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rubynationwins · 2 years

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Sleeping With A Friend (18+)

Soft!Dark!Bucky x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: When Bucky sees what you’re wearing for pajamas–or lack thereof–he can’t help how his body reacts. You’re a heavy sleeper anyway.

Main Masterlist

Warnings: Soft!Dark!Bucky, smut, non-con via somnophilia, intercrural sex(thigh sex), oral/fingering-f receiving, nude pics taken w/o consent, drunk & horny bucky, Bucky POV so a whole lot of dirty thoughts, pining, wet dreams, basically pwp, fluff, angst, poor self-esteem/body image issues. 18+ Minors DNI. DNR if you do not like or are triggered by such topics. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3,515

A/N: I’ve been working on this one for awhile, but I’m still calling it a “celebration” fic for Seb’s 40th b-day (ha!) I feel like it’s been forever since I wrote for one of his characters so this was the perfect motivation to finally finish this one up. Hopefully y’all are into this absolute filth I’ve written😘 Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

Bucky stumbled through the front door of your flat, trying (and failing) to keep quiet in his semi-drunken state. He knew you’d be asleep at this hour and didn’t want to wake you. His night out hadn’t gone quite as planned, but if he couldn’t go home with someone from the bar, the next best thing was crashing at your place and hanging out in the morning. It also helped that he had a spare key, and that you lived 10 minutes away from the bar he’d been at, which may or may not have been planned in advance.

His original plan had been to crash on your couch, but when he laid down on it and barely fit, he knew he’d have to find a different option. He’d forgotten that your “couch” was more of a loveseat. A good portion of his legs hung off the armrest and only half of his body could fit on the cushions. Suffice to say, not an optimal choice for getting a good night’s rest.

It made sense you didn’t have a giant couch, though. You lived alone and whenever Bucky came over he just curled up next to you, normally with your legs slung over his nap. He wasn’t big on personal boundaries anyways. It’s a good thing you’d gotten used to that part of him. Because, in his opinion, when in his presence you should always be within arms reach and preferably already within his arms. He had never found someone so perfect for cuddling. You were just so soft, plus your scent made him dizzy. He really was lucky to have you as his best friend, and especially to have you as his cuddle buddy.

With the thought of your hugs in mind, Bucky rolled off the sorry excuse for a couch and tiptoed to your room. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d bunked with you, so it was fine, right? Bucky cracked open the door, and peered inside. He could just make out your covered, slumbering form in the middle of your queen-sized bed that was pressed into the far corner of the room.

He pulled off his jacket as he walked towards the bed, leaving himself in just his short-sleeved shirt and black joggers. They’d have to do for the night since he didn’t think you would appreciate waking up to his naked ass curled up next to you in the morning. He wished he’d left some pjs at your place, though, since your room was unusually hot. There must have been something wrong with your AC, because he knew you hated sleeping in the heat.

When he got to the side of your bed, he grabbed the thin sheet covering you and pulled it back. He stopped dead in his tracks.

You were curled up on your side, one leg lifted over the other, your arms wrapped around the wolf plushie he had bought you for your birthday this year.

That was not what gave him pause though. What made him still his movements and all the blood in his body drain to his crotch was what you were wearing.

More like what you weren’t wearing.

Only a thin crop top covered your torso. It stopped just above your navel. The only other thing on your body was a pair of pink panties that rode up your backside, covering a strip of your belly too. They weren’t fancy, looked like the simple cotton kind that was worn for comfort, not seduction. It didn’t matter what mainstream purpose they served, Bucky had never been more aroused by the sight of underwear in his life.

He gulped and his hand instinctively moved to his cock, palming it over his pants. A low groan emitted from his lips. You shifted at the sound and turned over on your back, exposing more of your front. Bucky felt close to bursting. Your shirt had ridden up and he could just make out the underside of your breasts. He gripped his cock tighter, this time holding in his groan.

Normally, around him, you wore comfy clothes: sweatpants, oversized shirts, leggings-he loved the leggings-but you never showed much skin. Sometimes you would wear shorts, but those stopped at your mid-thigh, denying Bucky any glimpse of the treasure that lay above. This sudden exposure of your soft skin unencumbered by fabric was too much for Bucky’s brain. His eyes couldn’t take in all your enchanting curves, gentle rolls, and adorable dimples fast enough.

The synopses in his brain were short-circuiting. He was running on pure adrenaline and primal instinct, so he couldn’t have possibly stopped his hand from plunging beneath his underwear. He gripped his throbbing cock and started hastily pumping his throbbing length, his steady breaths morphing into uncontrollable pants. The pressure of his tight fist felt so good but he soon needed more. How could he be satisfied by just looking at you when the temptation of your voluptuous body was right within reach?

He pulled down his pants with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his dick before he tentatively brought up a knee to rest on the bed. When you didn’t react to the weight shift, he brought up his other one. He was now kneeling just a foot away from you, still hesitating to cross that last line between you two.

When you shifted in your sleep again and opened up your legs to reveal your clothed core, he threw all caution to the wind. Fuck it. You were a heavy sleeper.

He placed his metal hand on your knee to test the waters and see if you reacted at all to the slight touch. You didn’t move. He slid it down to your hip and gave a gentle squeeze followed by a little shake. You dozed on. Sucking in a deep breath, he brushed his fingertips over the thin fabric covering your center. When you still didn’t react, he rubbed them over your folds, cock pulsing with want when he felt the warmth radiating from beneath your underwear. He brought his fingers back up and breathed in. Your intoxicating scent rolled over him like waves.

He had to taste you.

He hooked a finger on the side of your panties and pulled it over to reveal your naked pussy. Bucky could have passed out. You were perfect.

He leaned forward and slid his tongue between your folds, lapping at your damp core. When he flicked his tongue over your clit you let out a soft moan he stilled, his heart beating a mile a minute. He waited with bated breath, but the only thing that happened was a sudden increase in your arousal. Your juices coated his tongue and he lapped them up, savoring every last drop.

So your body was reacting to what he was doing… Bucky smiled at that revelation and focused his tongue on your clit again. He rolled the sweet bud, playing with it tenderly. His teeth grazed it and your thighs suddenly clenched around his head, caging him in. You were still asleep though. The pressure on the sides of his head didn’t bother him at all—he was a super soldier for god’s sake.

He continued lathering your bundle of nerves with attention as he slid his hand between your thighs and stroked over your dripping entrance. Slowly, he dipped his middle finger in, moaning into your cunt when he felt your pussy clench around the intruding digit. He imagined the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around his cock and he felt pre-cum leaking from the straining member. All of his focus stayed on you, though. He was fixated on your pleasure, needing you to come on his face and fingers.

He added another finger, but made sure to keep his movements languid, not wanting to jar you awake with a harsh, roaring orgasm. Instead, he rolled and sucked your clit gently, keeping the rhythm of his fingers slow as they curled up. A soft moan left your lips and he knew he’d hit the spot that would do you in.

He ground his fingers against your g-spot, and when he felt your walls clench around him, he sucked just a little harder on your throbbing clit. Your thighs trembled around his head and you gave a breathy gasp as a gush of your arousal spilled onto his fingers. He pulled them out and moved his mouth to drink up the heavenly liquid. After that, he popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking your sweetness off of them one by one.

Bucky glowed in the ecstasy of what he’d just accomplished. He had drawn a slow, deep orgasm from his best friend without you waking a wink. It was actually pretty impressive that you were such a heavy sleeper.

Your murmured sounds of pleasure as you floated down from your high made his dick throb with need. If you had slept through that, maybe Bucky could push the boundaries even further.

He pressed your thighs apart, gazing at the way your cunt beckoned him for more; to take as much pleasure as he had just given you. He furrowed his brow in thought. As much as he wanted to bury his pulsing cock deep in your tight heat, he knew if you woke up with an aching pussy you would know what happened. Because he knew you’d feel it in the morning if he stretched your little hole around his thick cock. Bucky didn’t want that. He needed to move slowly with you, tonight was just a little blip that arose from an opportunity he couldn’t have possibly denied.

Still, jerking off while looking at you wasn’t good enough. He squeezed your thighs as he contemplated his options and his heart skipped a beat as he came up with a perfect compromise. His eyes flew to the plush appendages. He pushed them together and dipped his hand between the apex of your thighs. He sucked in a breath when he felt just how warm and soft it was. This had to be the next best thing behind actually fucking you.

He reached down to your pussy and scooped up some of your fluids and rubbed them on your inner thighs to get them nice and wet. The pre-cum leaking out of his dick would help too. Still on his knees, he scooted closer, his metal arm wrapped around your legs holding them over his shoulder.

He looked down at your wanting body. The afterglow of your orgasm shone across your entire being. Your shirt had ridden up even more and your breasts were now on full display. He leaned forward and blew on one of your nipples, grinning when it stiffened. He plucked it gently with his fingers before returning to the main event.

With your thighs held together, he slid his cock right in between them, directly over your mound; he was barely able to hold back an animalistic growl at the vivid sensation. He pushed his dick further, and watched as it was engulfed by your velvety thighs. When his pelvis finally rested flush against them, and the tip of his dick stuck out the other side, he let out the breath he had been holding in.

He slid his hips back and started to slowly, but steadily, fuck your thighs.

The thighs he had spent countless hours fantasizing about. The thighs he would get secret pleasure from touching whenever he could. The thighs that were now swallowing his dick so perfectly it was a miracle he hadn’t cum yet. As he methodically thrusted, heady with the incredible feeling, he reached his hand out and plucked at your nipple. He couldn’t resist. You let out another faint moan and he rolled the little nub with his thumb before pinching it lightly.

“Bucky-”

He stilled when the sound of his mumbled name came from your lips. You had woken up. He’d been found him out. What was he going to do? You were going to kick him out and he’d never see you again.

After a few seconds of waiting for your to wrench away from him in disgust, he finally peered down at your tender face. Your eyes were still closed and your breathing hadn’t changed. Maybe he had misheard you.

“Bucky-fuck yes, please. Bucky-”

Your back arched slightly, pushing your breast further into his palm. You purred in your sleep, and he felt your thighs rub together-which felt like heaven. Your head flipped to the side and you let out more moans, your volume gradually increasing. His very name was uttered every few words. You slightly bucked your hips and your arms tussled in the covers.

Oh god. You were having a wet dream. About him. Bucky could have jumped for joy. He would, if his dick wasn’t shoved between your thighs and he wasn’t as hard as he’d ever been in his entire life. Instead, he let out little pleasure-filled murmurs of his own, whispering your name like a prayer that was finally being answered. He splayed his hand out on your chest feeling the rapid beat of your heart. When he felt the rumble in your chest as you, in your sleep, begged for him to fuck you, he went feral.

It was a sign, if he was in your dreams and your body was this turned on, it wouldn’t be long until you were actually his. Just the thought of you awake, staring up at him with lust filled eyes as you opened your legs, ready for him to slide into your dripping cunt, set him on fire. His hand left your tits and he wrapped both arms around your thick thighs as he pistoned his cock back and forth. With every quick stroke, it brushed over your needy clit, making you buck your hips slightly.

Bucky could tell you were right up there with his own mounting orgasm. He angled his hips down slightly to give you more pressure and he must have hit something just right because your whole body spasmed and you let out a curdled groan, practically shouting his name.

“Buckyyy!”

Your cry pushed him over the edge and he came too, coating your stomach in his seed. All he could do as his cum spurted out of his aching dick was chant endless words of praise for how good you felt, how he couldn’t wait to one day fill your pussy with his cum too. He wanted to dominate every part of you, claim what had been his. When he had spent every last drop, he pulled away and gently set your legs down. He slid a finger through the mess he’d made on your belly and a shudder ran down his back. He’d finally done it. Bucky had marked you with his seed.

Panting, he jumped out of the bed and headed to the bathroom to grab something to wipe up his cum. He came back, but paused before he cleaned you up. He bent down and swiped up his phone from his jacket pocket.

He flipped to his camera app. The open window and clear sky cast just enough light for him to capture your mostly naked state without using the flash. You were a picture of pure beauty, skin glistening with sweat and covered in his cum. He reached forward and pulled your shirt up further, getting a snapshot of your incredible tits, your nipples were still stiff peaks.

He felt his dick stirring again, but took in a deep breath to calm himself. The next time he came with you in the room, it was going to be inside of you while you screamed his name and clawed at his back. These photos were just a memento to mark such a special occasion. And to help him wade through the tide as he waited for you to open your legs willingly, or at least knowingly, to him.

With his new treasures saved to his camera roll, he tossed his phone back on the pile of clothes. He cleaned his cum from your stomach, making sure he got all of the sticky fluid. He walked back to the bathroom and tossed the now sodden rag in the trash under the sink, hidden from sight. Tomorrow, he’d be a dear and take the garbage to the dumpster for you.

He walked back into your room and pulled on his pants before hopping back into bed beside you. He fixed your shirt and underwear so that they were back in place. He ran his hands over the wet spot blooming on your panties, but there was nothing he could do about that. Oh well. He pulled you into his chest and quickly dosed off into the best sleep of his life, dreaming of delectable curves and the sound of his name on your lips.

________________________________________

You were having the best dream. Cool, metal fingers were moving between your thighs as heated lips melted into yours, taking your breath away. The sensations felt so good. So right. You were about to whisper the words you’d been wanting to say for years, but a beeping pinged through the lusty fog. Just like that, the lips and hand were gone, though a warm presence still lingered.

You kept your eyes screwed shut, heeding the images to return, but they were gone. You were not happy that your, now silent, alarm had chosen that exact moment to wake you up. Though that wasn’t the only dream you’d had with a certain dark haired super soldier that night. It had been filled with your beautiful best friend; the two of you intertwined in lecherous passion.

Finally, you squinted your eyes open and soon realized that the heated presence from your vanished dream wasn’t just imagined. You blinked, surprised to find Bucky sleeping right next to you. You would have wondered why he was in your bed when he definitely hadn’t been there when you’d gone to sleep, but you were too distracted by his slumbering face.

His long, black eyelashes dusted cast faint shadows across his slightly pinkened cheeks, and a dark strand of hair had fallen out of place. You brushed it back behind his ear and smiled at how soft he looked like this. The fact that he could relax and be so open and vulnerable around you made your heart swell. You felt the same way around him; safe and secure. You trusted him with your whole being, he truly was your best friend.

A part of you saddened at that last thought. Deep down, you yearned to be so much more, but you were too scared to make a move. You knew Bucky loved you, but you didn’t know if he could love all of you. If he could want all of you. It was hard to look at his sculpted body and chiseled features, and believe that a person so attractive could possibly be interested in you.

You sighed, trying to shake the unnecessary thoughts from your head as you sat up, gently lifting his arm from where it rested across your waist. As you shifted, you felt a dampness between your thighs, and the realization that you had been dreaming about him all night shot through you like a flame. Oh god, what if you’d said anything in your sleep? What if he’d heard you? You didn’t know how long he’d been there.

Another realization sprung in your head and you looked down. You actually gave an audible gasp. You were practically naked from the waist down. He had seen you wearing your ugly granny panties and your old t-shirt from college that you’d cropped a just little too short.

The fact that he had seen you in such a state brought tears to your eyes. There was no way he was going to be even slightly interested in you romantically now that he knew what you looked like underneath all the modest clothes you normally sported around him.

