportunities, know what I mean?”

Faulkron nodded hesitantly. Was everyone like this is Leinos? It would definitely take getting used to. He thought about leaving, but she began talking again.

“Well, what brings you to Corias? You look like the adventuring type, you going somewhere?”

“Not yet. I only just got here. I was thinking of finding some sort of job board, or maybe some other mercenaries?”

Jetra nodded. “Well, I can get you to either of those. I know a mercenary group that is based here in Corias you might wanna talk to, the Icaon mercenaries. And there’s a job board over by the tavern, near that pavilion there.”

Faulkron weighed the options, but decided a fully fledged mercenary company would probably pay better. “Let’s go to the mercenaries.”

“Alright then, come on.” Jetra began to weave through the crowds, heading further into the city. With a small shrug to himself, he walked off after her.

•••

Jetra was very interested in the adventurer she’d met in the marketplace. He looked to be extremely capable, judging by his extremely strong build. She’d quickly noticed he held himself with strength, and she knew she’d need it if she wanted to deal with her problem. She lead him to the Icaon mercenaries, walking toward their complex by the docks, where they trained and did most of their business. She turned back to her new companion.

“Okay, I’ve worked with some of the Icaon before, they’re generally pretty up-front. You shouldn’t have any issues. So, where are you planning on going? Thinking about heading inland?”

Faulkron thought for a moment, before nodding. “I guess. I just sailed here, so I figure that’s where I should head. Why, what’s that way?”

“Well, there’s the capital city, Anikora, to the east a ways, along the coast. Corias is actually the westernmost point in Leinos, other than the Ceana region down south, but it’s pretty far away. Between here and there is a massive rainforest, and you’d have to cross most of Azeria to get there. It’s a remnant of the war, seperated but technically still a part of Leinos. As far Leinai cities in this region, especially looking inland, there’s not much. Some farming villages, and I know there’s Kuretion in the hills before you get to Great Rainforest. We might find something near there. There’s a lot of land to explore, my new friend. I can help guide you, if you like. I’ve traveled quite a lot, gathering my stories. I’d be willing to help you get where you’re going, if you help me. You seem friendly enough.”

Faulkron took in what she’d told him. This new world was bigger than he’d expected. He figured it’d be smart to have a guide. Plus, if she betrayed him or something, he was sure he could easily take care of her. “Deal. We can travel together, at least for now.”

She grinned. “Great! Traveling is always more fun with someone to sing to, in my opinion. Well, before we set off, let’s see if we can get paid for it, huh?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Well, that was at least the first step done. And he looked like he had a somewhat solid idea of his own path forward, even if he was a bit closed off right now. She needed people who knew what they were doing if she was going to succeed.

As they approached the wooden archway that served as the entrance to the Icaon camp, Jetra raised a hand in greeting, and started to speak.

•••

Faulkron, walking behind Jetra, nearly stopped in his tracks. There were two guards standing watch at the gate, both human. One of them was leaning against the wall, barely paying attention to them at all, her eyes gazing vaguely into the distance. The other one, however, was a sight to behold. He had longer dark brown hair, tied into a small loose ponytail, skin that looked forged from bronze, and a sharp jaw with a fine dark stubble all across it. His chest was bare, save the leather strap that held on his shoulder armor. He was well muscled, and on his hips were two shortswords, and all of his gear looked like it had seen lots of use.

Maybe it was the fact that he’d been out to sea for so long, maybe it was the fact that the sun sinking in the west definitely complemented this man’s looks. Maybe it was the fact that his green eyes were so vibrant. Faulkron didn’t know, but he had forgotten for the moment about mercenary work and traveling inland. He was caught, in a cruel irony of words, entirely off-guard.

The man stepped forward, before they could enter. When he spoke, his voice had a rich accent.

“Hola. Why do you approach?”

Faulkron stood silently, still regaining his composure.

Seeing this, Jetra quickly responded, “Just to see if there might be any opportunities for me and my friend here. Figured this was a good a place to start as any.”

The man nodded. “Sí, you would be right. This is one of the few organized mercenary companies based in Leinos that hasn’t been assimilated into the military. We operate all along the northern coast. You can enter. Talk to Elikon, he’ll get you familiar. I’m off my shift at sundown if you need me, ask for Alejandro. I know my way around, if you need help.”

It was at this point that Alejandro’s eyes met Faulkron’s. They both paused, and Faulkron stumbled over his words before blurting, “Off your shift? Cool cool. I will definitely do that.” Mentally, he scolded himself. First hot guy you talk to in 3 years, and you’re making yourself look like a fool, he thought.

•••

Jetra turned around, surprised by how sheepish the massive warrior behind her sounded suddenly. She followed his eyes to the guard, and back to him, and realization dawned on her. She couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Faulkron, when you’re done talking to Alejandro here, come meet me inside?”

Faulkron nodded, still locked in some sort of awkward homosexual staring match with Alejandro. Chuckling, Jetra slipped into the compound.

•••

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” Alejandro smiled, watching as the elf in front of him quickly looked away, obviously flustered.

“I. So... yeah. What do you do? For a living. Wait no-“

Alejandro just laughed. You could always tell which ones had been stuck on a ship for just a little too long. He had to admit, the awkwardness of such an imposing warrior was quite cute. He was tempted to just walk inside, but he couldn’t skip out on another shift, he’d get thrown out of the company. And he was really trying to settle into a rhythm in his life, despite it not working at all.

“Listen, why don’t we talk after my shift? I need to do my job, boring as it may be. And I’ll give you a little time to collect yourself, maybe?”

The warrior just nodded, averting his eyes from Alejandro’s smirk. “Yeah. I’m gonna- Yeah.”

Alejandro stopped him before he went inside. “Wait. I never got your name.”

“It’s Faulkron.”

“Hasta luego, Faulkron.”

Prologue | Part 2

#Song of the Seven Suns #post 1 #Corias #Leinos #Faulkron Rhodes #Alejandro de la Espada #Jetra Avaki #d&d story #sailing #drow #bard #queer fiction #we’ll get to Azeria soon #promise!#gotta get through the first steps of the campaign first #Leinos is supposed to be Greek inspired btw #also if you’re wondering #yes that first interaction with Alejandro played out exactly like that #my friend had seen a bunch of ‘seduce the guard’ memes #he thought it would be funny #and I was like fuck it. he’s super hot now #and you see how it went #two posts in one day :O #this is not how it will normally go #but I ended up writing and editing both and it just ended up that they were both done today #I’m wondering if this is too long or too short?#would love to know what you guys think #sorry for all the rambling in the tags #thanks for reading!

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girlofmanyfandoms · 4 years

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Kiss It Better

A/n: It’s like two or three days late (under the prompt of cuddles), but it has a decent word count so I’m not too upset with myself! It kinda accidentally turned into a hurt/comfort thing but that helped with ✨plot✨ So it’s okay! Also @titzweek here ya go-

Word count: 3000

Trigger warnings: mention of mild aggression (throwing plates), blood mention (nothing too graphic)

Warnings: it’s not the greatest and also i edited it at like 1 or 2am in the dark so like, maybe errors? Idk

Writing taglist: @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @bookwyrminspiration @percabetn @an-absolute-travesty @linhamon-roll @a-lonely-tatertot @loverofallthingssmart @vibing-in-the-void @clearlykeefitz @callas-starkflower-stew @enbies-and-felonies

The morning mist held strong, reinforcing gravity and making it even more difficult for Tam to drag himself out of his makeshift bed by the lake. Leaning over the fogged up waters, he wrung out his bangs, combing them back into place with his hands. The water here could hardly be trusted.

“Well,” he grunted as he stood up, patting an old dying tree with a gloved hand. “It was nice seeing you, Wildwood. You take it easy, alright?”

The trees groaned in response, both from age and from the weight of all that it had undergone and seen from the hazy backgrounds of the world. Maybe that was why he cared for Wildwood. It was like him. From the shadows. Ignored until needed. Cast aside when they differ from the norm. To him, he and Wildwood were one and the same. Or at least, they used to be. In the past months, Tam had found what Wildwood could only hope to receive: love.

And as the colors of the sunrise faded into blue, Tam was comforted by that one constant he had in his life. His perfect golden boy there to bring light into his world.

————

As soon as Tam walked into the Vackers’ territory, he was yanked to the side, knocking the breath from his chest. He prepared for a fight, but upon seeing a stylized sparkling fabric blinking in and out of sight, he relaxed just a bit.

“What the hell, B? I thought you were trying to attack me.”

“Quiet,” Biana scolded, finally coming into view. Her annoyed expression quickly changed to fear and dread as a shattering sound echoes across the stone walls of the extensive landscape. Biana shut her eyes and winced noticeably. “He’s been at that ever since Dad stormed off.”

“Rough day?”

“I guess you could say that.” Biana bit her lip. “Mom went after Dad after he yelled at us.”

“But the two of you are okay, right?”

“I’m alright. It’s Fitz I’m worried about,” she admitted. “I’ve been too scared to go up to him because of… well, you know.” Biana’s thumb traced over her scars absentmindedly.

Tam squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, you did what you could. It’s not your job to stop him from doing something irrational, and you’re not expected to do something that’ll trigger you. I’ll go after him.”

“Tam, it’s fine, I’ll do it-”

“I’ll go after him, you get some rest.”

“Only if you promise to be careful,” she warned. “Use your cloak as a shield, so that you don’t get caught in the crossfire of his throws. And put your gloves back on!”

Tam slipped off his gloves and tossed them behind his back without a second thought. He dropped his cloak in a similar fashion, only going back to fold it neatly and add it to the pile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Tam, you know how he gets when he’s upset. The rage, it blinds him, it blurs anything and everything around him to the point where the only he knows is that fire of hate. He’s not going to register that it’s you approaching him.”

“I’m his boyfriend,” Tam pointed out in an exasperated manner. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Isn’t that a shame.”

Biana huffed, rubbing the crease between her brows. “You’re just as stubborn as he is.”

“Don’t they say that birds of a feather flock together?” Tam asked, walking backwards and opening his arms in a gesture that said That’s just how it is.

“Yeah, until the cat comes,” she shot back.

“Then let’s hope that cat doesn’t arrive.”

“You two idiots deserve each other!” she cried in one last attempt to get him to turn back.

“Thank you!” he called back, already headed towards the horizon.

Biana sank to the floor, scowling as she dragged Tam’s belongings closer to her for protection. “Dense fool,” she muttered. But Tam was already out of sight.

--------

Tam approached the area in a calm stroll, but as he drew nearer, the cold dread that Biana had described filled him and dragged him back, just like the familiar, addictive pull of the shadows. They gathered at his feet, shadowflux begging to be called on, but Tam was far too busy trying to calculate a way to coax his boyfriend into putting the crystal dishes down.

He was like a rampant bull, hurling plate after plate at the wall. His hands had small cuts, but overall he seemed to be unscathed despite the several hours this had clearly been going on. Tam avoided clumps of shattered pieces so as not to startle him. While his movements proved to make him a berserker, it was also an art. One slight decibel off might send him on the attacking side.

“Fitz!” Tam shouted. He didn’t even glance his way. “FITZ!” Still no response. He just kept on launching silverware as far as he could. Tam sighed. He didn’t want it to come down to this, but if Biana had waited hours just for him to show up and put an end to this, he was not going to let her down. He seized the tendrils of shadows that had been itching to be used and directed all of his focus towards the cup about to be thrown with the hope that if he used his ability instead of telekinesis, he would recognize his beloved.

Shiiiing!

Fitz immediately put his hands over his mouth in shock and guilt, rushing over to check the damage.

Tam cupped his hand, blood gushing from the wound like a river. “Guess you ran out of throwing stars, huh?” he joked halfheartedly, wincing as he applied pressure to the cut.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so dumb.” Fitz ripped off a sleeve from his shirt to wrap around the slice in his partner’s hand. He cupped Tam’s cheek, the boy gladly moving towards the physical affection. “I’m so sorry, Tammy.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean to do it,” he replied nonchalantly. Upon seeing the great panic spreading through Fitz’s person, he took a more gentle approach. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve had a bad day and you just made a mistake, and I forgive you.”

“I hurt you.” Fitz’s voice cracked, and it became evident that Tam’s words had gone over his head. Fitz scooped Tam up in his arms and raced into the house.

“Relax, golden boy.” Tam rolled his eyes, but even he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the attentiveness he was being given. “It’s just a little cut, it’ll heal.”

Fitz scrambled through the drawers until he found the bandages, a Bottle of Youth, and the antibiotic ointment. From there, his panic switched to precision, first rinsing the wound, then applying the ointment, then wrapping the gauze bandage. It was a completely different side of him, one that would sacrifice the world for the ones that he loved. And despite Tam’s rough exterior, he couldn’t help but lean his head on his other hand in admiration.

Once he had finished, Fitz sat on the bar stool next to Tam’s and combed through his rosy pink locks in distress. Tam nudged his shoulder with his nose several times, earning him a side hug and a kiss to the cheek, but no words other than the repeated apologies and self-deprecating phrases.

“Babe,” Tam said helplessly. “Let’s go upstairs at least, so we can talk about this privately.”

Fitz nodded, letting him lead the way. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice when Tam had tucked him into bed and wrapped an arm around him, burying his face in his neck.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Fitz mumbled again. Tears welled up in his eyes, and Tam used his abled hand to wipe them.

“I told you it’s forgiven,” Tam gently reminded him. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not the Vackers,” he countered, sniffling. “We always have to keep up our reputation, keep on smiling and charming everyone just to go to the store. I can’t go anywhere without people expecting me to be the perfect golden boy.”

“No one is perfect. We’re all flawed and traumatized and hurt, and we make stupid decisions because of them. You’re a kid, Fitz, it’s not your job to hold your family together.”

“I guess. But Biana…” he sighed, pulling Tam closer as he facepalmed in guilt. “I shouldn’t have done that with her here. And how am I supposed to clean up the yard before Mom gets back?”

“Don’t worry about that, the gnomes are already on it,” he coaxed. “And Biana understands. You can talk to her later. For now, the golden boy needs to rest.”

“I can’t,” Fitz protested, trying to get up. Tam flipped himself over him, ending up besides Fitzroy once more. “Tam, I have to take care of you, and help the gnomes, and apologize to Biana, and-”

“And all of that can wait until tomorrow,” Tam finished for him. “Except me, of course.”

Fitz laughed, a real, rich laugh, and he could tell that it was the first time he had done that in a while. “I’m guessing you want me to stay here all day, all night?”

“Well, I do need medical and physical attention you know.”

He kissed Tam’s nose, making him blush furiously. “Well then, I guess I’ve got to cancel my plans. But seriously, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“You could kiss it better,” Tam suggested cheekily.

Fitz said no more, gingerly taking his wrapped hand and peppering kisses around where he knew the injury to be. He trailed them up his arms and neck until he finally met his lips.

“I am really sorry, babe. That got all out of control. My father, he… he’s done some messed up things to this family, and as the proclaimed ‘Gifted Child,’ I felt responsible for stepping in. And like everything else, I ruined it.”

“You don’t realize that the good you do purposely outweighs the slip-ups you make along the way.”

“This was more than a slip-up, Tam. I became a monster, something I’ve never seen before. I was a violent beast that lost control, all because my Dad yelled at me for being a ‘disgrace to the Vackers’ for being gay. And because of that stupidity, I hurt you, and scared Biana outside of that.”

Tam’s eyes widened with shock. “Wait, you got angry because you were protecting me?”

“Well, yeah, of course. My father can drag me down all he wants, but he’s not touching the people that I love.”

“Love?”

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve known you weren’t ready-”

“I love you too.”

“I- Wait, really?”

“Duh,” Tam chuckled, before his expression grew shadowed and weary. “Besides… we all have a dark side. I know I’d do anything for the people I care about.”

“What does yours look like?” Fitz asked. “Your dark side, I mean.”

He smiled bitterly, shadows of his past trauma flashes before his eyes in a relentless, rough grip. “You don’t want to know that part of me.”

“Babe, I want to know every side of you.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Of course,” Fitz grinned eagerly. “I want to know everything you’re willing to share.”

“Then cuddle with me. Get to know another part of me.”

Fitzroy rested his chin on Tam’s chest and brushed his bangs away from his eyes, just as his own were dancing with glee. “Gladly.”

—————

Tam woke up to a loud series of sharp knocks on the bedroom door.

“Your breakfast is gonna get cold,” a feminine voice told him.

He inhaled sharply and ruffled his hair, using his tunic to rub his eyes, all in an attempt to focus on the figure leaning against the doorframe.

“C’mon, it’s past noon.”

Tam bolted upright, rushing to the bedside to pull his boots on. It could’ve been Fitz calling to him, but his mind was cloudy, warping any and all audio that reached his ears.

“I knew that would get you up,” the voice snickered. “Fitz told me to get you up in time for breakfast in bed.”

Tam chanced a glance up to see if his vision had finally cleared. Yup, definitely not Fitz. “Oh hey, B. I take it you and your brother talked?”

She nodded, arms still crossed tightly around her lilac fleece-like pullover for warmth. “Came running to me and went on his whole apology speech once you passed out. It was dorky, but it was also very… him. If that makes any sense.”

“It does.” He took a moment to inspect the tray and found a neatly folded piece of paper. A note from him. He read through it as Biana kept talking.

Good morning dearest, I just wanted to leave you this note to remind you that I love you and to apologize once again.

“When I saw him rush outside a few minutes after Mom left with an armful of tupperware, I was confused, but when he started throwing them in the yard, I was terrified for him. He’s lost control, but never like that. I felt powerless.”

“You did what you could, no one can ask you for more,” he mumbled.

“I stood to the side and waited for his boyfriend to come and stop him, and he wound up getting hurt. Real brave on my end.”

“It’s not being brave you should be aiming for, it’s doing what you need to do in order to protect the people you live for.”

I’m sorry. I know you’ll probably tell me not to apologize, but I really needed to get that out there in ink. Thank you for being there for Biana, I don’t know how I would live with myself if I had traumatized her or made her feel unsafe around me, but we talked for a bit and she helped me find better coping mechanisms, so all is forgiven. Well, as long as I give her my desserts for this month.

“I don’t think I did that yesterday. I chose the coward’s path.”

“You took the wise path, and you protected number one,” Tam corrected. “You know your brother better than anyone, and you knew the right choice was to let him blow off some steam until someone who wasn’t present when everything went down could talk him out of it. That was brave, and I think it’s quite admirable, too.”

“I guess you’re right.” She sighed, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail to give her hands something to do. “Still, I’m sorry about your hand.”

Tam waved it off. “I’ve gotten enough Vacker apologies over that. There’s no need.”

“If you say so.”

You were completely understanding last night, even while I was breaking down. You guided me through everything, and you were there for me, even when I couldn’t be there for myself. Thank you for being there. For letting me shadow you until I could be whole and healed again.

“You’re good for him,” Biana blurted out abruptly.

Tam furrowed his brows, sure he heard that wrong. “I’m what?”

“I said that you’re good for him. Fitz. I meant what I said when I told you that you two idiots deserve each other.”

“Thank you,” he breathed in shock.

“Remember the idiot part and don’t let it get to your head.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You are my healing darkness. No, not light. Darkness. Because I never understood why darkness was so demonized. Shadows are what keep you cool on a hot summer’s evening, what provides cover from the rain, and what puts you to sleep at night. The color black is as natural as the air flowing into our lungs, the blood circulating through our bodies, and the dirt under our feet. So when I think of darkness, I don’t think of fear; I think of hope. I think of you.

“You better not hurt him.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m serious, Tam. I know it sounds hypocritical considering what happened to you yesterday, but I’m just as protective of Fitz as you are of Linh. Understood?”

“Yes, Ms. Vacker.”

Biana relaxed a bit at the confirmation. “You promise to look after him?”

“I promise,” he agreed.

Y’know, when you called me golden boy, it got me thinking. Gold is the weakest metal, and for a while I thought the nickname fit me perfectly. A boy who was seen as the perfect, charming, valuable golden boy who could break in the blink of an eye. But the more I was with you, the more I thought about it. If shadows were misunderstood, maybe gold was too. And here’s the thing: gold doesn’t rust. You can break it and bend it and try all you want to ruin its life, but no matter what, you can’t make it rust. And second to you, that is the strongest thing I can imagine. So for you, I’ll stay strong. I won’t give up. I won’t rust.

“One last thing before I leave you alone.”

“Go right ahead.” Tam let himself free fall onto the mountain of pillows behind him, note still in hand.

“Don’t take advantage of him. He may be a pain in my neck, but he’s valuable,” Biana mentioned, clearly having so much more to say. “You’re… incredibly lucky to have him.”

So let’s work jointly on this. On healing. I’ll be your gold, strong when you’re weak. And you’ll be my darkness, always there for me. But we have to do this together. I’m willing to take a leap of faith if you are. All of my trust lies in you, and I hope you’ll pay me the same honor. So what do you say? Circle yes or no and meet me by Moonglade with your response. Last I remember, I still have to kiss it better.

With love,

Fitzroy

Tam picked up the pen tied to the tray and circled yes without hesitation. “I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

#pls give feedback!#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #fitz vacker #tam song #titz #fitz and the tantrums #kotlc fanfic #Cade’s writing #titz week 2020 #should i post it this early? No #but I’m impatientttt #lemme know what you think about this one cuz i have mixed feelings

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sol1056 · 4 years

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wuxia: a general yet probably too verbose introduction to the genre, pt2

and now we get to the actual conventions -- although more accurately, these are just the ones that I either noticed the strongest or had the most difficulty adjusting to, when I was first getting into wuxia.

