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sevenpoyo · 1 year

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school headcanons for because i only got 3 more weeks

margo’s is so long even tho she got like 2 minutes of screen time bc i love her so much and she’s my gf

Margo Kess, 1610Miles, 42Miles, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar

margo kess / spiderbyte

ain’t shorty on zoom in the movie?

my girl dont attend class, she once shut down the entire blocks power so she would have an excuse to not be in class

eats in class all class everyday, only shares with you

takes really good notes and never studies them

like???? ma’am??? share???

all her electives are programming related and she pretends to busy while playing centipede all day

sends you 50 links to stuff you might like while ur in math

she got papers that let her opt out of gym

no matter how much you beg ur gonna be alone in gym and she doesn’t feel bad about it

popular with no friends type

like everyday 50 ppl stop you both and say hi

she only knows like 5 of their names she can’t stand half of them niggas

empty ass backpack like she got one notebook and one binder

all a’s and b’s like bitch how

her memory is absolutely ass but she can remember every story you told her or stuff that happened when y’all hang out

don’t ask her what she did in her class

don’t ask her if her class also has a history test

she don’t know

she don’t care

but she do know that when you were 8 your cousin burned ur thigh while y’all were playing iron vs knife fight

(u were dumb as hell for picking knife everyone knows iron always wins)

i looked it up on her word everybody uses those virtual avatars

she’ll shit on your class choices so damn hard

she just likes making fun of your choices fr

like half of ur conversation go;

damn i’m tired

u was up doing stupid shit last night you don’t get to complain

stfu that’s why ur a bitmoji

that’s why ur granny beat ur ass for something your brother did when you were 9

i hate telling u shit

then stop telling me shit

(i have no clue how accurate this is to her character but i need to write about her i’m in love but damn it’s long)

1610 miles / spider-man 2 lmao

book bag full locker full but never has a pencil

writes notes assignments and homework in paint pen ink don’t ask this nigga for notes

(he gets nigga treatment but not my queen margo bc i got favorites)

he miss mad classes but somehow still solid attendance record???

somehow always present in the record he miss 40 days and get caught on like 6 of them

unless his mom make breakfast and lunch on her day off for him he eating the most random shit from the bodega closest to visions

like what do you mean you got a cosmic brownie and a cold chopped cheese from last night ? it’s literally 7 in the morning no i don’t want none

makes you hype him up every time he slap boxes people and he’s so ass at it

he be ashy with no lotion atleast 5 times every month it’s embarrassing

he calls visions his white people school to his parents and his friends

once he said it to gwen and they sat in literal complete silence for like 10 minutes

prolly took music theory because he thought it would be easy and switched out of that shit so fast

i’d be so mean to him for enjoying physics

like this nigga trying to make something of him self

lil einstein ass nigga

he understands color theory but can’t explain it

12 half full sketchbooks but at school he literally draw on computer paper he don’t let the sketch book leave his bag

i know he’s ass at watercolor, he always spills shit, the colors always end up brown

try’s to be interested in your class choices bc he wants to know stuff he can talk about with you

when you first meet he can’t take meaner jokes bc he thinks that you mean them

but one day he’s gets comfortable, and brutal

no one in your life is safe when he looses a video game

except your mom

rio taught him better than that

42 miles / the prowler

comes to school with no school related supplies in his bag unless you count art stuff

finds a pencil on his way to class

has a change of clothes, rat tail comb, 3 bottles of water, a camera, a flashlight, lotion and cocoa butter.

like bro ur going to Ap Art not a camping trip

once he pulled out a griddle and and pancake mix and y’all started making pancakes in class

forgets his metro pass every day and gets so pissed ab it

runs into people in the hallway bc he’s never paying attention

idk if he goes to visions but if he does he calls it his white people school with his full chest to anybody even if they’re white

he be leaving halfway through the day all the time like bro you miss algebra 2 every damn day

uncle arron always talking him out of school with some bullshit reason

bro’s had his tonsils out 8 times on the school’s records

He will get ur parents to put his uncle on ur pickup list and you will be out of there with him

he will YELL if someone step on his shoes no matter what the situation like the school could be on fire and he fighting in the burning building

also his uniform is so pristine

his pants stiff

that button down is bleached ironed pressed and allat

this mfer is an online shopping addict u just know he be on amazon in class

will offer you the weirdest food combos like no i don’t want to put tajin mangoes on my beef patty i’m sick of you nigga

not school related but he’s super good with kids (both miles fr) but he’s the #1 little cousin defender and apologists

he ride for them always one of ur little cousins could sucker punch u and he be like

‘they just want u to play with them’

he takes a preforming arts class for fun prolly

loves sports but doesn’t play one understands the stats well and would help if you played one

wakes up at the asscrack of dawn on weekends

SICK ASS COSTUME FOR HOLLOWEEN IK THIS NIGGA LOVE HOLLOWEEN

plans costumes for school spirit weeks but always checks to seen if he’s gonna be the only one wearing a costume for it

never eats lunch unless his mom makes it he be hungry all day and be complaining

his socks are never in uniform (yes some uniform schools have sock rules)

gwen stacy / spider woman / ghost spider

idk what to call her

she has every snack you could ever want in her lunch bag

hates her music theory teacher

she literally has the most pristine locker with a calendar and a mirror and all that shit will write down test for you and important dates for the both of you

goes to school plays and shits on the story, like she ain’t pay 5 dollars to be there

some of her teachers hate her

like ma’am ur beefing with a whole 16 year old rn

she hate english teachers but love creative writing teachers

she keeps all her books in her locker never brings them home never brings them to class

always comes through with an extra pad no matter what

she also always has hand sanitizer

in like 4 extracurricular after school things and complains so bad

ur starting to hate that shit to ur sick of hearing it like girl quit then

10/10 cameraman she has every fight and every drama in 10khd and she will share them if you ask

she chews her pens and nails

has her drumsticks out always teachers have banned her from taking them to their classes

can watch tv on her phone but look focused you think she’s paying attention but then you look over and she’s watching good luck charlie

pavitr prabhakar / spider-man india

always late for class never in trouble

always eating and sharing food and never in trouble

how is he blessed like this? it ain’t fair

eats from the school vending machines or begs other ppl to share

will always have and share the homework answers no matter what he’s an angel

his sock always have holes in them like sir please get that shit together

gym try hard ik goes insane in football/soccer

very encouraging for shit u don’t wanna do he believes in you

you him and Gayatri talk so much shit but are somehow all well liked

he tells you what teachers are dating (he can just tell)

he has toothpaste in his bag for some reason?? i can just feel this one

his aunt will let you come over after school she’s so sweet to you.

always got a job at school assemblies

he’s reading poems or shaking hand or leading in the school pledge or something

Pav’s is short because i have no fucking clue if school in India is different form america and Barbados

#miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #margo kess x reader #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr my beloved #atsv x reader #atsv spoilers #spider byte x reader #the prowler x reader #42 miles morales x reader

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holocene-sims · 7 months

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next // previous

august 26, 2021 12:50 a.m. square-k convenience store

[yunha] first of all, i would want dr. pepper.

[yunha] i don’t like sodas that much, but i love dr. pepper. it’s the kfc of sodas.

[grant] 11 secret herbs and spices? but liquid?

[yunha] exactly! it’s like cola and not cola, root beer and not root beer, spicy and not spicy.

[yunha] maybe it sounds dumb, but...

[grant] no, no, not at all! honestly, you're doing big-brain science over there, decoding all the flavors.

[grant] have you heard of hot dr. pepper?

[yunha] what?

[grant] hot dr. pepper. it’s a thing, i swear! like a sixties thing but some people are still into it. i'm not making it up.

[grant] and speaking of coffee and hot dr. pepper, one of my aunts drinks it in the morning instead of coffee.

[yunha] that’s so strange. why hot?

[yunha] won't it just lose the carbonation?

[grant] i don't know, i don't really want to partake in drinking it, but if i were a betting man, i would say yeah, that's probably the outcome.

[grant] anyway, continue! dr. pepper. i respect that. great choice. i'm loyal to faygo but i do fuck with dr. pepper.

[yunha] how can i continue after that sudden trauma?

[grant] would you like me to procure you a cold dr. pepper to rinse out the agony?

[yunha] no, it's okay!

[grant] well, the offer is still on the table! i'm not evil.

[yunha] anyway, the last part of my meal would be seolleongtang.

[grant] oh, that's ox bone stew, isn't it?

[yunha] yes! it's not even my favorite food, but if i knew my expiration date, i'd want to prepare it and eat it one more time.

[grant] why choose that then?

[yunha] it reminds me of my family. we had some, hm, difficult times, and i remember my dad making this for us, especially for my mom to improve her mood. it's actually her favorite food.

[grant] that's very sweet. like beyond sweet. it's more about invoking that feeling of love again than the literal food, yeah?

[yunha] of course. i would like to feel that love again and also share it, and thank my parents for everything.

[yunha] i wouldn't need anything else.

[grant] you really love your family.

[yunha] more than anything.

[yunha] okay, now tell me your final meal!

[grant] i can tell you the ideal one would not be as humble as yours.

[grant] i mean, my logic for myself is, like, alright, i'm about to slowly turn back into cosmic dust, with or without a consciousness somehow floating around the universe, so screw it, do whatever.

[grant] i'm already going "home," so why not go big?

[grant] so, it’s my last day on earth. i'm at my place chilling with my cat.

[yunha] you have a cat?

[grant] his name is turtle. he’s very cute. he wears sweaters. he was a stray. i picked him up years ago from underneath a dumpster at IHOP at two in the morning, and i nursed him back to health.

[yunha] aww, i always wanted a cat. like some cuddly, fat, fluffy cat.

[grant] you should get one! i highly recommend it.

[yunha] i can’t! not yet.

[grant] do you want to see a picture of turtle before i imagine my untimely death? funny, i was just saying to someone else earlier that i want a timely one.

[grant] there he is, right on my home screen.

[yunha] oh my goshhhhh, i love him.

[grant] he's the best. no joke. but again, last meal. turtle and i are chilling, and yeah.