You leaped out of bed, not caring if you disturbed him, and scuttled to the bathroom; grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt from your closet on your way. You didn’t care that your AC was broken.

You rushed into the bathroom and shut the door, springing into the shower. Thoughts spun through your head, but you just kept telling yourself that it had been too dark for him to see anything. That he had been too tired when he got there to take notice of all your imperfections on display. That you really didn’t need to worry. When it felt like you could breathe again, you stepped out of the shower. You grabbed a towel, but caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you dried off. You frowned and quickly looked away from the glaring image.

Bucky was way too good for you.

________________________________________

In your room, Bucky was sitting on the edge of your bed, waiting for you to finish your shower. He was smiling from ear to ear as he swiped through the photos he’d taken last night.

God, you were perfect for him.

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enthusedbambi-jjba-au · 4 days

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Monster AU - Monster Hunters [P1]

[The Guild, silver weaponry and can we please talk about how these bullets break the fucking Geneva Conventions]

Monster Hunting!

I am sure that the term is self explanatory. You probably know already.

But if you don’t, here’s a quick rundown:

Monster hunting, also known as “Field Exorcism”, “Damnation”, “Befliction”, and fucking “murder”, among other things, is the practice of tracking and killing non-humans - that is, “monsters” (or pretty much anyone they believe to be non-human), usually with the overall goal of completely eradicating all “dangerous” cryptian species. It’d be a hate crime if only cryptians were a protected class. In case you haven’t guessed, they’re not (though some of them look human enough that murdering them is still generally frowned upon in most jurisdictions, like most vampires and lycanthropes that shift back upon death).

”Cacciatori”, in Italian, means hunters, and is the word used for monster hunters here as well. Not to be confused with a dish prepared alla Cacciatora, or the surname Cacciatore (we are not here for nominative determinism!!!). They’re majority ‘Catholic’ by which I mean most hunters in Italy seem to be semi-religiously-motivated “Italian Catholics” (they’re Christian at least, I don’t know; the religion scene here is wild). I assume this is primarily due to proximity to the Vatican and general historical contexts. I thought they were all Catholics but apparently most of them just self-describe themselves as Catholics, and I don’t know much about Christianity in the first place. (I had a Bible when I was younger and naturally I drew all over it because I was a child. I do not know what they expected. I also went to a Christian summer camp but I only retained the fun parts of that.)

Okay, back to monster hunters before I get off topic any more.

Most of them hunt:

to ‘protect’ their communities

for religious reasons, usually also an extension of the above

for money, obviously

for money but the other kind

It's hard to say which motivation is the majority, like, I can't exactly do a survey or anything; in Italy, as far as I've seen (I haven't really seen that far, admittedly, mostly just near Naples), it seems to be a somewhat even split, between the general public's subconscious fear of being out at night (as well as the influence of religious institutions) and the financial prospects of mark-hitting and marketing. To be clear, monster bounty hunting (as a casual term. monster-mercenarism might be a closer fit, but... much harder to say) isn't quite the same as regular bounty hunting; monster-mercs actually rarely go after an individual who has a bounty on them—though some do take shady jobs to 'find out' if someone is a monster—they mostly just hunt monsters and then get paid based on their kills.

You probably assume all hunters are human, of course, right? Yeah. I fucking wish. I fucking wish there weren't monsters out there willing to off other cryptians for money. There are even werewolves out there hunting werewolves. Etc. I think sometimes it's like internalised hatred, but sometimes monsters are also out of their fucking minds just like human beings.

I always wondered if they fully grasp just how fucking quickly their fellow hunters would take a gun to their head the second they found out.

But yeah, most of them are human.

Anyways, you might be wondering who the fuck is paying them. Monster hunting isn’t exactly legal since normal non-believers and the government generally will see a dead humanoid cryptian and go “ah, murder”, so I have to assume most of the payment for the mercs (as opposed to the shadowmarket suppliers and shadowmarketers who obviously get paid for merchandise) is funded by the Guild.

now on the subject of the guild: I’m sure a lot of you are curious what in the fuck that is, which is fair, since you probably hadn’t heard of it before i started saying words.

La Gilda dei Cacciatori Mostri

La Gilda dei Cacciatori Mostri d'Italia (GCM), the Italian Monster Hunter's Guild, is precisely what it sounds like: a guild of monster hunters. In Italy. Surprise. I just call them the Guild, mostly. Hunting seems to be sort of culturally hereditary, and Guild membership is somewhat exclusive; for "safety reasons" allegedly (though I personally think at least half the time they're just a bunch of fucking self-righteous elitist bitches), as they need to 'make sure they can trust their members' or something like that. They signal membership of the Guild with these little silver pins with insignias that they wear. They're silver because you have to be able to wear the pin to be in the Guild, I think. I guess they assume that anyone who can touch silver must be a human. I'll get to silver's importance later. I think the bottom of the pin is a tiny out-the-front knife for, like, the most dire of emergencies or something? I've seen some where the bottom comes out more or less, so there's probably a switch on the back that extends the blade, but I can't really say for sure because I just can't seem to get my hands on one. Whatever.

Bunch of smug bastards; they have one of those fancy Latin mottos. Translates to 'Sanctity and Safety; Keeping The Faith'. Or something. No fucking idea what that means, but sure. Anyways, the Guild spans across all of Italy (I don't know if San Marino or the Vatican or Sicily or Sardinia are included; I'm assuming Sicily and Sardinia are, but I can't say for sure). They keep in contact with each other through this Guild… meetings, and stuff. I know there's a Northern Division and a Southern Division, and then a bunch of local chapters in each division. It's sort of hard to find out the specifics since they have to be careful with what they talk about, but it seems like the whole Guild isn't super closely knit because it's just not practical to have everyone at every meeting and such. The divisions are closer amongst themselves than one another, but they all support each other, at least for the most part. I understand them as having a representative system where reps from each chapter are assigned to meet up instead of having everyone meet together to stay connected. They probably keep in touch with everyone so they can alibi each other if police come poking around.

I dunno what the deal with Sicily and Sardinia is, but the distribution seems to split right above Lazio; anything above Lazio is Northern Division, and Lazio plus Abruzzi and anything south of those two regions is Southern. They have Guild ‘capitals’: the Southern one is definitely Rome, though Naples apparently has one of the most ‘powerful’ hunter families in the country (and just a lot of families in the area? From what I’ve seen?); I’m not sure what the Northern capital is but based on population I’d have to guess probably Milan? I don’t really know if the chapters are region- or city-based; I think it might depend on size and population. I’m just gonna call them based on the most notable nearby town/city.

The Guild actually isn’t all that big; most of the smaller chapters are actually just a single family, if that—like I said, hunting seems to be culturally hereditary, so people seem to be passing it on to their kids, which actually means their numbers are starting to dwindle slightly as kids are denouncing or declining the occupation, or people die before their kids get old enough to carry the tradition on or something such. Many known monster hunter families have actually retired semi-recently due to various circumstances. In areas where the primary family or group of hunters have stopped hunting and whatnot, it seems that leaves room for foreigners to step in or hunters already patrolling another location nearby to absorb the unsupervised region into their territory. It’s also when the shadowmarketers swoop in and start ‘poaching’. Shadowmarket suppliers and Guildists seem to have issues with each other, too, even though they’re hunting the same thing. I assume it’s primarily due to greed. Or desperation. Or both.

Here are some notable hunter names and families I’ve heard about (for some reason, there seems to be a lot of them in or around Naples? Or, you know, I’ve only noticed more of those because I’m here):

Mista - Napoli Chapter - wolfhunters, long-standing lineage, Campania representatives (presumably)

So, the Mista family is arguably the most well-known and respected hunter family in the Southern Division. Maybe even in the whole Guild. They specialise in hunting lycanthropes and other zooanthropic creatures (mostly the lycans, though). They’re incredibly successful at killing monsters, and they—as a family—are known for this… ‘faith override’ ability they have. See, faith and belief are super powerful, so religious implements are ineffective against a creature whose theological alignment doesn’t jive with it. A Christian cross isn’t going to do much to an individual of a different religion, because the symbol doesn’t mean anything to them. But the Mista family’s ‘override’ is something about their belief outweighing a general lack of belief, thus making their religious iconography effective against enemies whether they should be affected by it or not. I guess magic is fine if YOU get to use it, huh? Bit self-righteous if you ask me.

The Mista family has been in the Guild for a good while now, allegedly from the beginning, and the youngest member—Guido—seems keen to keep up the family tradition even though he’s not living with his family anymore.

So I think it’s safe to assume he has no clue what’s going on in the group he’s currently part of.

James - bayside Napoli - not actually in the guild

A foreign family, and by family, I mean a guy named Damien James came to Naples from London and was seen for a while with a woman he claimed was his wife, encroached on the Mista family’s territory, and then went missing. He was known but not well-liked and wasn’t allowed in the Guild due to a refusal to respect regulations, adhere to territory rules and cooperate with the Mistas. Nobody knows where the fuck he is. His supposed “wife” is still spotted around the bay occasionally, though. She’s really scary, and apparently, when she got approached by someone asking about Damien, she seemed to get super mad about it. Stupid games, stupid prizes. Don’t fuck with widows. Especially not strange widows who spend a lot of time by the water. That’s how you become sea-food. Dumbass.

Fugo - Napoli Chapter - vampire hunters, long-reaching lineage, seemingly recently retired

I’m not sure how true the stories I’ve heard about are, but I’m under the impression that the Fugo family, a bunch of high-class wealthy rich people, came from a lineage of vampire hunters. But they apparently retired a generation or so ago because they were satisfied with being a bunch of rich assholes. Feel bad for their son but that’s none of MY business!!! Hahaaaaaaa that might also just be a load of bullshit. I don’t really know. I’m telling you what I’ve heard alright. Like I don’t want to hear people bitching because my specialty is researching cryptians not humans!

Verga/Ventura - Roman Chapter - variety hunt

Presumably, they are the descendants of the Guild founders, but half of them—the Venturas—have stepped away from hunting, while the other half—the Vergas—continue to hunt whatever they come across. Despite the surname difference, all currently surviving members of the Verga and Ventura families are actually siblings. I think. The little one in the Ventura family might be one of their kids but I dunno I’m pretty sure one of ‘em called her their sister. I think the Venturas changed their surname to distance themselves from the family history, but I’m not really sure. They also seem to have some connection to Passione, but I can’t elaborate on that for reasons.

There’s, uh…. Nine—NINE?! NINE OF THESE LITTLE BITCHES that is so many. Um, even though they’re all attached to the Roman chapter, only three of them are actually, like, Roman. Or even southern, for that matter. The other six are from, uhh… if I can remember… Venice or Verona (though four of them are twins (or quadruplets?) two claim to be from Verona, and the other two claim they’re from Venice, so I don’t know who to believe). The two eldest and the youngest (the kid) are the Roman ones. Fuck I regret meeting these bitches because now I have to explain shit!

To clarify, while the Verga family seems to have been the founders of the Guild ages ago, the current Verga family don’t seem to be leading it (I don’t know who is) but are just carrying on the tradition. I hear that a lot of them have political or governmental positions which might also have some relation to their connections with Passione. Dunno. They were in Naples a while ago, which was when I met them, but they didn’t stay super long, so most of what I know is also from rumours and poking around.

Cacciatore - Venice Chapter - therianoid hunt - retired

Yeah I know I said with the nominative determinism and whatnot. It's not nominative determinism. Just think about it logically. They're not hunters because they're Cacciatores; they're called the Cacciatores because they were hunters. It's called an occupational surname! (It's pretty much the same as the English surname Hunter; same principle as Baker or Cooper or Smith or Miller).

From what I can gather, along with the Vergas and Mistas, and possibly a couple others, they are the oldest known hunter family, hunting mostly animal-like monsters like werewolves and animal demons; they split from the Guild and eventually from the profession as a whole, citing that the Guild’s recent modern innovations on their weaponry—the Crackling Silver in particular, I’m to believe—are fucked up and incredibly unethical even against monsters. I would have to fucking agree with them! Who in the fuck comes up with a thing like crackling silver?! Ugh. More on that later. It’s bad.

Zatta - Chapter and hunt unknown - allegedly silversmiths, or at least close with the Guild’s

I don’t know if they’re the ones making weapons or just coming up with ideas, but based on my ‘research’, I’m of the understanding that they have something to do with the production of the more advanced and fucked up weapons the Guild has taken to using, like the aforementioned Crackling Silver, as well as burst bolts and Stoppers. I don’t know what their main hunt is, if they have one, though I have heard that they’re kind of on thin ice for not getting along with other hunters. Something about how silver is for monsters and not humans. They’re close with another hunter family that also has ties with weapon production, but I don’t know what the other family is called.

Apparently, the youngest daughter severed ties and outright denounced monster hunters as a whole—something about hunters being way fucking worse than the monsters they go after, and she can’t take being around them anymore because they’ve done more than enough damage to her life. You go, girl! There is definitely a LOT of issues and trauma going on there that we are NOT going to unpack! I’ve heard rumours that her brother also split from the family but has been seen in various towns and cities, allegedly “appearing to be hunting”. No clue what that fucking means.

Okay. That’s about all I’ve picked up from trying to sneak around and infiltrate hunter circles.

Which means now it’s time to talk about the super fucked up part. The weaponry.

Silver

so I was going to wait till a future post to really delve into Silver and related topics, but it’s important for this topic to give you the groundwork:

Silver is the single most widely effective and secular monster deterrent and defence. ‘Course, a lot of the Christians think it’s a holy metal. That’s not why it works; it’s not religiously aligned, and that’s why it’s so widely effective. For a lot of monsters—or at least the most commonly known ones, like vampires, werewolves, demons and their ilk—silver will burn. And bad. It hurts and does physical damage. Humans are actually super lucky to be incredibly resistant to silver, but humans also love to push that envelope and give themselves argyria by excessive use of silver as an alternative medicine which by the way, totally do not recommend; please be fucking responsible and don’t turn your skin blue by fucking about with colloidal silver and the such. I can’t believe I have to go out of my way to say this. Anyways, yeah, humans can get silver poisoning too, but monsters are very magically-infused, which is why silver is so much more hazardous to them. I’ll explain that fully at a later date.

Just know—silver? Great against the common monsters. So of course, when hunters (who’d have their crosses and holy water sometimes fail) found that silver worked on nearly everything, they immediately turned to it as their weapon material of choice. Started out with swords, though silver isn’t exactly super cheap or super easy to get, so most silver swords were actually made chiefly from more affordable, more available materials, like steel, and then the blades were tempered with a thin layer of silver, which seemed to work alright.

Blades were traditional for hunters, they’re the oldest silver weapons used by the Guild. First swords, until swords turned out to be unwieldy as fuck. And impractical in the modern day. And expensive. And heavy. And just fucking ridiculous. Swords were replaced by silver hunting knives since they were more subtle, quieter and cheaper.

Are they good?

…no? absolutely not

Come ON! Does close-quarters combat with a transmissive werewolf sound like a great fucking idea to you?! Lycanthropy is transmitted through saliva-blood contact, LIKE GETTING FUCKING BITTEN. Traditional doesn’t mean fucking GOOD. I imagine shit would be fucking awkward if these guys were trying to kill monsters with KNIVES. Swords could be fine, at least at the time when it was all they had, since they had longer reach than knives, but they were superseded by ranged weapons pretty sharpish.