Not all stories have these elements, and of course in a genre as varied (and as old) as wuxia, there are twenty exceptions for every rule. What’s more, one story’s mild admonishment (”well, X is frowned on, but I guess if you’re just low-key about it”) can become the next story’s worst taboo (”omg you did X, you must be shunned! SHUNNNNNNNNNNed.”).

Like any other living genre, authors will shift/tilt convention as needed to drive a story’s conflicts.

btw, it’ll probably be a few days before I can do an introduction to MDZS, which should give time to @guzhuangheaven, @atthewaterside, @dramatic-gwynne, @the50-person, @drunkensword (and anyone else) to point out everything I misunderstood, over-emphasized, misinterpreted, or just plain missed.

--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

1. Hierarchy still matters. A student’s respect for their teacher, a child’s respect for their parents, younger siblings/students to elder. You’ll see this in how people are called (ie 3rd uncle, elder sister, 2nd brother), but this doesn’t mean everyone goes around dutiful and obedient. Err, wuxia is actually more of the opposite. I mean, a good story requires conflict between characters, and what better way than someone overturning (or at least appearing to overturn) the hierarchy?

In that vein, creating new relationships that take precedent over old relationships is anywhere from disrespectful to a full-on violation of natural law. As in, learning from someone other than your teacher, joining a new family in lieu of your birth family, running away to get married -- hell, just running away! -- are all potential sources of trouble. At the same time, wuxia has a really strong comedic streak (all the martial arts also make for great slapstick). Squabbling families with headstrong, misbehaving kids who break the rules, well, that’s a classic that can be played for melodrama, comedy, or both.

2. Swordsmanship is the pinnacle (or the most prevalent) of martial arts. The protagonist is either going to be (or end up) the best swordsman (or swordswoman) ever, or they’re going to use a weapon that’s unlike any other -- and if the latter, they’ll either be reviled for it, or lauded.

3. Despite the fact that swords are heavy and a real pain to carry around, characters carry their swords. All the time. Everywhere. In historical dramas, swords hang from belts, but not wuxia. Plus, characters will place swords on the table, across their lap, lean them against chairs, put them on the floor, and it doesn’t seem to map to whether they’re among allies or enemies, on guard or relaxing. The sword goes with them everywhere, and is always within reach. (And again, this general convention can go strict in some stories, like MDZS, where the failure to carry a sword is seen as a major breach of etiquette.)

4. The general term for ‘members of a sect’ or ‘people who study martial arts’ is ‘cultivators’. To cultivate is to grow something: cultivating [internal or spiritual] fields to gain a [skillset] harvest. Cultivation isn’t just going to the practice hall and swinging a sword three hundred times; meditation, study, even copying out texts are also ways to cultivate.

5. Wuxia characters may also be called swordsmen/swordswomen, wandering heroes, or martial heroes. If the story pivots on getting into a sect (or achieving some rank in a sect), then the characters will be considered cultivators (of a given path). If they’re introduced as just swordsmen, that seems to indicate it’s a story where sect politics plays less of a role. Or both terms may be present, to differentiate between sect-members/students versus people who defected (or are self-taught).

6. Wuxia as a genre is remarkably egalitarian. Expect women martial artists to throw down with (and hold their own against) male opponents. Learn to fear the older women in wuxia; they’re often the most dangerous. Not to say there aren’t damsels in distress in wuxia, just that there are usually as many female warrior characters, too.

If the story has multiple sect leaders, usually at least one is a woman -- and if not, one of the men is married to a woman that everyone knows is the truly powerful/skilled one. Near-equal cast percentages are common, too, both in the foreground (and not always for the sake of pairing off for romance), and in the background, when you catch shots of the rank-and-file sect members.

Basically, you can expect the average wuxia to pass the Bechdel test with flying colors. It may not always pass all the other gender tests, but conversations (and deep friendships) between female characters are usually on-screen (not just implied), and often a strong part of the storyline.

7. The super-hero-like skills -- leaping from or to an extreme height, tossing someone a great distance, getting thrown far and getting up again -- are a good map to things like gunslingers who can shoot a playing card at eighty paces blindfolded. Or Robin Hood getting a bullseye through the arrows of someone else’s bullseyes. Wuxia tends to expect even superlative skills at a beginner’s level (so you’ll see student-characters doing such), but it’s all just ways to say, these characters have studied the sword while the rest of us were waiting for the translation team to release the next episode.

8. Those skills are not magic, which occupies a different category. Whether shown or implied, wuxia’s ‘martial arts’ (if exaggerated and unrealistic) are still studied. When magic shows up, it’s often derided, because it’s a shortcut. There’s an insincerity, a kind of bad sportsmanship. The reaction in-story is much like real world reaction to athletes using performance-enhancing drugs. It’s cheating, and it’s disrespectful towards your opponents, that you refused to match their efforts with equal effort of your own.

9. Every story has its own definition of what is, or is not, ‘magic’ and thus a shortcut. Wuxia is usually pretty good about making clear what the story considers ‘orthodox’ or ‘right’: look for characters introduced as authoritative voices in the story’s world, and what they do is probably a good indication of accepted skills (that is, not-magic). Well, unless the character cackles a lot, in which case they’re probably an example of magic/unorthodox approaches.

9. Qi -- energy -- is the root of a character’s power (or lack thereof). Plenty of wuxia only reference this concept in passing, but some codify it into a necessity -- as in, some people have the ‘right’ kind of qi, and some do not. Or that it takes years to develop so the hero is permanently behind until they finally get to doing the work. Whether nature or nuture, this qi is how a cultivator can leap high bounds while the background farmer or merchant characters must scramble to find a ladder.

10. Over the years of television, ‘manipulating qi’ -- shoving energy at someone through the hands/feet, a sword, a musical instrument, something else -- has developed its own set of stylized movements. It’s a lot of arm-waving and finger twirling and whatnot (often circular). I think of it like riding an invisible bike to charge the generator; releasing it means the TV has the juice to kick on. Or the tazer can release, or whatever.

11. There are a bunch of virtues being promoted by wuxia, from a tangle of daoism, buddhism, and confucianism -- things like loyalty, sincerity, honesty, humility, respecting one’s parents (or teacher), benevolence, and justice (or righteousness). Plus a disregard for wealth or glory for personal gain.

The good (or enduring) wuxia stories seem to be the ones that find a way to make a virtue into a point of conflict -- as in, loyalty to what/who, questions of what it means to be righteous in this circumstance or that, and so on. The virtue is still at the heart of things, the conflict lies in how it’s interpreted or applied.

12. Wuxia predates Confucianism and Buddhism (and possibly Daoism), so it’s got a long history of cherrypicking to mix and match as it pleases. Some things you might see, and the influencing source:

horsetail whisks, used for purifying a space and removing evil influences, traditionally carried by Daoist priests as a sign of their rank.

an emphasis on Yin and Yang as driving opposing energies (sometimes good and bad, sometimes required to be balanced), also a Daoist concept.

most mystical elements are also Daoist influence: like qigong (coordinated posture and movement to increase/improve health, spiritual strength, and martial prowess), alchemy, astrology, etc.

mudras (hand gestures, cf Naruto) are predominantly Buddhist, meant as a way to focus oneself. When these show up in wuxia, the origin is still ‘to focus oneself’ but being wuxia, the result is usually a burst of visible power.

if a story revolves around learning to forgive/forget and to have compassion (over vengeance), that’s the Buddhist influence showing.

if filial piety, the observance of rites, or questions of ethics/morality are significant themes, that’s probably confucianism’s influence.

The lines are way blurrier than I’m going into, here. After all, the three perspectives have competed and coexisted for hundreds of years. There’s a fair bit of cross-contamination, as it were.

13. A lot of wuxia -- and I mean a lot of wuxia -- can be boiled down to coming-of-age stories: a young hero faces trials and tribulations on his (or her) way to finding a place in society. Sometimes it’s working their way up through the levels to claim the top spot; sometimes it’s being rejected from the school they wanted, and continuing to fight that fate until they’re accepted and demonstrate they deserve to be there.

This focus on younger heroes also means that wuxia is rife with idol dramas, where the majority of the cast are young/first-time actors, chosen for their looks and their similarity to the character (so as to not require too much of a stretch for them, acting-wise). On the other hand, this does often mean the pretty is almost overwhelming, since it’s looks and not long-time acting experience that set the bar.

14. Compared to other Chinese literary genres, wuxia is somewhat unique in its emphasis on individualism, but this isn’t to say you should expect full-throated american-style rugged individualism. I’d say it’s less about the individual breaking free of social rules, and more that the individual must find a way to interpret those social rules and forge a compromise between what they’re required to be vs who they want to be.

The best illustration I can think of is a parental dictate of “I want you to marry and have a family,” that sets off the story’s conflict. By the end of the story, the now-adult child realizes the message wasn’t meant literally so much as a way to say, “I want you to grow up, have a place in this world, surrounded by people who love you.” The error wasn’t in the parents’ blindness to the child’s needs, but in the child’s interpretation of the parental message.

(Unlike historical or modern dramas, which often have a lot of daddy issues -- thanks, Confucius -- wuxia is relatively free of that. Child-parent conflict is common, but truly dysfunctional on the level of modern melodramas, not quite so much.)

15. The fights are balletic and acrobatic; they’re meant as an abstract representation of a fight. You want reality, go watch an HK or Korean action movie/show. Wuxia is where you go for the twirling, the leaps, the spins, all the kinds of moves that no decent fighter would ever do, ‘cause turning your back on the enemy gets you killed -- but wuxia isn’t about that, it’s about the cool visual factor.

16. Historically and aesthetically, the costumes are closest to the Ming dynasty -- layered and belted ankle-length robes with long, flowing sleeves. Partly because the Ming dynasty seems to be a favorite setting (for whatever quality of actual time period a story even bothers to identify), but also (at least, my theory is) because those big sleeves make for dramatic gestures when swinging a sword.

17. There are newer wuxia that show some Game of Thrones influence (or, in the movie adaptations like The Four, some grimdark-slash-steampunk influences) but for the most part, wuxia is rather brightly-lit. My theory is that it was traditionally designed to be visible on (literally) smaller TVs, out in rural villages and whatnot. Frex, the darkest things get in wuxia, visually, is a day-for-night blue, since filming at night for real makes for an awful dark screen.

This is changing -- I’ve seen a lot more wuxia that are genuinely filming at night -- but the same show may also do day-for-night just cause they’re on a tight schedule and can’t sit around until it’s dark again to shoot the next scene, so they make do.

18. Older filming styles still dominate in wuxia, and the one you may notice the most is a particular move where the speaking character turns away from whomever they’re talking to, walks towards the camera, and speaks in the direction of the camera. It’s just not something people normally do, but it happens all the time in wuxia.

I think it comes from the days of only having one camera, so either you took the time to reshoot to get reactions (not really possible on shoestring budgets with tight deadlines), or you made sure the frame could include the speaker and the listeners. (Or it might be coming from the stage, where the actor must face the audience to be heard.)

The basic blocking, lighting, and so on sometimes reminds me of afternoon soap operas from the 80s, done with videotape rather than film. Not cheap so much as lower budget.

19. If you want historical authenticity, this is the last place to look. The costumes will be flashy, especially for the hero and his love interest: layered and embroidered, with modern fabrics in bright, sometimes neon!, shades and combinations (Nicholas Tse, I see you).

Older wuxia, the characters rarely got dirty, a wound from a fight was represented by a streak of clearly-fake (and somewhat diluted) pink syrup, and plenty of times a character will go through an entire battle and not even be sweaty or dirty. (Game of Thrones is changing this, too, though -- I’m seeing more dishevelment, though it’s still relatively minor compared to post-battle LotR or GoT.)

20. You can tell the budget from two things: how many costumes and how many wigs. A lower-budget wuxia (or one made at rapid pace) means characters go to bed in their day-clothes, with headpieces still on. Wigs are expensive, and a quickly-made wuxia means you get one wig, and that’s what you’re always wearing, rather than a wig for sleeping and another for waking. Same goes for showing characters in their day-clothes versus what they’d wear for night, or when relaxing, or whatever. (Or having two versions of the same costume, one pre-battle and one post-battle.)

21. About that historical bit -- at least up to the Qing dynasty, Chinese men usually wore their hair in a top-knot once they reached adulthood. Wuxia’s aesthetic is for everyone -- including elderly men -- wearing their hair mostly down with only a small top-knot to pull back their bangs. This just isn’t how anyone wore their hair, but it’s a massive visual clue that the story takes place in the jianghu, where normal society’s rules don’t apply.

22. I think I mentioned the Ming dynasty -- not sure why, but it seems to be the most favorite target. (You’d think it’d be the Qing, since they were outsiders, but nope.) The literary precursors of wuxia had a strong streak of ‘the government is corrupt and/or full of idiots, we’re better off doing our own thing over here,’ which led to various dynasties cracking down on wuxia as a kind of rebel literature.

It’s kind of ironic that wuxia’s history of overturning the natural order confucian principles (that is, treating individualism as an equal virtue, and elevating commoners to hero-status for *gasp* leaving their place of birth to wander around and do good deeds) is what made wuxia immensely popular during the cultural revolution, when China was busy deconstructing (often violently) so much of its cultural past. Wuxia stood apart, as something that had been quietly deconstructing all along, and thus shot up in popularity for finally being in tune with the zeitgeist.

(Wuxia in all its forms has always, perhaps unsurprisingly, been massively popular among the common classes. Wuxia is not, never has been, a high literary form; watching wuxia means you’re watching the latest iteration of an ancient yet truly pop-as-in-popular-as-in-common culture.)

I get the impression the chinese authorities have an uneasier relationship with historical dramas (which can walk a fine line of implying that imperial past as a good/positive), whereas wuxia’s place in the mythical jianghu diminishes its ability to threaten via social commentary. This isn’t to say wuxia isn’t in dialogue with the social and political environment in which it’s made; all literature is, by virtue of being of its time. It’s just a bit more coy about it, and its loudest political-type trait -- of dismissing the imperial system/capital as corrupt, evil, or otherwise contemptible -- fits with a desire to see the dynastic past as something to be discarded and/or dismissed, not emulated.

23. Oh, and one last thing: wuxia is very, very, very chaste. A lot of the romantic relationships are almost entirely implied -- a lot of longing looks, maybe the exchange of a significant gift, I mean, we’re talking a genre that considers holding hands to be pretty daring. I’ve seen entire series where you know those two will end up together, but if you can’t read the visual cues, you’d think they were just close friends (if not socially-awkward acquaintances).

That said, when wuxia breaks that so-chaste rule, it’s like having a table dropped on you. There’s a drunken makeout scene in The Legends that had my jaw on the table because holy smokes, that was unexpected. Mad passionate wild abandonment just isn’t a thing in wuxia.

[ETA: don’t get me wrong, wuxia in general is hugely passionate. Just not on a sexual level; it’s on the emotional level that wuxia will go to eleven, repeatedly.]

...okay, that wasn’t even in the neighborhood of brief. hell, it wasn’t even in the same state as brief, but I did warn you. Wuxia’s a huge genre, after all. An entire book might still only scratch the surface, but hopefully this suffices as a general introduction.

#wuxia #come for the brief essay stay for the dissertation #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mdzs

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nachohypno · 4 years

Text

Nate and Dave Ch. 11

It’s been a while.

…Not a very long while, though. It was just a week ago or so when I lost my virginity to a werewolf. Who just happens to be my soulmate. And thus, has to obey everything I say.

Neat.

Getting up from my bed was always a hard task for me. And that sounded way sadder than I intended. Point is, school starts in like half an hour and I’m still not even up. I was, of course, doing this on purpose.

I’m not that eager to go to school, but it’s my responsibility and I respect that. I was just having a little experiment though.

The sound of an indistinguishable car parking in front of my house, some heavy footsteps later, a knock on my door. I had opened my window, so I could hear everything that went down as he opened the front door and ran up the stairs.

A few moments later, Dave the jock entered my room and closed the door behind him. “Why ya still in bed?”

Everything fell into place. “Bed gravity is killing me right now, barely want to move” I excused myself, but I did wonder if Dave knew that I was waiting for him to notice I didn’t answer his daily [Mornin, my love<3], and feigned being late to school to make him come over.

I mean, I didn’t intend on making him come over, I just wanted to see how he would react to it. Dave was usually pretty pending on what I’m doing, and wants to take part to make sure we spend lots of time together.

It’s cute and scary at the same time, things that happen when a werewolf just so happens to see you as their soulmate.

“Ditchin’ school? Is it just me or you suddenly become way more attractive?” He dropped his bag on the floor and pushed me against the wall to make room for himself, then climbed on the bed and lied down beside me.

“Wait, we’re not ditching school. I mean, it does sound good, but we still have to—” He interrupted me. Dave liked to do this when I’m about to bring something up that will probably ruin the moment, it was a good life-saver. He invaded my mouth with his tongue, while trying to remain as gentle as always.

I could tell that wasn’t an easy task for him, but he tried his best and it really showed.

Sadly, I had to pull him off. “Wait, we gotta head to class, I don’t want to be late and you’re doing great progress lately.”

“Huh, y’think so?” Dave mumbled, trying to get closer again but I gently pushed him back. I was tempted to just stay in bed and cuddle with him all morning, but if I wanted to help him become a better guy at the end, I should give the example too.

“I legit think Ms. Porter will cry with joy if you actually finish that book for her essay.” I replied, kissing his cheek before passing over him and leaving the bed.

I think I helped him a lot at school, not only with his shitty behavior but also with his studies. Dave wanted to be a good guy for me, because I didn’t trust him before with all his shitty hot-headed attitude.

…He still had it. But he tried to be nicer.

“Hmm… I’m up for it, that bitch’s made my last year a nightmare. Tryna make me do extra essays n’ stuff” I would let that slide, because everyone hated Ms. Porter. She did give everyone a lot of essays. I’m okay with it, I enjoy reading, but even those books aren’t that interesting.

Dave got up from my bed, and passed a hand over his hair. I noticed it was a bit brighter than usual. It wasn’t combed, but he seemed to have it stylized with gel to be a bit spikier, in contrast to his usually short, wavy and parted to the left style.

“Well… I didn’t even shower yet but—”

But the werewolf was already determined. “No shit, bro. We’re not going late, that’s what ya just said. C’mon, looking great already, as always” Dave grabbed my bag near my desk, placed it on my back before grabbing his own bag and my hand, pulling me out of my room.

“Hey, I can’t go to school in pajamas- Oh you know what, never mind, I’ve done this before.” I quickly changed my answer mid-speech. I sighed, ‘I’m supposed to be the one in control here and I’m being dragged out of my house. Let’s change that back’ I told myself.

“Dave, I order you to stop,” I said firmly, as we reached the living room. The jock obeyed without hesitation, freezing in place. I couldn’t see his face right now, but I assumed his eyes were a bit zoned out, like they always get when I order him something. “And let go of my hand, if you may.” He obeyed that too, his arms falling to his sides as the werewolf waited for more orders.

Alright, let’s see.

I grabbed a yoghurt cereal bar from the fridge, that would make a good breakfast. I used my reflection at the microwave’s glass door to fix my hair as best as I could, before I decided to walk upstairs and finish the deal brushing my teeth and washing my face.

I checked my clock, we still had quite some time. At least 17 minutes until the first class *actually* started.

I changed my tee into something less pajama-y and my pants for some jeans. Now I was looking appropriate for school, the last thing I needed was being sent to the counselor’s office for having a sudden “Lazy day”.

Believe me, it happened before and it could happen again.

Walking back downstairs while biting a big chunk of the cereal bar, Dave was still frozen in place. I could take a good look at him now, and I liked the view.

The big football player had, as I expected, zoned out eyes and a bit of a dumb smile. He wasn’t wearing the bowser collar I got him, which made sense because we were about to enter school.

A lumberjack buttoned shirt that seemed to cling pretty well to his muscular body, a tank top underneath, and some black joggers. I took a moment to unbutton the top button of his shirt, so his pecs would be a bit more visible. It gave him a cuter look, while also being like “Yo, I’m really muscled”. I chuckled at the little impersonation I just imagined.

“So, uh… you can wake up, I think?” I was still a bit unsure of how this all ‘I control your mind and body’ thing worked, but I was getting the hang of it pretty well!

The zoned out jock blinked a few times before starting to move again. “Oh, hey bro. When did you change clothes? You look stunning as always, huh.” He mumbled, before leaning in to give me a kiss and walking out of the house with a big smile.

He really didn’t care if I controlled him or anything, he would just roll with it. I was sure he actually enjoyed it, he always looks excited when I suggest he do something. Ordering him to do something may just trigger his puppy boy side to make sure I’m happy, maybe? It’s just a theory without any fundamentals.

It’s not like there’s a book about werewolves anyway. Not that I know of, I guess.

Beep! Beeeeeeep!

Dave was now using the car’s horn to make me hurry. I grabbed my bag again and walked out, joining him at his car and receiving yet another amazing kiss.

“I’m sorta sad when we have different classes,” He started, as he drove away from my house and towards the school. He was trying to hurry, but while maintaining the basic driving security measures. Guess the big guy wants to be a responsible driver, huh. “That means less time admiring your handsome face, my love”.

“Aaaand, more time to focus on your studies. You know that I get really proud when you study like a good puppy boy, don’t you?” I was about to caress the back of his ear, but that would have been dangerous. He shouldn’t zone out while driving.

“Yessuh, I’m a good puppy boy!” He beamed up, but remained focus on the road. A few minutes later, we were arriving at the almost-empty parking lot. Dave pulled over and turned off the engine, before pulling me in for one last kiss. This one was particularly longer than the former ones, I loved it.