[grant] i absolutely have to have my grandma’s macaroni and cheese. it’s perfection and also my favorite food of all time. uhh, let’s see, i think you almost always need potatoes with a meal. i'd be happy with my grandma’s colcannon, like mashed potatoes and cabbage. what else? i mean, not to talk about coffee again, but i do love it, so maybe a vanilla latte for liquid consumption. oh, and fuck, coconut cake is a must. that’s my grandma’s recipe, too

[grant] i'd also have pizza for sure. pineapple is nonnegotiable, it's going on there. pineapple, pepperoni, the whole works.

[yunha] so, you’re a big fan of dairy products and your grandma?

[grant] that about sums it up!

[yunha] did you, like, grow up on a dairy farm?

[grant] no, but my grandma did!

[yunha] ah, i see. it's all connected.

[yunha] so, you like talking about death?

[grant] i don't. it just seems to come up a lot accidentally.

[grant] but really, i asked you this question because it's just, i don't know, an interesting way to get at people's values in life?

[grant] and it was just what came out of my mouth first.

[yunha] we answered kind of similarly. what did you learn about me?

[grant] same values, different approaches, i'd say.

[yunha] by the way, my other value is pineapple belongs on pizza.

[grant] oh, thank god! finally, someone else agrees!

[yunha] corn is also really good as a topping.

[grant] man, i feel deprived now. where have you been the last thirty years? you could have told me such a feat of engineering exists!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #this was inspired by the mythical kitchen last meal videos and also this one video i saw years ago that asked the 36 love questions #to people on a first date/making first impressions #also i love creating characters who can be weird together #holocene.docx #holocene.png #hlcn: grant #hlcn: yunha

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marshmallowprotection · 4 months

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Can I request se saeran hurt/comfort with an MC that's scared to tell him she's in love with him and his system? Tyyyy

SE Saeran is afraid of love. He's afraid to accept it for what it is, and why wouldn't he be scared to open his heart? Every time he trusted someone new, they left him alone, and no matter the reason behind their departure, it left Saeran in a place where he had no choice but to wonder if it was his fault... his fault for trusting them with the soft, gentle part of himself that didn't know how to do anything but trust the people who smiled at him and said it would be okay in the end.

It was okay, if you consider surviving a nightmare for half a decade in a cult that taught him to believe he was a weapon built for causalities and destruction, "okay". If you consider that to be okay, perhaps, you may also consider the brief moment of freedom good, after spending his childhood locked away by rope and key with no hope to get out of there without his big brother, okay.

There's a part of him that believes a moment of freedom, sun on his face, and grass between his toes was crueler than the years of pain and suffering. Because... knowing what it felt like to be a free man, if only briefly, to have it snatched away once again was a joke. It made his existence feel like a cruel joke, as if God only allowed him to live a life on Earth to be some sort of cosmic punchline.

Even to this day, he's struggling with his sense of autonomy since he has a limited range of choice over his life.

But, you know what?

Being with you? Sitting down at the park with his head on your lap while neither of you say a single word, you just bask in the moment for what it is. He can never feel wholly safe, but being with you is as close as it gets. He can't always tell you how he feels, words aren't a simple thing, after all. Words can be empty, they fall in an instant as easily as a promise can, so he finds himself valuing action more than anything else.

You understand him like nobody else does, and he doesn't have to try to be something he's not. He gets to be himself... he gets to exist. He doesn't know how to phrase that feeling into words, that's why it's so much easier for him to sit down with you, rest his head against your shoulder, and fall asleep.

Maybe it's hard for you to understand how a person feels about you if they don't say it, maybe you feel insecure in your darkest moments because there's always a question of:

What if he doesn't love me the way I love him?

You don't need to be afraid of that. Because, for you to have fallen in love with him, you would've had to have been his friend first, and that takes months... not days... not weeks. He needed time to warm up to you, to know you as a friend he could trust, and for you to be his best friend, that means he already cares about you more than he thought he could care about another person in his heart that seemed as cold as ice.

Don't be afraid to tell him.

Saeran Choi trusting you enough to be his friend already means his heart is open to yours if you want.

If you cry to him, pouring your heart out, he may have a strained look on his face, but it's not because he doesn't like you. It's because he's just as much in love with you, and he doesn't know how to express it outside of offering you his open arms. If you're willing to put up with a lifetime of him, trauma and all, he's willing to take a risk on being vulnerable once more.

#mod kait #mystic messenger #ask #anon #mysme #saeran choi #mysticmessenger #mm #choi saeran #se saeran #saeran #saeran mystic messenger #saeran mm #saeran mysme #mysme saeran #mystic messenger saeran #mm saeran

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foyle-writes-things · 16 days

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Writeblr Interview Tag

Dearest @sableglass, again, many thanks. I appreciate you. Hope you are having a stupendous day. I hope you kick this weeks butt. The week is your bitch now.

Short stories, novels, or poems?

All. I write (very bad) poetry, and read (very good) poetry.

What genre do you prefer reading?

I lean towards fantasy tbh. I don't read much anymore- full time job means i choose- read or write. I usually choose to write.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Pft. What's a plan?

I really like stories that grow organically and move reactionary (kinda like playing a live D&D game with yourself).

So if i have a plan it's usually only some rough ideas of what happens next.

What music do you listen to while writing?

None. I write in silence.

No I'm not joking.

Yes, i'm aware its weird.

Favorite books/movies?

I don't have one really? But I guess right now I'm re-obsessed with Avatar the Last Air Bender. I am more obsessed with High Rollers D&D streams presently.

Go watch, it's better than anything on the Tellie.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

I'm seasonal:

late spring to end of summer:

tanktop, shorts, socks with sandals

late summer through the cold bits:

beanie, hoodie, yoga pants

Create a character description of yourself:

Eww no.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

No? There may be pieces of people I know but i cannot say that any character reflects any one person.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Both at the same time, also probably water and a club soda. I have 2-4 drinks with me at any given time.

Slow or fast writer?

Depends honestly. Some books go sonic fast, and some go much slower.

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

The cosmic ether.

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Party healer that gets forced into supporting the protagonist and main party.

I'm combining these three because same answer who dis:

Most fav book cliche

Least favorite cliche

Favorite scene to write

The answer is that there is no answer. Most of this depends on how well the words go for me in terms of writing or reading. I'm quite happy with most cliches or scenes as long as it feels in keeping with the character.

Reason for writing?

The universe beats me on the head if i stop for too long. It's not a choice, it's a compulsion.

I be taggin (hopefully this isn't redundant, trying to revitalize the tag game economy and spread the <3 ):

@ettawritesnstudies

@simonnebethel

@dyrewrites

@leahnardo-da-veggie

@bluberimufim

@gothamxwattpad

#foylefumbles #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerblr #writers and poets #editing #writer #bookblr

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queer-ragnelle · 5 months

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random question! do you have any recommendations for any Arthurian/knight related horror/vaguely spooky movies?

(i apologize if you have a post like this already, tumblr's lack of functional search engine is really something)

Hello!

The only Arthurian movie with horror elements throughout would be The Green Knight (2021). From the outset the entire film is shot very dark, the score is eerie and haunting, the color scheme of green life/rot and red blood plays into the horror as well. There's the obvious violence of the beheading of the Green Knight, but even before that, Morgan's spell and the possession of Guinevere to read the Green Knight's letter are pretty scary! One of my favorite scenes in the whole film. Later, Gawain is captured by scavenger bandits and left for dead, he meets a dead woman and retrieves her severed head, and immediately following his consumption of some mushrooms, he hallucinates moss growing on his hands, and then everything from that moment onward gets a little freaky for him. ;^)))))

Next best example would be Excalibur (1981), specifically the Grail Quest portion. It's a solid 20 minutes of non-stop psychological (and occasionally physical) torture. Arthur is the Fisher King here and rotting away, along with his land and people. Percival and all the knights venture out for what appears to be close to 20 years, as Mordred grows to manhood during this time. Percival is slowly debilitated from cold and hunger, assaulted by angry townspeople, psychologically tortured by Morgan with visions of his dead comrades, hung from a tree and left for dead, and even cosmically harassed by a glowing entity bombarding him with questions. There's also one scene in which Lancelot has a nightmare in which he fights his own suit of armor ("himself") which ends with a self-inflicted injury that never heals for the duration of the film, an allegory for his shame. Insanely good stuff.

After that I would suggest Starz Camelot (2011), which is a show. This has aspects of it I would definitely consider horror or at the least spooky. Morgan's storyline especially as she tries to gather magical power to herself and incurs the wrath of some demons. Morgan is also able to shape shift into other people and it's shot like a grotesque and painful experience which results in blood seeping from her eyes, nose, and mouth. Likewise Merlin deals with these same setbacks while using magic and is haunted by the people he's killed which drives him to madness at one point. Stepping away from the supernatural, the deaths in this show are especially gruesome, somewhat like Excalibur as well, but more of them with the longer run time. There's a scene with a character drawing themselves along a spear to finish their opponent (like Mordred at Camlann), beheadings, even a torture scene with a guy impaled on a stake and unable to flee while [redacted] continues to wound him in non-lethal ways to draw information out of him. So a lot to work with here!

The only other option I can think of is a bit of a stretch, but that's Merlin and The Sword (1985). The Knight of the Cart is adapted here, except that Guinevere is taken to the other world which can only be entered by magical means. Lancelot and Gawain venture there to try and rescue her and come across many corpses and skeletons along the way, which they joke about (they're so normal) but ultimately split up and deal with trials along the way. It has an element of unreality to it, as no one is said to return from there, and the fay rules challenge their every move. Lancelot also brutally murders people along the way including choking a guy with the bar of a spear, lifting his feet off the ground while holding the man to his chest. It's overall pretty camp, but if hopeless quests into other worlds is your thing, that movie has it in spades.

Tragically, that's all I got for you. We need more Arthurian horror! Thanks for the ask, I hope this helps.