Still, every monster hunter (at least in the Guild) has a hunting knife, probably for emergencies. Only the blade is really silver, not the back of it, to my knowledge, and they’re made to be practical. If the dagger is super fancy, it’s probably fake silver, for religious purposes, or the owner is just a massive fucking bitch. A real hunting knife is simple. Practical against humans, too, kinda, but mostly good as a utility knife. You can throw them if you’re out of your fucking mind (or that one gayboy in La Squadra who is obviously already out of his fucking mind).

Anyway, swords were short-lived for monster hunters. The primary weapon for hunters was crossbows with silver bolts for a while, and then guns became a thing. A few hunters still use crossbows, but most carry guns now and silver bullets. Innovation is mainly made with long-distance hunting weapons since they’re safer to use. I’ve seen a hunter use a fucking slingshot. Didn’t stick around, obviously. I ain’t out here triflin with David. I’m under 4’, and I still want NO part of that

So anyways, yeah, maybe I'm a bleeding heart that doesn't agree with monster hunting, but it's normal-ass guns and silver bullets. Those aren't the worst shit; maybe you don't think it's that inhumane to kill with that (hunters don't see monsters as human anyway), so what's the big deal.

The big fucking deal is the fucking mods they started putting on the bullets and whatnot.

The primary purpose of ALL silver ammo innovations is to prevent the monsters—generally the zooanthropes, I think; surely they don't use this type of shit on vamps and stuff, at least I fucking hope, 'cus if they do, they're more fucked up empathetically than I thought—from being able to recover from their wounds, thus dooming or at least weakening them with unending afterpain.

Which is fucked up. AND AGAINST THE GENEVA CONVENTIONS BY THE WAY. JUST SO WE’RE CLEAR.

I am especially talking about what I’ve mentioned earlier:

Crackling Silver

The “crackling silver” bullet (named for the crackling noise they make as they exit the chamber) is designed with looser shards of silver that loosen with the heat of the gun upon firing, then break off and embed in the wound upon impact, which prevents the wound from healing itself as the silver shards never stop burning the flesh until removed. It’s not just designed to hurt like all fuck; it’s also designed to keep the wound open since the shards mostly embed into the front of the wound where they break off. By keeping the wound open, the monsters are not unlikely to slowly bleed out unless they’re able to find someone who can help them dig the shards out.

Stopper Bullets

The good news is that since silver burns most of these common monsters, the bullets—even crackling silver—will pass right through their body, so only the shards are left inside the wound, so the bleeding out is more of a concern that they can focus on, since the pain isn’t so bad! Apparently, that was a problem! So, someone came up with Stopper Bullets. Stoppers are silver bullets that (don’t ask me how they work, I don’t know) somehow jam themselves halfway through the monster’s body, never coming out the other side, meaning they just sit inside the body and BURN. Stopper bullets are more of an auxiliary weapon, I think; they’re more meant to slow down the monster because they focus on the pain.

there is a special place in hell for whoever the fuck thought to make the crackling stopper. You can infer what that does based on the above.

Silverdust

It’s silver dust. I’ve heard hunters with more silver to waste like to throw silverdust in lycanthropes’ faces to blind them. I feel that some of these hunters are only hunting to go on a power trip.

Burst Bolts

Kinda like the crossbow version of Crackling Silver, except I'm not super sure how they work because I know next to nothing about crossbows?

Like, just, do you get why this shit drives me up the fucking wall?? It’s not even that they just casually use this crazy shit; it’s the fact they don’t seem to care! Like, even giving them the leniency that they don’t think monsters are free-thinking creatures, did NOBODY but the Cacciatores see this and think it was fucking sadistic?? Even if monsters were like animals with no complex awareness or comprehension, even IN the case of frenzied lycanthropes, why go out of your way to make them suffer unless you enjoy the suffering of other living creatures? Would you go to the same lengths if you hunted deer, or rabbits, or birds?

It was never necessary! That’s why it’s so fucked up! A normal-ass silver bullet will kill with a shot to any mortal creature’s vitals, so these mods exclusively serve to inflict a painful and needlessly prolonged death upon a creature and would only be useful for people who can’t fucking aim and need to slow their target down, right?!

The worst part, the way I see it, is that a lot of them—take Guido Mista, for example, the youngest of the Mista family—have more-or-less noble intentions, like wanting to keep the streets safe, and they genuinely believe they are by hunting monsters. I’m sure that if a lot of these people knew that they were close to monsters, or even just that monsters aren’t necessarily evil, they probably would realise that the monsters aren’t always the aggressors.

I’m sure if a lot of them knew that some of their close friends weren’t human, those hunters wouldn’t have it in them to hold true to their convictions and turn on the people they love and trust.

I don’t think it’s impossible that some of the hunter families that have retired might have done so because this happened to them in some way. Monster hunters make me angry, but they also make me pretty sad sometimes, especially knowing that a lot of them just had the monster-hunting thing pushed on them by their families.

And hey, even if you're one of the people who actually hates monsters and support the Guild in eradicating them all, you do realise a lot of regular ass humans can and do get hurt by this shit, too, right? like, sure, silver doesn't burn humans, but that doesn't mean it's not going to fucking hurt to have silver shards jammed in your fucking body. Nobody is perfect, no matter how experienced, and mistakes are bound to happen while hunting every so often.

That's assuming it's a mistake, anyway. if you'll recall what I said about the Zatta family being on thin ice. I doubt they're the only ones.

oh well whatever

That’s all I got for now. Stay safe.

#golden wind #vento aureo #jjba #jjba fanart #monster au #jojo fanart #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba monster au #jojo au #jjba au #monster au lore #Pannacotta Fugo #Guido Mista #jjba oc #jojo oc #enthused cryptotaxonomist moments #monster hunters

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miyakuli · 3 months

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PARANORMASIGHT: The Seven Mysteries of Honjo

Game of Stones

Paranormasight is a half-horrific, half-thriller visual novel (I'll come back to this later) in which we follow several characters who find themselves involved in paranormal events caused by curse stones that are said to be able to bring dead people back to life. I really enjoyed the game as a whole, but I have to say that I found it very inconsistent in the way it unfolded.

❤ The game is very pretty. The chara-design is really well done and perfectly matches the characters' personalities, the semi-realistic backgrounds (based on real locations and redrawn on top of them) are superb and have a vintage feel to remind us that we're in the 80s, and the animations are quite often effective at giving you chills. ❤ The characters are the game's greatest strength. None of them are smooth, they all have their dark side and convincing motivations, some are certainly more complex than others, but each has an interesting evolution. And as much as they work well individually, their interactions with each other are also nice. You become attached to this group and find yourself excited when their paths merge (at least, I was rejoicing a little xD) ❤ As soon as you enter the game's menu, you realize that the soundtrack is going to be amazing. The themes are varied in style and mood, and contribute effectively to the dynamics of the scenes. ❤ There's a non-linear aspect to the plot, since we'll be following several character paths at the same time (represented by a flowchart), which will often overlap. As a result, you won't be able to unlock certain scenes without having fulfilled specific conditions in other routes. This gives the game a pleasant and original puzzle aspect.

+/- In fact, we often have to glance at the menu files containing all the historical information as well as the character profiles to help us move forward and understand the underlying plot, which makes the player an active part of the investigation. The story evolves in a coherent manner, buuuuuuuuut is a bit predictable when it comes to big revelations... +/- Some very good directional ideas, for example using the 360-degree rotation of the mouse to create some very scary moments (with jumpscares that really got me) or even playing on a rather surprising meta aspect…….but it all runs out of steam very quickly. Indeed, all these mechanics are concentrated mainly in the prologue (which is rather long, it has to be said), after which we find ourselves in a more conventional thriller with more "banal" scenes with no real gameplay apart from the choice of dialogues and exploration. This gives an impression of inconsistency in the evolution of the game, and makes the loss of that initial momentum almost bland. However, there are still a few good ideas here and there (such as an escape game phase), but I don't think they live up to this introduction. +/- The game asks the player to adjust the volume of the voices at the start….but the game is not dubbed xD actually, the option has its importance later in the story but I swear it gave me false hope at the time x')

✖ No skip option for dialogues already read, which quickly becomes annoying when you want to unlock the various endings. ✖ It's amazing how rushed the true end is! It's to the point where it didn't make any impression on me at all, and the final revelations fall flat. And I still come back to this feeling of inconsistency; we have an intro that is terrific for an ending that is anticlimactic (and it rhymes). ✖ Some of the characters sometimes make rather humorous faces that don't really fit in with the drama of the sequences at times; I didn't understand this choice…

If you're looking for a visual novel with a solid storyline and a charismatic cast of characters, you certainly won't get bored with this title. However, don't expect a purely horrific game, given the rather blatant change of tone and the more basic mechanics after the introduction. Why this choice? That's the real mystery of this game…

youtube

➡ My personal VN ranking (in french) ➡ My Steam page

#paranormasight #also Harue is best girl <333 if I could I would have followed her route only #personal #Lola plays games

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dirtwatchman · 1 month

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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @nightmaretist TIME: First week of May WHERE: Dance Macabre SUMMARY: Two undead meet up for a drink that was owed months ago. The night gets interesting for Caleb and Inge as they both start to realize what the other is. WARNINGS: Eludes to domestic abuse at times

Clubs weren’t his usual scene. Caleb much preferred a quiet restaurant over the lively atmosphere of a dance bar but there were two things that had made him suggest Dance Macabre that night; the girl he’d promised a drink to was there when they’d started their conversation which meant he knew she liked it and the unusual presence he had started to feel around him was motivation to be in the middle of a ton of people. Something dark, almost sinister, was on his tail and he didn’t know why. It would come and go, the dark presence surrounding him one moment and then gone the next only for him to feel as if he were being watched again a day or two later. He just hoped that having more people around would deter whatever it was following him around from giving him the reason.

He sat at the bar, his own drink in front of him untouched while the weight of everything sat on his shoulders. People around him were laughing and having a good time, none of them paying attention to the anxious man in the corner as he waited for Inge. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice anything off about him either. There was no need to scare away a possible new friend before they’d even gotten the chance to talk.

When he looked up and saw her making her way through the crowd, he let the worry slip away and waved to her. Caleb’s smile was forced, barely lifting in the corners, but he’d managed one at least. “I didn’t know what you wanted so I went ahead and got my own. Feel free to choose whatever you like.” He had promised it for her birthday after all. “Happy Birthday…a few months late, that is.”

If this life was still to be called that – a life, despite the accusations of being a walking corpse – then Inge found only value in it if there was still spontaneity. Sometimes she was, as everyone, overrun with a desire to become something of a recluse. To be alone with her astral, her nightmares and her sculptures and nothing more. But she’d never done well with solitude and most importantly, she never felt dead until she gave into loneliness.

So even if she was in pain and angry, even if she felt something dark and ugly unfurl within herself, she went out. Dance Macabre was a favorite, as was the club in New York she astral projected to from time to time. She didn’t dance as fervently as she once had – her back and gut still aching – but she drank and she flirted and she talked. She went out to meet a stranger, because why not? Without spontaneity, she might as well be dead. Truly dead.

She approached the semi-stranger with a smile on her lips, sitting down next to him at the bar. “Why, thank you,” she said. Inge wondered – as she did with all patrons at this club – if he was undead or just simply willing to go to strange places. “Better late than never, right?” She gave a wink, leaned to the bartender to order herself a glass of white wine. “So when is your birthday? Maybe we can pre-celebrate that too, tonight.”

His eyes were on hers as she spoke but he looked away as she asked about his birthday. It was a day that he never really cared for but it had gotten so much worse after he’d died. Most of the time Caleb wouldn’t even tell what day it was, finding ways to keep others out of the know so that they wouldn’t bother with it at all. It only brought back bad memories of the past and dread for the future he now had. “It’s already passed as well. Guess it’s a late celebration for both of us.” Which wasn’t a lie. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice that he’d not said the date. He didn’t want that conversation.

So, maybe changing the subject was for the best. As he glanced around the club, he noticed that things were a little out of the ordinary. Or at least this place wasn’t what he imagined most clubs to be like. Strange dark red drinks were being served at another bar, what he assumed were fake fingers being given to a few people who actually looked familiar, and there were quite a few ghosts lingering around on the dance floor. Was it Halloween themed like Hallow’s Eats?

His gaze went back to Inge, confusion clear on his face. “Wait, what is this place? I didn’t take much of a look before you got here but it’s kind of strange.” She’d been the one who was here the night of her actual birthday and this was the perfect opportunity to change the subject so Caleb didn’t have to talk about his least favorite day of the year. “Are those…fingers? They don’t look gummy…”

He didn’t seem excited to speak about his birthday, which was often an indication of something. Inge wasn’t the type to pry into people’s sensitive and personal business, though, as she thought those things depressing and not her area of expertise. She went to places like these to indulge, not to therapize. So she paid it no mind. “A late celebration! Perfect. Better late than never.”

She gave the bartender a smile – glad that it wasn’t that Mack Ross girl who’d taken a bite out of her – when he handed her her drink and took a nice and hefty sip. Dance Macabre had a wide range of drinks, but they also just had good wine. They hadn’t found a way to liquidize nightmares and turn them into a product just yet. For the best, she figured. Commodifying something like that would be very depressing.

Caleb seemed unfamiliar with the club’s wide range. Inge blinked at him, innocuously. “Oh, it’s a little … avant garde, you know? Edgy.” She looked at the fingers. The human fingers. She didn’t often wish to be a different flavor of undead, but being able to munch on those while staring someone dead in the eye would be very amusing. “Attracts a certain kind of people. And those? Oh, yes. They’re fingers.” She smiled. “Look very real, don’t they?”

She seemed perfectly okay with dropping the subject in favor of the new one and for that Caleb was so grateful. There were a lot of nosy people around, it was nice to know she wasn’t one of them and in spite of the uncomfortable feeling of being watched he was starting to relax enough to enjoy this for the good time it should be.

But then he kept staring at the fingers, one having been slid to someone closer to the two of them than the previous orders had. The zombie had seen enough detached fingers in his life to be able to tell if they were real or not and those were definitely real. Suddenly the night had brought on more mystery even if it made more sense that he recognized some of these people; they were clients, people that he fed regularly. Did he somehow stumble upon a zombie bar? How had Caleb never known this existed?

Oh, because he didn’t have fun.

Then his attention was turned back to Inge, wondering if she was the same as him or if she thought it all very niche. He glanced at her wine and then back to her eyes, deciding to go along with the charade just in case. “A little too real. It’s kind of disturbing.” But he was smiling into his drink as he lifted it to his lips. “Are you into that kind of thing? I feel like some of your paintings could indicate that you are but I don’t want to assume. Maybe you just like this place for the music.”

Though the imagery of eating another human was fascinating in a way – there was a reason shows and stories about cannibals took off – Inge was glad she could sate her cravings with nightmares. It was more refined. And if she wanted to she could gorge on a human being in a dream without all the mess anyway. (A part of her also appreciate that it didn’t require murder, but that was boring and moral.)