“A lil’ present, don’t know how I’m gonna survive these shitty classes without you…” He leaned in towards my shoulder, laying on it. I did what I intended to before and caressed his good spot behind his ear. The big guy started panting, tongue lolling out.

“C’mon,” I said, checking my phone with my free hand and stopping the sweet moment. “We’ve got a few minutes left. Gotta go in, puppy boy.” His eyes seemed sad, but he nodded.

Dave grabbed his bag and left the car, and I followed suit.

We hurried to the main building, and I noticed that Dave seemed hesitant about something. His hand was almost touching mine as we walked, but he made sure it was several centimeters apart so nobody would suspect anything.

I always wondered if it was hard for him to keep himself apart from me. I definitely didn’t mind, but we still had things to work out if we wanted this to really end up well.

…Dave hates when I imply that we’re two guys in a relationship, when he’s the one that brought it up and asked me to be his boyfriend. He’s still pretty homophobic, yeah, but he works around it pretty well.

Still considering himself straight isn’t bad, I guess. I’m more worried about the other targets he used to torment. While he’s not a bully anymore, he also wouldn’t lift a finger to stop something from happening right in front of him, except if I’m the one in danger.

It’s not like I want him to be a superhero, and I do find his ‘mean jock’ attitude kind of attractive, (When it doesn’t terrify me, of course.)

“Just before we enter, let me remind ya that you’re the best guy in the universe, my soulmate…” He wanted to lean in for a kiss, but quickly got back on my feet and blushed.

“Good luck today, big guy” I tiptoed and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Love you too, by the way.”

Before he could react though and pull me in for a make out session at the school’s gates, I entered the building and headed to my locker. The disappointed but infatuated jock followed behind me, and went to his own locker.

Everyone seemed to be already going to their classes, so I guess I was still safe.

My first class was advanced math, and while it wasn’t that difficult, it wasn’t ideal either.

All the seats were taken already, except the one next to one of my two best friends. Sadly, Dick wasn’t in this class, and Sam didn’t seem happy to see me.

“Coming late to school? That’s a new thing.” He greeted me, as I sat down and took my stuff out of the bag.

“I like to think that I’m not late if the professor hasn’t arrived yet” Speaking of which, I noticed the guy was actually arriving late today. It was like 10 minutes past the class’ start. “Uh… did I miss a text or something? This one’s never late, huh.”

“No no, don’t summon him just yet. We can fast-forward to a later meeting so we can all go home earlier. That sounds good, yeah” Poor guy, he’s speaking with himself now.

Sam had been elected last year as our council’s president, with a lot of effort and dealing with each of the “cliques” around school.

...And it seemed to be worse than he planned it out to be. You see, one of his promises to get the jocks’ votes was to increase the budget for the sports teams, which included the cheerleaders in the bandwagon.

That sounds cool, but in reality they already had more than enough budget dedicated to them, so we had to start raising funds for future events, or the sports team would eat it all.

Parents with their “bring and sell food for the school” events helped quite a lot, I’ve never been happier to see a random mother bring a plate full of nachos and hot dogs to sell at school.

“So, I’m supposed to ask the whole council about this, but I’d like to lay out my options first…” Sam took The Mighty Notebook from his bag and placed it on the middle of the table, pushing my things aside. ‘How rude!’ I thought, but didn’t give it too much importance.

“A sexy car wash is-” “Out of the question” I interrupted him “This isn’t a teen tv show. We can’t sexualize our football players.”

“Well, you can, you just don’t want to. Anyway… Cake sale?” My friend took a pen and crossed out the ‘sexy car wash’ option.

“People’ll get tired of it if we keep doing those. Parents already sell food at sports games and they’re not exactly rare to see, we have one almost every two weeks.” I hated being the party pooper, but if it helped him pick the right choices… “It can be done, but we can rehash that idea too many times. That’s what I mean.”

“Oooookay” He didn’t cross that one out, but instead added a big “(?)” next to it. “Last one I thought about, for now, was a winter’s ball kind of thing. Selling tickets for prom is apparently a great way to raise funds, but I’m not waiting until the end of the school year for that.”

“We’d need the principal’s permission for that but… you should discuss that one with the cheerleaders, they’ll love the idea. The more ‘prom nights’ there are, the merrier for them, huh?” This time, he made a tick next to the option, like it was validated for the meeting later.

“I wish we could do something like the drama club and just put up a lame production and sell overpriced tickets… Parents would pay anything to see their sons, right?”

“Uh, I guess so. They would probably be pretty mad if we fucked up the show, so let’s leave that one out.” Sam seemed a bit tired. I could maybe ask Dave for a little help with this whole thing, he would know what to do.

Hmm… or maybe, Dave’s ex-girlfriend?

“You should talk with Leslie.” I gave Sam a little tap on the shoulder and pointed at the girl a few rows at the back. She hadn’t noticed us, but she was really nice and tried her best to get to know me. We even sat together, like once! “Pretty sure she’d have some cool ideas that don’t sound taken from a bad movie.”

“You think so?” He took a moment to breath, relaxing on his chair. I honestly wanted to help, but I’ve never wanted to be his secretary because I’m not good with coming up with this kind of stuff. Pretty sure anybody could do a better job than me in that area. “I’ll try to catch her in the corridor. Just… don’t stare and be cool, right? I don’t wanna come off as a perv, geez. We also have this party tonight, so could I maybe approach her there? I dunno...”

The professor made his way in, with an angry look on his face. We straightened on our seats to avoid getting his attention, I don’t want to be called out by some asshole in a mood. To finish with our council chatter, I whispered to Sam a “I’m sure you’ll do fine, she’s not the devil, right?”

He chuckled a bit before answering “Don’t let Dick hear you, I kinda think he has a crush on one of those chicks.” I rolled my eyes, such a cheap gossip.

-------

If I told you that nothing else interesting happened during the day, I wouldn’t be lying.

I barely got to see Dave, just had lunch with him at the yard’s lunch tables before being separated again. He ditched football practice, and I did the same with today’s council reunion because I had a headache.

I got into an argument with a professor, too. The first class in the day, but it wasn’t anything worth looking into. He thought he was right, and he was too mad to check he wasn’t right at all. Almost got sent to the principal’s office, but I dropped the subject just in time.

I did share a classroom with Dave for the second class but… we got separated by Sam’s need to plan out his next meeting. You see why I ditched the reunion today? I wanted to rest!

Lucky me, my savior was just a few tables away, and knew exactly what I needed.

He waited for me to put my stuff back at my locker after our last class ended, and took me to his car.

I first thought he was just driving me to my house, since we didn’t speak about him staying at all, but there were no questions asked apparently. The big guy decided to give me a good time, as he pulled over in front of my house, walked around the car and lifted me on his arms.

I felt like a little brat, but it also felt amazing. Having someone who cares about you on such a deep level, like Dave does… I love it. I love him. And he loves me.

The jock opened the door with one of his hands, kicked it shut and took me to my room.

There, he softly left me on my bed before putting a strip show in front of me. Or I wasn’t really sure what that was. He just threw his shirt and jeans over to my desk chair and started searching through his school bag.

The silence was a bit boring, but I felt like talking was unnecessary right now. I just wanted to know what he was planning for the evening. He pulled out the bowser collar, huh.

“Never leave the house without it, bruh” Dave said. “What’ya waiting for? Get on your underwear, we’re doing some great cuddling t’night!”

“Uh, okay. I like where this is going...” I mumbled, before starting my own strip show. Sadly, Dave barely paid attention to me, he was trying to put on the collar by himself, but he was having some trouble.

Before dropping my pants, I walked over to him and clasped the buckle for him, tightening it enough so it wouldn’t fall off but also trying to make it comfortable for him to wear. “Hmm… Perfect, my love…” He whispered in a sexy voice, before planting a warm kiss on my lips.

I thought we were starting already, but the big guy started to run towards my bed and lied down with his arms reaching out for me. “C’mooooon, can’t wait for youuuuuu!”

I rolled my eyes and dropped my pants. Still in my underwear, just like the werewolf jock, I walked over to my bed and got grabbed by my boyfriend there.

Laying down on bed as Dave pulled me closer to his warm, almost-smooth body.

The bowser dog collar around his neck wasn’t sharp enough to hurt me, so I didn’t worry about that and just let myself be grabbed by this hunk of a jock.

“Enjoyed your day, my love?” He asked, looking at me with adoring eyes. It wasn’t creepy, I liked it. He barely acts like this at school, so his change of ‘big meanie alpha bro’ to ‘lovesick puppy boy’ was amazing to see.

“Ugh… I almost fell asleep at Mr. Cal’s class. So glad it’s Friday again…” I mumbled my answer. I tried to avoid mentioning the argument with my professor, but I’m pretty sure my class mentioned it already. Dave was pretty straightforward though, so he would probably mention it if he wanted to.

I know that I could easily not be tired if I would go to bed earlier at night, but those monsters are not going to hunt themselves in Monster Hunter, right?

“Wouldn’t mind spending all weekend just hugging you here…” Dave whispered, before placing a gentle kiss on my head. His hand was moving towards my private area, but I wasn’t going to stop him. I liked how it felt. “Just taking care of my lovely soulmate…” Another kiss, this time moving closer to my mouth.

When it comes to sexy stuff… I suck. Like, not in the literal hot way, I’m lame at it. I don’t like bottoming much, because I’m a bit of a wimp and I’m afraid of being hurt, but having Dave as a top is such a wonderful thing (After you go past that little pain at the beginning, the rest of the thing goes in like nothing) probably because he focuses too much on me having the most pleasure out of it.

So, I usually let Dave take control of the situation and just guide me wherever he wants to go. It’s not like we fuck every day though; I’ve only had my first time like a week ago. My werewolf jock would be up for it if I ordered him to, not going to lie.

But like, if we did that, it would kind of lose the magic of the moment? Like, I know Dave loves sex but even if it feels good the two times we’ve done it so far, it’s not like it’s a game-changer or anything.

So… cuddling and foreplay was the best thing ever!

“That’s sweet but don’t you have a party tonight? Sam has been talking all week about a—” I got silenced, the kiss was now happening at my mouth, cool. That’s what I get for trying to ruin such a good moment, I’m glad Dave stopped me.

His hand slipped in my underwear as he took hold of my cock and slowly stroked it. Meanwhile, we made out without a care in the world.

My breath got heavier. I felt so good at the moment, and Dave seemed to want me to stay like that for a good while. He would slow down the pace of his strokes or pick it up at just the right times.

…I had an idea.

I passed my hand through his hair as we broke the kiss, and he just looked at me in bliss. “Who’s a good puppy boy? You are, don’t you?” I whispered the question, to get him in his puppy mood.

It worked like a charm. Dave’s strokes slowed down a bit, as he started caressing himself with my hand, like a dog would do. “Yeah, bruh… Imma good puppy boy”

I ruffled his hair a bit more. “And every good puppy boy needs a good owner to take care of them, right?”

Okay, it may seem like I’m trying to do something weird or kinky here, but I actually wanted to try and make him a bit less… self-centered? I already had full control of him, due to our soulmate bond, but maybe if he saw me as a superior… He wouldn’t be so careless about others? Like he’s not at the top of the pyramid anymore?

But it didn’t work as intended, or at least not as I expected. Dave shook his head, without losing his chilled and happy expression. “Good puppy boys take care of their owners, bruh. Wanna protect and serve mine to make ‘im happy.”

It definitely wasn’t what I wanted to say, but it worked pretty well. “Who’s the owner though, puppy boy?”

“Really need me to say it?” The werewolf jock seemed a bit embarrassed to give his answer, as his cheeks turned red and he stared at me very intently. I nodded, of course. I came this far already, what I’m going to say? ‘Oh, no, I was just messing with you hahahaha well good night!’ “You’re my owner, bruh. Didn’t ya know that already? I love doing as you say…”

He leaned in for a good kiss. “…And I love you, my lovely soulmate.” He finished. Now I was the one who blushed. After that, the jock lied down beside me and pulled me to cuddle together. “Now come here, I need to make my owner feel good”

It did feel good to hear that I’m his owner. Oh geez, do I have a domination kink? Uh… I think that kind of explains why I love seeing him wearing that bowser collar, beside that it makes fun of the fact that he’s a werewolf.

He’s my good puppy boy, after all. “So, how are you going to make your owner feel good, puppy boy?” I roamed his big chest with my hands as I waited for an answer. I don’t feel like I say this enough, but I’m lucky to have this guy as my soulmate.

Dave raised an eyebrow, and spoke with a confident tone, but still curious. “What does my owner want me to do? This puppy boy will take care of it, whatever it is, huhuh”

Ooookay, if my cock was hard before, then it was aching right now with how horny I was. “Truth is, been a while since we’ve had some… action?” Oh god, I felt so dumb saying something like that. I think Dave would have laughed at me, but he actually seemed turned on by what I was implying.

“Fuck, been wanting to hear you say those words in like a week.” He kneeled on top of the bed, after pulling his underwear off. His cock was hard, as usual. I wonder if he jerks off at his house or if he’s just eager like a big horny werewolf. Speaking of his cock, Dave placed himself in such a way that his cock would be right in front of me. “C’mon bruh, show me how those lips work-”

“I was actually expecting you to suck mine off… Never did this before” If I felt dumb before, imagine how I was now. Dave seemed to try and find a solution, though.

“So, uh… never 69’d before?” I shook my head, and he let out a little sigh, but never stopped smiling. He was just a soft marshmallow when we were alone, I liked that about him. “Let me show ya”

I remained lying down, as Dave did all the work. He crawled over to my cock, got on top of my body and moved until his cock was on my face and mine was near his. The jock licked the top, giving me a little jolt of pleasure, like a little preview of what was about to come.

“Just… relax, and open wide. Not everyone can take my snake during their first time, heh” It made me wonder how many times he did this before. Or how many times did he had sex before.

I leaned forward and smelled his dong. It wasn’t bad, so I proceeded to take the piece of meat in my mouth. It didn’t taste bad at all, it was actually pleasant. I wiggled my tongue around the tip, and I could hear the big guy starting to pant already before he dove in for my cock.

‘Hell yeaaaaah’ I thought, before focusing on my own part of the job. It was a bit hard to do due to the position, but it was doable, at least. I wasn’t able to deep throat (Not that I’ve ever done that before, saw it in porn and uh… it would be nice to try out?) due to the position, too.

“You’re doing great, my love…” Dave pulled off for a second to say, before going back to the action. I felt compelled to order him something, just like the first time he gave me a blowjob. It was always so hot, looking at him doing as I said…

“Uh… hey Dave, could you take it all in and work around that?” I ordered him, way calmer than this morning. It still seemed to work, because he took my whole shaft in one go and I could feel the motion of his mouth going up and down, taking it all every time. It felt really good, but I had to return the favor.

I tried to pick up my pace too, to make him feel as good as I was. I know that I can’t possibly compete with a werewolf under the soulmate bond, he would definitely… uhhh. “I’m coming!” I warned him, but he didn’t move an inch.

The big guy took my whole load, and licked the rest of my shaft with his tongue to avoid letting a drop of my cum go to waste.

And now, it was my turn…

Dave had this order still on him. “You will cum only after I cum.” Not saying that he’s precocious but… he does seem to cum right after I’ve been pleased. Maybe he finds that hot already?

My train of thoughts was derailed by the sudden explosion of cum in my mouth. It activated my gag reflex, so I pulled off and just swallowed the one that was already in my mouth. Part of my mind found it hot, while the other found it a bit gross.

Dave was still at 69 position. I looked over at his face and he seemed to be back in obedient puppy mode. Tongue lolling out, and eyes glazed over. It was a hot sight.

“C’mon big guy, did a great job down there. Let’s just cuddle for a while, alright?” I told him, wanting to cover myself so badly. I felt a bit naked without a sheet over myself. Luckily, none of our loads fell in my bed, or I would have to change the sheets.

“Yeah, bruh…” He mumbled, before doing as I told him. He repositioned himself next to me, and lied down. His muscled body was an amazing sight, and I pulled him in for a hug.

“Who’s a good puppy boy?” I whispered, loving the feel of his warm skin against mine.

“I am, bruh. I’m a good puppy boy for my owner… huhuh…” A dopey smile appeared on his face, and I proceeded to plant a kiss on him. I wanted to write down today’s progressions or something, I still had that ‘study Dave’s behavior’ on my mind. But it seemed kind of clouded now that I was focused on taking a little break with him beside me.

It was always good to spend a good time with my lovely werewolf jock.

--------

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#nate and dave #mind control #werewolf #straight to gay #gay hypnosis #hypnotized #brainwashing #brainwash #brainwashed

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary: Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 4: Snarling Dogs

Trigger Warnings: caps lock for yelling, swearing

Remy tried not to breathe in too deeply as he dodged and weaved around people and stalls alike in the crowded marketplace. Sellers shouted out their wares and prices for everything from the rare pilfered canned goods to...less than sanitary goods. Metal, body odor and sewage from a nearby line made opening ones mouth a less than favorable option making him extremely grateful he lived and worked with Remus and didn't have to earn a living up here. Adjusting his hold on the grocery pack slung over his shoulder he dodged a family looking through a selection of warmer clothes, the girl trying her best to swipe a pair of gloves unnoticed. He silently wished them luck. A family of thieves lasted only as long as their latest trainee failed to get caught.

Nearing the exit to the marketplace his shoulders sagged with relief, quickening his pace as he stairs came into view. Old and cracked as they were he was always surprised their little city lasted as long as it had; hastily made and as ramshackle as any other put together out if the desperate hope for a safe haven, the underground establishment boasted three levels all separated by concrete slabs taken from surface buildings and steel bars that were about the only steady thing about the place.

He had almost made it to the first flight of stairs when he heard a short cry coming from an alleyway close by. Whipping around he gripped the groceries tighter and wandered over in the direction it had come from. He knew he'd be chewed out by Remus for this but he always hated leaving anything curious alone, whether it be for gossip or guilts sake. Just a quick peek, he thought as he rounded a corner. Scope it out and then either let it be and have something juicy to tell his husband later or help someone who needed it and have something juicy to tell his husband later. Win win either way.

Finally spotting two figures at the end of a dim alley way between two storage buildings he squinted harshly as he set the groceries down and crept forward. One of them was saying something, and the closer he got the less he liked it.

"...be fine sweetheart. It'll be quick and easy and then they'll take care of you for the rest of your life. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"I don't want to." Remy's vision flashed red at those words, the taller man clearly leaning closer to the woman, caging her in his arms. He tried to be as silent as possible, debris scattered around making it hard to place his feet quietly. He had gotten only a few feet away when it seemed like the man was done playing whatever game he had going on, taking something out if his pocket and sneering down at his prey.

"I'm not so sure you have a choice." Remy had seen and heard enough, standing up and running forward quickly he brought his left arm up and swung back before pitching forward, throwing all of his weight to clock the man just right in the side of the head.

The woman shrieked as the man crumpled instantly, not without Remy wincing as a couple of his fingers starting sticking in place as the knuckles fought to adjust to the now bent frame. Shit, now Remus really would be mad. Though it hardly mattered at the moment, turning to the terrified woman with what he hoped was a friendly smile. He froze for a moment following her line of sight to his shining hand.

He flexed his fingers in a mock wave, mechanical digits creaking a bit from the impact they had barely endured. He chuckled nervously and put it in his pocket. "You like it? My husband got it for me"

Trying for humor seemed to be the key as she let out a nervous giggle, flicking from him to her attacker and back again. He looked down and nudged the prone man with his foot, an odd device that he must have dropped catching his eye. A stylized snarling dog insignia was engraved at the side of what almost looked like a dart gun, eyes widening as he realized what it was.

"He was going to chip you?" The other startled as she bit her lip and looked away. Putting the peices together he supposed it made sense. Society members sometimes came to lower settlements to scope out fresh meat for whatever it was they did to the people they indoctrinated. He had heard scant details from Remus from his own time spent in one as a child. He looked down his nose at the man. Hopefully he hadn't gotten a good look at Remy's face.

"Do you need an escort home? I promise I have better manners towards people who aren't trying to attack someone."

The woman shook her head, carefully stepping around both him and the man. "I'll be fine now. Thank you, for what you did."

With that she turned and ran, which Remy couldn't blame her for, you didn't really make friends in this particular city. Sniffing indignantly nonetheless he turned on his heel and made his way back to his groceries, hauling them up with his good hand and making his way home.

Niether of them had noticed the small, blinking red light at the end of the chip gun.

----

"You're sure this will heal?" Remus huffed as he tied off another stitch, the gaping wound in his patient's arm finally closing and ready to be bandaged.

"If you keep it clean and don't fuck it up again it'll heal just fine." He ignored the soft "language please" from across the from and focused on slathering antibacterial ointment over the wound before getting out a roll of gauze. "I'm the best in the business, you'll live. And if your arm does fall off I have plenty of replacements!"

He grinned as his patient paled somewhat, taking in the rows of neatly arranged mechanical limbs the small office was most known for in the black market. "Do you- do you get all that metal from the fairies?"

"Mmm, technically I guess. We get some of it from Hunters that come by and trade the metal for supplies, sometimes we trade for aluminum or dig around scrap vulture packs for odds and ends. One man's trash is another man's polished trash, and I'm the best there is!" Tying off the gauze with an of finality he turned as the door opened. "Remy you're- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR HAND?!"

The unholy screech that left Remus' mouth left everyone in the room and a mile wide radius wincing from the volume. Remy, for his part, had the presence of mind to look at least a little ashamed, scuffing his toe along the floor and hiding the mangled, twitching limb behind his back. "I uh, fell?"