#arthurian legend #arthurian legends #arthurian mythology #arthuriana #the green knight #tgk #excalibur #starz camelot #merlin and the sword #horror #ask #mushroomslovesyou

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smallnico · 2 months

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4, 5, and 8 durgetash asks >:3

LONG ASS ANSWER thank u for asking <3

https://www.tumblr.com/smallnico/756672403384434688

read more if you like pain with a side of petty god drama <3

4. Did Durge steal anything for themselves during the heist, or did they only take the crown?

the boring answer is yeah, because esper is a big fan of stealing and will do it with very little justification. i don't have any specific items in mind that they would have stolen, but if something looked valuable and reasonably not-cursed, they would've grabbed it and probably pawned it to helsik or one of gortash's buyers.

the exciting answer is that the hell heist is also the first and only time bhaalist esper stole a kiss from everyone's favourite babygurl. this requires a bit of explanation, but i am happy to provide. >:3

so, bhaal uses esper as an avatar. even when he's not actively superseding their consciousness and using their body as his own, he likes to watch through their eyes and make them feel aggression or agitation or lust or nausea or pleasure or pain, or whatever the situation calls for in order to manipulate them into doing what he wants. esper is fairly resistant to the smaller-scale manipulations or their physical emotions and responses thanks to the bard training from their childhood, but they consider these small signs as missives from the divine (because that's what they are, really) -- warnings to stop what they're doing and do what father says, or else he's going to make you black out and wake up with some fresh bullshit to answer for and deal with. esper fears this loss of control more than anything, so they compensate by being a zealous and committed servant, just so they can at least keep their mind. just so they can have Something.

bhaal is always living in esper's head rent free even when he's not there, panopticon style. this, plus the Gift of Guaranteed Murder (which i interpret for esper as a hyperawareness of signs of life in their surroundings and an inexorable pull toward snuffing them out, Especially when people touch them. esper is constantly bordering on overstimulated by the sound of breathing, heartbeats, body heat, etc., so when they're feeling particularly sick from touch starvation, that's when they get cozy with corpses) is the main cluster of reasons they never actually get with gortash, and actively repress their desire to do so. sure, they're extremely aware of the fact that gortash Wants them and they know the effect they have on him, but the only thing they do about it is manipulate his attentions to their gain. where it starts to get a bit cloudier and less manipulative for them both is on the level of friendship and emotional connection. both gortash and esper are deeply isolated and disconnected people, but through some cosmic tragic joke (hehe) they've ended up in the same fuckin. emotional netherzone. so they're both mutually the only person the other has ever felt they could actually relate to, and the very small vulnerable lonely parts of their souls cling to each other with everything they've got in spite of how much the rest of their selves want to pretend that isn't happening.

so, while they aren't really in love per se, esper needs gortash and gortash needs them, both on a deep, scared lizard brain level. but every time esper (who is by far the more emotionally intelligent person in their diad by virtue of literally being an empath and a psychic) tries to reach out for warmth, tries to satisfy even as much as the gnawing touch starvation they feel because they're terrified of losing what little control they have over their body, bhaal is there to shock them away from it with a cold sweat or a physical disgust, just to warn them away from latching onto anything that distracts them from their purpose -- to help him slaughter everything. so they have to ignore the lengths gortash will go to win their favour. they have to ignore the fact that he's willing to share power with them. they have to ignore the grand gestures, the convoluted schemes, the business dealings he amends to benefit their interests as well as his, the nonsense issues he contrives to find an excuse to spend time with them. the fact that he wants to possess them, but is willing to ignore that want and frame their interactions to pre-emptively satisfy the temple of bhaal's independance from his baneite affairs, because he values esper's company just a little bit more than his own greed. and esper can't Not be aware of this because they can't tune out the information their own magic is giving them.

so, what does the hell heist have to do with all of this? let me tell you. since raphael has the ability to silence the emperor And the voice of bhaal in act 3 when he forces you into a private conversation about the crown of karsus (something that also made esper go a little feral, because What The Fuck, You Can Just Do That, Don't Put It Back, cue a lot of panicking about taking that deal because they want nothing more than to be free from all that shit, but that's another point), and because there aren't really any durge moments in the house of hope (and the emperor is also out of reach down there), i thought it would be fun if bhaal just. couldn't possess them while they were in the hells.

so, imagine you're esper. imagine you're embarking on another heist with your bestie associate, normal as anything, as a part of his grand plan (which he made sure to get your god to sign off on) to steal the crown of karsus and turn the both of you into gods, him for power and you for freedom from your current master shit boss dad beloved dark lord. you have your doubts and don't trust him to not use the crown for himself and make only himself into a god capable of subjugating you, but you find these weird illithid plans you can use instead. it's a lot more complicated, but that's how gortash likes to do things, especially if it means getting to work with you for just a bit longer. he thinks this whole tadpole thing could also help finally make his steel watchers, this project he's been labouring on for years, work. his hands are on the crown, they're on ultimate power, and he's showing you these plans instead, proposing an alternative that will Ensure that you can both conquer the world -- together by necessity -- and leverage your followers against the existing pantheon into granting you mutual godhood. no faith required.

and you realize in that moment that you love him for this. and that the immediate whiplash feeling of violence and hatred and disgust you're used to feeling when you love... isn't there. you can hear his heart hammering in his chest and smell the fear and adrenaline in his system, sense the presence of memories he's pushing down. you know the world around him is soup to him right now. he's suggestible, at this point trying to win you over in the only ways he knows how out of habit, because he's wanted to do it for so long it's second nature even when he's so agitated, when you know that he knows that you know that he knows it'll never work. you think about him. you think about what he's promising you, what he's making inevitable for you by locking the both of you into a gamble that could be a suicide pact, but will ultimately free you, one way or the other, and ensure that you aren't alone while you're waiting for how it turns out, because he'll be there with you. your freedom, and finally, an end to your gnawing, all-consuming loneliness.

and you can't hear your god. and your god can't hear you.

so you grab the man by the shoulders and steal a moment in this tense situation to kiss the fuck out of him. everything you have time for. you justify this uncontrolled, impulsive, opportunistic act of pure fucking id to yourself in hindsight with the usual. you were manipulating him into keeping his promise, obviously. he was too gobsmacked and overwhelmed to absorb what you said to him, but you remember. you were in control. something about making sure he kept his promise. you remember, don't you? you didn't do it for you. you didn't do it to spite your god, or to resist. you would never do something like that.

you remember what you said, right?

anyway, that's what esper stole from the mephistar vault. boy oh boy did they ever have to pay for it though, lol. they started spiralling after, eventually culminating in the prayer for forgiveness and the whole bullshit with orin.

5. What did pre tadpole Durge think of Jergal? Was that mindset in any way influenced by Bhaal?

i think esper didnt consider jergal much, other than as a predecessor to bhaal and an ancient minor deity they had no need to contend with. their opinions were very much influenced by bhaal, and bhaal had no particular reason to suspect jergal of fucking around.

the gods bhaalist esper really had beef with were bane and cyric. bane for the whole you-oppressed-my-god-and-killed-a-bunch-of-bhaalists situation (that manifests as an ideological opposition to doing anything gortash tells them to, among other things) and cyric for the whole bitchass-usurper-who-killed-my-god-and-stole-his-job situation. part of the reason esper hates the zhentarim on principle and sides with the guild during any territorial skirmishes in the area is because they do hold a grudge against the zhents for their not-so-secret cyricist history. one of these days i'll write about that particular death cult political drama, since it's part of my headcanon surrounding the hall of wonders heist -- lots of cyric temples were built out of old bhaalist temples and kept bhaalist relics for show, so it seemed to me like a faction that would be likely to, for example, drag a bunch of stolen bhaalist relics into the city for people to gawp at.

given esper's beef with cyric, i believe the thinking is that while jergal served as his seneschal, he was also working to subvert him, so esper doesn't have a problem with jergal. in a way, esper also serves as a seneschal for bhaal, so if nothing else, they understand that you don't often get to choose your god, and you gotta do what you gotta do to live your life with dignity and take pride in what you do. since jergal wasn't (at least to their knowledge at the time) trying to subvert bhaal, esper didn't count him as an enemy.

post-tadpole (and post-endgame) esper effectively has no choice but to become a jergal stan thanks to withers, but even pre-tadpole their personal philosophy (shackled to, but apart from bhaal) aligned harder with jergal than most gods. they were (and still are) a fatalistic believer that all living things must die, but contrary to bhaal's philosophy, esper likes to look at the bigger picture of their victims' whole lives and the impacts their deaths will have -- when they have the luxury of choice, esper is picky about who they kill, preferring deaths that will create a rippling narrative of fear of murder/bhaal or ones that help to prune away undesired developments in the world, and they get their gay little psychic hands all over the vibes of everyone they meet regardless of their intent to kill them, so it becomes difficult Not to remember those narratives. esper always has a few good stories to tell at the feast of the moon.

8. What were their last words towards each other? And who really got the final say? (Same as prev, be as vague as you'd like)

split this one into two, since there are different answers depending on when you consider their 'last' conversation was!

last words pre-orin:

i don't have any specific words in mind, but i feel like their last conversation before orin's surprise attack was about as normal as any conversation could be after the mess during the hell heist. esper was called to moonrise towers to help ketheric with some strategy he'd been planning to entrap and recruit drow soldiers to appoint as squadron leaders, since the swathes of goblins and reanimated corpses they'd collected wasn't very conducive to organization, and ketheric is a great general, but he's not as feverish a micromanager as esper or gortash are, and the absolute's army needs competent leaders for him to delegate to. esper, being raised as drow, had some insights that could be used to hook good candidates, so they were off to make sure it got done right while gortash and orin (probably; she's a shapeshifter, she's probably still here, right?) kept things under control in baldur's gate.

so esper headed to moonrise, where they provided ketheric with their advice, briefly indulged in a drink and an only sort-of-disguised vent session chastising ketheric for only serving his god because myrkul was essentially holding his love for his daughter hostage. the kind of empty judgement that they pass constantly, but their heart isn't really in, because they're mostly just envious that ketheric's god was willing to let him have Something. cue esper going to the basement and getting vibe checked by orin on bhaal's behalf for being an ingrate.

but the last conversation between esper and gortash was purely business. what are you talking about? nothing happened in the hells, no, of course not. no question that gortash had the last word there, because he always does, he's petty like that. something inane and amiable like "i'll have a list of targets by tomorrow, but i'll make sure the temple doesn't kill them all before you get back," or like, "walk in death, my dear urge, or whatever it is your lot says", or "close the door behind you".

last words pre-gortash dying:

"i think i always liked you, too. but this is how it has to be."