She was bemused by the other’s reaction, by the way he brought up her paintings as if they were any indication that she’d like to chew on severed fingers. She decided it was a compliment. Inge figured the other was human, or at least mortal — which was a little unfortunate, but did not mean this was to be a complete waste of her time.

“Oh, I’m not into munching on dead fingers. Alive ones, maybe,” she said, “But I have a few friends who like those along with their beers. You don’t?” She blinked at him as if she’d asked him what his friends did for work as she sipped her wine. “Maybe you should order one and see if it’s your kinda thing.”

He honestly wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not, the deadpanned way she’d mentioned liking her fingers live and well making him reconsider whether she was undead or not. Caleb was staring at her when she asked, his head starting to shake slowly once his brain had recovered from the short circuiting the reply had caused. Was she serious? “Not much for fingers myself, no.” He’d never liked the bony part that came with eating the human body and it was very hard to eat around them in a finger.

Her suggestion to get one of his own was about to be denied until that unease came back to him from the shadows. It started to infiltrate his mind, push him towards agreeing, towards chaos. Again, he was afraid to say no. Something about this thing, whatever it was, was so menacing that even from the shadows it had a tight hold on him and Caleb found himself nodding slowly.

“But I guess it couldn’t hurt to see what the fuss is about. They look pretty popular.” It was a stupid decision and he knew it even as he placed the order with the bartender but defying this entity seemed stupider in the long run. What was he going to do though? Eat a real finger in front of someone who appeared, by all accounts, normal? Something told him yes. And he didn’t like it.

“Not even for sucking one off?” Inge asked it innocuously once again. There wasn’t really any ulterior motive there — she wasn’t as interested in random hook ups any more, which was because of her newly gained scar and definitely not because she was hung up on some fae. But she was in a bar and she was flirty by nature because she could be and so she gave Caleb a small smirk. “Pity.”

She would understand it if he rejected her proposal. It was quite ludacris to order a decapitated finger if human beings weren’t part of your diet and even Inge wasn't particularly fond of holding the mushy things. They reminded her of knakworsten, dutch sausages that would snap when you broke them. Those were actually tasty, though she didn’t eat them any more because they contained too much salt for her to not feel a little sickened by them.

There was a stir in the shadows, but she didn’t think much of it. This was a club after all, with moving lights and strange dark corners. “Alright then,” she said, leaning forward towards the barkeep, “One of your fingers, please. A long one preferably.” As the employee busied herself with getting one of them, she eyed Caleb curiously. Was he just a human, doing something just for the heck of it, just to see if those were actual fingers? Or was he undead like her, aiming to get a snack without seeming too suspicious? “First time for everything, right?”

“Oh.” His eyebrows raised at the forward question, surprise shining through as he stumbled over it in his mind. He really hoped this hadn’t been what their interaction had been leading up to. Not that she wasn’t beautiful or fun or anything he just wasn’t available….maybe. Caleb still wasn’t clear on that part and was too anxious to bring it up with the one person he really needed to bring it up with. Still, looking back on it all, he might have misread the intentions with the back and forth on the internet. “That's uh….I'm not saying that I don't like that part.” He really should have kept his mouth shut. Not only was he stumbling in his mind but he was stumbling over his words now too.

Thankfully he was saved by the arrival of the drink. Or was he burdened with it? It was hard to tell when he glanced over at her again, still not sure if she could tell this thing was real or not. It certainly was, that wasn’t the question. The question was if she would start screaming when she realized it was. The woman did seem to be taunting him as she ordered but he could already tell that was something she enjoyed no matter the situation. He cleared his throat and put his hand over the glass as if that would stop her from truly seeing his garnish but he made no moves to get rid of it.

He hated fingers.

Smiling softly, Caleb shook his head. “A first time doesn’t mean a good time. Is it weird that I’m nervous about a strange gummy finger?” Was that even working? “What if I changed my mind…?” He trailed off as a grumble struck him deep in his mind. So much for that idea.

He was flustered. It was endearing. Inge chuckled a little and took a long sip from her drink, waving with her hand as if trying to wave away his nervousness. “I’m just teasing you,” she admitted. “Whatever you like you can keep to yourself.” She could push now, tell him that she’d looove to find out, but she wasn’t planning on making this ordeal painfully awkward. A little bit of discomfort was fine, though. That’s why they were ordering the finger.

She looked at the finger with mild interest, wondering where it had come from and how Dance Macabre sourced them. Was it from the young goths that wandered in here? Or were it other people that were dissected and put up for sale? There was something very morbid about it all, especially now that she had actually seen what it was like when someone’s toes were chopped off. A pathetic part of her hoped the people who had once owned these fingers had been dead after the separation.

Apparently Caleb was having some hesitation as well. Understandable, if he was a human. Inge shrugged. She pinched the finger. The sensation made her feel a little uncomfortable, which she hated. She did really have friends who ate these things, but that before Rhett’s toes. “Nope. It’s on my tap. I won’t see it go to waste. Eat up.” She took a hefty sip of her wine. She was glad, for once, that she didn’t have heightened senses. “Plenty of people here snack on ‘em.”

The zombie was glad that she wasn’t someone who was going to pick at the subject that clearly made Caleb uncomfortable. It wasn’t often that he came across people who would willingly give up the playful torture of intimate discussion, their curiosity and amusement taking precedence over another’s comfort in his experience. It made him like her that much more as he relaxed his shoulders, made him comfortable enough to throw a teasing remark back. “I have to keep my air or mystery, right?”

It wasn’t until she reached out to touch that very real body part sitting in his drink that the discomfort returned. She had to know that she’d just touched actual flesh and not the gelatin candy he had been trying to push it off as which made his own curiosity about what she knew, what she was, grow. He couldn’t refuse. She was right, she had ordered the drink herself and the people pleaser in him wouldn’t let that go. Not to mention the darkness that surrounded the two of them pushing for him to take the bite that he was so hesitant to take. He just didn’t know if it was wise to reveal this secret to her so shortly after they’d met.

She had to know already if she was pushing for it, right?

Caleb reached out and took the finger, biting into it the best he could around the bone. The bite only proved to him why he hated these things so much and made him wonder what the other zombies ordering these things were thinking. Placing the finger back, planning to munch on it sparingly for the rest of the night, he did feel a little satisfaction after he swallowed…whether that was because it satisfied a little hunger or the entity who had a grip on him was anyone’s guess. “Happy? Or do I have to finish the whole thing?” He was smiling but his eyes showed the nerves that were coursing through him now that he was pretty sure she knew what he was, awaiting her reaction with bated breath.

His air of mystery. Right. Inge thought the other looked quite unassuming and he would be plain if it wasn’t for some of his more striking features. Still, she didn’t quite think him very mysterious — aside from the entire debacle of whether he was undead or not. She had that kind of doubt about plenty of people, though. She indulged him, though, “Certainly, we don’t want to reveal too much too soon.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected from Caleb once faced with the finger. Hell, she hadn’t expected to be met with her own complicated feelings about the matter — but that was something that happened more and more these days. Surges of emotion, of nasty memories trickling in. She’d have to start singing a different tune in her nightmares, incorporate these thoughts of factory floors and being stuck on walls into the dreams she offered others so she could see the memories in a different context.

Maybe this would help, too. She watched Caleb take a bite and did not bother to hide her surprise when he swallowed. It wasn’t the kind of horror a human might feel at the sight of someone eating a finger, but it was still something. She took a sip of her drink, eyes wide and intrigued. “I mean, only if you’re hungry,” she said casually. “Do you do that often, Caleb? Eat human parts?” She glanced at the finger, seeing the bone protrude. It was a nasty sight, which was why she kept looking. Nightmares were really a more refined diet. “I know a few people who do. That, blood … dreams?” She took another sip. “How long ago did you die?” It was a gamble. But she tended to live on the edge, anyway.

There was a weight lifted from his shoulders. Her reaction, though surprised, was definitely not as bad as he’d been expecting but there was also something else that had been lifted. The air wasn’t as…heavy. That presence that Caleb had been feeling for the last couple of days wasn’t near anymore. It was as if her lack of screaming didn’t interest the menacing presence at all and it decided to move on. Was that all it had taken? To reveal what he was to someone who didn’t already know for it to leave him alone?

No, that was too easy. It had to still be there somewhere.

For now he would just focus on his companion though. There was no need in fretting over something that wasn’t there, not until it came back. He shook his head at her first comment, pushing the finger to the side onto a little napkin before pulling the rest of the drink closer. What exactly was it served in? “I’ve never really liked fingers much.” He pressed his lips together as he nodded at her question, eyes locked on the drink in front of him so he didn’t have to look at her. “But only as often as I have to.” He knew others who ate humans like it was their day job and, while he understood, he’d never been able to…overindulge.

Caleb looked up at the dreams comment, eyebrows furrowing as he wondered who she knew. His concern for certain people in his life started to grow but he hoped he wouldn’t have to worry too much. With her reaction, she seemed used to this. “You mean nightmares?” He finally took a drink of whatever the finger had been served in, pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be an actual cocktail. “Just over six years. It’s been a bit of an adjustment. What about you? Are you in the same boat or do you just like hanging out at bars catered to the undead?”

So the truth was out, laid on the table amidst their drinks and the half-eaten finger. Inge felt a level of relief at the final revelation that Caleb was like her — a person who had died and transformed. Wicked’s Rest came with many disadvantages but this was something she liked about the place: it attracted the undead. And though that meant the town also attracted slayers and other dislikeable figures, it almost made it tolerable. It was just better, she found, to surround herself with people who did not age.

She had figured out a while ago that there was to categorize the undead into two categories: those that abstained and those that indulged. She fell into the latter category, making an art of her nightmares and creating more than she strictly needed for survival. Plenty of others fell into the first category, though – only eating as often as they needed to, as Caleb put it. Inge couldn’t relate. She’d long ceased to feel guilt over the nightmares she spread around. Maybe it was different if your diet required human parts, though. (She thought of Rhett’s leg without wanting to.) “Fair enough. Fingers don’t seem especially nutritious.”

She nodded at his conclusion, “Yes, nightmares. That’s my diet.” It really was more refined than brains or blood, she thought. She looked the other up and down, figured that it made sense that he was still new to this. Inge chuckled. “So I’m like you. It’s been about half a century for me, now, since I died.” It felt wrong to put it like that. “And transformed, of course. It’s why I celebrated here, you know? Most mortals don’t understand — the complications of birthdays when you don’t physically age any more.”

“They aren’t.” It was said with a breath of laughter, Caleb finding it funny but at the same time feeling the weight of this conversation thick in the air. The fact that he knew that was horrifying in itself and every time he laid out the details of his diet, no matter how small, it felt like he was discovering the horrible reality of being a zombie again. It laid heavy on his chest, images of all the bodies he’d ransacked over the years flashing in his mind until the two faces of the people that died by his own hand popped up. They were always side by side, their features locked in the horror they had felt during their final moments. He ground his teeth together as he tried to push those images away and focus on her.

But he did finish the drink in hand before he spoke again, the glass tipping up with a clink as he gulped it down. Not that it would do much good unless this bar had ways of making their drinks stronger for the dead as well. “So you’re a mare then.” It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that at least she only caused fear and it didn’t always result in death but he also knew that didn’t matter. Mayhem came with both of their diets, his just came with the physical whereas hers was more phycological. Both ways did their own catastrophic damage.

“Transformed?” That was an interesting way to put things. The word could hold different meanings in this context but he got the feeling that Inge wasn’t ashamed of what she was or how she had to survive and that definitely piqued his interest. Not to mention how long she’d had to live this way. “I can’t even imagine being alive that long. Somehow I still think my body will find a way to give in to nature even though I’ve lived through things I shouldn’t have at this point. Are you-” He wasn’t quite sure how to pose this question so he continued the only way he could think of. “Are you happy?”

How had she even felt, six years into her transformation? Inge struggled to recall it — but time played a trick on her memory. It was back in Amsterdam, when Vera had been a teenager and she’d still been trying to figure out how to exist as a mare, as a sleepless creature of the night. She’d felt shame then, she must have … but she preferred not to think of it. Not of that, nor the time she lost, nor the child that was gone, nor her partner in all it. She was a woman of her own future, living in the twenty first century and proud. What she had been in the past was gone.

But she did recall it, the shame. How it had once been there, for the way she had to feed. How it had been replaced by her pride, now. She saw it in Ariadne, who had only been undead for a year or two. She saw it in Leila, who had centuries on her. She had even seen it in Richard, who was older than any other undead she had ever met. She felt bad for them all, these creatures like her who did not think of consumption as a form of self are. “Maybe we should find you something better to eat, then.”

She chuckled mildly. “It’s still perishable, but … not as easily maimed any more, is it? For you, at least.” Vampires and zombies had that advantage over her – their ability to heal with speed. Inge had to wait human weeks and months before pains left her body, before scars were formed. “I’m only in my seventies, Caleb. I’ve hardly outlived most humans.” His question was met with another sip of her drink, too heavy to answer without contemplating it over a sip of alcohol and a little bit of procrastination. “I am, most days. Happier than I ever was as a human.” She smiled. “Not always, but most of the time. Why?”

“I’m okay right now.” He gave her a smile, hoping that she wasn’t worried about the state of his…appetite. There was no need to be. Caleb liked to think he was responsible with his consumption even when his supply was still dwindling to a dangerously low point spurring him to work harder or cut some deals. Inge’s hesitation was understandable though. Not everyone was responsible with their diet, not everyone had the means to be. Which might be why he tried not to eye a random drunk man trying to sneak the tossed finger out of the napkin next to him. At least some poor dead souls digit wasn’t being wasted even if he still felt the need to give her the money for her purchase.

His attention was back on her after the drunk zombie walked away giggling, clearly thinking he had gotten away with his heist. “Right. It’s wild to me that mares don’t heal the way we can even though we’re all…dead flesh. But at least you guys get to astral. That always sounded kind of cool to me.”

Raising his hands in mock surrender, his smile started to fade quickly. “You’re right, it’s not that old. I guess I just…never thought I’d make it past my teens so the idea of getting that far in life is strange to me. Add to that people calling me old in my forties, it’s a little surreal.” Caleb didn’t miss the way she took a drink before answering him, the zombie taking that as a bad sign even as her words suggested otherwise. He couldn’t say for sure whether she was feigning happiness for his benefit or if she was even doing it for her own peace of mind but he understood that it wasn’t the whole truth. “I think I just wanted to know if I had something to look forward to. Everyone’s different, I know, but a little hope is nice.”

“Good,” she said, not bothering to press the subject any further. When another – presumed – zombie stepped by to snatch the finger, she did raise her eyebrows in amusement and a hint of judgment. The finger was part of her tab, after all — but if Caleb wasn’t going to finish it, then it might as well get eaten by someone else in need. Inge looked back to the sole member of her party, “Well, that’s one way to get by.”

Her face split into a look of pride, if not something close to that happiness he’d been asking after. “Very true. I’m not sure if I’d swap it for quicker healing or higher tolerance for injury. It makes for a quick get away, too. And it is cool.” Yes, mares were truly the crème de la crème of undead. Except for the healing, of course. “Wish we’d just bleed regularly, though — it’d definitely make hospitals easier.”