Remus' eyes darkened as he stood up. "Everyone out! We are now closed! Emile, the baggy!"

Scrambling around the desk Emile grabbed the patients to go bag which was swiftly grabbed up and thrown in their face. "Out! My husband is more important!"

"Remus!" Despite Emile's chiding the office was cleared relatively quickly as Remus stalked forward with his hand out.

"Groceries down. Walk and talk. Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt anywhere else? Where did you go? Wh-"

"Babes!" Remus snapped his mouth shut as Remy's protest and the lankier man sighed. "I got curious when I heard someone scream and ended up punching some dude in an alleyway for trying to chip a woman. Probs a Society member. They didn't see me, I just fucked my hand up."

Remus looked up as his hand was squeezed. "I'm okay."

Huffing he turned back to inspecting the ruined prosthetic, wincing as the other hissed in pain as he tried moving the digits. "Okay. Okay we'll...wrap these for now. You're damn lucky Emile and I have been working on something better for you."

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well now I won't tell you because I'm pissed that my husband's an idiot without one brain cell to rub against his skull for some self preservation!"

Remy grinned and leaned back, accepting the pain killers Emile offered with a grateful nod as his fingers and hand were carefully wrapped to keep them relatively still.

"How much did you get for the scrap?" The question snapped him out of his thoughts and he pursed his lips as he looked over to the abandoned groceries.

"Enough." He didn't want to mention prices were starting to drop and it was getting harder to negotiate for fair ones. Food and materials were starting to get scarce and a lot of people were starting to talk about leaving their little society for more promising ones that didn't operate with such delicacy. He always knew it would happen eventually, but he figured their little family would be long gone by then.

Remus grunted in response and Remy closed his eyes tiredly. Navigating his way through all the levels and people for hours was always exhausting, he couldn't wait to go upstairs and slip into their bed for a quick nap before dinner.

"The bags under your eyes are big enough to hold the groceries themselves, go to bed. I'll be up in a few minutes." Remus punctuated this by flicking the tip of his nose, to which he only recieved a lazy grin in return for his thoughts being answered so quickly.

"Yes sir." Despite his exhaustion he winked playfully before getting up slowly and giving Remus a peck on the lips, waving quickly to Emile before turning and heading towards the stairs.

"And actually go to bed! No coffee!" Emile called after him as an afterthought, to which xe recieved a few low grumbles that xe hoped was in agreement. Neither xyr cousin nor cousin in law had the best sleeping habits, and their constant caffeine consumption did nothing to help it.

"We did actually finish that right? I forget if we did that or another project." Emile turned and smiled wryly.

"You really need to start using to do lists. We did them both at the same time, so yeah, Remy's hand is done. It's in the bottom drawer in the filing cabinet."

Xe started tidying up the office as Remus rummaged around in the cabinet. Biting xyr lip xe voiced a growing concern. "Do you think it's a bad sign Society members are starting scope this place out? We're pretty far away from the closest ones and those arent nearly as dangerous as some can be."

Emile almost wanted xyr words back as Remus stiffened, but the other only shrugged as he waved the hand he found back and forth. "It's fine. Those dogs go sniffing around everything they don't have their teeth in already. Probably just some recruitment that I'm very happy my brave and dashing husband discouraged."

"Right." Emile rolled xyr eyes and placed xyr hands in xyr hips. "Well, everything's cleaned up so I'm gonna head downstairs to file whatever papers you left."

"You're such a doll! I'll have dinner ready soon yeah? Remember to lock the door!"

"Already did!" Returning the kiss blown in xyr direction xe headed down to the basement quickly, blueprints trapped safely against xyr chest to sort through with all the others. Xe knew xe shouldn't worry but...with xyr cousin's history-

Xe shook xyr head quickly. It would be fine. It had to be. Xe had finally gotten a little bit of xyr family living under one roof for quite a few years now. No Society member was going to make xem fear that being taken away from xem. With determination burning xyr veins xe flicked on the light and turned towards the worktables.

Groaning xe set the stack xe was holding down with all the other and dragged xyr hands over xyr face. ADHD be damned xe were still kicking Remus' butt come dinnertime.

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shapeshifting-wildcard · 4 years

Text

It was a lazy summer afternoon. Joker was helping out behind the counter today, but he had time to spare for a new friend. Especially one who was going to teach him a new skill he could use as a Phantom Thief. At first glance, learning how to divine through tarot cards didn't seem like a particularly useful skill. But the point was to hone his supernatural abilities through a known occult focus. Besides, Arisato was a more experienced Persona-user, and a fellow wildcard on top of it. She was bound to have some sort of useful experience to pass along to a young up-and-coming thief like him, right?

The deck she slid over to him looked rather pretty, he had to admit. The backs were a purple, starry field. In the center was a stylized sun, surrounded by a ring of heavily stylized animals. He could recognize a bird and a turtle, and the third looked vaguely like a dragon? Much more of a western-style dragon than an eastern one. Were they meant to represent the four heavenly beasts? Because the fourth one looked more like a fox than a tiger.

He picked up the deck and flipped it over, revealing the front of the cards. He thumbed through it, admiring the vibrant colors and the ethereal, watercolor-y feel of the images. Each image had this flow to it, drawing the eye exactly where it needed to go. Or, at least, that's how Joker felt.

A particular image caught his eye as he flipped through them. An individual in a pointed, birdlike mask, sporting black wings and a bestial lower half and carrying a sword. Crows circled around them, and a big white swan stood above, wings spread wide and its back facing the figure crouched on the ground.

"They're really pretty, aren't they?" the girl sitting at the counter commented. She leaned forward a bit to see which card he was lingering on, and let out a soft laugh. "Seven of Swords, huh? Well, the booklet does compare that one to a thief. So it'd make sense that you'd find it interesting."

She flashed him a cheeky grin as he huffed at her. The only reason you're getting away with that is because there's no one else around. He's supposed to be sneaky. It's hard to do that when everyone keeps outing your status as a Phantom Thief. He frowned as he kept flipping through the cards, mostly as an excuse to ignore her giggling. He stopped again on another card. Five of Pentacles. A figure sat hunched over in a corner, curled in on themself. Their face was hidden from view, their only companions a butterfly floating in front of them and a vaguely attentive lizard on another platform. The image gave off an uncomfortable feeling of loneliness, of isolation. Of losing something you can never truly get back.

He saw her lean forward to see what caught his attention this time. Before she could get a good look, he stacked the deck back together and slid it over to her, leaning over the counter and pulling up his phone. She couldn't speak sign, unfortunately, so he'd have to make due with note-passing.

"So, where do we start?" She glanced at the phone and smiled, picking up the deck and tapping it on the counter.

"Well, obviously, the first thing you do is shuffle all the cards." She slid the deck back towards him. "It's better if you have the person asking the question shuffle the cards. I guess it gives them a feel for the question-asker or something?"

Joker shrugged and picked up the deck again. He split the deck and tried to do that trick where you leaf the cards together. If you do it right, you should release the cards one at a time in turn, one from each side of the deck. Unfortunately for Joker, it did not turn out quite so neatly. It was more like a few chunks of cards came out at a time, smacking against the counter rather ungracefully. Arisato offered him a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, I'm still not the greatest at shuffling them, either. But it's okay, just give it a couple tries to make sure it's shuffled enough for you."

His other attempts were not much more successful, but at least he was fairly sure the cards were properly mixed up at this point. He slid the deck back over to her. "Now what?"

"Now, there's a lot of different kinds of spreads you can use, depending on the question and what you want to know. Let's start with a really, really simple one: the single-card spread. You ask a question, then draw a card and see what turns up. It can be any question! Like... 'will I do well on the next exam,' or 'what should I do with my time today,' or 'what should I get my friend for their birthday?'"

Joker hummed thoughtfully, leaning his elbows against the counter as he stared at the deck. Any question, huh? Well... there were a million serious questions he could ask. The exam question was certainly very tempting, but he had a feeling that would be an obvious answer. "Study hard or perish."

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as a cheeky question flitted across his mind. He picked up his phone and typed it in. "Will I find love?"

Arisato smiled and gave him a nod. "Okay, that works! Now, since this one is easy enough, why don't you draw the card and set it down right here?"

She pointed next to the deck, so Joker dutifully drew a card from the top of the deck and laid it out on the counter in front of him.

And blinked.

It was the Lovers.

Arisato took one look at the card and burst out laughing. "Well, if that isn't the most succinct 'yes' I've ever seen!"

Joker's face felt hot as he sank against the counter. He wasn't expecting such a straightforward response. Honestly he'd been expecting something random, like that five of pentacles. Arisato continued to giggle at his expense for a moment. Once she regained some composure, she reached over and gently tapped the card.

"To be fair, the Lovers card represents more than just, well, lovers," she explained. "It represents a union—of hearts, minds, passions, stuff like that—but it also represents a choice. Pursuing a career versus pursuing love, something old versus something new, excitement versus routine, stuff like that." She flipped the card around towards herself, pursing her lips as she studied it. "It won't be an easy choice. You'll question your values and what you hold most dear. But in the end, you'll come to an understanding—of yourself or the other person, or maybe both. But it'll be an understanding nonetheless."

Joker watched her for a moment, noticing the distant, thoughtful look in her eye. For a moment, he forgot she was only a year older than him. He reached for his bangs and twirled a lock of hair between his fingers, pondering what to say next.

"You sound like you have some experience."

He slid the phone closer to her, sneaking it into her view to catch her attention. She jumped and blinked at the screen, before letting out a self-conscious chuckle.

"You could say that," she said. She glanced back at the card for a moment, sighed, and turned it back to face him. "Ann's the Lovers for you, isn't she? So you've probably already seen a little of it for yourself."

Joker grunted and played with his bangs again. True, he had spent some time getting to know Ann. And spending time with her did seem to involve her having to make some big choices. But... maybe it's just how Ann was, but the choices she made never really seemed too difficult for her. The decision to strengthen her heart never seemed to give her much trouble outside of practical concerns. It didn't seem like any sort of ethical dilemma, or something that made her question everything she thought she knew.

Then again, Ann never struck him as the type for long-winded introspection. Her intuition always seemed to serve as her guide, leading seamlessly from one idea to the next even as she jumped around between them. It was interesting to watch her thought process sometimes.

"So, what did you think of that?" Arisato's question brought him out of his thoughts. He tilted his head and gave her a curious look. "Of the reading, I mean. It was a really basic reading, but does how it works make sense?"

Joker nodded, leaning against the counter again and pulling the phone back towards him. "It seems straightforward enough."

"The larger spreads get more complicated and require a bit more thinking. The one and three card spreads are the easiest and most straightforward. Though most answers probably aren't going to be as blatant as that!"

Joker chuckled. "I wasn't expecting it to be, in all honesty. At least it wasn't something ominous, like Death."

Arisato hummed thoughtfully. "Well, Death in that context might be a little ominous, but not because it means someone is fated to die or something." Joker gave her another curious look and she continued. "Death isn't about dying, it's about transitions and change. While it signifies the end of one thing, it also signifies the beginning of something else. So, in the context of your question..." She trailed off as she thought, idly tapping the deck. "It might mean whatever relationship you're currently in is going to end, but it'll open you up to a new one. Or, you'll only find love after something else in your life ends. Like, maybe you'll have to wait until the end of the year, or until you graduate high school."

Joker sighed dramatically. "But I hate waiting!"

Arisato laughed. "So I've noticed." She shot a meaningful glance towards his bandaged neck. "I guess it's a good thing you didn't end up with the Death card then, huh?"

"Lovers sounds much more hopeful, anyway," Joker typed.

"It does." She gathered up her cards and shuffled the Lovers card back into the deck. "You can keep playing around with them if you want."

Joker shook his head. "I should get back to work. A customer could come in any moment, you know."

"That's true. I won't bother you, then. If you want another lesson, though, just give me a shout!"

Joker nodded, typing a quick thank you before he busied himself with cleaning out the coffee machines. That one lesson did give him a lot to think about, at the very least.

At the back of his mind, a voice whispered the formation of a new bond: an alternate Death arcana. Oh, this should prove to be very interesting indeed.

#!drabbles #💔 Confidant: Death-Rebirth (glass-half-fxxl)#!long post

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lemonsandstrawberries · 5 years

Text

Ex-husband

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), with a side of Winterfalcon (Bucky x Sam), AU

summary: Steve and Tony married for a reason and got divorced for a reason too. Just when they see each other unexpectedly, all the long lost feelings come back.

length: 1 943 words

disclaimer: fic belongs into the chubby!Tony category

a/n: I usually stay away from divorced!Stony because the idea pains me too much, but I loved this prompt, hope you enjoy the outcome!

—————

Ex-husband

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and cool, and even people seemed nicer in the always busy New York City. People were smiling, chatting, couples sitting in the cafeterias, cooing to each other over cups of coffee and shared desserts.

Oh, how Steve hated them all.

"There you are!"

Steve turned around, spotting Bucky making his way through the crowd, taking bold steps towards him.

"I thought we agreed to meet at the bus stop!" his best friend said, smiling brightly. He should be comforted by the presence of his friend, but Steve couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, knowing that the history behind that smile was not only of a friendship but of a fulfilled relationship. Bucky had definitely more reasons to smile than he had.

"Sorry, I… I wandered off," Steve admitted in a sigh, his eyes going back to the couples sitting at the front of the cafeteria. The cafeteria he and Tony -

Bucky narrowed his eyes angrily, knowing where Steve was looking. "Come on, let's go," he asked, grabbing his friend's wrist and walking away. Steve took a last, long look at the table in the corner, remembering when he and Tony were there. When he got on one knee and asked a life-changing question and how Tony agreed with teary eyes and a big smile, and how people clapped for them as they kissed, promising to be together forever and always love each other.

"You will just break each other's hearts!" Steve yelled in the direction of the couple that occupied his and Tony's ex table, and before the stunned people could figure out who said that, Bucky already pulled him into the crowd, mingling with others.

"Jesus!" Bucky hissed, shooting a short glance at his friend, "can you calm down?!"

Steve didn't answer, just zipped his mouth angrily. He didn't ask to be dragged out of his apartment. He was perfectly fine with eating microwave meals and walking in stretched out clothes with stains from the mentioned microwave meals and growing out a scruffy beard instead of his usual, clean shaved look. He was happy as he was. In his own, hermit hole and didn't feel the need to have human relations. He looked at Bucky's hand and his heart tightened at the sight of the gold ring. It was a cruel irony of faith, that when he was going through a divorce, Bucky was getting married. Steve liked Sam and was happy for them, but he still felt wounded after his own heartbreak and would prefer to be left alone, even if Bucky was uncharacteristically tactful and never rubbed his happy marriage into Steve's divorced face.

"Where are we going?" Steve asked, letting Bucky lead.

"We are going to get you some new clothes," Bucky answered, swiftly maneuvering through the crowd of people, knowing the way, "and preferably a date."

"I don't need a date-" Steve started in a heavy voice, just to be interrupted.

"Ah ah ah! I don't want to hear this crap again! It has been six months, Steve, I am not saying you have to date right away, but a pair of underwear that doesn't have holes in them would be a good start!"

Somehow, Steve couldn't argue with that…

They made it to the clothes store, one of those big ones that had everything, starting from socks and ending on the most expensive suits. Seemed that Bucky planned to replace his whole wardrobe. Just as they were passing the window on their way to the front door, Steve's eyes widened in panic and he tugged his hand away, strategically flattening himself down to the sidewalk.

"What now?" Bucky asked, watching his friend crouching down and holding hands pressed the back of his head and curling as if expecting an explosion.

"I can't go in there," Steve muttered into his chest.

"Why?"

"Because Tony is in there."

"What? He is?" Bucky asked, turning front to the window and scanning through the people inside.

"No, don't look!"

But he already did. And Bucky's lips stretched into a mischievous smile when he spotted his friend's ex-husband. "Steve, you need to see this."

"No, I don't."

"You do," Bucky emphasized and despite all the silent protesting Steve did, he was still forced inside the shop. Fear almost paralyzed him when he saw Tony, standing at the register and chatting with the saleswoman paying for a stack of clothes. He was smiling and Steve couldn't figure out what he was saying but he heard the soothing melody of his voice, and it was melting his mind. He didn't hear Tony's voice since the day they signed divorce documents and went their separate ways. How he missed that voice.

"Barnes."

Bucky stopped, and Steve almost collided with him.

"Oh," Bucky forced on a smile, hearing the cold greeting. "Rhodes," he said, nodding to the man who purposefully stood in their way to Tony. Of course, Tony wasn't shopping alone.

At the familiar voices, Tony turned around, his already big eyes getting even wider when he spotted the familiar faces. And Steve stood there, completely shook.

Tony didn't change much. His hair was still in that unruly, carefully stylized mess and his goatee looked sharp as ever. Steve felt like a mess in comparison to his always pristine-looking ex-husband. But the longer he looked, the more he noticed and he realized the reason behind Bucky's mocking smile from earlier.

Since the divorce, Tony put on some weight. Well, Tony appreciated the finest things in life, like a glass of good scotch, or a delicious meal, but he was also a stress eater. And while Steve during stress turned into a slob, not caring about anything, Tony turned for comfort to food. And it showed. Showed in the round face. In the slightly curved stomach and wider hips. Tony was facing him, and Steve could only guess that Tony's already round and plump ass he loved to grab and squeeze while he still was allowed became even rounder.

Steve just wanted to rip the clothes off his ex-husband and test with teeth and greedy fingers how more exactly there was of Tony to touch and kiss and admire.

"Funny meeting you here," Bucky started a fake, friendly talk, looking at Rhodes.

"I could say the same," Rhodey replied in a cold voice. Of course, since Tony and Steve broke up, the friendship between Bucky and Rhodey went down the gutter as they both were defending their best friend's with their lives and blaming everything on the other person. "Tony, are we done here?"

"Um, yeah," Tony answered, gathering his bags at the register and walking to Rhodey, unsure where he should look. Steve just took in the moment and didn't let his eyes off Tony.

"Hi Steve," Tony said hurriedly, passing by him as both men left the shop without saying goodbye.

Steve closed his eyes and inhaled. God, not only Tony looked hell good, but he also smelled delicious.

"I guess we know who won this breakup," Bucky perked up and nudged Steve after the door closed.

"Um, yeah… I…" Steve glanced to the back. What was he doing. "I will be right back, Buck!" he said, turning around and rushing out of the store, leaving his friend puzzled. They couldn't make it far. Steve looked right and left, searching when he saw both men walking in the distance. Even from here, he could see that Tony was huddled into himself, probably overwhelmed by the unexpected meeting, as Rhodey was whispering some things to him.

"Tony!"

That wasn't a good move. Immediately, both men stopped and Rhodey stood in front of Tony as if guarding him.

"What do you want, Rogers?" he asked, eyeing Steve when he had gained on them.

"I want to talk to Tony," he blurted out, technically not needing permission from Rhodes.

"Oh yeah? But he doesn't want to talk with you-"

"It is fine, Rhodey."

A quiet, meeped out voice. Rhodey looked in disbelief at his friend and after some hushed out words, he stepped aside, but still gave Steve a clear signal that he would be watching him from the distance.

After a deep breath, Tony turned around.

And… wow. Steve could just stare. He forgot how gorgeous Tony was.

"What is it, Steve?" Tony asked, trying to urge the conversation. He forced a smile on his face, which looked as if he was in pain. Steve felt terrible, knowing that he was the source of the pained smile and wishing to hit himself in the face for causing it.

"I… I just wanted to ask how are you doing," Steve breathed out, just wanting to hold to this moment. To feel completed again.

Tony gently tilted his head to the side, analyzing the question and trying to figure out if there was any malicious intent behind it. "I am fine. Working a lot."

Steve nodded. "You always worked a lot," he laughed, hoping to loosen the atmosphere, but more hurt appeared in Tony's eyes after the comment. Right. This was one of the things they used to argue about.

Tony sighed. "You look good, Steve."

"You too," Steve quickly said and that added more pain to Tony's eyes. Of course, Tony never saw himself attractive whenever he gained some weight and no amount of soft words and reassuring touches could change his mind. Steve remembered those evening vividly. Touching and kissing and laughing.

"Right," Tony coughed, taking a step back, "I have to go-"

"Do you want some coffee?" Steve blurted out, his mind screaming at him to keep Tony for a bit longer. Or maybe forever.

"What?"

"Coffee. With me. If not now, maybe tomorrow-"

"Steve…" Tony sighed, reverting to his previous position and even closer to Steve. With the corner of his eyes, Steve saw Rhodey leaning to the front as if just waiting to rush in and pull them apart. "What are you doing? We once tried and it didn't work out."

"I know that," Steve swallowed. Tony was so close he could feel the warmth radiating from him. One step closer and he would be kissing those sweet lips and holding him around the waist. "It is just… Bucky wants me to date."

"Oh," more hurt as Tony looked down. "Seems like a good idea to move forward-"

"I want to date you."

Shit.

"What?" Tony asked, looking back at Steve again.

"I mean, it is just fitting, right?" Steve laughed in faked humor, "my first date was with you, maybe it should be again?"

"Steve…"

"Please," Steve said, taking Tony's hand in his and that made Rhodey leap. "Just a coffee. For old time's sake."

Tony swallowed, looking at their hands. None of them kept the wedding rings. Tony didn't know what Steve did with his, but Tony's was on the bottom of the ocean when after the divorce he had decided to hide in his house in California for some time as being in New York was too painful.

"Okay," he agreed in a shaking voice. "One coffee. Tomorrow at noon at the usual place. For old time's sake."