... or some more characteristic equivalent based on that line. gortash learned at the very last minute that esper was right -- they did always like him, because they had the ability to curbstomp him extremely disrespectfully any time they wanted, and they worked very, very hard to avoid doing so. he realizes that esper did care about him, very much, because he was now looking at an esper that didn't care what happened to him. he sees them taking their swords to someone else while karlach is killing him -- annoying and embarrassing, by the way, to be killed by an employee of all things --he sees them let someone else take the kill, breaking their promise that he would die by their hand.

but there's some peace in that. they got out. they said they got out. his empire is crumbling around him, and the only person he's ever loved is abandoning him for a second time, and he hates them, he hates them, he hates them. he'll drag them kicking and screaming into the hells with him if bane ever lets him. but that same small part of him that they had thought died when he lost them for the first time, he can feel it again.

and it's grinning from ear to ear. because the plan worked. he's doomed, but he was right, and it worked. and his last living thought is on getting revenge, just like it's always been.

#ask game #durgetash #esper #beecreeper #the askbox

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corrodedthorn · 2 years

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next to you

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader genre: angst, hurt/comfort words: 2,1k warnings: depression, she/her pronouns for reader, adult language, talking about murder (as a joke tho), no use of ‘y/n’, reader really wants to disappear, mentions of insecurities and anxiety, please let me know if i missed anything summary: When life becomes too much to bear, Eddie is ready to carry the weight of the universe to see his favorite smile again.

a/n omg i’m actually really nervous rn, it’s my first attempt at writing eddie fanfiction so i hope you enjoy it! also I'm really sorry for any mistakes but english in not my first language (i'm kinda thinking about part 2 tbh)

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Usually, she associated the night with freedom. With a fresh breeze of cool air wrapping around her shoulders, cigarette smoke and whispered conversations under a starry sky. With the infinite immensity of the universe, the moon hanging high overhead, and silence undiminished by superfluous sounds. She usually loved the night.

This night, however, darkness crushed her shoulders and smothered her lungs. The gloomy sky was not endless freedom but a heavy dome that pressed claustrophobically on her throat. The September frost bit unpleasantly into her skin, and the silence only gave room for her galloping thoughts.

Failure.

This word perfectly defined her entire life. She should be used to this feeling by now, the feeling of guilt, disappointment and defeat. Time and again, she failed all expectations. The expectations of everyone around her as much as her own. She should have gotten used to it long ago, but damn it still hurt just as much as the first time.

A gentle breeze combed through the grass where she sat. She fixed her gaze on the forest painting the border of the park and for a moment she dreamed of simply disappearing. Taking off her shoes and running barefoot between trees larger than her life.

Disappear.

What a beautiful word. The beautiful prospect of soothing solitude and the absence of a barrage of responsibilities. Sacred peace and quiet. This is what she dreamed of most every time the world proved too cruel for her. However, just because she dreamed of it didn't mean it was what she needed. She knew it perfectly well and he knew it too.

That's why it was his footsteps that snapped her out of the cosmic void that filled her eyes and soul. As soon as he saw her silhouette sitting alone on the ground among the stillness of the night, her hand clutching a cigarette resting on her bent knees and her empty eyes gazing into nothingness, he felt a slight stab in his heart.

His hands were buried in the large pockets of a leather jacket to hide their trembling at least a little bit. However, that didn't stop him from picking at his cuticles. His heavy footsteps hummed among the grass, but did not draw her attention even for a second. Without taking her eyes off the forest, she took another drag on her cigarette.

Eddie sighed quietly and took a closer look at her hunched figure. Oh how his heart sank at the mere sight. Exhaustion and apathy emanated from her so intensely that their coldness made him tremble. Lately she seemed colder than the chilling breeze of the autumn night that surrounded them. And Eddie didn't like it. Not one bit.

With a calm step, gently, as if trying not to frighten a wild animal, he approached her and sat down heavily on the grass right next to her. Another sigh escaped from between his lips.

"You do realize that you're the perfect target for a serial killer now, right?" Oh how desperately he tried to salvage the moment with a bit of humor. There was a smoldering hope in his heart for her gentle laughter and a slight shake of her head in disapproval. But all he got in response was another puff of smoke. After a few unmercifully long seconds, though, she decided to break the heavy silence.

"That would be a favor at this point." She laughed, but this only furrowed Eddie's brow. His head snapped toward her, and a trembling whisper of her name tore from his throat. Her bitter giggle left an equally bitter aftertaste in his mouth, as if he had just taken a sip of poison. The wind blew harder, combing through their hair.

"Don't say stuff like that." His voice quivered more than the grass around their bodies and his hands still tucked in the pockets. He was sure that at this point at least one of his cuticles was bleeding. "Please don't ever say stuff like that ever again."

"It's just a joke." She rolled her eyes, putting out her cigarette against the ground.

"I know it's not." His intense gaze fixed on her face, as if she was about to disappear and dissolve into the night. His heart pounded against his chest. He pulled his sweaty palms out of the pockets and rubbed them against the material of the black jeans he was wearing.

The hum of the forest became the loudest sound around them. But instead of soothing his mind, it seemed to seep through his skin and sink its sharp claws into his insides. Tauntingly reminding him of his own helplessness.

It was agonizing how badly he didn't know how to help her. How to protect her from the hurricane in her thoughts, which wreaked havoc and mercilessly ripped hope from her soul. Which skinned her alive and left her vulnerable to the cruelty of the world. Who tormented her unbelievably kind heart and gentle spirit. Eddie would have given anything to be able to help her carry this burden, but he couldn't. He didn't know how.

All he could do was to patiently stand by her side and at all costs not let her feel the loneliness and isolation. Show her that she would always have support in him. And pray that it would be enough.

Despite her assurances that his mere presence helps her, Eddie was afraid. Eddie was terrified as such nocturnal escapes began to become a habit. More and more often during the day she would lock herself in her room and in her thoughts, only to then disappear into the stillness of the night and return home moments after sunrise. Somewhere in the back of his mind always remained the fear that one day the rays of the morning sun might begin to flow into her bedroom, but she would not be there. That one night Eddie would not find her, and she would slip through his fingers like loose sand. That was what he feared most.

He wouldn't survive losing her, that was certain. Although lately it seemed as if he had already lost her long ago. Her cheerful laughter filling the room with warmth became just a fond memory warming only his heart. Their playful banters, their late-night rides, shouting out the lyrics of their favorite songs and quiet breakfasts dusted with cinnamon and whispered confessions. All that's left of it was cinnamon in a packet on the counter, awaiting her next visit almost as impatiently as Eddie did.

He missed her. He missed his best friend and the love of his life. He missed his soulmate, his partner in crime. She was sitting right next to him, yet she seemed miles away, lost somewhere in a world bigger than she could handle. And Eddie hated it.

He hated how only in the solitude of the night did she allow herself to feel. How only then did her mask fall off to shatter on the ground like fragile glass, unleashing pent-up emotions with it. He hated the smile forcibly stretched on her face whenever someone asked how she was doing. She was perfectly capable of fooling others, but not him. Never him. He hated how she always put the needs of others above her own and never let anyone help her. She never wanted her problems to become a burden to someone. That's why she lied. She lied that it was just fatigue, that exams were coming up, that she already had plans. Always avoiding a situation where someone would witness her downfall.

But Eddie was there. Every time he didn't find her in her bedroom, he went on an anxiety-filled search to find her and help keep her afloat. He saw her pain, he saw her despair, rage and resignation. However, he never saw her tears. Just as he had never seen such an overwhelming void in her eyes as he did that night.

"You know," His voice dispersed the silence suspended between them. "Wayne has been asking lately when you'll stop by. I think he misses our sunday breakfasts. And they pay him better now, so he's working less shifts. He's noticed that you don't visit anymore."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her slight frown. With a trembling hand, her pulled out another cigarette and lit it with her favorite lighter. A black lighter with the Corroded Coffin logo, which Eddie had hand-painted for her. The sight of it brought a gentle smile to his face, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched slightly upward didn't escape his notice.

"Henderson misses you, too." He continued his monologue. He knew he wouldn't be able to get her to confide in him, but he swore to himself that he would do anything to make her feel a little less alone. So he kept talking. "At the last campaign he basically interrogated me when 'his favorite lady' would be back, and I had to firmly remind him that you are in fact my lady, not his."

Her gentle smile turned his heart upside down. He took it as a good sign.

"You know, you could drop by Hellfire sometime. You don't have to play if you don't feel like it, but you can just hang out with us. We're starting a new campaign and it's going to be a rough one."

"They already beat Vecna?" Oh how Eddie's heart thumped in his chest at the sound of her voice. Although it was still quiet and slightly hoarse, in his ears it sounded like the most beautiful song.

"Oh sweetheart, you'd have to see it! They totally smashed it!" Excitement filled Eddie to the brim. A wide smile was painted on his face, and hope shone in his eyes. He decided to ignore the fact that the campaign with Vecna had ended long ago. "Also… remember that one solo I've been practicing for weeks?"

She nodded, still avoiding eye contact. She felt Eddie's burning gaze on her, but hers was still glued to the forest.

"Well… I've mastered it! We'll play the song next Tuesday!"

That got her attention. Her head turned sharply, and eyes, wide open in amazement, finally looked at him.

"You're kidding?"

"Nope." He puffed out his chest proudly.

"Oh my god, Eddie that's amazing! I knew you could do it!" Her sincere smile, oh how he missed it.

Unimaginable warmth flooded her heart. A warmth of pride but also of shame that she had missed such important events while she was drowning in her own sorrows. She cut herself off completely from everyone, trying to keep up the mask of the one with no problems, so they can always rely on her, and in the end she let everyone down anyway, because she simply wasn't around. She was a failure even in friendship.