The statement was said so plainly, as if it wasn’t a devastating thing in and of itself. If Inge was a more compassionate woman, if she was more sentimental, she might have searched further. “Well, here you are … You might push past two hundred.” Though not all undead made it that far, especially not in a town such as this. Slayers liked to shorten lifespans, even before they’d lived a full human year. “Of course you do!” She sounded more convinced now, because it was certainly easier to speak of the future as something promising than it was to speak of her current happiness or lack thereof. “There is so much to live for. You will look like this forever — and it’s not a bad look to have!” He was handsome, and no lines marred his face. No gray hair in sight, either. “The world is your oyster, Caleb — that much is true for each and everyone of us.” And with us, she meant her fellow undead. Not humans. “Come, let’s have another drink. Fingerless, this time. And we’ll toast to those oncoming years.”

There was a brief moment where Caleb considered asking the zombie if he needed a steadier supply for his diet but he figured this was supposed to be a fun night out so he let it go. He did have a new place to network though. Now if only he could figure out his supply shortage. “Not the smartest way but as long as he’s not rampaging…” Another reason to ask the man, Caleb wanting to make sure that he could prevent that as much as possible.

Again, this was supposed to be fun, so he tucked those thoughts away in the back of his mind along with the shadows that were stalking him before. Smiling at how much she actually enjoyed the aspects of her…situation, the zombie wasn’t sure whether he wasn’t to argue with it or not. Healing came in handy, especially when the weird stuff really started going down. Volmugger acid most likely would have taken him out if it hadn’t been for his ability to eat a brain and be brand new again. But he had always thought the astral projection was cool, ever since he’d found out about it from Aria. “Not a believer in the grass being greener in someone else’s world, I take it.” It was a statement more than a question since Caleb was already sure he knew the answer to that one.

Inge’s confidence was admirable and he had to wonder why he always seemed drawn to people like that. There was always some kind of pull to them, some awe he held in their presence, because he knew he’d never be able to achieve that level of…well, loving himself. He was too damaged from years and years of being told he would never be good enough. “I hope not.” The statement was said under his breath, the idea of two hundred years on this earth harrowing.

There was something about people who were confident; others would tend to believe anything they said. Inge spoke with such conviction that Caleb felt like there was no choice but to smile as he thought about what could be in the years to come. His life wasn’t that horrible at the moment, it was true, he just needed to learn how to navigate what he was with ways that made him comfortable. Six years wasn’t long enough to do that. It was what he thought about with new drinks in hand, the zombie tipping his glass to her as that familiar chill of being watched started to return. He would deal with that tomorrow, tonight he’d learn to let loose with a new friend and see where life took him.

“To the world being our oyster.”

#Threads #Thread: Inge #Can't put my finger on it #domestic abuse tw

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fleeting-sanity · 4 months

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Finalize

[ Previous Entry ] ⚜ [ Read @ Ao3 ] ⚜ [ Chapter Index ]

His heart felt like it was exploding. Joy, anxiety, and pride raced in tandem with his body language upon hearing the news. The very next day, his pregnant wife started glowing in his eyes. Her beauty acquired a new method of controlling his mind–as apparent by how his hands couldn’t stop caressing her face and growing belly. A slice of heaven from the past.

But he was raised in a dog eat dog world and naturally, the fear gained momentum in the race. How much longer until they couldn’t hide her appearance? Thinking far ahead, what would the child be growing up in times of war and clashing ideologies?

A decade of that was taken away by her, a fact that Rionnic kept coming back to, thus stoking the mellowing anger again. Recalling how she’d further hurt him by telling Rian the truth about their relationship added fuel to the fire. He returned to Odessen when the afternoon ended.

But he found neither his wife or son there. Asking around yielded nothing. His calm demeanor progressively crumbled as both never returned his calls. It felt like that familiar dread all over again during the first days of her abandonment. Imagine the shock when a hand landed on his shoulder at the peak of his tension. “Red?”

“Did you have to startle me that way?!”

His twin was taken aback by his explosive response. Both of their faces changed within seconds after the fact. “I… called you a few times but you seemed to be in a trance. Are you alright?”

Rionnic deflated into his seat, raking his hair with a frustrated sigh. Immediately the remorse hit for having raised his voice towards his brother. A far cry to the enemy he once was. “I didn’t mean to yell…”

“I know... I heard you’ve been asking for Jaesa? I just got a message from Ria informing me about their whereabouts. She sent them to Ossus. They’ll be back soon.”

The look of relief on Rionnic’s face was apparent, but it quickly turned into frowning when there were no such messages after he checked his holo transmitter. “Why did none of them inform me…?”

Such a difficult question, despite the simplicity of how it sounded. Perhaps it was a denial from Rionnic’s side despite knowing the answer deep down. Riornivo however, was put in an awkward position. He displayed an abashed smile, offering his shallow reassurance. “Maybe they don’t want to interrupt your busy schedule. Red…” as the younger brother took a seat in front of him, shuffling his brain for ways to break into his walls. He could sense Rionnic’s anxiety even before he landed in Odessen. “I’m thinking of what to give Rian for his birthday soon. I know he loves geology but giving him more rocks seems pointless. What about you?”

Rionnic sensed the ulterior motive behind those words. But he wouldn’t turn down a conversation about his son. “Still not sure myself. Probably a new apparel,” Rionnic replied calmly.

“That’s a great idea! Hmm… oh! Maybe I’ll make him a custom holocron! Yes!”

Riornivo’s enthusiasm scratched an endearment spot in him, but he would rather be caught dead first before expressing it to his annoying twin. “Spit it out.”

“What?”

“You want to say something.”

The Jedi couldn’t continue feigning cluelessness before it irked the Sith. “Red, you know I love you. I don’t mean to be nosy but I’ve been noticing your emotions lately. If you don’t want me to do anything, I won’t. But who knows, it might make you feel better telling it to someone.”

Riornivo braced for his twin’s reaction.

“Are you willing to push this?” Rionnic taunted in a semi-playful way.

“To help you? Yes.” Riornivo answered with just as much familiarity and connection, albeit in a different way. His persistence seemed to pay off as Rionnic looked like he was in deep thought.

“Fine. I think I need some time off. After dealings in Zakuul are done, I’m loading the rest to you. The bar is high.”

“Yessir–uh, Your Majesty!”

That playful response made Rionnic groan dismissively. “Then get to work.”

Rionnic had contemplated spilling his heart out to his twin, but decided against it. His pride would take a hit for airing his marriage issues out, and he preferred to solve this by himself. The office was emptied once more as he glanced at the picture on the desk. Just the three of them, smiling on Rishi. It caused his mind to wander off, thinking deeper into all of the troubles in this paradise.

The love he had for Rian would be incomplete if he were to break his heart by breaking his mother’s. Being Sith undoubtedly carried the default and already proven resentment in the boy’s heart, and he wouldn’t want to worsen that by tarnishing his image. But he knew Rian could sense his bitterness towards Jaesa.

Which took Jaesa by surprise when Rian asked her a thinly veiled question about his father.

“Mother… are you angry at father?”

She wanted to say it was the opposite instead, but had to choose her words carefully.

“Why is that? Did he… did he say something to you?”

“No. I just noticed both of your faces when you were talking to each other,” said the boy nonchalantly while swinging his legs over the bench. “You’re not mad at each other, right?”

It pained her to have to lie to her son. She hooked an arm around his back, pulling him into a hug. Perhaps this would be the right time to have that difficult talk, being in a familiar place and away from Rionnic. The hurdle was how would she phrase the words–she considered framing it from the point of Jedi teachings against attachments, but that would be hypocritical of her, and it felt a little too permanent . There was always a flicker of hope that perhaps someday, Rionnic would lower his defenses for her.

“Rian… can I ask you something?” to which the boy nodded.

“Alright… um…”

Jaesa stroked Rian’s hair in an attempt to soothe herself. The longer he waited for his mother to continue, the more uncomfortable he became. “Sorry, um… I want to know… if you’d be fine if-if your father and I go our separate ways?”

“What do you mean…?”

“When someday we are not together anymore. None of us would be going anywhere–we’d still be next to you all the time! But your father and I would no longer be, um-”

“You’re angry at father?” said Rian defiantly while releasing himself from his mother’s embrace.

“N-no, this is just a hypothetical question!”

Rian raised a perplexed eyebrow, mixed with mild annoyance. “Then why would you not be together? Is that what happens when people stop loving each other? Do you not love father anymore?”

Jaesa took a moment to rearrange her method of delving deeper into this topic. To educate from a place of understanding and love must be performed with serenity. “My little knight, of course I love your father very much. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“Then don’t ask such questions anymore. It’s not an appropriate one for a child!” Rian lectured while waving his finger around, his tone hurt yet commanding. He huffed away towards a building that used to be the former Jedi archives. The talk went about as well as Jaesa expected.

After saying goodbye to the familiar faces of Ossus, Rian continued both his silence and pouting during the journey back to Odessen. Jaesa decided to not push her luck, giving her son space and perhaps trying again in the near future with a different approach. Both of their holocoms suddenly pinged multiple missed calls, all from Rionnic. It appeared that Ossus was having signal problems again. Rian immediately redialed his father.

“Rian! Rian… are you alright? Where are you?”

“Calm down, father. I’m on my way back. I’ll talk to you again once I arrive!” To which Rionnic responded by expressing his relief. Rian’s silence persisted over the rest of the trip. His mother, however, was bracing herself for her husband’s response to this failed attempt. He would probably gloat about how he was right or admonish her for hurting Rian’s feelings. Once the shuttle landed, Rian quickly undid his seatbelt and bolted out, seeking his dear father. Jaesa took her time, not showing any signs of urgency.

“Father!” Rian shouted while knocking rapidly on his office door. He was greeted with the sight of Rionnic talking to a raven-haired man with a pale complexion who seemed somewhat recognizable to him. The other person was Lady Beniko.

“I understand. You may leave.” Rionnic dismissed both of his subordinates.

Rian skittered towards Rionnic as he kneeled, greeting him with a hug. The tightness of Rian’s grasp was indicative of his state of mind, confirmed by his expression when he released the hug.

“How was your day, good Sir?”

“Hm… it was okay. Tonight it might improve. Oh, by the way, I just saw some of my friends in Ossus! I’m sorry I couldn’t invite you there, father, but I’ll make sure of it next time!”

“That’s good to hear-”

“Oh, and I think Ossus had a signal problem again! That’s why I didn’t pick up your calls.” “Don’t worry about it, as long as you’re safe. Have you eaten?”

Before the boy could answer, the mother entered the room with her eyes downcast, but now her hair was done in an updo. Rian’s posture tensed upon seeing her as he scooted closer towards Rionnic’s body, refusing to look Jaesa’s way. “Yeah… I ate lunch at Ossus.”

“Good, good. You know what? I took a few days off, so I’m quite free to do many things with you,” Rionnic said to attempt to ease the atmosphere. “How about that trip to Alderaan?”

“Wow! I’d love to! But… that means I’d have to skip class.”

“I’ll have a talk with Sana-Rae. Unless you say otherwise? It’s up to you. We can go anytime you want.”

Rian took a moment to think, then his eyes glanced at Jaesa who was still speechless. She shrugged, giving the final say to him with a passing smile.

“Yes, please!”

Rionnic affirmed with a grin, reinforcing his pitch with the grand castles of Alderaan being a sight to behold. He knew Rian would be curious about the caves, and that was something he’d have to do a little research on; to find the one with the least amount of Killik. It has been a long time since he returned home. The padawan excused himself to meet his friends, leaving the parents alone and in silence, again.

Jaesa turned to leave, never meeting Rionnic’s eyes.

“Wait.”

Again? She thought. Her weary heart wanted to continue walking, but her memory flashed to Rionnic’s previous words of preferring to communicate their problems away. She turned to face him with a determined glint in her eyes. The physical distance acted as a buffer between them.

“Did you talk to him about…”

She waited for him to continue, which unnerved him.

“Well, did you?” Rionnic repeated with an increased volume.

“Sure, why not? Anything else you want to know?”

Silence. It was as if Jaesa knew how to push his buttons, easily controlling the atmosphere and minimizing his authority. His pride refused to back down however, blurting out whatever sentence without much of a thought. “Why did he seem upset? What did you say?”

Predictable words to which Jaesa had already prepared for.

“It’s natural that he’s upset. He will understand eventually. I spoke as softly as I can, and I know it’s going to hurt him regardless. Give him some time–I’m the one who raised him after all.”

Hurtful as it was to hear, confusion was the stronger emotion currently infecting Rionnic. He hated the potential outcome of this conversation, wanting to prevent it yet he was prevented by not knowing how to articulate it. And by the hurt. Before he could speak further, Jaesa added to her stinger sentences.

“Red… I think I want some distance from you when it doesn’t concern Rian. If possible, I want to finalize it by filing. I promise I won’t ever keep him away from you.”

A masterful final blow to his ego. The figurative walls crumbling could be seen by the subtle change in his posture. He mustered the last bit of emotional strength left. “Come closer.”

He displayed that same look a decade ago, strong and stoic, yet enticing. But she refused to take a dent to her defenses. She calmly approached him, their eyes trained on each other. There was a few seconds of wordless tension, and for the first time in his life where he was scared to speak his mind. Had circumstances been different, perhaps they would have been doing more than just locking eyes.

“Do you really mean that?” His voice subdued and lower pitched. “Repeat your words. Confirm it to me.”

She could sense the desperation. “You heard me clearly the first time. It’s the same thing you wanted months ago–I’ve come to agree that it’s for the best...” as she lowered her gaze, preparing to extract herself from the situation. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I still have errands to run. Force be with you.”

A common parting gesture throughout the galaxy, sounding so distant and hollow. Internally, he was pulling hair over how she turned those familiar terms into such a foreign concept. The way she detached effortlessly was probably credited to her Jedi training, but he refused to believe that someone could quit loving another abruptly. How did it get to this? The image of his shattered family was on the horizon.

His chest became progressively heavier as he stared at the family picture. Was that the beginning of the end?

#swtor #swtor oc #swtor fic #swtor fanfic #fanfic #jaesa willsaam #sith warrior #jaesa x sith warrior #star wars oc #swtor fanart #my art

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bones-edition · 1 year

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The aforementioned more cohesive* thoughts, or, Harlan Guthrie is an incredible writer:

Okay. So. A few things happened in this episode. I'm going to start with Daniel.

Daniel. There's just a whole nother tragic death in Arthur's life that was arguably his own fault. I mean, it wasn't his fault, but if course he's going to blame himself for it. It seemed like. They were actually getting somewhere. They had a bit of reconciliation going there. And then. Boom. Dead. Why do things like this keep happening to Arthur? And, well, he's still not out in the clear of this one yet, either.

On a semi related note, can we talk about how good of an antagonist the butcher is? Like. He's really just a guy. They've faced things that are, on paper, infinitely more dangerous than him. And yet, he's so scary. The way he seems like some sort of unstoppable force, even though they've managed to stop him before, even though he's just a human. It's the fact, I think, that he doesn't show any sign of distress. His voice never gives any hint of frustration, or even anger. He's so jovial, even while he takes away what hints of a new life Arthur has tried to build. It almost reminds me of someone else, but the butcher's casual, carefree additude is, I think, even more threatening than Kayne's hysterical joy, because even though he's not actually that much more powerful than Arthur, he presents himself like he is. He's just going about his daily business, and there's no conceivable way anyone could hinder him from it. And that, I think, is why he has such an impact.