"I will see you there," Steve agreed, letting Tony slip away and walk away with Rhodes who already started asking questions. Steve turned back and headed to the shop, his steps and heart the lightest they have been in the past six months.

"Bucky's going to kill me," he said to himself and laughed a little imagining his friend's reaction to the news that his first date in his single life would be with his ex-husband.

---------

-----> part two

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #chubby!tony #weight acceptance #body acceptance #winterfalcon #Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #james rhodey rhodes #tony and rhodey friendship #tony and rhodey brootp #steve and bucky brootp #fanfic #fanfiction #au #no tickling

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 51: Getting to Know You

Chapters: 51/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (Getting There) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Here Have Some More Weird Foreshadowing, Mynos Is Friend Shaped, Oh Shit Who Could Have Ever Guessed This Might Happen

Summary: You and Loki share some quality time, and make a new friend.

You huddled next to Loki on his black sheepskin rug, in front of his fireplace. The warm light of the flames-actually a fake fire, as the 'logs' were made of iron-spangled off his deep eyes, as he excitedly explained his new ideas to you.

He'd been side-eying you for two days. Not avoiding you or anything, and not distant at all; if anything, he was more attentive than ever. Something had clearly disturbed him, but you had no idea what it was. Ever since he had rushed you off to the healing wing after that weird candle dinner, he refused to tell you what you had said or done that had startled him so badly, he just told you not to worry about it.

He was definitely still worried about it. He acted as if you were still convalescing: trying to do everything for you, hovering, asking you over and over again if you were all right, how you were feeling, if you needed anything.

What you needed was for him to lighten up and back off a bit. You might have liked the attention under other circumstances, but like this it was just feeding into your paranoia. What was it you had done to make him act like this? Why wouldn't he tell you?

When he'd asked you to have dinner with him again, you'd hoped he was ready to discuss it, so you could finally get it off your mind. Otherwise, you would pick and pick at it forever.

But no, instead it was another weird dinner. Firelight this time, and trays full of finger food, on a sheepskin rug, on the floor of his bedroom, where you had never been before.

You would really have to ask Saldis if this kind of thing was normal. Because from your perspective, this screamed 'date', but he hadn't actually made his intentions clear, and you weren't sure you wanted to date right now, no matter how much you liked him. There was just so much on your mind.

He was in those damnably tight velvet trousers again though.

“So, you drew these?” You said, munching on some fruit. “They look nice. Very precise.”

They were. Every line was absolutely straight and perfect, just like his writing.

“They are longhouses. A little stylized, admittedly, but basically just longhouses. I saw buildings like this when I visited, centuries ago. They have a certain charm to them, don't they?”

“I see you've put your horns on them.” You said, pointing to the curved carvings on the apex of the roof at both the front and back entrances.

“Stylized, as I said.” He shrugged. “Besides, as the patron, I do reserve the right to put my signatures on the buildings. The inhabitants should know under whose auspices they live.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I intend to have these built. For the camp. Before Buridag. As a sort of symbolic gift, in the spirit of Buridag.”

“What?”

“They had difficulties last winter. It is hard to live in a tent when the snow can rise higher than your door. With these, they can climb out the roof if the snow gets high, and they can also keep warm, and safe from winds. We can build them with modern amenities as well. Electricity, plumbing, all of that.”

“You want to build them houses? Houses for the campers?” You asked, incredulous.

“I am Aesir. I was a god once, on this world. Even as a child, a youth, people of this world worshiped me. I never stopped being that, only now I have the power to do something for them.”

You set your fruit down and threw your arms around his torso. “They're gonna build you so many shrines!”

His bright smile betrayed his delight. “You approve then?”

“Of course I do! I was out there once, I saw what it was like. And that was in the spring! I can't imagine what winter is like here. Loki, are you really going to do this?”

“Yes. I'm going to build something for this world.” He blew out a breath, staring into the fire. “We are at the beginning of something, I can feel it. And while I may never get to make any kind of reparations for what I have done here, for the lives lost-” He cut himself off sharply, glancing down at you, as if waiting for something.

“What?” You wondered. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He said after a moment of just staring.

“Is it because of what happened before? What did I do, Loki?”

“It doesn't matter, really.” He deflected.

“You say that, but it's bothering us both!” From your position snuggled into his side, you gazed up at him with a pleading expression. “It's freaking me out, Loki. Please, just tell me what it was?”

You had put on your best puppy-dog face, the one you always used on your father, and Nanna Beth. It almost always worked on them, but for Loki, who could say?

He gritted his teeth in a tiny grimace as you stared up at him, and you saw him break.

Well. Wasn't that interesting?

“It's...you said that you were waiting for the people I killed to return. As if there was a direct link between them returning, and the people Thanos killed returning. And then you instantly forgot that you had said anything at all.”

“Woah.” You breathed. “Okay, yeah, that's pretty freaky.”

“Yes. I thought perhaps there was some deeper damage to your brain, something we just hadn't picked up yet, or...” He clutched you a little tighter. “Your father told me about your families health issues, and I've promised to keep you-and specifically your head-safe. I am not going to allow some malevolent lump of flesh to harm you, but I was worried it might be something related to that.”

“Oh. Yeah. That's been looming over me for my whole life. You know, I didn't go to college, partly because I didn't have the money, but I didn't even try to get scholarships or financial aid. Mostly because I kinda thought it wouldn't matter. I figured I would die young, like my mom, and Nanna Beth, so it was no use. It wasn't like I'd have time to make anything of myself.”

His grip on you tightened.

“But I'm still here. I'm older now than either of them ever got to be.” You looked at the brand on your hand. “I got to grow up. I got to see things neither of them could have ever imagined. I'm going to become royalty. I'm going to be a sorceress. I'm going to be an advisor to a god. I'm gonna be...I am someone.”

He released you with one arm, only to stroke your hair with his free hand. You leaned into the touch. It was always nice to have your head tended to.

“You certainly are.” He murmured. “Please tell me something, _____. It's very important.”

“Yes?” You gazed back up at him, finding him staring earnestly back down at you. So beautiful. So close.

“What is your favorite color?”

“Huh?” And just like that, the somber mood was broken, sending you reeling into the mundane, but wholly unexpected question.

“Your favorite color. What is it? You have been by my side for months, yet I don't know what it is. I have seen many sides of you, shared things as intimate as dreams with you, but I don't know something as simple as what kind of music you like, or if you know how to dance. What is your favorite dish? Your favorite game? What is a Bulbasaur, and why do you like it? I would like for you to tell me about yourself. Please. Teach me about you.”

He held you in front of the fire for the rest of the evening, as you traded stories back and forth, questions, musings, and little tidbits of information. You put out of your head that you were in a mans bedroom, in his arms; Loki had shown himself too old-fashioned for you to fear his intentions. Finally, that fear had passed.

You were at that point where you wished he would kiss you, but were afraid for him to do so. Though it had been some time since you had been in anything resembling a romantic relationship, the last person you had been with was Todd, and that experience had made you wary, knotted up inside over the prospect. You were over Todd, but you weren't over it. Loki wouldn't do those things to you, you thought. But you weren't sure. How could you be?

Besides, desiring him wouldn't get you anywhere. You could not have him. Even though you were going to be declared royalty, the regal god-prince would always be way out of your league. What did a royal title mean, when you knew what you were? It didn't matter what title stood next to your name, you were a peasant. You had been raised a peasant, and though you now had the chance to make something of yourself, your roots would always be in the Iowa cornfields.

And for most things in your life, that was just fine. You weren't ashamed of it. But you knew it drove a great wedge between you two.

Perhaps Loki understood that too, if the thought of it ever even crossed his mind. He probably never even thought about it, never thought about you that way, because of that very wedge, even if he seemed to be constantly trying to shave away at it.

Eventually, you both grew quiet, and the food disappeared into one mouth or another. Allowing yourself a sliver of the comfort being in his arms should have brought you, you dozed off against his chest.

*****

Flying through space was just as beautiful as always; the stars, the blue light, the rapidly approaching planet.

You'd been here before, to this hazy, orange world, the home of the supposedly extinct Titans. You and Loki landed once again at the edge of the sickly fields, Loki gazing around in concern.

“Here again?” He wondered. “Why?”

“The fields look better this time.” You observed. “The leaves don't look as crunchy.”

“That is because we have developed more effective water filters.”

Both you and Loki whirled to face the Titan behind you, knives in hands.

“I dare say, those are unnecessary.” The titan said, sitting on an hill, overlooking the fields. It looked like you had interrupted his lunch. “I pose no threat you you. I am merely a scientist.”

You weren't sure if he was the same Titan you had seen the last time you were here, but he was wearing similar clothing.

“Are you Mynos?” You asked.

“I am.” He replied. “And you travel with an Asgardian. Are you an invader?”

“No.” Loki replied. “We are travelers of fortune.”

“Ah. Well, you will find little of that here. I should have thought you'd have realized that the first time you came.”

“You saw us?” You asked.

“Yes, just as you disappeared into the storm. After it passed, I sought you out, but could find no trace of you. It was dismissed as yet another of my odd visions.”

“You happen to be known for such things?” Loki asked.

“Oh yes. Old Mynos is a capable chemist and engineer, and that's why he is kept around, despite all his oddness. Such as seeing Asgardians and...Asgardian-adjacents come floating out of the sky on a silent blue beam, rather than a roaring rainbow. Perhaps you are not actually real either.”

“We might not be.” You agreed. This had to be another dream, but the awareness of that didn't seem to change anything. “You're not worried about that?”

“I am not.” He said, taking a swig of water from a bottle with a large filter attached to the top. “I have seen things more terrifying than you, strange creature, and they were not real either, thankfully.”

Something clicked.

“These things...Did they have anything to do with someone called Thanos? Another Titan, from this world?”

Mynos slowly set his water bottle aside.

“So...You are either some waking dream, or all of that was real. I would much rather you be a dream. I wonder why you and I remember, but no one else does?”

“Thanos is not remembered here?” Loki asked. “Not at all, not even before he came to power?”

Mynos patted the dirt next to him.

“Sit.” He said. “It appears we have some things to share.”

Loki remained where he was, you took a seat next to Mynos. Though sitting himself, he towered over you, like a mauve boulder jutting out of the orange soil.

He might be like you; remembering things that technically never happened. That meant he might have magic, like you did.

“Will you tell me how an Asgardian and a...”

“Human.” You provided.

“...A Human know Thanos?”

“I don't know him.” You said. “Never even seen the guy. But I remember living through the results of something he did. That's been fixed now.”

“I knew him. He was as pathetic and perverse as he was powerful.” Loki said bitterly.

“Yes, that all matches up to my experience as well. The Thanos I knew was a farmer who became a military leader during the overthrow of our old government. When he was young, most of his family died of starvation, as the land began to die. During the Revolution, he took up a leadership role, and organized the remaining local people into a militant force, one of many that rose up at that time. As the Revolution wore on, he gained more and more influence. It seemed he was naturally gifted in charisma, but it was discovered later that he was actually very efficient at manipulation, intimidation, and the radicalization of his soldiers. After the Revolution, he made a bid for control of the new government, but it was discovered that he planned to cull half the population, and he was rejected. We had already lost so many, and the planet was still dying. He spoke of conserving resources, but his plan would have killed indiscriminately: scientists, who were needed to research and create plans to heal the planet, workers, who were needed to implement those plans. We couldn't afford to lose even one more mind, one more pair of hands.

He wanted all of the factories and infrastructure shut down before we had alternate plans in place. To force us all back into an agrarian society before most of us had been taught the necessary skills. In short, he wanted as many of us to die as possible. He was obsessed with death, seemed to nearly worship it, and his soldiers viewed him as a kind of prophet. The plants grew better on the battlefields and mass graves, and, to a generation of soldiers who had been raised on war and dead lands, that must have seemed like a miracle.

We built a tiny fleet of starships in the hope of harvesting resources from other parts of the system, to give our planet a rest. That seemed to be the last straw for him. He had his forces plant explosives in factories, city centers, bridges. Then he seized the entire fleet, and escaped the planet.

His madness, and the madness he cast over his soldiers became crystal clear at that point. He'd convinced his soldiers that not all of them could survive the coming journey, and had them plant explosives on each other's ships, all the ships save his own, promising each group that they would be the ones to accompany him on his new quest. Then, when he was far enough away, he detonated all of the explosives.”

“How do you know what he did?” Loki asked.

“Because after the initial waves of explosions, we located one of the soldiers who had been left behind, and interrogated her. She told us that he had discovered some great power source, and was going to use it to fix the universe. She had been laying explosives on one of the ships, but had been left behind when she went to get more. She and I were killed when debris from the ships crushed our shelter.. I remember this happening. And yet...”

“And yet here you are.” Loki finished.

“And no one else remembers.” You offered.

“Yes. You know of this.”

“Yeah. The universe spent a whole year with all life halved. People, plants, animals...even microbes, I guess. And then, it was reversed.”

“Can you tell me how?”

You glanced at Loki.

“Only the briefest summary.” He admitted. “I was barely there. Thanos continued in that form for many years, decimating planets and seeking this power source. He succeeded. But a group of survivors wrested that power from him, used it to reverse his work, and ended his life. It was thought that he was the last of you, but it appears that we were mistaken.”

“You may have been right. I remember not even two years since that time. Nobody else seems to perceive this gap. No body else remembers him, not even the people who were once his fanatical soldiers. They do not even recognize his name.”

“That wasn't part of the spell...Wait, did you feel that?” Loki asked. You had felt a jolt, and now the world was narrowing around you.

“I'm sorry Mynos, but I think we have to go.” You said, urgently running up to one of the plants, and snatching a leaf. “I don't know if and when we'll be back, but if it's possible to send you help, we'll try.”

“Idle promises have little worth.” He said. “But I appreciate the sympathy, Human.”

You wanted to say more, but the orange world blipped out, replaced by warm firelight, a sheepskin rug, and the arms of a prince, who was being shaken awake by a troubled Andsvarr.

“Your Highness!” He cried. “Your highness, please wake up!”

“Give me one good reason not to banish you, Alarrson!” He snapped grumpily.

“One of the camps has attacked the others! They created a distraction for the gate guards, then set the other two camps on fire!”

You were both suddenly very awake.

“Sofie!” You cried, leaping to your feet.

“No you do not! You stay here, you are in no way combat ready!” Loki commanded.

“But-”

“No! I will see to the humans, you stay here. I swear on my father's name, if you follow me out there, I will lock you in your room and throw away the key!”

You crossed your arms in anger. You knew he wouldn't do that, but you also knew that he was right about not being ready for a battlefield. Oh, you hated it.

“Then go!” You snapped. “Don't hang around here arguing with me. Get out there! Andsvarr, help my friends!”

“Yes, my Seidkona!” He declared.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

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queen-scribbles · 4 years

Text

Opening Day

For @pillarspromptsweekly fill 103, which marks maybe the dozenth time I’ve gone “Eh, I don’t have an idea, maybe I’ll skip this one” only for the muses to come clamoring by the end of the day. :P Set in the modern AU I started, before Catching Up and My Lucky Day.

---

“So... where are we going again?”

Tavi rolled her eyes. “Y’know, it’d be real nice for that memory like a fuckin’ steel trap to extend beyond work occasionally.”

Khellin shrugged innocently and braced his feet against the dash.

She sighed. “Put your feet down, you’re gonna break your fuckin’ legs if we crash.” She waited until he obliged to answer the question. “One of Aloth’s friends is openin’ a new cafe with her brother, today’s their grand opening, an’ I said I’d try to swing by.”

“Aloth has friends?” Khellin deadpanned. “Here I thought he preferred books over kith.”

Tavi let go of the steering wheel with one hand to smack him up the back of the head. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re Mr. Fuckin’ Social Butterfly. And yes, he does. Maybe not a lot, but neither do you or I.” She turned into the parking lot and found a space. “He and Adela had some class on the history of magical theory or some shit like that together, wound up paired for both projects that required partners, and she must’ve made a good impression, ‘cause they’re still friends.”

“Mm,” Khellin grunted as they climbed out of Tavi’s Jeep. He studied the plate glass window while they waited to cross the street, and Tavi watched his lips move as he read it to himself. ‘Café Nua.’ Then, below the large, stylized name, ‘Coffee. Tea. Pastries. Books.’ “Books?” he repeated aloud, arching a brow.

“Yeah.” She tugged his arm to follow her dash across the street with a break in traffic. “It’s a combo bookstore and café, way I understand.”

“Well, good luck to them, ‘specially here,” Khellin muttered, staring at the flowers wreath design that ringed the café name. “There’s a fuckin’ Leaden Tea franchise ‘round the corner and... six doors down,” he explained before she could ask. “Had about I’d guess a decade to entrench themselves as part of kith’s routine.” He raised a brow as he pulled the door open. “Your boyfriend’s probably frequented it more than once with all those late night study sessions.”

“It’s a coffee shop, not a brothel, Khel, so I dunno what’s with the tone. And it was the only place around here,” Tavi countered. “Now it’s not. And this place is nice,” she added, looking around.

The café was well-lit, plenty of tables scattered around, seating split between rather comfortable-looking wooden chairs and benches built into the walls. A painted border of ivy ran around the walls at roughly shoulder height for Khellin, joined by a spray of purple, pink, and blue wildflowers around the swinging door she figured led to the bookshop.

“You want me to order you somethin’ while you look for your boyfriend?” Khellin asked, craning his neck to see the menu mounted on the wall over the milling crowd. It was a good turnout for the opening of a place this size.

“Like you read my fuckin’ mind,” she grinned. “Hazelnut coffee an’ a bear claw if they have ‘em. Five bucks says I find Aloth in some corner of the bookshop that’s way quieter than in here.” She gestured to the wide collection of chattering kith that surrounded them.

“Not takin’ that bet.” Khellin shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “‘M not stupid.”

Tavi laughed and headed toward the door. It swung open just as she reached to to admit a blonde-furred orlan, equally blonde hair pulled back in a braid it was starting to escape, and smears of dust on her lilac sundress.

“Oops, sorry! Didn’t hit you did I?” she asked, one hand sweeping back the loose wisps of hair.

“Nope, no worries,” Tavi promised. “I wasn’t close enough for there to be any damage.”

“Oh, good.” The orlan smiled, then cocked her head, a curious glint in her eye. “You wouldn’t happen to be Tavi, would you?”

“I would actually.” Tavi raised an eyebrow. “What gave me away?”

“The shirt.” She nodded toward the well-worn Sleeves are Bullshit emblazoned across Tavi’s chest.”Aloth may have mentioned it being your favorite once or twice.”

“So, does that make you Adela?” Tavi asked with a chuckle.

“Yes! Oh, sorry, manners.” She stuck out her hand and Tavi shook it. “Adela Tecali, but you can call me Adi. Everyone does, except Aloth. And a few of my professors when I was at the university.” Her fingers fiddled with the ivory elephant pendent that hung around her neck. “Nice as it is to meet you, I came over ‘cause Ben needed help, so I gotta go...”

“Sure, we can talk later,” Tavi nodded, Adi already moving past her toward the pastry counter. “Oh, is Aloth-?”

“Reading? Yep,” Adi called over her shoulder.

Good thing Khel didn’t take that bet, Tavi smirked as she pushed through the door and into the quiet of the bookshop.

Aloth was not hidden away in some back corner like she’d expected, however. He’d claimed a deep, low-backed chair that looked extremely comfortable and had a good view of the front door

“Not gonna make me brave a maze of shelves to find you this time, Corfiser?” she teased, perching on the back of his chair.

He flinched as he looked up from his book, and Tavi smiled watching him refocus on the real world rather than whichever written one he’d been enjoying. A smile he matched upon catching her eye. “They’re hardly a maze in this place, Tavi. And I thought you’d appreciate my making it easy just this once.”

“I do.” She leaned down to steal a kiss. “Even though I suspect the real reason is keeping an eye on things for Adi?”

Aloth chuckled as he nodded, closing the book and half-turning to more comfortably meet her eye. “Met her, did you?”

“Yeah, she seems nice.” Tavi smirked. “Probably a bit much of a chatterbox for you at times, but if she loves books enough to open up a whole fuckin’ bookstore, I can see why you’ve stayed friends.”

“You’re not wrong,” he admitted, running a finger along the edge of the book’s cover. “She jokes we balance each other out; my quiet and her noise. But she is a good friend, so if I can help out with this, since they’re busier than anticipated, then I shall.”

“Guess it’s a good thing to be busier than expected, huh? ‘Specially at your grand openin’, and extra especially when you’re so close to a blazin’ Leaden Tea location.” She adjusted her position to keep keep from sliding off her perch. “Why’d they pick here, anyway?”

“It was the only place they could afford that was also the correct set-up and size,” Aloth said. He reached for the half-full mug of tea sitting on the end table by his chair and Tavi smelled blackberries on the wafting steam as he took a sip. “Adela’s hoping they fill a different enough niche for business to stay steady after this initial rush.”

“I’d definitely rather come to a place like this, ‘specially if the coffee and pastries are good,” Tavi said, leaning back to scan the bookshelves behind her. “The personal touch is always nice.” She pushed to her feet. “And now that I’ve touched base with you, I think I’ll go see if Khel has my coffee yet.”

Aloth raised a brow. “He came, too?”

“You kiddin’?” she snorted. “You know my brother; I mentioned food and he was ready to run here on fuckin’ foot. Even if this wouldn’t normally be his first choice of venue.” She nodded toward the shelves. “Good luck with your guard duties.”

He chuckled. “Thank you.”

Tavi let her fingers brush against his shoulder as she turned to go, and caught the half-smile tugging his lips before he flipped his book open once more.