She looked away again, and her figure hunched slightly, which immediately caught Eddie's eye.

"We all miss you. I miss you." He began in a gentle tone. She put out the forgotten cigarette, threw it somewhere in the grass, and her trembling hands began to pick at the cuticles. Eddie reflexively stopped her, grabbing one of her hands and intertwining their fingers. "And right now, I'm very, very worried about you."

"I'm okay." She whispered, as if trying to convince herself. Staring at their joined hands, she realized how much she had missed that warmth.

"No, you're not." Whispered Eddie just as quietly, and his voice faltered. With eyes misty from the tears that were pooling, he stared at her trembling figure. "You're not okay, baby."

And that was all it took for all the walls she had been building up to that point to collapse in a second. Her lips contorted in despair, and from her throat ripped out a sob so heart-wrenching that the trees around them had probably never heard such before. Tears that had been bottled up for years finally flooded her cheeks.

Without hesitation, Eddie embraced her trembling body, cradling her in his chest. It was impossible to hold back his own tears as he soothingly stroked her back and left warm kisses on top of her head.

Time slowed down and the world fell silent. There were only them. Clinging to each other' bodies with all their strength and sobbing loudly, as if begging fate for another chance.

It was an exceptionally cold night, but Eddie's soothingly warm embrace melted the frigid void in her soul, replacing it with hope for another morning dusted with cinnamon.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader

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thattrable · 2 years

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A Court of Soup and Home

Summary: Feyre and Rhysand have soup dates once a month.

Notes:

Mature

Spoilers for the entire ACOTAR series.

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“Are you sure you don’t mind?” He asked for the second time today.

“You know I don’t.”

“But if you’re tired or would rather-”

“Rhys,” I interrupted him, “You once sent me into the weaver’s cottage as an untrained, mostly illiterate, broken girl.” He winced slightly, but I continued. “I think I can handle heating up some soup.” I smiled at him before adding, “it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

Rhysand smiled, and stars shone in his eyes. I didn’t need to use my Daemati powers to know he was remembering the first time I made soup for him; when I accepted the mating bond.

I took a moment to drink him in. Today had been a blessing. We had carved out time to spend it together without any kind of work to bother us. Rhys was laying on his side in the middle of our bed, his head propped up on an elbow. His hair was disheveled, the product of my own hands running through it earlier. My eyes drifted lower to his tattooed chest, then lower still, to his muscled stomach and the bed sheets draped over his hips.

He noticed my stare and his grin became feral. “Ready for round two, mate?”

“Round three,” I corrected, my own grin spreading.

Rhys reached out and pulled me into his arms. I breathed in the citrus and sea scent of him as he kissed my temple, my cheek, my lips. I groaned and opened up for him, his tongue sweeping in and tangling with mine. His hands began to roam over my torso, still naked from moments ago.

"I still love these." He whispered into my ear as his hand cupped my breast.

I inhaled sharply. I wanted him. I needed him. I was going to-

My stomach let out a low growl. Rhys's eyes met mine and he chuckled. I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Why don't we get some food in you first?"

"Because I want you now." I groaned, thrusting my hips into his for emphasis.

He playfully nipped at my nose. "You will have me, Feyre darling, all night if you wish." He kissed me again. "But I can't let my mate go hungry."

I knew protesting any further would get me nowhere so I reluctantly crawled out of bed and pulled on some clothes. Rhys did the same and held my hand as we walked through the empty townhouse to the kitchen.

I wondered how much longer we would be living in the townhouse. Construction had begun on our new house by the river months ago. I was excited to start our new life, and hopefully new family, in the home we were building together, but I was also going to be a little sad to leave the townhouse.

Rhys's voice pulled me away from my thoughts. "When you put that bowl of soup in front of me that day . . . And told me to eat," he squeezed my hand, "for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. I thought . . . That it might be a trick, or some kind of cosmic joke, and the bowl would disappear. And I would still be out flying in the cold searching for you. Or worse, you'd still be in the Spring Court and I'd just imagined everything up until that point."

I thought of the look on Rhys's face that day. The way his eyes had darted between me and the bowl of soup while he ate. Is that what he'd been thinking?

I felt my heart cracking open for him, my mate. My selfless mate, who had given so much and asked for so little in return.

I stopped walking, and he halted with me, turning to look at my face. I simply slid my arms around his waist and breathed, "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Rhysand. You are my best friend, my lover, my mate, and I am so happy, honored, I get to spend my life with you."

His head fell against mine as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

"And there is no one I would rather do that with. No one I would consider having . . .” My voice cracked with emotion as I continued, "No one I would consider having a child with but you. You are my family. My home."

I felt his body shudder. We stood in silence for a while before he kissed my temple and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

His violet eyes were silver lined as he took my hand again and we continued to the kitchen.

As I pulled a pot from the cabinet, my stomach growled again and I cursed under my breath. I heard Rhys chuckle behind me. He appeared at my side and handed me a can of soup. "Thanks," I said, taking the can and dumping the contents into the pot. I clicked on the burner while he rummaged through the pantry for some bread.

This had been our little routine. A secret dinner, just for us, once a month. We would find a way to clear our schedules for an entire day, one that we would spend together, and then we would dismiss the cooks for the night and I would heat up a can of soup for us to share. If the cooks wondered why they were suddenly given an extra night off every month, they never asked. They were still paid for a full day's work and always thanked us profusely before departing.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather me actually learn to make soup?" I asked. "I'm sure some homemade soup would taste much better than the canned variety."

I felt Rhys slide his arms around my waist from behind, felt his chest against my back as he held me while I stirred. "There is no other food in Prythian, in all the world, that I would rather eat, Feyre darling." His lips brushed against the back of my neck and my core went molten as he trailed kisses up to my ear.

"I thought you said I had to eat first."

"Yes, I did say that." I could feel him smiling against my neck. "I'm simply indulging in an appetizer." He nipped my ear.

"Well your appetizer is over," I said, tapping the spoon on the edge of the pot. "Soup doesn't take long to heat up."

"Cruel, beautiful female." He teased, releasing me.

I ladled the soup into two bowls while Rhys sat down at the table. I placed his bowl down in front of him, and he poured two glasses of wine.

Finally, I sat across from him and took the glass he passed me.

The soup was fine. Not great, but not terrible. I wondered if I could get Nuala and Cerriddwen to teach me how to make soup from scratch. They'd taught Elain how to bake, after all.

"Thank you," Rhys said, his spoon clinking softly against the bowl. "I love this."

And I knew he didn't mean the soup itself, but the meaning behind it.

I wondered if one day we would be sharing this soup with our son. That blue-eyed, beautiful boy the bone carver had once shown me.

Three Years Later

I cracked my eyes open, the last beams of sunlight streamed in through the window as the sun set on Velaris. Rhysand's arms were still wrapped around me, as they were when we'd fallen asleep. We rarely got to take naps these days, but I was feeling refreshed now, and thankful that we'd been able to keep up our monthly soup dinner dates.

I rolled onto my side and placed my hand on Rhys's cheek. He opened his stunning, violet eyes and stared at me. I pressed a kiss against his lips.

"I must still be sleeping," he grinned, "because this is my favorite dream."

"You're not dreaming," I said, "and it's time for dinner."

Rhys nuzzled his face against my neck and kissed just below my ear. "Are you going to tell me what was so important that you disappeared right before our nap?

"Soon." I teased, heat building low in my belly.

He growled playfully and bit my ear. "I hope you're not getting in the habit of keeping secrets from me, Feyre darling."

"It's not a secret," I explained, reaching up over his shoulder to run a finger down the sensitive spot on one of his wings. "It's a surprise."

He hissed in pleasure and dragged a hand up my thigh. "Oh, really?" He purred, trailing kisses down my chest. "I might just have to interrogate you for information."

"You're already torturing me." I breathed, pulling his body over mine.

"Then allow me to-"

A baby's cooing sounds stopped us.

"I'll get him." Rhys said, jumping out of bed and throwing a shirt on.

I got up, dressed, and strode to the room next to ours; the nursery. Rhys already had Nyx in his arms, gently bouncing him up and down. I stood in the threshold and watched them. Rhys was making silly noises at Nyx, playfully holding him up above his head, earning a high-pitched giggle from our baby. Every time Rhysand held Nyx up in the air, he instinctively stretched out his wings, as if even as a babe the sky called for him.

Rhys, holding Nyx to his side, looked over at me, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Nyx, though not quite a year old, was already the spitting image of his father. He was beautiful, his skin a light tan, his hair dark and silken. And though he had my blue eyes, they sparkled with starlight the same way Rhysand’s did. I could see the painting, and I knew I would simply name it, Home.

“We’re not the only ones who are hungry.” Rhys said, nodding his chin towards Nyx. He kissed my temple before taking my hand in his and leading us down the hall of the River House.

My heart began to thunder in my chest. Earlier today, just before our nap- and other activities- I’d ordered Rhys to stay in our room while I cooked soup. Cooked, not heated. Last week, Nuala and Cerridwen had taught me how to make homemade soup. I was confident that it would be edible. I wasn’t confident, however, of how good it would taste.

We strode into the kitchen and Rhys gently placed Nyx in his high chair. I pulled some bowls from the cabinet and glanced nervously towards Rhys.

He was already looking at me with such intensity in his eyes I wondered if he already knew.

“So when do I get this surprise?”

I leaned back against the counter. “Now.”

His eyes flickered, and he closed the gap between us. Before I knew what he was doing, he hoisted me up onto the counter and pushed his body between my legs. “I’m growing impatient, Feyre darling.” He murmured against my lips.

“Poor baby, High Lord.” I crooned.

He kissed my neck and I groaned, leaning into him and dragging my hands through his hair. His hands roamed up my torso, stopping just below my breasts. "Your son is watching." I breathed.

Rhys chuckled and nipped at my ear. "He has to learn the proper way to treat females from somebody."

“Shameless flirt.”

“Unless,” he added, breathing into my ear, “You’d rather me allow his uncles to teach him such niceties?”

I suppressed a moan as his hands tightened on my hips. "Get some bread, you shameless flirt."