Might talk more about how good the writing is in a bit, but first I need to address the proverbial elephant. I'm worried about John. It's obvious that Arthur knows something's wrong, and it's obvious that Arthur is worried, too. Towards the beginning of the season, I was worried about the argument it would cause when Arthur found out, but now I'm more concerned that John's stubborn refusal to let Arthur in on it will be both of their downfall. All we know about this deal John made with Kayne was that John would get Arthur to New York in return for being reunited with him, but we can see that there's something else up with John. And the two of them still have no idea that Yellow still exists, let alone that he's now in Larson. And where does Kayne factor into all this? What are his motives? There's no way for us to know, and it's driving me insane, because I just know it's important. That guy is just absolutely shrouded in mystery, and I know he's manipulating something behind the scenes that we're distracted from because we're focusing on the current happenings in New York. Also, tangentially related, but the song that John recognizes? What's up with that? I'm so goddamn invested in this story.

Also I continue to be incredibly impressed with the writing of every episode. The progression of this one was masterfully done. It incites our concern about John early on, and then quickly overshadows that with more concerns. John and Arthur emerge fairly successful from the conversation with Oscar, and things, are, overall, going well. And there's just a hint of time for that worry about John to surface before we're thrown into the interaction with Daniel. This has been something that has been building up for a long time, a climax of sorts. And tensions are high at the beginning, but the listener grows gradually more relieved throughout the course of the conversation. And then, just as Arthur mentions the butcher, the action picks back up again. The phone rings, we start to worry about the name situation, and things just start piling up. Oscar's on the phone, he sounds concerned. Oh no, Daniel left his address at the hotel, anyone could have found it, the butcher could have found it. Now there's someone at the door, the butcher knows the address, this is Not Good, and like that, Daniel's dead, Arthur's efforts were for nothing and there's not time for him to grieve because there's never time for Arthur to grieve, he has to run again, he has to run and hide and try to survive, again. And then the episode ends, leaving us stranded in that moment to try to process everything that just happened.

Anyway, I just really liked this episode. I really liked all the episodes. I really like the podcast. That's all. I feel slightly more insane than usual today, perhaps I spent too long outside and the smog is getting to my head.

*More cohesive as compared to the things I posted during the period of time I was listening to the episode. Not, you know, cohesive by some objective measure of the quality. That would be far from what I could hope to achieve on a Tumblr post about malevolent.

#sometimes i question how i passed my lit class #and then i look at these literal essays that i write entirely for fun #and go. oh yeah. i'm a fucking nerd.#i love how you can see the progression from natrual language to essay speak here #and nobodys going to read this but whatever #malevolent #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #oleanders chaos #<a lot of it

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bylightofdawn · 2 months

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WIP Tuesday

Y'all can thank @astaldis for tagging me.

Flashback Scene from my Reeve/Rufus WIP featuring teenage!Rufus and bb!Reeve first meeting.

“You work here though, right?” The blond asked skeptically.

“I do, I’m Reeve Tuesti. I work in the Urban Planning division”

The name rang a bell actually, he was some hotshot up-and-comer that his father had been bragging about signing to an exclusivity contract before he’d even completed his Master’s program. He’d revolutionized how their Mako reactors operated within the first year of his employment and was already skyrocketing up the ranks of Urban Planning.

Which meant he was potentially an interesting and useful ally to cultivate.

At least that’s what Rufus was telling himself and not because he found the man’s earnest face and the kindness in his eyes appealing.

He made of show of pulling up the company directory and looked up Reeve’s company profile. “Alright, I believe you.”

“You’re pretty clever, aren’t you.” Reeve commented with an approving smile. “I don’t think I would have been that smart when I was your age.”

“Midgar can be a dangerous place.” He tried to ignore the strange little twist in his chest at that unexpected praise. Rufus wasn't used to adults praising him or being nice to him for no ulterior motive than to try and curry favor with his father.

“You’re right about that, I grew up in a pretty rural area of the Grasslands so it’s taken me a while to try and adapt to living in a busy city like Midgar.”

“Do you miss it? Living in a rural area?” Rufus asked curiously as they headed upstairs to level 64 which held the cafeteria and it was the final publicly accessible the building.

He’d never been to the cafeteria. His father wouldn’t be caught dead stepping foot in such a place and thus, neither was Rufus. It gave him a little bit of a rebellious thrill knowing he was bucking his father’s expectations once again.

That earned him a contemplative look and Reeve reached up to rub the back of his neck a little uncomfortably. It was clear he was trying to pick his words carefully which was understandable. No junior executive, even one with as much potential promise as this man would ever want to come across as ungrateful or dissatisfied with their position.

“I miss certain things, like my family of course. And I miss the stars and the flowers. But you can’t complain about the sheer convenience of living in a city like Midgar.”

The concept of missing one’s family was borderline impossible for Rufus to conceptualize. Even though he’d had his mother in his life for the first ten years of his life and he missed her still, he’d never a good example of what a semi-normal family life so such a thing sounded more like fantasy than reality to him.

“Though I could do without the amount of traffic. I’ve been trying to push through a plan to expand the public transportation systems to help with the commuter traffic in between the plates and the slums.” Reeve admitted with a wry-looking smile and some of the light in the man’s eyes had dimmed a little bit when he said that.

He was beginning to get his first taste of disappointment in realizing not everyone in Shinra shared his passion for bettering the city for the good of the common man.

Because he couldn’t stop himself from testing those around him, Rufus slanted a curious look over at Reeve once they stepped into the cafeteria.

“It sounds like you’re not having much luck with it though?” He was curious to see if this man was willing to complain about the company to a seemingly innocent civilian. If he did, that was definitely something he would talk to his father about. Reeve Tuesti might show promise but no one wanted a disloyal employee on their payroll.

“It’ll happen one day. There are simply other, more important projects to complete. Like finishing the walls to protect everyone from monsters and potential attacks. The SEPC takes it's mission of creating a better life for everyone serious. Midgar is going to be the city of the future, just you wait."

Rufus studied the man's sincere expression for any sign of artifice or tell-tale signs he was just parroting the company byline and was surprised to see the man seemed to genuinely believe what he’d just said.

Reeve Tuesti was either a lot better of a liar than he appeared to be or he genuinely did believe in his father’s dream of creating a city of the future. But the question was…had he been informed about the Neo Midgar project yet or not.

As for tagging other people, I don't really have too many writing buddies to tag. Blame my crippling social anxiety so anyone who wants to participate please do so and tag me!

#el writes #final fantasy viii fanfic #ff7 fanfic #fanfic snippet #reeve tuesti #rufus shinra #not tagging ship cause rufus is like 13 in this flashback.#but you bet your ass he's coming out of this with a baby crush on this nerd who did nothing more than be nice to him #wip tag game #wip game

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quacka-quacka · 2 years

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What was Paul’s relationship with his father ? And his brother ?

Although Paul's realtionship with his dad didn't seem awful according to Paul's own account, there's something weird about it besides the description from his stepmother Angie and stepsister Ruth:

'Paul wanted to smoke marijuana in the house. Dad gave him a hard time, but he still did it. In Paul's mind, it was his house and if he wanted to smoke, he could. But dad disapproved. Paul would blow hot and cold when he did drugs. He could be lovely one moment and nasty the next.'

[...]

'Jim was the only dad I knew. He got rheumatoid arthritis. Paul came over one day and flung open all the windows even though Dad was so frail by then he needed to sit by the fire to ease his pain. He told Dad, 'Don't be a cripple, get out of that chair and walk.' 'Poor old dad had tears plopping down his face, and he said, 'Back off son, leave me alone.' It sounds cruel, but I don't think he meant it to be. Dad got into debt towards the end and Paul bought back the house to allow him to pay his bills. He bought that house twice and, as far as I know, he still owns it.'

[...]

'Mum and I struggled [after Jim's death]. At one point I was holding down five jobs, including working as a barmaid and as an office cleaner. Looking back, I think he cut us off because we were part of his dad's world and when he died, that was the natural break for Paul.'

— Ruth McCartney

Ruth and Angie are not considered reliable sources, certainly not by Paul's fans. I don't know if they were telling the truth either, but after recollecting Paul/Beatles interviews and books I've watched/read, there's one thing I found pretty strange - he barely mentioned Jim's death.

It's such an unnatural thing for a person who's so used to taking about death in public (Mother Mary, John, Linda, etc. He may not good at handling death but he certainly talked a lot about it) choose to avoid the topic when it comes to his dad, especially after he missed Jim's funeral - what exactly make Paul, who never tire of justifying his motivation about John's death remark "it's a drag" feel no need to give a proper explanation about why he absented his own father's funeral? (neither European tour nor avoiding mob were mentioned by Paul himself, the only thing he said was *Jim hated funerals*, and it was said only once as far as I know.) In Many Years From Now, Paul's most important semi-autobiography, he did not forget to defend Mal Evans who was shot dead for pointing a gun at the cops and detail his last meeting with Robert Fraser who died of AIDS later while not a single Paul's word about Jim's death can be found but a summary by Barry Miles:

Shortly afterwards, Paul's father, Jim, died of bronchial pneumonia at his home in Gayton in the Wirral on 18 March 1976, at the age of seventy-three. He had been ill for several weeks.

Is Jim's death less important than Mal's and Robert's? Or is Paul deliberately avoiding the subject? If so, why would he do that?

We will never be sure what happened between Paul and Jim unless we can read Paul's mind. All we have are fragments of past from here and there, some of them indicates that the intimate Liverpool working-class family life he tried to maintain in public was not so idealistic because it's doubtful that Jim - his only parent after age 14, was a good father.

Jim had to be a father and a mother after Mary died. Bring up two adolescent boys on his own was not easy. It's too much to ask Jim to be a perfect parent. The things he did to his sons may not considered unaccpetable back in 1950s, though marks had been left on Paul and Mike after all these years, like corporal punishment. It was told several times by Paul and Mike that Jim used to bash them.

Even Jim himself admitted that he hit his son:

'I was once hitting Michael for doing something,' says Jim. 'Paul stood by shouting at Mike, "Tell him you didn't do it and he'll stop." Mike admitted he had done it, whatever it was. But Paul was always able to get out of most things.'

— The Beatles authorized biography by Hunter Davies

I'm surprised Paul didn't sidestep the issue most of the time even if it contradicats his *happy family* image. Maybe 1) the matter is too painful to rationalize that the perfect family image doesn't matter any more when he thinks of the physical discipline or 2) as a Scouser grown up in 1950s, he thinks corporal punishment is pretty common that it did not affect his family become *amazingly optimistic* even if he doesn't like it.

Physical violence is somewhat unbearable but I don't think it's the only reason for Paul's weird manner in late years. To Paul, Jim isn't "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". On the contrary, he is not only mentioned a couple of times on Paul's soical meida accounts but an essential element in Paul's version of his upbeat Liverpool upbringing that *not everyone can live like they did*. However, Jim barely existed beyond Paul's childhood and adolescence in Paul's account when it comes to something specific, even if he lived to his 70s when Paul was married with three children. Maybe he dosen't have much to say after not living with his father, but avoiding his death?

There's another thing Paul never mentioned - Jim's gambling problem.

Mike wrote in his book that Jim is an insatiable gambler who was seriously in debt. It's not a good news for a family whose only income source was one parent earning under £10 a week. I suspect Jim didn't quit gambling when his sons grew up - according to the authorized Beatles biography, Paul bought him a race horse as a birthday present in 1964. I doubt Paul would like it if he continue consuming large sum of money till the end.

As for Mike, maybe he's not that close to Paul but not hostile either? Family interest is much of his concern that he would insist on getting back Paul's award-winning primary school essay. Although he's not often mentioned by Paul, his photo was used as the cover of Chaos and Creation and The Lyrics. BTW, he has the sense of humor his brother lacks, I like him.

#jim mccartney #paul mccartney #mike mccartney

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jenyifer · 4 months

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Dead friend forever ep 3

Okayyyyy what an exciting end to the ep.

Let’s gooooooo

Por is rich which is why everyone is friends with him. Quick problem with this plot. Or maybe it’s not? Idk so we supposed to believe Por hadn’t gone back to the house since they filmed the movie and Non disappeared? But Non wrote the script so maybe they lured him out to the house and wanted to scare Non then he ran into the woods they couldn’t find him? But why would they have the gun?

Yeah don’t move the body. Now bodies can build up gas and burst. That happens soo the weird sucking sound is semi reasonable. What isn’t reasonable is that Por is still alive 24 hours later and able to talk he must have gotten lucky to miss his lungs. I guess maybe it just got his stomach.

I have been suspect of ^Tan? Because he wasn’t around for the head chopping or the scaring Tee in the bathroom scene and being behind them scaring them during the initial shoot. But this seems reasonable. Tan’s injury only on one side is believable. How he didn’t wake up when Top taken idk.

Sooo Fluke is def crazy and motivated sounds like a great time for snooping. White is THE idiot. Also he handles the weapon (no concept of DNA again). The video showed them specifically getting Non smashed. I would have found the cord then gone to check on Por Fluke was acting like he was going to mercy kill him.

Okay the ghost is grab able and can be injured. But he seems to do mega damage does he have massive robot hands? Also….. blood sacrifice seems to be a good place to set up camp if it’s runnable to the mansion. I guess ghosty dragged Top there cause his revenge is mainly on Fluke, Top, Tee, Por, and Jin?

Okay but where is Top’s body if he’s dead. You telling me ghosty lit all the candles had 4 empty coffins for the next four victims after killing top? Seems like a tight timeline if we have to include the ghost seemed to have fixed the bike while main characters were in the temple.

See I think ghosty is worried about the kiddos safety for whatever reason I guess to use them as scapegoats maybe since White keeps picking up things he shouldn’t or is ghost scared of what’s on the tape and it’s really top?

I’m doubting they couldn’t catch ghost man going back to the house didn’t they have to go thru a creek to get there?

What would I do…. Well.

The ghost did seem physical being that gets injured. Use the gun on it and or set up booby traps. In the day go back to the temple and see if you can get to a big road. Don’t spilt up. Yes Por is dead he can’t still be alive and them being there isn’t doing them any favors. Part of the ghosts powers is mental fatigue which can be negated by relationships etc.

For the two in the coffin well… kick the bottom or top out with diagonal kick to the top by the opening side. Also I don’t think it’s romantic idk what the fuck Phee is thinking they almost got killed

#dead friend forever #dff the series #dead friend forever the series #dff #dff ep 3 #dff episode 3 #Jenny’s watching

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meili-sheep · 2 years

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So i've been seeing multiple takes on Abyssal chiluc in your asks, which kinda motivated me to work on my own semi-abbandoned abyssluc au again. Bassically, when Ajax fell into the abyss, Diluc was already there for what seemed for him to be decades. Initially, he was weary of Ajax, having lost all trust because of living in the abyss for a while, and Ajax was terrified of this feral looking person stabbing stuff left and right. At some point, Ajax got attacked by a monster too dangerous for him to handle, and Diluc saved his life. Childe still ended up as Skirk's pupil, but he ended up keeping more of his humanity, because he had a friend. When they found an exit, only one person could leave, and Diluc, being more used to the abyss chosed to stay behind and look for his own way out. After leaving, Childe got obsessed with getting his friend back, like absolutely crazy kind of obsessed. Diluc was the one thing that kept him sane down there. In the AU, Ajax actually joins the Fatui on his own, since it's the only way he could think of to get enough resources and information to go back into the abyss and get back his friend. But here's the kicker. Not only did Diluc get out on his own, but he also never shared his real name with Ajax...