Khellin was just claiming a table when she found him and he grinned as he sat down. “Perfect timing; I was about to text you soon as I had a hand free.” He gestured toward the sage green cup and small plate. “Somethin’ about you had thirty seconds before I started eatin’ your food b’cause that looks fuckin’ delicious.”

“Well, I appreciate your restraint in givin’ me thirty whole seconds,” Tavi said dryly as she dropped into the chair. “‘Specially considerin’ you have you own.”

“Like that would stop me,” he grunted, breaking off part of his muffin and popping it in his mouth.

Tavi rolled her eyes, waved back to Adi when she grinned at her from behind the counter, and tore off a piece of her bear claw. She was encouraged by Khellin’s soft, happy groan at his muffin, and was not disappointed by her own pastry. “Oh, my fuckin’ gods, that’s good,” she mumbled around a mouthful of icing, pastry, and almond flakes. “Yeah, Khel, if you’d eaten this, I’d’ve had to fuckin’ kill you.”

He laughed. “If it’s as good as my muffin, it would be worth it.”

They sat in silence for a while, kith-watching while they enjoyed their coffee and food. The café was mostly full, so there was plenty to catch their eye.

Before she knew it, Tavi had reached the dregs of her coffee and only crumbs remained on her plate. She swirled the small amount of coffee and looked at the menu board. “I’m gonna get another,” she said, the chair legs scraping across the floor as she stood. “Since Ravi has me workin’ late shift tonight. You want a round two?”

“Y’know, most kith would maybe hesitate referrin’ to their boss by a nickname they knew he hated,” Khellin remarked, brow arched as he handed her his plate and empty cup. “And if you’re buyin’, yes, I will.”

“I don’t do it around him, I’m not stupid,” Tavi snorted. “You want another straight black or...?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Comin’ right up,” she joked, and headed for the counter.

There was an actual lull in customers, but Adi was on the phone, and the other orlan Tavi assumed was her brother had ducked into the back for something, so she still had to wait. Adi flashed an apologetic smile and held up one finger, to which Tavi nodded understanding and idly scanned the pastry case while she waited.

She couldn’t help but overhear Adi’s side of the conversation, however. “What? Are you alright?....” a heavy sigh, “How long’s that gonna take?... Well, I’m glad you’re okay, an’ I guess just get here when you can.” Adi hung up and pushed her glasses up onto her forehead so she could rub her eyes before flashing Tavi a smile. “Whadidja need?”

“Another hazelnut, and another black coffee. To-go this time,” Tavi replied, nudging the mugs across the counter. She nodded toward the phone. “Trouble?”

“Of the car variety, yes,” Adi nodded as she moved to wash her hands and get the requested coffee. “For the employee whose shift is s‘pposed to start in five minutes. I need to get back over to the bookshop, but I can’t leave Ben alone with this many kith. Here ya go.”

Tavi took the coffees and handed over the money, lips pursed in thought. “Y’know... I’ve got a good chunk of the day left before I gotta be at work. I dunno shit about coffee and pastries, but the register over in your bookshop”--she nodded to the swinging door--”looks like the same one we use at the bar. If you want--an’ trust me enough--I could handle that part for ya ‘til your back-up gets here.”

Adi’s whole face seemed to light up with relief. “Would you? That would be fantastic. An’ Aloth’s a good judge of character; if he trusts you enough to date you, I think I can trust you to run my bookshop for an hour or two,” she winked. “Keya should be here by then.”

“Alright.” Tavi winked back. “Oh, and you can just pay me in pastries, ‘cause those things are damn good.”

Adi giggled. “I’ll pass your compliments along to Ben. And thank you, seriously. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Hey,” Tavi shrugged. “Any friend of Aloth’s is a friend of mine. Lemme give my brother his coffee and I’ll head right over.” She strode to the table, handed Khellin the sturdy paper cup and the keys to her Jeep. “I’m lendin’ a hand for a couple hours, so you can head back to my place to get your car if y’ want.”

Khellin took both coffee and keys. “You trust me with your baby? And how will you get back?”

“That’s right, don’t make me fuckin’ regret it, an’ I’ll just catch a ride with Aloth.”

He smirked. “Does Aloth have a key to your place, or do I need to leave the door unlocked if I don’t hang around ‘til you get back?”

Shit. She glared in response to his triumphant grin. She hadn’t wanted to admit anything yet. “...Aloth has a key.”

“Kana owes me ten bucks,” Khellin gloated as he pushed to his feet.

“Dick,” Tavi growled, still glaring. “What have I told you about bettin’ on my love life?”

“What love life?” Khellin said with a chuckle, darting for the door before she could retort.

Tavi rolled her eyes--Brothers--and headed for the bookshop. He was lucky she couldn’t go after him right now.

---

In the end, it only took just over an hour before Adi showed up in the bookshop with a bag of pastries and the news Keya had made it, so Tavi could go. “Thank you so much, really, it was a huge help.”

“No problem,” Tavi laughed, nodding toward where Aloth still sat in the chair (though significantly further through his book). “I had good company.”

He rolled his eyes and Adi giggled.

“You’re welcome to hang around longer if you want, obviously,” she said, twirling a loose wisp of hair, “but I hereby release you from cash register duty.”

“Normally I’d love to, but I do have work tonight, I so I think I’ll steal your book guardian to give me a ride home...”

Aloth nodded at the hint and closed his book. “Of course.” He handed Adi the book as he stood. “Thank you for the recommendation, Adela. It was precisely what I was looking for-”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Adi grinned. “I thought of you when I got it in.”

He smiled. “If Tavi can spare me five minutes, I do want to buy it.”

“Sure,” Tavi shrugged.

“Great!” Adi beamed.

It did indeed only take five minutes, and then they were on their way.

Aloth was quiet for the first minute or so, before, “Thank you for helping.”

“It was for strictly mercenary reasons,” Tavi joked, rattling the pastry bag.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he retorted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay, you caught me,” she said with a shrug. “Adi’s nice, and b’sides, she’s your friend. I know you don’t let a lot of kith that close, so I figure the ones you do are good for me to be friends with, too.”

Aloth’s smile widened. “Whatever your reasoning, I’m sure Adela appreciated it even more than she let on.” He reached for her hand and laced his fingers between hers as he repeated, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tavi said, squeezing his hand. “It’s a nice little place. Would make a great date spot,” she hinted.

Aloth chuckled and squeezed her hand back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She was pretty sure he’d already had it in mind, but the promise still made her smile. A little place like that would be a welcome change from the typical crowds and subsequent noise at Leaden Tea, so for that reason alone--not to mention the delicious pastries--she wished Adi and Ben success that extended far beyond their opening day.

-----

Adi’s dress is something like this one, just more casual and sundress-y.

Tavi is absolutely wearing this shirt.

She and Aloth have only been dating 2-3 months at this point, and with how badly her last relationship(Everin) ended, she’s playing details a lot closer to her chest this time around.

Khellin, being a nosy and protective little brother, has been digging for said details at every angle he can conceive the whole 2-3 months, so her basically handing him an opening on a golden platter was a big victory.

I sorta made the Leaden Tea into the Starbucks of this AU? Whoops?

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #tavi illani #khellin illani #aloth corfiser #adela tecali #modern au #this ran away from me and my hand was starting to hurt toward the end so i had to do a different ending #i love tavi and khel's relationship SO MUCH #there's a reason i gave him back to her even in canon #and yes adi co-owning cafe nua is ABSOLUTELY intended to lead to a coffee shop meet cute for her and heodan #they can compete with ederity for who's more nauseatingly adorable :D

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brushstrokesapocalyptic · 5 years

Photo

The Legend of Asriel PART 4 | HYRULE CASTLE

now home, chara finds what they weren’t looking for.

Frisk cheerfully waves goodbye to Maddie, who refuses to be charmed by this brat and just tells them she won’t be sticking around to lug them anywhere else. Frisk considers this reasonable, and turns to Chara to ask for further directions to where they’re going. Chara points at the castle in the distance.

“Question,“ Frisk signs. “Why do you expect to find this person in Hyrule Castle?“

“Because he lives there,“ Chara replies, as if that’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Who is he, anyway?“

Chara takes some time to respond, continuing to lead Frisk through the streets with ease. “He’s the prince,” they finally sign. “As the Hero, I was raised for the purpose of fighting alongside him to defeat the evil destined to threaten Hyrule. We’re practically siblings.”

Frisk squints. “I’ve been wondering about that. What makes you the hero and not some other person?”

Chara wordlessly tugs one of their leather gauntlets off and shows Frisk the back of their hand, where a faint birthmark in the shape of three triangles sits. “This marks me as part of this whole cycle of evil. Asriel has one too, and the other is supposedly on the sealed evil, which only leaves me. The Hero.”

Frisk rubs a little at the back of their own hand as Chara tugs the gauntlet back on. “That seems dumb and arbitrary,” they say. “Who is this evil anyway?”

Chara shrugs. “The story doesn’t say,” they reply. “All we know is that a hundred years ago, the Prince and the Hero raised alongside him fought back a terrible evil and sealed it away for a hundred years, and now the time is up.” They pause. “Well, I hope it’s still only been a hundred years. Again, I don’t know how long I’ve been gone.”

Frisk nods, and the conversation drops. Chara leads them to the castle gates and they try to gain access, but the guards inform them that no one is permitted into the castle to see the prince so “Scram, kid.”

Chara informs them that it’s fine, they really didn’t expect it to work anyway. The bit about no one being allowed is curious, but they don’t know what to make of it yet so, “Here, follow, me I know the best way to sneak in and out of this place.”

What follows is a stealth segment. Frisk gets in through a secret passage and has to sneak through the halls, dodging patrolling guards and servants and whatnot. Chara recognizes some of them, confirming to them that they haven’t been gone that long. They also capture some snippets of passing conversations, maids complaining to each other about how strict “that dodgy scientist” is being and other foreshadowing of that ilk.

The first place Chara leads Frisk is to the garden. Asriel always liked to hang out with them there! But they search high and low between the tall hedges and find no prince. So they head for his quarters, which look far more tidy than Chara has ever seen him— it’s like he hasn’t even touched them for months. On a whim, they poke their head into their own quarters just across the hall, and see them in much the same state. They try and fail to rearrange their pillows into something less eerily neat.

Another conversation passes, and this one really grabs their attention because there’s their Dad— King— Asgore, walking with some masked guy they’ve never seen before. Frisk follows, still in Stealth Mode, and they go down into the dungeons to find a sorta... laboratory... workshop-y.... room. Which Chara is quite sure wasn’t always there, this room used to contain like, training dummies and stuff. Now there’s all these tables and equipment and stuff, and a weird bundle on top of a crate which Chara keeps finding their eyes drifting towards as they follow Asgore into the room. Frisk hides behind some kinda furniture or in a convenient air vent or something, idk, and the two of them listen in.

Asgore and The Dude have a heated discussion of some sort. The dude has Plans and Asgore is a reluctant coward as usual. Several nuggets of information are dropped: First of all, it’s been six months since Chara died. Second, the Queen is missing, having been the one to deliver this news and also Chara’s body to the castle before disappearing off the face of the planet (also with Chara’s body). Third, Asriel is missing, and as much as Chara is upset to hear about that they realize they really should’ve seen that coming seeing as they already checked the two places Asriel hangs out in when Chara isn’t around. Oh, also the dude’s name is Dr. Gaster. Does this qualify as a twist? I don’t think it does.

I would also like to note that Deltarune has very little bearing on Gaster’s role in the story, as we currently have next to no concrete information on how he plays into it. Some minor details are influenced, of course, but just in case anyone decides to come charging in telling me about how wrong I am. I don’t care. This is my au. I can do what I want.

Conversation continues. Whatever Gaster’s plans are, they apparently involve that bundle Chara keeps finding themself staring at. It is an Important Bundle. Gaster picks it up and starts unwrapping it, expressing how Important it is. Asgore agrees that it is Important and that is why he is against it being used for anything because the hero is dead who else could possibly use it, much less in this state.

I then proceed to hold you the reader in suspense for the duration for at least another sentence.

Gaster dumps the contents of the bundle on a bare table and Chara suppresses a shriek at the sight of a million shards of silver metal all clattering together and topped by a blue hilt, carved in the shape of two stylized bird wings.

“When the FUCK did that happen,“ they ask, very loudly and unheard by literally anyone but themself. Gaster and Asgore go on talking, but Chara is too busy forgetting to continue interpreting for Frisk as they leap across the room to look more closely. They have to confirm. This can’t be the Master Sword, right? The legendary sword of evil’s bane? It can’t just explode into a million pieces, right? What kind of a legendary piece of shit does that? It can’t be real.

But the closer they look at it, the more certain they get— it’s very real. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up a little as they reach to touch the hilt, though they’re sure they’ll just pass through like always, but they’re cut off by Asgore slamming his fist on the table. The conversation was still going, after all, and something Gaster had to say made the king mad.

“I will not have you insinuate such things about Chara,“ Asgore says. “They were as a much my child as Asriel. You cannot possibly say they were any type of villain!“

Gaster dips his head. “Be that as it may. The fact that the sword was rendered in this state. After their failed attempt to retrieve it. Indicates they were not the hero. With only one other option available...”

Asgore snorts, cloak billowing right through Chara’s body as he turns to leave. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Come speak to me when you can speak of actually sensible topics.”

“...Very well,“ Gaster says, and Asgore vanishes out the door. Somehow, he manages to look baleful even through the odd cracked mask he’s been wearing this whole time.

He remains for a few minutes longer, carefully re-wrapping the pieces of the Master Sword and setting them aside once more. He examines some of the machinery, prods a few things, then leaves as well.

Frisk pokes their head out from their hiding place to give Chara a dry stare. “Mind filling me in?” they ask, getting to their feet. “You only translated the first half of that conversation, I had to guess at what they were talking about after that.”

“My apologies,“ Chara says, perching on the edge of a table with a casual smile. “I had deemed the rest of what they had to say so utterly banal, I was sure you’d be just as bored as I was.“

“Bullcrap,“ Frisk says, leaning around them to look at the bundle. “You’re way more awesome at interpreting than that, something got your attention. What was that, a pile of daggers?“

“A broken sword, actually,“ Chara replies, smile growing strained. “The sword I was meant to acquire, actually. You may recall I mentioned it?“

“Vaguely,“ Frisk says. “Anyway, conversation?“

Chara shrugs helplessly. “I was sorta distracted, sorry,“ they reply. “I think that Gaster guy insinuated I’m not the Hero and Dad got mad, which he should because obviously I’m the Hero. I’ve been the Hero all my life.“

Frisk remains skeptical.

“Anyway we definitely shouldn’t stick around, that guy could come back at any minute,“ Chara says, hopping to their feet and trying to look like they’re not on the verge of a panic attack. “Grab the bundle and let’s go.“

“Wait, why do we need the bundle?“ Frisk asks, picking it up. “It’s just a bunch of hunks of metal now, right?“

“I dunno but it’s definitely important,“ Chara says, bustling them out of the door. “Now come on, nearest escape route’s that way.“

More stealth, but this one ends in Frisk getting spotted by a guard. They attempt to flee, but luck is not on their side as they get surrounded. Gaster shows up, being basically in charge of everything right now and naturally curious about the sudden cries about an intruder. The guards part all dramatic-like to let him through and he peers at Frisk, musing about what a child from the desert is doing all the way up here.

Then he notices the bundle tucked under their arm. They attempt to turn their body to hide it, but Gaster has already seen it. “Would you care to hand that over?” he asks, holding out a hand. “It’s quite important. Not the sort of. Thing. Petty thieves have any use for.”

Frisk narrows their eyes, taking a small step back, and Gaster tuts. “I had hoped. You would listen,” he says. He jerks his head at one of the guards. “You. Retrieve that package. Mind their blade. Whether they know how to use it. I imagine it would sting.”

The indicated guard steps forward, reaching for the bundle, and Frisk draws back again, indeed going for their sword. There’s not very far they can go, though, and no way they could win this fight, so they prepare to give up the bundle.

Chara has other ideas, though, and as the guard touches the bundle they lunge, hands passing through the fabric and wrapping around the broken hilt— wrapping around it, they realize, not merely pretending but actually touching it— and something surges through them. And then a fraction of a second, it surges out of them in the form of a blinding flash of golden light that sends all the guards reeling, eyes burnt as they grope around wildly and raise their voices in an attempt to figure out what just happened.

When the spots clear from their vision, they find the weird child is gone, and the Royal Scientist merely staring at the spot they just vacated with his mask as unreadable as always. And a short distance from the palace (but growing further with every moment) Frisk runs full-tilt away from the window they just scrambled out of, bundle clutched tight to their chest and ghost drifting along after them.

“I told you it’d be important!“

[Next Part] [Index]

#loz ut #loz #undertale #legend of zelda #i am an excellent artist #my writing #you only get that doodle at the beginning of the post bc i do not want to draw interiors #buildings are hell #i hate architecture #thank you for coming to my ted talk

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caelindadewfall · 6 years

Text

The Gadgetzan Shuffle (Prestige Class Story - Merchant Prince[ss])

Warning: Violence and Mentions of Blood Ahead. Proceed with caution!

If there was one place the tides of war never touch, it was Gadgetzan. Nowhere else on Azeroth could there be found a more wretched cesspool of scum and villainy. Sure, there was Booty Bay, but dealing with pirates was much easier than dealing with mob bosses. The latter variety of criminal tended to be a lot harder to pin down, and had a tendency to hold grudges so spiteful your whole family would have to change their names. Lucky for intrepid entrepreneur, Caelinda Dewfall, she really had no family to worry about.

The stench of blood, rum, and ever pungent aroma of raw sewage, permeated the hazy avenues of the mean streets. Garbage from every walk of life from street rat to hitman drifted in the streets like tumbleweeds in the desert. For some, this seedy and absolutely disgusting backwater was nothing more than a fanciful home for the poor and unlucky. For Caelinda, it was more of a home away from home away from home. There was nothing about Gadgetzan that didn’t scream her name. The booze and brawls, the dandies and dames, and just about everything in between those four wondrous things just fit her like a glove. She may not be the type to commit larceny of any meaningful sort, but he slimy, cobbled streets of the city were as familiar to her as the back of her own hand. Even if she wanted to, she doubted she could ever leave this part of her life behind. It was positively addicting.

She’d strolled into one of her favorite establishments on the south side of town that night: The Winking Furbolg. The place was standard fair among dives in the city, but Caelinda had always preferred conducting business there for two reasons. First, it was discrete. Second, they served a cactus rum that was second to none in town; and she’d been in more than one scuffle over such a claim.

The place was moderately busy that night. The fire at the center of the great room was roaring, and all around people were drinking. It was a motley assortment to be sure, but only by an outsiders standards. Orcs toasting with gnomes, dwarves sharing a table with trolls, both were hardly an uncommon sight in Gadgetzan. You could throw a dozen rocks into the street and hit a different species of folk each time in this place. It was a real haven for anyone, as long as you followed the rules of course.

She checked in with Fokert first. The goblin bartender was, dare she say it, her most trusted confidante in the city. ‘Friendly’ Fokert they called him, but only those who really knew Fokert could call him a friend. Everyone else usually remembered him not for his smile, but for the monstrously sized boomstick he leveled in their faces when they got uppity. He’d been cleaning the bar in one of the few dips in calls for a refill when she’d walked in, and his face lit up like a Winter’s Veil tree when he caught sight of her. Despite her rather new attire, and her hood concealing her upper face, he always knew her from miles away.

“Caelinda frickin’ Dewfall.” He’d said, throwing his arms wide. “If it weren’t for that baby face of yours I wouldn’t have recognized ya. I was startin’ to think you thought you were too good for this place.”

She sidled on up to the bar, past a few of the other patrons, and held out her arm with a smile. “You know I’d never turn on you, Fokert. I don’t think I could afford to be on your bad side.”

The goblin clasped her arm with his own as they shook in what little warm greeting the counter between them allowed. His toothy grin, minus a few teeth of course, always did reassure Caelinda that she had at least one friend in this city. That was one more than many had.

“It’s good to see you, kid.” Fokert said. “What’s bringin’ you to the mean streets this time?”

“Business.” She said, releasing his hand. Her face went a bit more taciturn as she returned to the business at hand. “Wanted to see if my normal room was available. Got some folks I need to meet with.”

Her normal room was always her go to spot to conduct any business in the city. While most people were content to speak freely out in the circular common area, Caelinda much preferred one of the private rooms on the back wall for her work.

Fokert nodded, his large ears flopping in rhythm with his head. He leaned over across the bar and put a hand to his mouth. “Yo, Tony!” He shouted, clearly disturbing some of the many patrons in the bar. Not that any of them would say anything.

“What?” Came a nasally reply from just up the ways. No doubt it belonged to the aforementioned Tony.

Fokert rolled his eyes and gave Caelinda a look that seemingly mixed apology and annoyance into one package. “You and yours get out of that room. A V.I.P. needs it!”

The middle of the five doors along the back wall shot open, and a rotund goblin with yellowish-green skin stepped out. His attire suggested he had some rather unscrupulous affiliations. A perfectly fit, pinstripe black suit with a matching hat. Not a very common outfit for even a goblin in this city. Behind him, Caelinda could pick out a few other well dressed goblins and some burly bodyguards keeping watch over the group.

“Since when do you have a V.I.P. system in this joint, Fokert?” The goblin assumed by her to be Tony practically screeched.

“Since your fat ass crawled outta your mother and prettier folks came along after.” Fokert hissed. “Now either get out of that room or we’re gonna have a problem.”

‘Friendly’ Fokert indeed.