Rhys laughed, but obeyed, placing a loaf of bread on the table.

I approached the large pot on the stove and lifted the lid. I’d left the soup simmering so it would stay hot while we napped. Steam and the smell of spices filled the kitchen. Rhys went still, his eyes locked on my every movement.

“Surprise,” I said.

He walked over and peered into the pot.

“I learned how to make soup from scratch.” I offered when he didn’t say anything. “It’s nothing special, just a simple-”

Rhys’s hands were on my face, his lips against mine. He crushed a couple of kisses against my lips before breaking away and wrapping me into a tight embrace. “It is very special, Feyre.” He ran a hand over my hair. “Thank you.”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way when you taste it.” I worried out loud.

Rhys didn’t waste any time. He filled his bowl to the very top and sat down at the table. His bowl was so full, I had no idea how any soup hadn’t spilled over the edge when he moved. I sat down in between him and Nyx and eyed my bowl warily. Rhys was already eating his soup like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. I watched him with wide eyes. If he was eating it this fervently, it must be good.

I spooned some of my own soup into my mouth, and cringed. Something about the spices was off, and I’d clearly left the soup over the heat for too long because the noodles were complete mush.

“It’s awful!” I barked.

“No.” Rhys said between mouthfuls, “It’s delicious.”

“Rhys, you don’t have to-"

“I love it,” He said, gazing at me, his eyes sparkling.

I relented, and offered Nyx a spoonful of soup. Surprisingly, he slurped it down.

“See? Nyx likes it.”

“Nyx also eats mush.” I jerked my chin towards the pantry containing the tiny jars of baby food.

“My love,” Rhys placed a hand on my chin, turning my face to his, “It’s wonderful.”

“Were you really surprised?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Earlier today when you snuck in here to start cooking I was surprised.”

I deflated. “You knew?”

“I could smell it from our bedroom.”

“Damned Fae senses.” I groaned.

Rhys laughed, and the sound of it caused Nyx to giggle himself.

I offered our son another spoonful of soup, which he greedily ate. “Do you think Nyx will ever find his mate or love like we share?”

Rhysand was silent for a while, as if lost in thought, but he leaned over to rest his head against mine and said, “As much as I am inclined to say that no one could ever love anyone as much as I love you, I’m sure he will.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhys #rhysand #feyre #feysand #nyx #feysandnyx #fanfic #acotarfanfic

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smugglerofsass · 1 year

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i saw your tags and i am dying to know the four GO related costumes, if it isn’t too much trouble to ask? ♥️

Ok ok ok here's the thing, this might be more than you bargained for because it's not four costumes, it's four years worth of costumes and inspired looks I have too many of those lets not talk about that.

Break so I can insert some pictures where I have them.

You see, I started cosplaying Crowley in 2019, like half of the rest of this fandom. I saw the show, I made my best friend watch it, she asked if Aziraphale and Crowley could be our Halloween costume for the year, I agreed exclusively on the grounds I could be Crowley, and the rest is essentially history.....except it's not because if my life isn't one cosmic joke what's the point right. My hair was purple at the time and I insisted I wasn't going to dye it for this, despite everyone I knew asking about it. So we did Halloween, at speed, mind you, so it was more about does it look like them rather than does it look like them, but doing these costumes gave me brain rot bad.

This is genuinely one of the best photos I'm going to be able to share with you rn, because someone took these photos of me intentionally. My best friend/Aziraphale had prior plans and this kinda got dropped on me like what costume can you wear to go to the cemetery approximately now.

In December, I started dying my hair red, we're all laughing because it's funny.

Obviously this was right before the plague times and I was still in undergrad at the time. We had a socially distanced halloween party the next year between the costume and scene shops, and I wore basically the same thing, just with doc martens and sfx contacts that time because I was working on a much larger costume for my undergrad capstone (tho not my history capstone, that was tragically different.) I started working on a late Victorian women's ensemble in black and green that was intended to be versatile enough to be both historically accurate in settings that needed it, while also being able to be an all out cosplay, just an inspired one. I didn't actually get good picture of it until late last year when I had shifted into what I call "stupidly" red hair dye and cut my hair (I was in grad school when s2 filming pictures started to come out, it does something to your brain, you make interesting choices during Thanksgiving break.)

(Enjoy a rare film photo of @christinedieae and I, we were working on these outfits together, and mostly in the same work space in 2021, so it was a mission to photograph these two together because they were so different on the dress forms.)

In 2021, I attended Ren Fair for the first time and made pirate inspired looks for my best friend and I. Tragically I don't have any photos from this year other than us at like 8am in my driveway and I'm not willing to share them rn but I made this full length sleeveless coat with fabric i found at joanns that year that has snakes and roses. I also wore it last year but it was very cold and windy that day so the only photo of me is my "Anakin storming the temple" look, peak my red wig and the best garment I've ever made, my cloak.

Then, some of my favorite ren fair looks from last year. The halo is one of the single best purchases I've made while costuming, and at this point its been a while.

The only down side to ren fair is that I'm often without an Aziraphale, as my best friend has become a bird (this is a genuine logistical challenge and at times takes between three and four of us to manage at the fair grounds so my full length snake skirt might not be returning to the fair this year.) Said bird also steals my glasses.

Here's another look with selections pulled from my historical wardrobe for a wizarding event at the museum I work at last year. This was the first time anyone I worked with saw my contacts and I have found it's good to warn people who know me because they find it a serious jumpscare. Some adults also have opinions, but kids really seem to like them.

And then some silly things from an event we attended in May last year. It was Friday the 13th and easily 100 degrees. I made Aziraphale's waistcoat in a week because I wasn't insane enough already (when you get motivation to do something you take it idk). On an even bigger my life is a cosmic joke note, when the first s2 pictures came out with the leather waistcoat I got in my closet and finally begrudgingly admitted my mom was right, because I had a leather waistcoat she had given me from the 80s.

I feel like I might have posted some of these photos here before, I remember asking for an "angel ( )" caption for my friend dressed as Castiel, and the groupchat soundly rejecting "angel (homosexual)" as too non-specific. It was very hot, we descended into insanity by the end of the night, a group of girls recognized us while we were trapped in the middle of this tiny candy store, chaos at its finest. This is also the night where someone referred to our group as the "most attractive group of queer people" they'd ever seen, and thus named our group chat.

I know there have been sooooo many more, some combination of all of this is how I dress on the daily so I'm kinda always testing new or inspired looks. And our ren fair opens this weekend, and I've been working on making and acquiring some fun new things for some new looks this year, so I'll have more looks very soon.

The last thing I can leave you with, I suppose, is this. I'm going to a wedding in October with costumes encouraged, but all black is off the table. SO I'm recreating an Edwardian gown in a red silk I found that is cross woven with black threads so it has this shift to it while still looking red, the silk is called Omen.

My darling Aziraphale is @jesterjamboree as always. @frameratess also appears here, and is often the only one of us remembering to take pictures. And already mentioned is @christinedieae, we egg each other on with our crazy ideas.

#haha have i ever mentioned that im crazy #im a firm believer in looking exactly how you want to all the time #even when other people think youre crazy #the smuggler sews #the smuggler cosplays

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flamechasr · 10 months

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22, 27 (elysia), & 42 (haru)!!!!

(22) — most recent memory

MUELSYSE ; i didn't really understand the stars until kristen. because, well, i was studying nature on terra and she's obsessed with stars. so it used to be me, her, and saria on starlit nights - we'd talk about our dreams and kristen in particular wanted to reach outer space, when i for one just wanted some place beyond this world to call home. actually i never found out what saria's dreams were, but i had a feeling it's closely connected to kristen's. i mean, they were always together, while i sorta forced myself in with them. there was even a time kristen said saria's like a star, so i said “then you're the moon and i'm the sun because i'm hot” (we were younger then, but saria laughed a little so i won)

(27) — your partners and something you loved about them

ELYSIA ; I LOVE MY GIRLFRIENDS SO MUCH ♡♡♡ firstly my perfect lovy eden - i love love everything about her (corny) but she was the most beautiful woman i'd ever seen with an angelic voice and so mature too! i remember sitting with her in the studio as she wrote songs and i'd listen attentively, giving her my highest compliments as tactical flirting though i could never figure out if they ever fazed her. she was always level-headed and reliable, and i kinda needed someone like that in my life since i tended to get ahead of myself. some kevin saw me as “childish” but eden never chastised me for it and even said that my positivity was a precious thing and i'll never forget that. she brings the best out of me! then there was mei - dear mei, with her cold disposition... i love girls who act hard to get so it didn't matter at all how many times she tried to brush me off! she was bound to fall in love with me, i mean, who could resist a cute girl like me? <3 funny thing is that i didn't mean to fall for her at first, i was just flirting for fun. oopsies. she had her own struggles but she was strong-hearted, it's really admirable! also, she tries not to, but she cares a lot. i guess that could be a weakness but i love all of her flaws too! she was... everything i loved about humanity.

(42) — favorite image of HARU

jokes it's me in kimono!! i'm in love with the camellia headpin

and also! this is technically a tsugumi pic but i just think it's SO funny that she was haru for the afterglow x p5 collab. i love cosmic coincidences

#✦ — an ode to love #✦ — lone trail #✦ — beauty thief #✧ — games

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ltnsingh · 1 year

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@trekmade asked: ☜ + can i be selfish and ask for the hallway scene in 2x07 where she’s going over the temporal protocol with boimler and he learns she’s also time traveled 👀

" Don't touch the buttons. " While harsh, reprimanding the wayward ensign in her less than willing charge was necessary. Vital, even. Beyond his palpable anxieties, understandable as they were, Boimler resembled an untrained puppy, albeit one that lumbered at least three heads taller than her: One that seemed to have an affinity for every square inch of the ship from the bridge crew themselves to the S / COMs operating system, still innocuously blinking so dangerously close to his flailing hands, and no apparent ability to rein in his excitement.

Ushering him to fall into stride, clear of any other tech that might catch his eye, La'an clenched her hands into fists once, then let them fall, soldierly, by her sides.