(Also, in this one Diluc was way more powerful due to being in the abyss for like two teyvat years, and he managed to kill Ursa, but Crepus ended up injured and is in a coma instead of dead, and the fight with Kaeya never happend due to him telling Diluc that he is a spy almost immediately after he was found after escaping the abyss. They just talked it out and came to conclusion that Kaeyas bio dad can go fuck himself)

So I love this partly cause it's a little aligned with my idea.

My personal one thought Diluc falls in after Crepus dies, though. Just outta principal. But time doesn't flow linearly in the abyss. Diluc ends up in the abyss before Childe.

And while absolutely Feral Diluc can't help but protect this kid, he finds. And Childe gets stuck with a crush for YEARS. Because He made it his goal to become stronger and to protect Diluc. Because Childe quickly learned Diluc was too gentle for all this. He was much too kind and he shouldn't have to do this. So Childe vows to find him and protect him. Investigating every redheaded man he can find, trying to find him again.

But i love that yours had Kaeya and Diluc still be brother cause that's wholesome.

#Abyssal!Diluc #Diluc #Diluc Ragnvindr #Diluc Genshin Impact #Childe #Childe Genshin Impact #Tartaglia #Ajax #Ajax Genshin Impact #Chiluc #Diluc x Childe #Childe x Diluc

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millennial-midlife-crisis · 2 years

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The Fucking Acceptance That Mediocrity Is The Most To Which I Could Ever Aspire - It Was The Highest Level I Could Ever Reach

Nothing ever changes; it's the same every bleeding day. --Leah, "Beautiful Thing," 1996

First of all, that movie, which once gave me so much hope and inspired me, is 26 goddamned years old. I have more years as a reached-the-age-of-majority person than as being minor.

Frankly, that is uncalled for and superbly disrespectful!

This week I turned 40. I spent the day working (translating a clinical assessment tool that is really just a semi-structured interview to help clinicians measure adaptive behavior for peeps with intellectual and developmental disabilities/delays and autism). Yes. I realize I just wrote peeps unironically and as though it is the appropriate language register for the type of document I translated. It isn't. I recognize that fully. Though I have the literal and achievable ability to grasp my wireless mouse, double click, and start writing a more appropriate word like "people" or "individuals," I'm not going to do that. I don't wanna.

Anyway, I got a few text messages on my birthday. One call. The caller has an ulterior motive, and frankly, I don't trust her when she speaks b/c she is very often convinced of the lies that flow from her mouth like sewage flows into the ocean from the City of Angels. Even if an angel shits on you, you still get shit on. I can't imagine that would evoke any feelings of astounding pleasure. Unless, of course, shit is your thing. If it is, then, by all means, swim in shit. Who am I to yuck somebody's yum? I don't have to go swim in the shit. Of course, living with a swimming-in-shit-makes-me-feel-human type might have secondary or tertiary effects of which I cannot claim any awareness or knowledge, nor do I desire to gain either.

I understand people are busy. The last few close relationships I have are but friendships or familial in nature. All platonic (of course, the familial ones are platonic! I am not living a DadCreep or TeamSkeet kind of life). I am not a major priority - or a priority at all - in anyone's life. That has never been a thing. It probably won't ever be a thing. Looking at it rationally and with some logic, this makes complete sense. Barely more than an insufferable faggot with a superiority and righteousness complex, it is amazing that anyone talks to me ever. Coupled with my did-not-even-get-nominated personality, I have the body shape of a cunting Pop-Tart®, and hair has started to grow out of my ears and nose. You could also braid my back, butt, and brow hair, as well. Suffice it to say, no one is getting hard-on or feelings of amour or excitement when it comes to me.

The fact of the matter is I am viciously realizing and simultaneously coming to grips with the fact that all of the self-help-magical-thinking-change-your-perspective-avoidant bullshit I have been trying to make change my life over the past TEN YEARS is never going to do anything but delay the necessary acceptance of the fact that I am not now, was not ever, and never will be anything spectacular. For the past week, this frantic invasion of the facts into my conscience has left me snarling my face into a one of disgust, disdain, and disgraceful judgment the way one might do when their nostrils are assaulted by the odor of ripe genital discharges that have gone unaddressed and been left to mix with the dead skin cells that flake off of the body when they are no longer useful.

I am also bipolar. I might be hypomanic right now.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2019. That seemed like a bunch of bullshit. Fast forward to 2020, right before the lockdowns started, I had been awake for about two days working and coming up with a slew of "great ideas" that tend to manifest themselves when I am bipolaring unchecked, and one of them was to drive drunk. That was not a good idea, and I went to jail. After a year of court, I was found guilty, because I was fucking drunk despite the fact I was so manic that I did not feel drunk. You could not have convinced me I was drunk until I got the blood-alcohol levels back. I was, in fact and without a doubt, drunk. Now, I have six weeks left on my year's worth of probation. I haven't had a drink in almost two years.

Being manic is better than being depressed, though. Not drinking really has been a good decision since I cycle much less frequently than before. I do not dream and fantasize about dying as much. Now the depression is just a few days of constant, dull-numb pain that makes my whole body feel like it is throbbing in time with my heartbeat. In those times of depression, I just hope that I go to sleep and never wake up. So, an improvement from what it used to be like.

After the past two years, I cannot rationally (or with any of my liberal senses) fantasize that I could ever be seen as something grand or worthwhile. Once when I apologized to a former friend for being terse with him, his response was Я сам не подарок (I'm not a gift myself). If only I had been committed to that reality about myself all those years ago, I might have been able to accept my common-ass mediocre self and saved some time doing mental gymnastics.

I'm not mad.

I'm not sad.

I am mediocre.

#midlife #crisis #gay #birthday #curmudgeon #mediocre #karen #texas #ranting #real #film #beautifulthing #urban life #bipolar #mental health #tired

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tssidesfics · 2 years

Text

Update on MGTBW

I have edited Roman’s part as much as I can without reading through line by line. I’ve noted down the other edits I need to make and now I’ve moved onto Logan’s part. First order of business is creating a guide for myself on html, considering in order to create an authentic found document experience, I need to use boatloads of that and not all of it can be done in Rich Text mode on AO3.

I make no promises, but if you have any subjects you want me to research and include in Logan’s documents, reblog this post with it. I’m planning some astronomy facts (also astrology as a gag), some bare bones basics on chemical engineering, I don’t feel like pursuing a Bachelor’s for the pure purpose of writing a fic. Assorted literature essays, essays on psychological concepts (and overlap between those two essay types). I don’t want to go overboard, but if there’s anything else you feel I’d be remiss not to include in Logan’s part, reblog this with it and I’ll take it under advisement.

This is definitely going to be hard. I’m planning to get all of the character interactions out of the way, considering I want this to be mostly streamlined and it makes sense that all the researched topics reflect the happenings of Logan’s life.

It’s still gonna be a bit before you guys can read any of this, but please do me a favor. Promote Morality Is Grey and leave lots of comments and bookmarks on the sequels when they come out. I am putting a lot of effort into these, arguably more than even some of my original fiction (you know, the stuff I’m planning to professionally publish). I want you guys to enjoy it, and I want this to be the best fic series you ever read, but it would crush me if it landed with a dud. If anyone is paying attention to this blog and is looking forward to But Deny That As You May and subsequent sequels, please shoot me a message or reblog or something so I know interest in this story hasn’t completely dried up.

I’m also going to post separately about Morality Is Grey again and see if I can’t drum up more people who want to read it. If you guys could do me the wonderful solid of reblogging that. I know the Sanders Sides fandom is, to use the word a fic used about a character who would frequently drop dead and come back to life, necroleptic, and I’ll try again after my beta’s read through everything and I’m on my final round of edits, but with as much work as I’m putting into this, it honestly would mean a lot if you could just show that you still care.

(I know it doesn’t help that I made the weird decision to finish all the parts before uploading them, but I already have to do some semi-minor developmental edits to Morality Is Grey because some other fucking character decided to slap me with a plot twist/character motivation I didn’t plan on. This is for the sake of continuity so you can feel satisfied with yourselves when you correctly guess things based on foreshadowing.)

This update proved to be an essay. Whoops. Regardless. Just...I’m a little whiny and needy at the moment, but yeah, some support would mean a lot.

I hope you’re all having a great summer. (I know the world kinda sucks right now but I want to stay optimistic.) Wish me luck wrestling html into submission.

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a-ask-alphyne · 6 years

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Anonymous asks:

Hey guys, have you two ever thought about doing it? ;)

#undertale #undyne #alphys #alphyne #ask alphyne #ask undyne #ask alphys #alphys x undyne #still semi dead but I found motivation to get back into this #sorta

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ramp-it-up · 2 years

Text

Origin

1. The Center of Intelligence

Pairing: Young Nick Fowler x CIA officer! Reader

Summary: Gaining information for your country is the path you’ve chosen. Nick Fowler is the one bump in the road.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Google translated Spanish, ANGST! SMUT! Enemies to Lovers. Yes, Young Nick is a dick, naïveté, training in deception, lying, manipulation, voyeurism, dirty talk, semi-public sex acts, imprisonment, mention of virginity, implied oral (male receiving). Not Beta’d, any errors are my own.

A/N: This is Nick’s origin story in my mind. Hope you like it. I’ve been greatly influenced by the movie The Recruit, where all the accents are hilarious and there is a little (probably inaccurate) insight into CIA officer training. I also found that the correct term is not Agents, but Officers. Read the previous part, the Teaser HERE.

I no longer operate a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

Graphics by @maysdigitalarts

2022, Equatorial Guinea

“¿Cómo hiciste para que se enamorara de ti?

Nick almost tripped over his own feet when Tomás asked him the question. Tomás had been his recreation hour guard for over a year and had listened to him talk about you over and over in English. Nick assumed that his guard only spoke Spanish at the beginning, so he just rambled on, needing to get it out in order to hold on to whatever sanity he had left.

Nick had noticed however, that the small reactions to what he was saying increased, the eye movements, a twitch of the mouth when he said something funny, signs that Tomás may have been beginning to understand English. But he never spoke up, just walked alongside Nick, gun drawn, at the ready to shoot him dead if he tried anything.

Nick smiled at the idea that he wasn’t completely alone in this after all. He replied in English, to further Tomás’ education.

“Well, if she were here, she could probably answer that question better than I could. Of all the information I’ve gathered over the years, I don’t know why she chose me. I am quite unloveable.��

Nick continued walking and talking in English while Tomás deciphered what he said, and listened eagerly for any clues into this great historia de amor.

Houston, TX, 2007

You were an information junkie, first coming upon how to gather it electronically while trying to fashion your own VPNs while traveling with your mother. Her life as an educator overseas, especially in countries where the free flow of information was restricted, motivated you to see what they were hiding behind the curtain.

After your mother was killed, using information to protect your country and its citizens living abroad was your mission, although some said you were too idealistic in this goal. They thought you had a vendetta.

You did not engage them in the vendetta conversation, because that was between you, your dead mother, and God, but you did counter it with the phrase “Information is more important than anything,” and most people thought you were just a little bit nuts. Most people except the CIA recruiter who showed up at the job fair at your alma mater, Rice University, Selene Mason, that is.

You knew Mason was a CIA officer, because she was advertised that her department was the United States Directorate of Science and Technology, or the DST. You knew exactly who you were talking to, but you still had an air of naivete and devotion to serving your country was a definite plus in a recruit.

It could serve The Company well.

Selene perused the resume that you handed her and when you said that bit about information, she gave you another look, taking in your compact, athletic form and your determined nature. Your double-major in Computer Science and International Studies was an ideal, and you could speak French, Farsi, and Arabic, which was icing on the cake, but did you have the tenacity to stick and stay?

One good look in your eyes and your unwavering, open stare back gave her all the information she needed to know about you.

“Officer Mason, I want to be in the Center of Intelligence. Put me anywhere you need me. But you need me in the DST.”

Over dinner at Ninfa’s and a walk in Market Square Park, you impressed Selene enough to give you an invitation to Langley, and to the screening round of tests for the CIA. Over the next month, you graduated from Rice, with no family to speak of attending, just close friends you’d earned over your four years there, and moved to Virginia, confident that you would pass all the tests they would throw at you.

2008, James County, VA

You didn’t need a CIA personality test to tell you what you already knew.

Nick Fowler was an asshole.

He was brash, abrasive, cocky, and did not demonstrate one ounce of human decency, except when he wanted something. He was going to make the perfect NOC. Even at the age of 26, you could tell that he would be an asshole for life. He was nice to look at, but damn, was he annoying.

After six weeks at the farm, you’d read everyone like a book. Most recruits in your class were gunning for ‘Non Official Cover Officer,” a NOC. Too bad that a third of them would wash out. And you could predict almost perfectly who would. There was never any warning, Officer Mason would just pull them aside and the next thing anyone knew, they were packing up and being escorted out. It happened during class, on trainings, during lunch, and in the middle of the night. But you could predict within 72 hours of who would be next.

You and your roommate, Mace, had a board as to who would wash out when, and you were 89% accurate. NOC was the dream for most recruits, and that involved human intel. And that didn’t appeal to you. Technological information was your specialty, and it avoided potentially messy situations, with soulless individuals such as Nick Fowler.

You and he had minimal conversations, and he always seemed to be sizing you up, as if you were competition. They were several times that you looked up and he was scowling in your direction. You didn’t have time to worry about what he thought, but something about his attitude bothered you.

You pushed down your feelings and carried on, not letting him intimidate you. You just rolled your eyes as Mace periodically stated that she wanted to fuck him. You would admire him, his wavy dark hair, his sea blue eyes, his body. You allowed yourself to go there for a few seconds, then busted your bestie’s balls about it.

All of you had basically seen each other practically naked due to various states of matter that you’d conducted trainings in, and you knew the man was definitely packing. And your expressed disgust didn’t stop the erotic dreams you had about him. You decided that you needed to brush up on your Psychology of Clandestine Affairs materials to see how to stop those.

The Bug House was your favorite training activity. You and a team of recruits were to go into a dummy house and remove all of the surveillance devices within, but also had to dodge various perils inside. There were guns rigged to go off, alarms to silence, and traps to avoid. People were injured, and many came out bloody. One person, Morgan Camp, who you didn’t predict to wash out, was escorted out in a body bag.

This was not for the faint of heart.

Nick always had something to say to you after Bug House ops, because you always came out unscathed and having not broken a sweat. You didn’t let him get to you, just flipped him off, which earned a grin from him. Which didn’t affect you at all. Not at all.

One course, Covert Operations, sought to teach officers that they were capable of manipulating humans for their own agendas: information. The central training activity for this training began six months into your residency at The Farm. Recruits were given a recurring mission to go into a random bar and acquire a target who intended to sleep with them that night. It was conducted almost every weekend, and sometimes twice a week. Most recruits had done things like this before, being young, virile human beings, but they needed to become totally desensitized to using their bodies to get what they wanted.