Caelinda didn’t pay much mind to the sneering goblin and his diverse entourage as they swept, or lumbered in the case of the two tauren bodyguards, past her. A few choice words were muttered as they all went to find somewhere a bit more cordial for their gathering, but whether Fokert heard them or not was up for debate. With a flip of a gold piece and wink, she offered her thanks. The goblin had always looked out for her, and she was glad to see that today was no different.

But the time for pleasantries, such as they were, was over. Making her way to the back, she took a wide look out onto the main floor. No one seemed to pay any special attention to her despite the circumstances, but it was always best to make sure no one was eyeballing you in this city. It usually meant they had a knife with your spleen’s name on it. Aside from the twitchy looking hozen in the far corner though, she seemed in the clear. Not wanting to push her luck, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

The room was practically pristine. A bottle under the table or behind a chair here and there, but for Gadgetzan it was clean. The lack of unknown, viscous fluids on the floor or table really was a change in pace. She swept off a few errant bottle caps and cigar ashes from the table and placed her pack on top. No sooner had she unburdened herself than her butt found itself firmly placed in her favorite chair; the only one with a perfectly unobstructed view of the door. She let out a sigh of relief. It had been quite the journey to get here in time for her meeting, and it left her feeling quite drained. Her legs felt like she’d been walking for ten years, and her feet felt even worse. She did the math in her head with what little sense she had to spare and figured she had a few moments to relax before her associates arrive. With that in mind, she reclined in her seat and popped her feet up on the table. Her hood fell from her head when she leaned back across the back of her chair. Joints were popping all over her body, and it felt so nice.

While her muscles worked themselves back into a relatively normal shape, Caelinda took a moment to get her bearings on the moment. Long spouts of travel tended to leave her more than a bit frazzled, and wishing she’d managed to grab some cactus rum. Unfortunately, she needed her mind crystal clear for the moment. The strange circumstances of the meeting had her a bit on edge, and she never liked to be foggy in the head when the weather started to turn sour.

A letter had come in the post for her just a week ago asking for her presence at a meeting of ‘like minded individuals’ at her favorite dive. She had not the slightest idea what that was supposed to mean, and she’d been quite wary about how anyone knew her favorite spot to drink in town, but far be it from her to turn down quite literally any kind of deal. As shameful as it was to admit, her lack of resources was rather quickly becoming an issue as large as a mountain. So, she’d packed up her bags and hopped on the quickest ship to Tanaris. It hadn’t been cheap to make such a hasty trip, and many palms had been left greased behind her. Time would tell if the expense would be worth it. She could only hope this particular soiree into the mean streets would not end with a broken rib and a throwing star in her left shoulder. She could still feel that particular misfortune whenever she did her morning stretches.

A knock at the door came very suddenly. It was heavy, like a stone being shucked at the side of a barn. She found that rather odd, she wouldn’t have assigned the stylized and curvaceous penmanship of the letter to belong to someone with fists like an ogre. She sat up slowly in her seat, her eyes never leaving the door.

“Come in.” She said.

The words had hardly left her lips before the door slammed open. For a moment, Caelinda considered the possibility that she had somehow gained psychic abilities, for just as she had predicted an ogre stood in the doorway. He was one of the ugly sorts too. Of course, every orc was ugly even in the best light, but this one was particularly nasty to the eye. His face was scrunched up, clearly having been on the wrong side of a fist too many times, and covered in scars both fresh and old. She guessed that his expression was permanently stuck as a scowl, but he was certainly doing his best to look even angrier with his bared, broken teeth. If this poor excuse for a living being was supposed to be some attempt at intimidation, she was horribly unimpressed.

The ogre barely managed to squeeze through the door with a few grunts and groans, but once he’d accomplished the gargantuan task he stepped to the side to allow the rest of the entourage through. Like little ducklings following their bloated mother, a line of well dressed, and far less smelly, individuals filed into the room. In fine silks and elegant attire came a rather mismatched lot of two high elves hand in hand, a goblin who smelled far too much of perfume for her to be distinguished from the bottle it came from, and a human with a knack for fine dress and equally fine appearance. Each one of them moved with the confidence of those who had seen their fair share of the world and the people in it. She wasn’t quite sure if that would work in her favor or not. The four moved to seats on the other side of the table, and took their seats in perfect unison, and the ugly ogreling closed the door. That was even less of a good sign. She sure hoped this wasn’t some kind of cult invitation; she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.

For her part though, Caelinda didn’t show any of her apprehensions toward the situation. She kept her face as expressionless as a board, and her guests had a similar idea. Well, except for the goblin who seemed pretty content to keep a permanent pout on her face like she was looking down on Caelinda. Now that was a gaze she always enjoyed seeing.

After a minute of perhaps the most awkward silence she’d ever been privy to, Caelinda cleared her throat.

“So,” She started, “You those like-minded folk from the letter? Or am I in the wrong room?”

The two elves looked at each other, and began to snicker like she’d missed some kind of joke between the two. The goblin, well, she just continued to pout. Caelinda had to wonder if maybe her face was stuck like that. The human though, he seemed a bit more apt at the art of actually conversing with the living. She guessed that he partook of that particular pleasure often enough what with his rakish good looks. The silver fox goatee was a nice touch, and really added to his elegant style, but with his bald head it did almost make it seem like his entire face was upside down.

“Miss Dewfall,” He opened. His voice was like butter being spread on toast. “You are a curious individual.”

“Guilty as charged.” She teased.

The man smiled as if he had been expecting that little comment.

“Quite. It is this curiosity that has peeked our interest, Miss Dewfall. Particularly, your talent for the procurement of rare, and often unique, items. Not to mention your obvious knack for both attracting and dealing with trouble.”

“Flatterin’ to see that you folks are so interested in me.” She said. “You goin’ to tell me my life story next?”

The man leaned forward in his seat, placing his arms on the table. Now that she had a closer look at him, she could see his eyes were cold. There may have been a smile on his face, but those eyes were like voids that sucked in any real joy. She didn’t like those eyes.

“I’m certain that I could, Miss Dewfall.” He said. “But your story is hardly anything special. I’m sure no one here needs to be told the same story of childhood woe and abandonment that every other Sin’dorei on a village street could tell.”

“Low blow there.” Caelinda sneered.

“Perhaps, but you were the one who asked.” The man replied. “But to redirect this conversation to the proper subject, we are quite interested in you, Miss Dewfall. And believe me when I say that our organization does not take interest in people so easily.”

“Yeah,” The goblin interjected, “So maybe you should wise up and show some respect.”

“Respect?” Caelinda snapped, “I don’t even know who you people are. I don’t hand out respect like free apples at an orchard sale.”

The human held up his hand for silence, and for some reason she found herself heeding his request. The gobliness seemed reluctant to oblige, but she managed to find her composure as well.

“You’ll have to forgive the Duchess Cogslice. She forgets her manners at times, and it’s had the unfortunate effect of landing her in some rather unpleasant company at times. I’m sure you can understand.”

Caelinda sat back with a huff. “Yeah, water under the bridge and all.”

“Precisely,” The gentleman said with a nod of his head. “And if nothing else that little outburst will serve as a wonderful path towards introductions. You do seem rather keen to know our identities after all.”

He began to gesture around the table starting from his right with a gesture to the two high elves. She wasn’t a big fan of how they were looking at her. There was something unnatural about their icy blue eyes that made her nervous.

“We’ll start with these two lovebirds. Miss Dewfall, please allow me to introduce Celen and Feanna Eveningbeam. They are-”

Caelinda cut him off, “I know who the Eveningbeams are. These two run half the shipments of gemstones up and down the western coast of the Eastern Kingdoms. Got their fingers in the pockets of damn near every merchant in Stormwind and Silvermoon from what I hear.”

Feanna seemed amused by her knowledge, and hinted at it with a sort of half-smile that sent shivers down Caelinda’s spine. Her partner offered that same smile.

“Quite the informed little child you are.” Feanna said.

“I’d have to be an idiot to not have heard of you.” Caelinda retorted, “Rumors always pass along about the ‘Lovers of Luxury’ and what they’ll do to get their hands on the goods they need. Didn’t expect you two to be High Elves though. You lot tend to be too weak legged to get any real work done.”

The smiles faded from their faces as quick as lightning. Clearly they took exception to the comment of their heritage, but Caelinda was more than happy to make sure they knew she wasn’t going to be handled by them. Oddly enough though, the human seemed more than impressed with the exchange. There was a bemused smile on his face as he gestured to the goblin to his left.

“You’ve already met the Duchess Cogslice.” He said.

Caelinda nodded. “Aye, I’ve heard of her to. Best weapon smuggler in Kalimdor. Primary operations focusin’ in Tanaris, Azshara, and the Southern Barrens. I’ve heard folks call you the Duchess of Death.”

“They better be.” The Duchess sneered. “I worked hard to get that title, and I ain’t lettin’ go of it.”

Caelinda only rolled her eyes which was not unnoticed by the Duchess who’s dark gaze only deepened to match the already shoddy lighting cast by the room’s single light.

Finally, the human gestured to himself. “And I am Vincent Marston.”

Vincent seemed surprised when Caelinda maintained her silence after a moment. He made a small gesture with his hand as he tried to prompt her to some kind of revelation, but she only came with a shrug as a response.

“Am I supposed to know you?” She asked. “Never heard of anyone with your name before.”

The other members of the gathering must have found the complete lack of acknowledgement for their suspected leader to be pretty amusing. The couple shared a quiet laugh between them, and the Duchess’ scowl faded for just a moment to be replaced with a taunting grin. Vincent, for his part, was clearly not amused.

He cleared his throat. “I suppose I should not be displeased with your lack of knowledge into my person. It pays dividends to be an unknown party in my business. I am in the trade of information, Miss Dewfall.”

Caelinda shrugged again. “Fascinatin’ there Vincent, but what exactly does any of this matter to me? No offense, but I don’t really get why you folks even want anythin’ to do with me. If you’re tellin’ the truth, then I’m hardly the type to fit in with you lot.”

“And why is that, Miss Dewfall?” Vincent asked.

“Look, I’m no rat, but I don’t deal in the same type of business you do.” She said. “I run a straight and narrow operation. I’m a treasure hunter, not a...whatever you folks call yourselves.”

There’s a bit of an ominous pause, the kind that makes the last speaker wonder if the words they chose were the wisest. She wasn’t a big fan of the eyes looking at her in that silence either. The icy gaze of those two elves and that look of pure spite that the Duchess just seemed to put on naturally just didn’t sit well with her. But it was Vincent’s look that made her sweat like a hog in line for the chopping block. It was soulless. There was no warmth or even cold in his gaze. It was almost like he was looking through her for something. Maybe he found it, because soon enough he began to laugh. It was a hollow sound to her ears.

“Miss Dewfall,” He began, “We are simply entrepreneurs searching for the opportunity to turn a profit. Surely someone of your status could understand the need to make a few coins in today’s market.”

“Not sure I follow.” Caelinda said, trying her best to maintain her confident tone.

Vincent beamed. “The world is changing, Miss Dewfall. Every day we draw closer towards an inevitable conflict, and we four believe that you are one of those that possesses the foresight to see this future barreling towards us all.”

Even as he said those words Caelinda already knew what he was referring to. She’d seen the signs, and she didn’t like the look of the way things were headed.

“I can see it in your eyes.” Vincent said. “You know what’s coming, and you are surely aware of what might happen when that future finally arrives. But you are no coward, Miss Dewfall, and that may be what interests us the most.”

She cocked an eyebrow. Sensing her confusion, Celen stepped in. He leaned across the table just enough to catch her eye.

“What he means is that in spite of this plotted course history will soon take, you have not closed yourself off.” He said. “We are well aware that your business ventures are in full swing. You’re investigations into matters in the eastern seas is evidence enough that you are not content to rest on your laurels while the world turns into a new age.”

“How did you-” She starts to ask before she’s cut off by the elf’s hand.

“As Vincent just informed you, his business involves the trade of information. We’ve been interested in you for a while now, Caelinda. It was not hard to focus our many eyes and ears on you.”

She might have felt honored by that if it weren’t for the massive breach of her privacy and operations.

“Your willingness to continue, and even expand, your expeditions in this time is admirable.” Celen continued. “Bravado is a quality our little group tends to search for in new partners.”

“Partners?” She asked.

“Indeed.” Feanna stepped in. She placed an arm on her lover’s shoulder, and almost immediately he sat back in his seat. “You may not command a sizable enterprise, Caelinda, but your independence is impressive. You command your operation from start to finish, and tend to take sizable risks in order to acquire your products. For any of your faults, there is sizable reason for us to conclude that you are well worth our attention. Well worth our partnership.”

It was a lot to take in at once. That these people knew so much about her while she knew next to nothing about them was unnerving. They flattered her for her work, but so much of it felt insincere. Not to mention the unshakable unease that each and every single person in the room sent down her spine.

But this was what she had been hoping for. An offer at a partnership with some of the bigger names in the market. The opportunity to expand her enterprise further than any Dewfall before her was in reach. The chance to revive her family name and take a piece of the world for herself was here. Served up to her on a platter was the most lucrative deal she might ever relieve in her lifetime, and all she had to do was reach out and take it.

But she hesitated.

“What would I have to do for this partnership?” She asked.

The four looked between themselves for a moment. They spoke not with words bu with subtle changes in their facial expressions and slight twitches and nods. The Duchess, it seemed, was elected to answer her question.

“Pretty simple trade off.” She said. “We provide you with all the fixin’ up you need to get yourself up to higher places. We’re talkin’ connections, and not the kind you get just by chattin’ up the harbormaster or nothin’. You want to get somethin’ into Dalaran and don’t want the authorities seein’ everythin’ you’re carryin’? No problem, they’ll conveniently forget to check that last crate your haulin’. You want to ship some of your goods across customer lines? We can set up a dealer for you in Stormwind within the week. Anythin’ you need to get trade movin’ is yours.”

“And in exchange?” Caelinda pressured.

The Duchess smiled. “In exchange, you offer up information and a small percentage of your profits. Fifteen percent is the usual.”

She must have visibly winced at that number, because the Duchess’ smile only grew larger.

“You’ll also need to show our little organization a little bit of a love too, toots.”

“What’s that mean?” Caelinda asked. She already had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“From time to time you may be asked to levy your resources for the betterment of the organization, Miss Dewfall.” Vincent cut in. “We have many avenues of business as I am sure you know. I know that you consider yourself a woman of principle, but I am certain you would have little trouble turning a blind eye towards certain activities undertaken by your new partners. In the name of profit of course.”

“You’re askin’ me to look away from the bad to see the good, yeah?”

“Precisely, Miss Dewfall.” Vincent chuckled. “You have the right idea. Your relatively high moral standing position in Quel’thalas would surely deflect suspicion and aid our efforts in the region. And I promise that your name would never be connected to any of our more...unsavory deals.”

Unsavory was always the operative word. It toed the line between bad business and downright illegal, and normally Caelinda wasn’t a fan of either. She had always prided herself in shipping top of the line products and making honest deals with her customers, but this was something she’d never dared to venture into before. But with an offer like this on the table could she take that leap? She’d done a few less than honorable things in her past surely, and what would be so different about this one? It was for the sake of her business, and her name.

“I take it there’s no paper trail.” She said.

Vincent nodded, and the others smiled in approval. “Certainly not, Miss Dewfall. As I said, your name will never be attached to us in any ‘formal’ manner. A simple handshake will do.”

And like that, the devil held out his hand to her.

All she needed to do was shake his hand and her future would change forever. Everything she’d ever wanted would be hers for the taking. Her name would be spoken on every tongue worth its coin from one end of the world to the other. She’d be able to put her troubles behind her, and at last she could find some semblance of her former self. It would all just melt away.

She held out her hand, and took Vincent’s. The icy smile on his face guaranteed to her that she had made the right choice. This was the start of a new day.

For her anyway. Probably not for the rest of them.

“Thanks, I hate it.” She said.

Now, it’s a fairly well known fact that Caelinda prided herself on her strength. It was a particular quality that she had honed for years, and it had not been easy to acquire such immense physical power for someone seemingly so petite. So, it was surely a surprise for Vincent when he was hoisted from his seat by his skinny arm and hurled into the back wall like a sack of potatoes tossed into the garbage. He smacked against the wall with a loud crack, and his body went limp onto the floor. Caelinda surely would have checked to see if she had killed the man, but she wasn’t anywhere near the crumpled man by that point.

In the shock of the moment, she’d jolted across the table while the others watched Vincent’s body sail through the air like a majestic ragdoll. By the time the four remaining visitors had recovered from their awe, Caelinda was out the door.

All heads in the main hall turned to her, clearly attracted by the sound of a body hitting the floor and her sudden appearance. In that moment, many would have likely frozen like a deer in a goblin trike’s headlights, but this wasn’t her first time in a spot of trouble. She placed her fingers to her lips and let out a whistle so shrill that it surely cracked a few glasses in the room. To some, that was a sign that a fight was on, and to most it was a signal to get their butts out of the bar.

The scramble was on. Patrons darted left and right to make it out of the building or to find some cover. Bodies and drinks were tipping over everywhere, but that wasn’t Caelinda’s problem. She took off for the bar, and, in an acrobatic move that would have surely impressed onlookers if anyone was bothering to pay attention to her, she vaulted the long counter and slid behind where Fokert was waiting. As she had hoped, his boomstick was in his hands and ready to fire.

“Damn it Dewfall,” He grunted. “How many times are you gonna blow deals in my place? I just sanded down the bullet holes from last time.”

“Last time was an accident.” She said, a bit out of breath. “This time was different. Those fat hats were askin’ for it. Like minded my ass.”

Fokert just grunted again. They both took a peek over the bar. It was all but empty save for a few stragglers who were either too drunk or too nosy to leave. But out on the far wall they were waiting, and were they armed to the teeth. The Duchess was touting so many guns she might as well have been a walking dwarven armory. The two elves, well they were both there with swords drawn, they had to be elegant of course. And of course the ogre didn’t have much of a need for a weapon seeing as he could probably crush Caelinda’s skull like a grape. Not a pleasant thought.

Caelinda slid back down. “This ain’t good.”

“You think?” Fokert replied.

She shook her head. There was little time. She needed a plan and she needed it now. That had always been her weak spot, thinking up a plan for after the first punch. Vaelrin and Esme would surely be ripping into her right now if they had been there. But she was on her own, and maybe that was the best time for her to come up with an idea. Her mind moved at a mile a second, but it wasn’t quite fast enough.

“Hand her over Fokert!” The Duchess screeched. “Or I swear I’m gonna put enough holes in this place to make people think it’s the world’s largest wheel of swiss cheese.”

Caelinda looked to Fokert for his reply which took its form in a quick blast from his boomstick over the counter. There was a shout on the other side, but since it wasn’t continual she knew no one had been hit.

“There’s your answer you dime-a-dozen mook.” Fokert called out. Then he leaned over to Caelinda. “You got a plan?”

It took another second, but she did get one in good time overall. She nodded. “It’s free range. Everyone’s fair game, ‘cept the Duchess.”

Fokert raised an eyebrow. “Why the hell ain’t we sending lead her way?”

“She’s the key to my plan.” She said. “Just trust me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to say that in my place?” He grumbled. “It always goes bad when you do.”

“Name one time.” She said.

“A year ago when you wanted to make a deal with that basilisk wrangler.” He replied.

She wanted to protest, but he was right so she just returned his grumble. The two shared another look, and then a smile. It was time to go to work.

“Hey, Duchess!” Caelinda shouted.

“What?” The Duchess shrieked. She was clearly not in a good mood.

“Is Vincent dead?”

“That he is.” Came Celen’s voice. He seemed closer than the Duchess just based off of the volume.

“Well I wouldn’t feel to peeved about it.” Fokert chuckled. “You lot will be with him soon enough.”

“My words exactly.” Caelinda said.

Then there was a laugh. Two to be precise, and they were very close.

“I don’t believe you’ve fully grasped the situation you’ve created.” It was Feanna who spoke. Her chilly voice sent shivers down Caelinda’s spine. “The only one’s who will be dying tonight are you two.”

The last word was accented with a sudden plunge of a blade towards Caelinda’s head from up above. She tumbled out of the way towards the back of the bar. Feanna was standing on top of the counter beside Celen who had nearly taken Fokert’s head himself, but the goblin was quick enough on his feet to dodge the strike.

There was a crack from Fokert’s boomstick, and a hunk of the bar disintegrated in a spray of wood dust. But Celen was no longer there. He’d almost leisurely sidestepped the shot and made his lunge to Fokert. Feanna copied his movement with ease toward Caelinda. While Fokert rolled again to dodge the strike, Caelinda lashed out with her hand to smack the blade to the side. It impaled itself into the wooden cabinet behind her, and the sound of shattering glass accompanied it as an expensive bottle exploded inside. Feanna seemed surprised by the counter, and that was all Caelinda needed. Combat was much like business, you needed to take any advantage you could find. She shot forward from her crouch like a bullet and wrapped her arm around Feanna’s neck. With a perfect arc of momentum, she lifted the elf off of the counter and brought her down headfirst onto the floor in front of the bar. There was the familiar crack of bone smashing into solid object, but Caelinda didn’t waste time to check for a pulse. She turned to see Fokert still being chased down by Celen who was dancing around on the counter like a professional. She put her fingers to her lips again and shot out a whistle that quickly caught Celen’s attention. His eyes went past her to Feanna on the floor with a small pool of blood forming around her head.

“Feanna!” He shouted, but those were his last words.

Fokert’s boomstick flashed again, and Celen was hurled from the counter as if he’d been flung by a catapult. There was another sound as his body was slung against the wall and then to the floor, but nothing after that. Caelinda knew he wouldn’t be getting up again.