" Look — I recognise this future knowledge is so boring the chances of it changing history are low, but... lets review temporal protocols, regardless. "

In any other circumstance, conveying standard security procedures ought to have been a piece of cake, only La'an couldn't quite turn a blind eye to the perspiration dampening her palms, nor the lump struggling to lodge itself in the base of her throat. She knew the repercussions of tampering with time like she knew the phaser banks' schematics. She could practically hear each abstracted one of them ticking, like the hands on a broken watch, across the breadth of her quarters each night.

You protected the timeline in a way no one else could have, they'd chime. Are you willing to undo all of that?

No, she'd maintained. Even now, her answer remained resignedly the same.

Keeping the Enterprise's time - travelling interloper from preventing the potential collapse of this time, given the recency of her own ill fated sojourn to an alternate twenty first century Toronto, felt like nothing short of a backhand across the face. A cosmic joke. Only there was no punchline, no amusing payoff. In its stead, there was only the still - too crisp recollection of Khan, a mass murderer in the making, no more than eight years old, cowering behind a laboratory bed with the same terror in his eyes that had existed in her own when her family had been slain. Only the cold concrete under her knees as the other James Kirk's blood had spilled out onto it, viscous and terrifyingly plentiful between her fingers — and how, for a collective of hours fraught with so much uncertainty, her mark of Cain hadn't meant anything. How, for that negligible moment, she'd almost felt like somebody else.

Boimler couldn't possibly understand what that felt like. No one could.

" One, " La'an began, without any inkling of preamble — nothing that could prompt further questioning or an inadvertent, potentially perilous interjection from her fellow officer. " No interfering with past events. " A self explanatory rule, but not entirely fool proof. Evidently. " Two, no sharing — future knowledge, yes. Last, and perhaps most important... don't make any attachments. "

' I'm actually not familiar with that one. Is that a recent addition? '

Endearing as Boimler's earnestness should have been, La'an could only swallow, flex her fingers against the outer stripes of her uniform pants, and scrape at the bottom of her barren wellspring for some nonexistent hope that, some day soon, thinking about that time ( forty eight hours; Two paltry days that should never have happened in the first place that had taken the defensive walls she'd built up against the past and cracked them with a battering ram, only to set what was on the other side ablaze ) would get easier. " Well, yeah, no, it — it's advice, from... personal experience. "

' Wait wait wait wait. does that mean... you've time travelled too? '

Holding herself steadfast, the stoicism she'd made every attempt to hold onto like a mask, like a lifeline slipping for only a fragment of a moment, La'an crushed the truth and its unknowable litany of consequences between the grinding clench of her molars. She'd divulged too much already. Left too many breadcrumbs. If she'd had to bury the recent past, and her James with it, knowing that she'd never possess the liberty to breathe a word until her dying day, not even to Una, she couldn't keep unearthing it.

" One small change here, we won't feel anything, " she affixed, the only way she could: straightforwardly, without embellishment. " Yet... it could destroy your future. Your friends, loved ones. " Everything. One errant murmur of an anecdote from a century in the future, and everything could change, be augmented irreparably, perhaps for the worse, and he'd never know just how profoundly or how far the damage had spread. He'd never know for certain what or who he might have lost.

#trekmade #ltnsingh ; asks #; don't make any attachments. / la'an & boimler #/ I promised novels... and I come bearing novels

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greenninjagal-blog · 2 years

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Here Come the Sun (pt1)

Sometimes I have aus in my archives for so long I can’t even think of something witty to put at the beginning of them. Anyway! Have a new fic!

Summary: Virgil used to dream about being a hero, but the combination of his best friend's and his lives being at stake forces him to do some things good guys don't do and, well... that sort of thing doesn't seem to be in the cards anymore. However, he also didn't count on the guy he was sent to kidnap being Patton Hart.

Words: 4606

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws

Read on AO3 || My General Writing Master List

Chapter One: Windy

The truth is Virgil Storm knew that he was going down a dark path long before it ever came to kidnapping the heir to a multimillion dollar cross country railway company. The writings had been on the walls, on the ground, carved in his skin from the moment he had first realized that no one was going to love that rain cloud over his head.

He’d tried. Virgil had tried for a while! Really gave it his best shot, he swears! But in the end, food costs money and people hate when he stays around for extended periods of time and he had gotten sick of finding knives in his back (literally).

So he’s not a good person anymore. And he knows it even now while he’s threading down the cobblestone streets that usually would have been pedestrian only on a borrowed magic cycle, listening to the music of the rain landing and skillfully avoiding the puddles as he goes about his job, albeit at a slower pace than he really should.

He’d heard rumors that Magnolia was a bright and sunny place to be; Remus had come back from trashing Star Burst’s guild hall complaining about the cheerful people and the cloudless sky and how the sun had heated up his piercings and chains uncomfortably. It’s fitting that Virgil’s own trip to the town has been herald by thunderstorms.

Even with his poncho hood up, Virgil’s bangs are soaking wet and his jeans are plastered to his legs from the angle of the rain. He’s cold, as usual, always cold, and it makes him wonder after that allusive feeling of warmth that Remus talks about sometimes.

He understands it in theory: He can make water boil with a thought for tea when Remus’s inhuman immune system finally succumbs after three days of non stop traveling in the rain, he’s gotten close enough to fire for his body to start sizzling, and, of course, there’s that feeling of tingly-ness he gets when Remus tackles him in hugs after rolling around in the mud, despite his frantic yelling for him not to.

But come on, Remus said there was a giant orb in the sky made of fire that makes everyone feel that tingly feeling when they're out under it. It sounds completely made up! If everyone didn't have the same delusion, Virgil wouldn't have believed him at all.

But, to be fair, it's also not his fault he's never seen the sun.

After all, it's not like he asked to be born. He came into the world kicking and screaming and his cries had caused lightning to hit the hospital, rains to pelt the windows, thunder to boom.

“Inherent magic,” the doctors said. “One of the strongest cases we’ve ever seen! He’s a weather witch!”

And really after twenty years of hearing that repeatedly, it feels like a cosmic joke. He’s not a weather witch; the only thing he’s managed to do is make it rain harder. Not that anyone has ever believed him when he says it.

He learned quickly to hide himself away when the other kids at the orphanage got restless from weeks inside and the abundance of rain because they liked to take their frustrations out on him. When he started travelling the country, he got used to the cursing of passersby caught in the sudden rain that followed him around. His first crush called him gloomy, his second called him dreary, the third told him to pick one to stay, him or the rain and that night Virgil had found out that he can’t drown no matter how much he tries.

But Remus... Virgil doesn’t know where he’d be without Remus. It’s a double edged sword masquerading as a question; what would have become of Virgil if he hadn’t come to town at the same time as Remus had been leaving, and Virgil is a coward by nature so he avoids thinking about it too hard.

They had run into each other about four towns away, both of them just shy of eighteen and Virgil ghosting through the city alone, lone, lonely because his rain had driven everyone else inside. Remus had nearly bowled him over, in the middle of jumping in the puddles like he was getting paid to do it. He’d splashed Virgil and then when Virgil had snapped at him, he’d grabbed Virgil by his poncho and pulled him into another puddle face first.

With a mouth full of sharpened teeth and a laugh that sounded like he’d been eating industrial nails, Remus had managed to make Virgil smile for probably the first time ever.

Remus is like a candle, unafraid of the way that Virgil's always doused every flame he’s come across, accidentally or not. He’s loud, he’s unconventional, and he’s absolutely insane.

It had taken Virgil a while to understand why the locals called him “The Building Eater” but after watching Remus nearly unhinge his jaw and take a bite out of the steel frame of a half constructed building they were walking by with no warning at all….well it started to make sense. With his red eyes blazing with mischief and his tendency to create chaos just for his own entertainment, Virgil could see why anyone would call Remus crazy and run away screaming.

But Virgil had also seen Remus on late nights, half a barrel of wine gone, and his smile falling to something more lost and sad as they sat alone at the bar counter after having terrified the bar owner out of the building for the night.

“I don’t do friends,” Remus said once with the rain tap, tap, tapping on the windows behind them. “No point in it. Everyone leaves in the end anyway.”

“What a coincidence!” Virgil had responded, far more drunk than he’d ever meant to be because wine and water mix extremely well and somehow he always forgets that. “Hey, what’s your opinion on the rain?”

Virgil knows what it’s like to be sad and lost and alone. It's not a feeling he'd wish on anyone, especially not someone like Remus, who never once asked him to turn off the rain, who tilts his head upwards into the drizzle with a smile, who jumps in puddles and throws mud at anyone who says the downpour was ruining their day.

Everyone leaves, but not Virgil, but not Remus. They made a pact and however drunken it was, Virgil doesn’t go back on his word.

Which is why he’s in Magnolia. Kidnapping a guy.

For Remus.

Virgil blows out a breath and the rain thickens just a bit. The puddles are starting to flood the street, which is unfortunate, because he doesn’t think that the shop owners around here have flooding insurance. If there hadn’t been a startling lack of rain for the past few weeks, the river that flows through the middle of the famed merchant city would have already hit the flooding mark and he’d be driving through more than just a centimeter of water.

If he wasn’t out of here in thirty minutes there was a good chance he wasn’t going to be leaving at all. And he was pretty sure the excuse of “Oh I have negative emotions about doing legally wrong things” was not going to fly with anyone if that happened.

He hopes that Remus is having a good time, because he’s very much not.

Once upon a time he had dreamed of joining Star Burst, of wearing that bright star shaped guild mark on his chest, of having billions of friends and taking on exciting jobs to help people all over the country and then coming back to a safe and welcoming home. But then again, who hadn’t dreamed of such a thing? Even the orphanage caretaker had a subscription to Sorcerer’s Weekly which kept a ranking of all the magic guilds in the country and personal interviews with members from the more popular ones. Virgil used to sneak reads of the magazines before she had caught him and told him that he should maybe aim a little lower than the nation’s top magic guild since he couldn’t even control his own magic and he was nearing twelve. After he hit the road, he had snuck looks at a couple news stands, just to keep up to date.