Your body wasn’t yours; it was in service to your country.

This group had done it several times before. There was Fowler, Destry, Samson, Cooper, Neal, and Kennedy on your team. And most times, Nick usually scored before anyone else. He could be charming and sexy as hell. Once, he even had a girl give it up in the alley behind the bar.

Lucky you, you were treated to quite the show as a tech in the reconnaissance van. It was one more clue for you that you would never be a NOC, and it gave you great comfort. You were comfortable, until you listened to Nick spitting dirty talk into the young woman’s ear.

“I saw how you looked at me. Like you wanted to devour me.”

Nick’s voice had a soft lilt to it. Almost like music.

The girl whimpered something.

“You pretend too hard that I don’t affect you; that’s how I know that I do.”

You turned up the volume in your ears as your pulse quickened.

“What do you want me to do to you? What’s in that beautiful brain of yours? I know you’re thinking about me.”

You took a sip from your water bottle and scanned the van, the other two recruits were non plussed, one taking notes and the other on their phone.

“All you have to do. Is tell me what. You. Want.”

The girl was non committal, but she didn’t move from his embrace.

“You want me to take control? Yeah. You’re a control freak. Always the best at everything and you can’t let me top you in public…”

Your eyes widened, as if he was speaking straight to you.

“….That’s why we’re in this alley, yeah?”

You breathed a sigh of relief that you turned into a yawn as Cooper side eyed you.

“I mean, in private, you’ll let me top you all night long, right. I can handle you, make you feel pleasure like you’ve never known. Want my hands here?”

You peered into the screen, the camera’s vantage point only giving a dim view of what he was doing. You managed to discern that Nick’s hands were on her breasts and your nipples immediately hardened.

“Or, do you want them here?”

You saw Nick’s arms move down, one hand on her ass and one in front, possibly going down her pants.

“Shit…You’re so wound up, I know you’ll be tight.”

You wanted to rewind that, to see if you changed the verb tense in your mind or…

“But I think I’ll get you wet enough. Wanna taste that wet pussy and stretch it out with my tongue, fuck and suck you with my mouth. Want that? I know you want that…”

The girl was moaning now, responding to the wickedness of Nick Fowler.

You squirmed in your seat, your underwear getting a bit soaked.

“Wanna make that clit mine. I know you haven’t been with anyone in a while. My little button will be so responsive to me when I get my hands on it.”

This girl didn’t notice that Nick wasn’t talking to her. But you were aroused and angered all at once. You looked around again to notice that Neal and Cooper were both paying attention and smirking at each other now. They’d noticed it too, and they knew he wasn’t talking to him since everyone knew they screwed each other on the regular.

The girl moaned, louder now.

“And I’ll bet you’ll be so tight. Barely able to fit my fingers in you. But don’t worry, I’ll stretch you good so you can take it. Like the good girl I know you want to be for me.”

You heard the the poor girl grunt as Nick fingered her. And it was appalling and erotic at the same time. But still, you listened.

“You know you want to take it, my little cock slut. So smart, but I’ll fuck you dumb and then make you come on my cock.”

You cleared your throat to stop yourself from yelling for him to stop in his comms. Nick heard you and laughed.

“Can’t speak? Just let me hear you come then.”

“3…” The girl’s moans got more frequent “2…” and louder as your heart rate increased, “1..”

You were transfixed when she came on command, her lustful cries pornographic, and breaking something inside you. You listened intently to her breathing patterns as she came down.

“You liked that?”

You listened to the girl give her assent.

“If you liked it so much, show me. Suck my dick.”

You watched on the screen as the girl got on her knees, and you noticed that Nick looked toward the camera and not the young woman on the ground.

You stood up and threw your headset on the counter.

“I need some air.”

And you didn’t wait for a reaction from either of your co-workers. You went down the street to another bar, had a drink, trying to obliterate Nick’s voice from your head. One drink didn’t work, so you ordered another, and by the time you went back to the van, Nick and another recruit, Kate, were already back in the van. Nick smirked as you came in, winking when you looked his way. You just rolled your eyes as he teased.

“You only had time for a couple of drinks. Tonight has been really unsatisfying hasn’t it?”

“Fuck you, Fowler.”

Nick flashed a smile at you, and you knew what it meant, but you just shut your mouth and put your comms back on, trying to ignore him, but failing miserably.

——

You were never assigned to complete the mission in Covert Ops, and only you and Officer Mason knew why. Everyone else rotated in and out of the van, but never you. Selene said it was that you were one of the best at tech, but there was a much more innocuous reason: You were a virgin. You thought she was trying to protect your innocence. In fact, she was saving your body to leverage for real information.

One night, three months into the weekly smash and dash operations, after the team left the van for the bar, Mason texted you to step out of the van. You did, not knowing that she’d be there that night, but Destry and Kennedy could handle the surveillance. You were nervous, thinking that you’d missed the signs of you blowing it so badly that you would be washed out. You felt the dread of failure. It must have been your reaction to the Nick op last week. You steeled yourself for the cut as you stood in the night air.

Mason showed up to deliver the blow, but it wasn’t quite what you were expecting.

——

You sat in the bar down from the one that Nick had gone into, emptying drink after drink. Your makeup was ruined with tears and you were acting as if you had no fucks left to give. There was a large, beefy dude to your left that you let paw your leg, and you were smiling up into his face. He was mighty familiar, and getting mighty close.

“Hey, Pete, I heard that Billy needed help with his truck. Looks like it’s the alternator again.”

Your companion looked up, confused as to how Nick knew his best friend, but too drunk to figure out that he didn’t. He didn’t say two words to you as he left. You pouted over at Nick, and drunkenly poked your finger into his chest.

“Fucking killjoy. You destroyed any happiness that I was going to have tonight. Gotdamn prick!”

You drunkenly got up from the barstool leaving Nick to pay for your drink. He caught up to you easily, maneuvering your shaky legs into a booth.

“What the fuck do you want, Fowler. What!?!”

You glared at him, rage in your voice.

Nick took you in, messed up face, but still beautiful, chest heaving with emotion. He looked into your eyes and did not see anger, but tears, held back by your frequent blinks.

“What’s wrong, Hope?”

“Hunh? That’s not my name.”

You acted confused. Nick just shook his head.

“Nevermind. Why are you acting like this? Out of control is not your thing.”

You raised your hand to signal a waiter and ordered another drink as Nick glared at you.

“What? I’m grown?”

He kept staring and you slumped back in your seat.

“I washed out tonight. It was never a pleasure working with you Fowler.”

You were served your drink and raised it in a toast to him.

Nick’s face fell. Despite his whoreish, despicable ways, he cared about you. He didn’t want to admit it, but you were a challenge for him to conquer and bend to his will. But this.. .wasn’t a scenario that played out as to how that was going to go. You were one of the best recruits in the class and now you had to leave.

“Shit, kid. That… that’s bullshit. You weren’t terrible at this.”

“Fuck you Nick. I’m not a kid. I’m a full grown woman.”

Nick appraised you, agreeing to himself that you were indeed, fully grown.

“I’m only two years younger than you. 24. So Fuck YOU!”

He smirked and this time said what he was thinking.

“You wish.”

You looked as if you were going to throw your drink at him. For a hot second, then you gave him a tipsy smile.

“What if I did? What are you going to do about it?”

You took a drink and peered at him over your glass. You watched his face carefully, and although he tried to hide it, he was down.

“We might have to talk about it later, after lights out. I’ll meet you at that motel down the street from the farm.”

“Say less, Nick.”

You leaned forward as if you kiss him, but stopped your forward motion, causing him to pause as well. You stayed in each other’s magnetic pull for half a minute, then you pulled back. Nick cleared his throat and shifted, because you’d made him hard with a near-kiss experience.

You scraped your fingernails along his jeans, noticing but never touching the hard on lodged on his thigh.

“You’ve got a van to catch. I’ve got to clean out my room. I will text you when I check in.”

Nick leaned toward you again.

“I can’t wait.”

You scooted away from him and out of the other side of the booth.

Nick got out and followed you out of the bar, eyes on your ass, all the way out to the sidewalk until the van’s high beams shined on the both of you.

Six pairs of hands started clapping and you straightened up as Mason congratulated you.

“Well done, Recruit!”

You took a bow.

“Aw, shit!”

Nick figured it out in an instant and glared at you.

“You didn’t wash out, did you?”

“No,” you smirked. “I just fulfilled my mission.”

Nick’s face was an entertaining mixture of surprise, anger, admiration, and something else you couldn’t name. It was odd seeing any emotion at all there. Finally, the mask fell down again, he flipped everyone a double bird and climbed into the van.

Everyone celebrated and patted you on the back, but for some reason, there was a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it was the realization that in the Center of Intelligence, there was no room for a heart.

2022, Equatorial Guinea

“El corazón se rompe cuando se ha hinchado demasiado en el cálido aliento de la esperanza, y luego se encuentra encerrado en la fría realidad, Tomás.”

Tomas just nodded as he led Nick back to his cell, and for the first time smiled at him as he locked the door.

Let me know what you think! Like, comment AND Reblog!

#Origin: a Nick Fowler series #nick fowler x black!reader #nick fowler x female reader #nick fowler imagine #nick fowler fanfiction #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fan fiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x black!reader #enemies to lovers

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absolutebl · 3 years

Text

This Week In BL

May 2021 Part 1

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Second Chance Ep 6 fin - Chris & Jeno were TOO CUTE we got ALL the tropes: parental passing on the torch of care (a rare one), hair drying, hair touching, the prom with everyone was in adorable suits (Tang Yi approves), GOOD kisses, confessions galore, boop (+ bonus pool boop), tumblr now thinks they’re lesbians (new trope I’ve just decided on), claiming, rooftop assignation. Conclusion? This is one of the best BL pulps I’ve seen in a really long time. We are PLEASED!

Y-Destiny Ep 7 - a pretty classic take on the “reformed player/rake” romance trope plus a ton of BL visuals like back hug, messy eater, rooftop assignation, and pillow clutch (a Cheewin signature). Cheewin sure knows his tropes (he should, he started a lot of them and his YYY Special is nothing but a trope parody pastiche, it’s Absolute BL before Absolute BL and A LOT weirder).

Lovely Writer Ep 11 - The casting closet has come to play. I really like that LW is taking the industry and fans to task. It’s hard to watch sometimes, but it SHOULD be a little squirmy and uncomfortable. This was an excellent Episode 11 and we all suffered for it. I hope they can resolve it well in the finale. They’ve done great work so far, I trust them.

Close Friend Ep 3: (Willing or Not) - sports kinda romance, it was cute because MaxNat are cute together, but it reminded me a lot of their arc in Why R U, which is to say, short and somewhat forgettable.

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 5 - am I over this? I think I might be over it. Not into the punching down humor in terms of femme or Sikhs, I don’t like Pi, and found myself fast-forwarding through most of this ep. Mostly I only watch when Mork is on screen. I wanna know why Mork likes Pi so much, but that’s all I’m interested in. Tons of tropes but I’m not even motivated to screen cap, which is saying something. Look, the characters pretty much lack motivation and so I’m losing sympathy.

Nitiman Ep 1 - oh I like it. This is the standard Thai BL delicious trash I know and love. 2 Moons university setting pastiche, check! Engineering students = gay, check! Instant hate vrs instant love, check! Seme vrs tsundere uke, check! Plus the side dishes are tasty. I’m disposed to be pleased, especially as Fish is disappointing. Sadly they insisted on singing, but you can’t have everything.

Love Area Ep 1 - I’m not holding this post just for one BL that I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find tomorrow, so I’ll let you know how it is next week.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korea) Ep 7-8 fin - so flipping cute, their little smiles, just GAH. Bit of a dead fish kiss but I don’t care because I loved this tiny show full of soft bois and no one saying anything directly (except our man with the poetry, I hope he finds his true love). Adorable.

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 3 - HOW IS THIS SHOW SO WHOLESOME? This is possibly the cutest thing on air right now (and I don’t actually like children). Just GAH! The actual Taipei pride footage. I didn’t even mind all the product placement (I happen to like that bubbly myself). It’s just so cute. Everyone should be watching this. It will make you feel so good and happy. Not gonna lie, this ep is ALL about queer found family and I might have ugly cried over the teddy bear at the end - in a good way. *** Quick note because I think it’s super important: in 2020 Taiwan Pride was called March for the World. Why? Because Taiwan managed to control C19 better than any other country, they were the only country able to hold pride safely, so they did it for all of us. I don’t feel like they got enough recognition for this.

Word of Honor (China) Ep 34-36 fin - In the end, WoH turned out to be a morality tale about the superiority of agrarian society over semi-nomadic tribes combined with a message about enduring love profoundly undermined by Chinese censorship. It’s like this amazing meal. I ate my fill, and enjoyed every bite, but had a bit too much, and now I have heart burn. Am I upset about the ending? Sure am. Good for them for manipulating my emotions! Was this a great drama? Yes. Did I expect this from China? Sure did. Do i feel betrayed anyway? Sure do. I guess these things are going to have to coexist in my psyche. Along with heart burn. Here have the actual-not-really-epilogue-ending. It's wafer thin. I’m putting this one to bed. I feel like I’ve said my piece and I want to move on from 36 courses of pretty men in pretty robes full of pretty innuendoes and deadly peanuts. I’ll miss the big fuck off white fan, tho.

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 5 - still very much enjoying it, the secret identity lies are beginning to unravel, tension is increasing. I don’t see how they can resolve this in just one episode tho, so this series might go longer than 6 episodes (rare for Vietnam).

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 8 - I demand Boxiang & Zhigang (repping for the healthy LTR and marriage equality) show up in every HIStory installment henceforth. This was a cute ep, lots of good communication & tropes. Still not sure how I feel about the stepbrothers, but can’t complain about their chemistry (waves at TharnType). Speaking of, how awesome that Yongjie caught the man he always wanted, that man is a SUPER bossy bottom, and Yongjie is like ...

Gossip

Crazy rumor that Singto has a new BL in the works (totally unsubstantiated). It’s Still Just Us (frankly, the biggest strike against this being true is how grammatically correct the title is).

Vietnam is messing with our heads and hearts by putting the leads from Nation’s Brother and Most Peaceful Place together into a delightful little love triangle of... something or other. Honestly, I’ve no idea what this is. The actors playing around? A new series? An advertisement? What?

Breaking News

Mandee (of Why R U fame) dropped a “mini intro” for something that they’re calling Bed Friend series. HI BEER! But I thought these two (James & Net) were the side dishes for Middle Love AKA Middleman's Love. I am so confused. (Get your titles together Thailand, no one wants you going down the Taiwanese rabbit hole, mm’kay?)

Taiwan would call it: Middleman’s Middle Love: Bed Friend.

Top Secret Together got a full trailer with subs. I’m kinda over ensemble pulp pieces (like Close Friend, Bothers, Y-Destiny) but the presence of Newyear makes this one I’m still going to watch. It starts this Friday on Line TV.

Cutie Pie the series got a teaser (fundraising trailer). Arranged marriage, home/office set, Thai BL staring Zee? Sign me tf up! I am so excited, I hope they can make this happen. Deets here. (Thanks @heretherebedork for the tip.)

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

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