Fokert stood up and tossed her a grateful look, but there was hardly even time to share that. The Duchess let out such a howl of fury that Caelinda was sure she’d need to see a Dawnmender about her ears, but she booked it to make sure she wasn’t going to have to see one in a morgue. A hailstorm of bullets followed right behind her as she dove clumsily behind the bar again. Fokert ducked down too just before the mirror above him shattered into a million shards. The Duchess continued to cry out in abject rage as she fired off every weapon that she had. Caelinda couldn’t be sure how many she had, but she’d counted at least four pistols, three rifles, and some kind of minigun. At least she assumed it was a minigun. She’d only seen one before after all, and that day hadn’t been nearly as eventful as this one.

It was hard to hear anything over the constant screeching and gunshots, but somehow Caelinda was able to hear Fokert as he shouted, “How does she not need to breath?”

She snorted at that. Still, the hail fire was going to be a problem. She was fast, but not fast enough to dodge that kind of firepower. There was no way Fokert would be able to get a clean shot at the Duchess either without being turned into green alterac swiss. For all she knew, her supply of bullets might not run out for the next century or so, and by that point the bar would likely be reduced to splinters. She really didn’t want to be sitting around when that happened. Unfortunately, that meant coming up with a plan, and she had already spent a lot of her brain power on the first one.

Still, there was just enough juice left in her tank to come up with one last daring maneuver.

“Hey Fokert!” She shouted over the many bullets raining down around them.

“What?” Fokert yelled back.

“Run!” She cried, snatching up a broken bottle.

The plan quite clearly relied in Fokert understanding her meaning, or at least getting the basic gist of the idea. No sooner had the word left Caelinda��s lips than she took off to the right of the bar. She could only hope that Fokert would shuffle his way in the opposite direction, otherwise they’d both be ripped to shreds in a wonderfully violent manner. The Duchess didn’t seem to take the sudden motion well in stride as she tried her best to swing her weapons towards her now moving target. Thankfully, her aim lagged just enough behind the elf to keep her in one piece.

Or at least that was how it was supposed to be. There was always a margin for error in hasty calculations.

Even with all that adrenaline pumping through her veins, Caelinda could still feel the first bullet rip clean through her right calf. Assuming it had missed any of her really important veins then she’d be alright, but it still hurt. But now wasn’t the time for sitting on the ground and crying about it. Her body, and all its assorted chemicals, kept her moving even through the pain, and perhaps more bullet wounds, which it quickly pushed to the back of her mind.

Perhaps knowing what Caelinda planned, the Duchess wheeled back around to face Fokert who would surely be slower than her. She shouted a command that was drowned out by her resuming fire, but the ogre seemed to catch whatever her order was.

Without the threat of impending death being rained down on her, Caelinda did her best to make a move. She readjusted her trajectory and made a beeline straight for the Duchess. If she had given it more thought, it may have been easily recognizable to her that she wasn’t in the clear, but she allowed her arrogance to get the better of her in that moment. Only a few footsteps away from the Duchess, a massive fist collided with her chest. At once, all of the air left in her lungs was quickly expelled, and she collapsed like a sack of bricks. The ogre lumbered over her like a towering mass of muscle and low brain cell count, his face a countenance of ignorance and anger.

Caelinda crouched on all fours as she tried to catch her breath. She’d spent so much energy just getting this far, and defeating a whole ogre wasn’t a piece of cake even fresh out of bed. Of course, this didn’t matter much to the ogre. He lifted her up easily like a child with one hand. His grip felt like a vice clean around her stomach.

Over the ogre’s shoulder, and through her own blurry vision, Caelinda could see Fokert still mobile and taking pot shots at the Duchess. She had to give the goblin his due credit, but hopefully that could wait until she was finished with her present issue.

Fortunately for her, she was well trained to handle a situation like this. Though she rarely had the chance to display it, most people did tend to forget that she had been trained by some of the very best martial artists the world had to offer. She took in a deep breath, finally, and whipped herself back into a focused head space. It wasn’t much, her thoughts were practically running on fumes, but she’d made due with less. With her right arm she reached forward and jabbed the interior of the ogre’s elbow. A jolt of pain went right up the ogre’s arm, and he released her with a shout more out of shock than real hurt.

The ogre quickly recovered. He lumbered forward with a disgruntled grumble and swung his arms wide to try and grab the smaller elf in a surely spine-shattering bear hug. Caelinda ducked under his arms and rolled between his legs. She popped up behind the mass of muscle and sent a swift, but highly effective, kick right into his more sensitive loins. She surely wasn’t below hitting beneath the belt; it was a fight, not a prissy duel in some parlor room.

The ogre howled in pain, and dropped to his knees. He whirled on Caelinda with tears in his eyes. Unfortunately, any sympathy that he might have hoped for went out the window some time ago. Raising her leg to knee height, she snapped a kick right into the center of the ogre’s scrunched up face. Blood shot out of his nose and onto her beautiful shoes like water from a spout. This was rather upsetting given that they had been a gift.

Unfortunately, ogre’s tend to be a bit more sturdy than a kick to the face. The brute snatched up her leg in one of his meaty mitts and hoisted her over his shoulder before she had any time to react. Her training kicked in without hesitation, and she twirled about in the air like a circus performer to land on her feet with little incident. The ogre, for his part, seemed confused. Not wanting to give his tiny brain enough time to rethink his ‘strategy’, Caelinda leaped back towards the ogre and slammed her foot into the side of his face for a hook kick that would have made her masters quite proud. This time, the ogre dropped face first into the floor, and he made no move to get up again. Caelinda counted herself lucky, her injured leg was starting to really catch up to her. There was bound to be glass stuck in her somewhere too after the amount that had been sent flying. There was little time to spare in wrapping up this affair.

Whirling back around to face the final opponent, Caelinda was surprised to see the situation in a slightly more positive position than she had expected. Fokert’s bullet riddled corpse was not on the ground, and in fact the goblin stood daringly on top of the last table not reduced to splinters. There was a bit of blood on his forehead and his hands, but he seemed to still be without major injury. His boomstick was gripped tightly in his hands and pointed at the Duchess who seemed to be in a very similar position. She had exhausted most of her ammunition, and all that remained was her lonely pistol gripped tight in her right hand and pointed at Fokert. If she had noticed the events going on behind her she didn’t make any indication of it.

Fokert caught Caelinda’s eye and gave her a toothy smile. “Glad to see you’re in one piece. Thought that lummox would flatten you.”

The Duchess looked over her shoulder for only a moment, and growled when she saw that her now mortal enemy was still alive.

“I’m a bit offended by that.” Caelinda said to Fokert. She looked down at the Duchess who was now gripping her pistol with both hands. “You ought to put that down, Duchess. Even if you could shoot Fokert over there, it’d be easy for me to take two steps forward to snap your little neck. And if you turn around to put one in me, well I’m sure you saw what happened to your little friend Celen before.”

The Duchess didn’t move for a while as she considered her options. Eventually, she raised up her left hand and lowered her pistol to the ground. She turned around slowly to face Caelinda. She looked like an absolute wreck compared to the pristine high roller she’d first appeared to be. Her hair was skewed in all manner of directions and her makeup dripping away beneath all of her sweat. It was an image of defeat of Caelinda ever saw one.

“So, what are you gonna do?” She spat. “Turn me over to the law? Throw me in the sea?”

Caelinda shrugged. “I was hopin’ we could just talk first.”

“What in the hell would we have to talk about?” The Duchess said, her voice barely contained below a shout.

“Legal business prospects?” Caelinda offered.

The Duchess blinked once, and then again. She squinted her eyes at the elf like she was looking for something, but it wasn’t clear what.

“You kill my partners, the only people in this damn shithole that I can stand, and now you’re tryin’ to strike a deal with me? You’re one dumb elf.” She said.

Caelinda crossed her arms and shrugged again. “Maybe, but you’re a goblin who wants to keep that heart of yours beatin’, so I’d say we’re on pretty level ground here.”

If the Duchess agreed she sure didn’t say so.

“Look,” Caelinda sighed, “I don’t like you. I mean that in the most honest way. If it weren’t for my ironclad morals and childlike point of view, I’d probably just kill you right now. But I don’t want to kill you. It’d be a waste anyway.”

The Duchess huffed. Caelinda just rolled her eyes at the attitude.

“So,” She continued, “I’d like to offer a better outcome. One where we both stay alive, and make a lot of gold.”

Now that caught the Duchess’ attention. Her eyes practically lit up at the prospect of making a profit, but her dour expression did its best to try and maintain a sense of burning hatred for the elf.

“What kind of offer did you have in mind?” The Duchess asked after a moment.

Caelinda unfolded her arms, and reached into her waist satchel. She hesitated for a second as she realized just how lucky she was that a bullet hadn’t hit what was inside the bag. Worst case, there might not even be a Furbolg left, winking or otherwise. Shaking off her sudden realization of potential death, Caelinda pulled out the same glowing shard she’d scavenged up two months ago. The shard flowed from blue at the very tip to a dazzling gold that shimmered like rippling water. The mineral was clearly something to behold, but it was even more to feel. Something about it always put a sense of awe in Caelinda as she held it. She held out the shard just a bit so that the Duchess could inspect it.

“This is the stuff I’ve heard the Alliance and Horde are fightin’ over in Silithus.” She said. “They’re callin’ it Azerite, and it’s gettin’ big. I’d bet every ounce of gold in my pockets that this is goin’ to be what the next big scrap is over, and that makes it valuable.”

The Duchess marveled at the shard. Fokert peaked over her shoulder and found himself entranced by it as well. Clearly the goblins understood the value of this new resource even if they didn’t quite grasp what it was. To be fair, Caelinda didn’t really understand it either.

She quickly placed the shard back into her satchel. “Duchess, I want your help.”

The Duchess looked her in the eyes, her brown meeting Caelinda’s emerald. She seemed apprehensive of her to say the least, but Caelinda could see she was also incredibly interested. It was just as Caelinda had intended. Promise a goblin gold with charming word and they’ll always come around to your way of thinking.

“What do you want?” The Duchess asked.

Caelinda smiled. It was a grin full of both delight and her playful mischief. “Nothin’ too out of the ordinary, Duchess. For starters, I want one of your ships. One you picked up legally of course, I don’t need a stolen ship on my ledger. I’ll want the crew too, obviously. Then I’ll be needin’ your kind assistance in payin’ for all the damages you’ve caused to this fine establishment.”

“Damn right.” Fokert called.

“And finally, I want you to forget all of this shadowy nonsense that happened tonight and just go about your business.” She finished.

The Duchess seemed quite confused by that last point.

“You’re just goin’ to let me go?” She asked.

Caelinda wiggled her hand in a so-so motion. “Sort of. I’m lettin’ you go, but I want you to leave me alone. No chasin’ after me for revenge or any of that. You stick to your way, and I’ll stick to mine. We don’t ever need to see each other again. And I’m hopin’ that tellin’ you about this whole Azerite business will just have sweetened the pot a little. You know, a friendly monetary tip, except we’re not friends.”

The Duchess took her time in thought. Her mind must have been absolutely abuzz with thoughts about the whole situation, but Caelinda could only really think about how much her leg was starting to hurt. Just as she was about to say something, the Duchess held out her hand to her.

“Fine then, Dewfall. I’ll accept your terms.” She grinned. “You know how to work a deal.”

Caelinda reached out and took the Duchess’ hand in turn with her own smile. “It’s been a pleasure doin’ business with you, Duchess.”

#writing #Caelinda Dewfall #the sunguard

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katherinesisakproduction · 4 years

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A9 Final Pitch

Wow! After nine weeks, we’re finally at the end of the quarter...so without further ado, here’s a quick summary of the work behind ‘Origin’.

Theme: Appearances can be decieving/life isn’t always black and white

Logline: When Dennis -a superhero-obsessed boy- is dragged to his dad’s office for a ‘Take Your Child to Work Day’ he comes face-to-face with some titillating family secrets. Could this be the origin story for Voltaic City’s newest crimefighter?

Link to final animatic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0V-kj4Sc9Q&feature=youtu.be&fbclid=IwAR3npV64LbHoybTt2JF6xB35kJiMK4cPKXZCDfXtOLDYqATOlXm7SUYTqcY

In this version of the animatic, I addressed the notes about establishing (more clearly) the initial setting of the office, as well as changing the design of the desk that Dennis hides behind in order to make it more plausible that Eel Man wouldn’t be able to see him.

Supplemental Materials: This section ties in well with the characters/world

Dennis:

To rehiterate, Dennis is a seven-year-old boy who is obsessed with superheroes and comic books. He views his favorite comic book as his ‘guide to life’, believing that the world contained between the pages has the answers to everything. In a way, his attachment to comic books represents the very ‘black-and-white/good-and-evil’ view of the world that people have in their youth, because more traditional comic plotlines (of the past) tend to be very formulaic in that good always triumphs over evil.

In terms of new material, I reviewed the SCAD Animated Short handbook and developed a rough turnaround sheet and expression page for Dennis. After doing so, when this goes into production, I’m wondering if it might be a good idea to revist the hair design. As much as I enjoy the asymmetrical swoop from the frontal and 3/4 views, since this will be 3D, I’m not entirely certain if it will silhouette well from the sides.

The expression page for Deninis was a lot of fun to make: since he’s the main character and the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, I got to play with a lot of large facial emotions...His roundness makes him a lot of fun to sketch out.

Eel Man/The Dad:

Eel Man is the secondary character in the film: he’s a systems analyst for a Tuna Company by day, and a super-their by night. He’s calculating, insecure and has a little bit of an invisibility complex. He began his life of crime after his job cut his benefits and began by selling classified corproate information to rival companies for money. Eventually, he went from hacking/digital theft and branched out into stealing top secret tech that was being developed by other types of companies: his theft of a sonar weapon (mentioned at the end of this short) is his first ‘big’ venture into typical supervillainesque crime which is why it made the news.

As a mid-level office worker, he feels very stifled and invisible at times. He definitely feels like just another cog in the machine and the noteriety he recieved in the criminal underworld for being a ‘super-theif’ helps stave off his greatest fear, which is going through life forgotten and unimportant.

Doing the turnaround sheet for him was a little tricky because I’m used to drawing him in poses that allow me to really exagerrate his ‘s-curve’ shape. But since characters are typically kept in a neutral pose for the sheets, it felt a little tricky to ‘straighten him out’, so to speak.

Unlike his son, Eel Man is a bit of an enigma in the short. He does need to keep a little bit of an ‘air of mystique’ so that it is plausible that Dennis could misinterpret his status of being a villain. Additionally, with the visor, drawing expressions was doubly challenging because it removed two of the main three components that really drive facial expressions (eyes, mouth, eyebrows). I did draw two images of him without the mask to hint at how he emotes around his family.

To round out the requirements for character in the Animated Short book, here are the action poses I submitted as a part of my pitch package to indicate how the characters will move. To me, I always begin with action poses before I even finalize character designs because it helps me connect character design, movement style and personality together. By drawing out how they behave, it helps me clarify (even to myself) a character’s identity/sense of being.

Dennis, ever the excitable kid, has very big movements. He puts his entire body into action and is very open with his behavior. I tried to remember how I moved when I was that age and personally, I remember being very impulsive and confident with everything I did: there was no planning or second-guessing, only action.

Eel Man also has exagerrated movements, but in a different way. His ‘s-design’ was chosen to specifically favor poses with strong lines of action: I really wanted to capture the dynamic poses typical to superhero comics, but also soften the seriousness behind the fight scenes by adding a slick, slithery element to his movements. He ‘slips’ and ‘slides’ everywhere.

The World: Style, Lighting and Color

The short takes place in a corporate office and has two main sets: The cubicle and the lair. The cubicle is a very tight and slightly dreary space, so the colors will be mostly beiges and neutral tones to convey a sense of corprorate drudgery. The lightingin the office (during Act 1) will be fairly even to indicate that this is the ‘mundane world’...The story has not truly taken off at this point.

The quick color study here is a rough indication of the palette for the transition between sets. It carries over some of the beige/muted orange elements from the office set while the intense blue forshadows the color palette for the lair. This is the still I’m most likely to revist to finesse the color a little more so that it is congruent with the other panels. I’m not entirely sold on the color of the slide and want to explore what a blue-grey might look like...or perhaps a more saturated bronze color.

In Act 2, when Dennis is looking around the lair and starting to come up with ideas of what this foreign space could possibly be, the color palette changes to a high-pitched, limited palette of blue/blue green. This was heavily inspired by Lou Romano’s color key work on the Incredibles, because the vibrant, limited palette imbues the space with a sense of ‘otherworldliness’, removing it from what both Dennis and the audience associate with our ‘day-to-day’ reality. The lighting is bright and still fairly even because not only do I want the audience to be able to drink in full ‘grandeur’ of the set, but tonally, the emotions of the piece are still largely positive -it’s a moment of discovery. I also want all of the props (such as the giant coin, the costume carousel, the supercomputer etc) to be highly visible. The narrative relies heavily on props to drive the plot (with each component acting as an indicator that the dad is a hero) and its also important to establish props that will come into play during Act 3 when the fight sequence happens.

In Act 3, however, the lighting changes. As Eel Man (our secret antagonist) enters the set and Dennis gets visual confirmation that his guess was right (sort of), the set darkens a little and the lighting becomes very high contrast to create a visual intensity that foreshadows the conflict. The color palette of the set is still blue, but leaning a little bit away from the turquoise end fo the spectrum.

These are two production stills for the film. I chose Dennis and Eel Man’s first face-to-face interaction in the film to showcase because their relationship is what lends impact to the revelation off Eel Man’s true identity at the end. I attempted to do a little more color blending to convey a ‘3D’ quality to the image, but I feel like I want to keep working on it because currently, some elements such as Eel Man’s arm and hand could use a little less exposure to the yellow light for higher overall contrast. But overall, it serves its purpose to convey the general lighting in the scene. The scene is illumnated with warm yellow light to be visually misleading, conveying the beginnings of something wonderful and new...

This is the second production still depicting the big ‘reveal’ when Dennis finds out that his dad is a supervillain. In this scene, he is illuminated by the LED lights of the television that is playing the broadcast that completely turns his worldview upside down. The teal highlights act as a visual calllback back to the palette of the lair,but now, the lighting is darker and far more dramatic to convey the sinister turn of the story.

Looking ahead, I really want to develop a more concrete color script for this short. What I have now gives a decent indication of color, but I’d like to push the lighting and shading within the style frames to more closely match the quality of light within the production stills. I also feel like at least two more stills (one of the office and one more in the lair during Act 2) would strengthen the color development, giving people a more concrete idea oft the final ‘look’ for the short. However, I did end up prioritizing the fixes to the animatic, as well as the creation of turnaround sheets over a color script at this current time because those items were the ones definitively required by the SCAD Animated Short Handbook.

Why Animation?

My answer to this question can be found in my description of both the characters and the world. When it came to development, I was favoriting very stylized and exaggerated designs. The character’s shape based design language to inform their acting, as well as the saturated yet limited color palette for the hero world should work in tandem to create a visual universe that far removed from anything that the viewers can easily associate with our ‘day-to-day’ reality (i.e. live-acton). The stylization and exaggeration, which can only be accomplished via animation, serves to make Dennis’s conclusiion that his dad MUST be a hero more believable to the audience by lowering the suspension of disbelief: if the audience doesn’t have a comparison point to explain the unfamiliar space, it excuses Dennis’s runaway imagination.

Although this story could be done in live action, it would change the tone of the story to something a little more corny (similar to Disney’s live-action film Sky High). Even though I personally enjoy campy superhero stuff, in this case, it would tonally undermine the theme that ‘life isn’t always black and white’, which I would like to avoid.

Final Notes and What Comes Next:

Taking this pitch from start to finish was a really interesting endeavor, especially in seeing how the concept evolved over time. I’m a large fan of DC comics, so getting to play around with some of my favorite tropes was a definite plus with this story. I know I personally enjoy hero origin stories a lot...I think the stories people come up with to explain what could drive a person into acts of superhuman heroism/villainy are pretty interesting because they reflect the things that majorly impact people’s lives (loss of family, social injustice etc, etc).

In a way, Origin, for me is as much of a coming-of-age tale as it is a superhero story. Dennis’s discovery at the end, that his dad was not the man he thought he was is an amplified version of how at a certain age, you realize that your parents are not necessarily these godly, untouchable super-humans who can magically solve all of your problems. Awknowledging that life isn’t always easy is a, difficult, yet essential, part of growing up and I wanted to touch on that in my film.

But-with that being said- I’m finally going to reveal what I think would happen after the title card! Originally, I had thought of this idea as a pitch for a television show and I think that after the revelation, Dennis would agree to be Eel Man’s sidekick so that he could try and discover WHY his dad would become a villain. I think he would actively try to sabotage his dad’s villainous escapades, because he’s still a good-hearted character, but I think his loyalty to his dad would lead him to agree to be his sidekick so that he could try to better understand his father. I think that if it were further developed into a series, that you could have a lot of fun coming up with various ‘heroes-of-the-week’ that Eel Man and Urchin Boy could encounter...So in a way, this short could double as a good ‘hook’ for a pilot.

In terms of moving forward with the production of the short, I’m really looking forward to seeing what my future teammates will bring to the production. The thing I enjoy the most about being an animation student at SCAD is being able to discuss and develop ideas wth other people who also love stories and storytelling. Everyone has such a different and unique way of viewing the world, that even being a small part of their stories during the feedback process makes me happy.

In the end, this was rewarding experience because it reminded me that storytelling is about finding common ground with other people.

Well...Onwards and upwards, I guess!

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