Thomas Sanders led the guild, having founded it from the ground up when he realized that the other magic guilds in the area didn’t click with him. He had a heart warming interview a few years ago about “a sense of belonging and family” being the central idea of his guild which Virgil had cut out and then drowned in a puddle until the paper had dissolved into sludge. Despite the sentimentality of their leader, the guild had quickly grown into the most powerful, most out-of-control magic guild ever.

People liked to joke that the Magic Council formed specifically to keep Star Burst in line. It had always struck Virgil as odd about how many countless times that Thomas had willingly gone head-to-head in the court to defend his members, much less how many more times he came out victoriously. Virgil knows that his own guildmaster would never, and even on his worst days, Virgil's monsoons had caused a lot less property damage than Star Burst had in their endeavors.

((For example: just a few months ago, during a job reportedly where they were supposed to deliver a package to someone at the top of a mountain that was bordered by somewhat dangerous Vulcans, several Star Burst members ended up stumbling on a secret Dark Magic Guild by the name of Cosmic Dust that had been experimenting on the local fauna with magic rituals, which the Star Burst members interrupted and caused a seventy foot tall raging plant monster to emerge and decimate four other mountains before somehow being stopped. Three different towns came together to applaud them for a job well done.

That same week, Virgil and Remus were hired to fight lizardmen in an underground sewer system and they nearly got fined for blocking the water system for three hours while they hunted down the last of the creatures.))

Thomas Sanders is charismatic, personable, amicable. When Virgil was a kid, he dreamed that Thomas would suddenly get this urge to adopt kids and that Virgil would somehow catch his eyes and Thomas would look at him with that just… stupidly kind expression and his thunderstorms would magically melt away and prove that it was never anything wrong with him.

Not that anything like that ever happened. Now it’s just an embarrassing memory: Thomas is just a guy, not some miracle worker and Virgil is tragedy incarnate, not something an average guy can fix.

But it helped that Thomas is one of the top ten most powerful mages in the entire world, wielding Celestial magic that allows him to call for aid from the beings of the constellations themselves. All that and it’s still without having any of the so-called most powerful gold keys; he redefined the world of holder-type magic by using the “lower powered” keys to build himself up into what he was.

Or at least that’s what the papers say. Virgil’s an inherent magic type, as is Remus. Their magic both originates from their bodies in strong enough bursts to form their own attacks and the idea of having conduit keys or cards or books or anything to focus their powers just sounds ridiculous.

But hey, if it works, it works, Virgil guesses. Thomas is considered formidable enough that Virgil is pretty sure if he ever came face to face with the guy, he’d probably explode into a puddle, kind smiles or not. He’s number one on the list of people that Virgil doesn’t want to have to fight, and considering that Magnolia is the home of the Star Burst Magic Guild, and Virgil is about to kidnap one of their mages… the possibility of facing off with their leader is greater than the usual zero probability Virgil likes to keep it at.

He hopes desperately that everything has been going according to plan with everyone else. Guildmaster Clay had told him that his target was likely going to be the only one that remained behind when Star Burst struck out for vengeance against Remus’s attack on their empty guildhall and subsequent hospitalization of two of the main healers from the guild, but in Virgil’s experience people’s minds can change just as easily as the weather can go from sunny to thunderstorms. If his target isn’t there he’s going to be screwed. If someone other than his target is there he’s also screwed.

Not that he can’t take another person in a fight. The Guildmaster said to be quiet and quick and if they wanted a lot of noise about this job… well anyone else from the guild probably would have been sent.

Virgil takes the next corner faster than he probably should, skidding through a puddle, and feeling the water drip down his poncho, sliding off the waterproof surface and flying off into the empty air behind him. Thunder rumbles overhead like a dissatisfied customer, but no lightning yet, which is comforting if only because it means he’s got a little bit of control over his own emotions. He eases off the accelerator, flexing his stiff fingers in their waterproof gloves, and shifting his boots against the foot rests, as he ready his brakes.

Part of him hopes that maybe the info had been wrong; maybe this guy had actually been with the rest of the guild in a last minute switch! Maybe the rumors about Remus had freaked him out and he skipped town last night, never to be seen again. Maybe Virgil drove all the way out here, memorized the whole city layout, and spent all this time agonizing over doing this, all for nothing!

But as soon as he thinks it, he turns the last corner and glances up at the building that some of the Star Burst members have been set up in while repairs of the guildhall are discussed. There are lights on in the window, shading half the street in soft yellow light.

Virgil sighs, coming to a stop right outside the door. He takes one moment to glance up at the darkening sky, wishing that Remus was here, and then he peels off the magic cycle SE plug that powers it. Part of his arm is buzzing nervously in a way that feels remarkable like having electricity shot through him (which unfortunately Virgil knows what that feels like). He shakes it off and heads for the front door.

Locks and Virgil had a questionable relationship at best: he understood that locks were meant to keep people out, or other people in, but considering the number of times that the other kids in the orphanage had locked him in a closet to get him to stop the rain, or the orphanage head had locked him in his room to make sure the other boys could do something worse to him, or that he hadn’t been able to pay for a room at the local hotel when he needed just a bed to sleep in for the night….Virgil had gotten used to by passing all sorts of locks with barely a thought.

After all, what were locks when Virgil’s body could condense into puddles on command? The gap between the door and the doorframe was near negligible, but he slips under and finds himself standing in a cute foyer, his poncho dripping sadly onto the rug.

If it weren't for the ache in his collarbone he could have pretended he was coming back home after a grueling but successful job as a mediocre mage that everyone at least somewhat respected. One of the Good Guys, with capital G’s who never had to do anything illegal and didn’t lie awake at night thinking about the possibility of dying tomorrow.

((Virgil’s doing great. Thanks for asking.))

It’s quiet inside, nearly silent if it weren’t for the rhythmic sound of rain hitting the outside of the building, dancing on the window panes, drumming on the roof itself to be heard. If Virgil listens faintly he can even hear the humming from upstairs and the accompanying footsteps that cause the ceiling to creak and groan. Virgil reaches behind himself and flicks the lock knob to open in case things go poorly, although he doubts it’s going to.

It doesn’t take him long to show himself around: the building is really only made for maybe three people although he thinks that four have been living there since Remus wrecked the guild hall where most of them lived. There are pictures on the walls of various members that Virgil recognizes from magazines and framed photos of people that Virgil thinks they might have helped over the one year that he’s been at the guild. They all look stunningly happy and pleased and Virgil drags his gaze away before the guilt in his stomach makes him throw up or the jealousy in his lungs makes him drench the whole apartment.

The pantry is decently stocked for the amount of people that must live there and Virgil helps himself to a granola bar that he likes and shuffles over to the kitchen drawers. It takes him a few minutes to find the one with the silverware, but he grabs all the spoons they have and stuffs them in his pockets for Remus to delight over later. There are sticky notes around the kitchen with little reminders and a few recipes that someone was trying out, a large sign on the microwave to “Logan” about it being a food microwave and not a science one. A bowl of fruit is on the counter with fresh yellow apples.

Virgil snags one as he walks by replacing it with his granola bar wrapper, heading towards the living room which has a cute little news lacrima and several bookshelves. The couch is covered in blankets and pillows and a suitcase sits packed by the side out of the way, confirming the idea that there’s an extra person staying there for the time being, but who had cleared out with the other occupants to avenge the despicable act done against them and their pride. Virgil tries his best not to roll his eyes at their predictability.

Instead he takes a bite out of his apple, skimming over the book titles in an attempt to slow his rapidly beating heart. Lightning flashes outside, followed by a grumble of thunder so loud it shakes the house.

In a way, it reminds Virgil of Remus’s laughter, the heavy and deep noise that’s also boisterous and booming. It’s a comfort, not that Virgil would ever stoop so low as to tell Remus that; he could just imagine all the ways that Remus would think to terrorize him with the incessant mocking.

The books are mostly magic books: scholarly textbooks that define different types of magics, a few demonology encyclopedias, and at least three versions of a scientific journal covering the ideas of parallel universes. A few of them are more well loved than others, and Virgil can tell by the number of creases in the spines and markers between the pages. He’s never been interested in learning different types of magic like these books seem to promote, but Virgil thinks he has the same copy of “History of Arcana for Dummies” in his chest back at the guild. He takes another bite out of his apple as he plucks the book from the shelf to see what the members of Star Burst have to say about the Water Magic chapter and then--

“Oh!” A voice behind him says. “Hello!”

Virgil whips around biting his tongue instead of the apple piece in his mouth and nearly choking in the same movement. He hadn’t realized the humming from upstairs had gotten drowned out by his rain until he comes face-to-face with the owner of the humming himself, standing in the kitchen apparently finished with whatever task he’d been doing upstairs.

The picture hadn’t done Patton Hart justice.

The picture, of course, had been a few years old and Patton hadn’t been smiling at all; his professional monkey suit and the glossy covers of the picture had made him look like an untouchable doll in a display case, to be shown off but never played with. The smile had been practiced and courtly and looked so rich that Virgil’s teeth had set on edge. He had looked like the type of guy who’s emotions were store bought.

Now he looks nothing like that picture. In fact, Virgil thinks he looks like an actual person: cheap factory made clothes, knee high cat themed socks and shoes that had seen their way through at least three hiking trips based on the scoffs. His knees each had a brightly colored band aid on them and his arms had an array of braided friendship bracelets made with care and precision and something else equally foreign to Virgil.

Honestly, Virgil wouldn’t have even pegged him as a mage if it weren’t for the hip packs that held his deck of magic cards and the star shaped guild mark on his right hand.

And if it weren’t for the freckles and the bright blue eyes, Virgil might not have even recognized him as the runaway heir. ((Virgil wishes he had run a little further than just seven towns away, and that he’d maybe even used a different name when he was hiding. Come on, man.))

“Oh dear!” Patton says as a sheet of rain slams against the walls of the house from all sides. “Did you slip in here trying to get out of this storm? You poor thing, you’re soaking wet! Here, let me get you some dry clothes before you catch a cold. I can put on some tea to warm you up--”

The idiot didn’t even reach for that deck of cards at the sight of an unknown, possibly dangerous stranger in his home. Virgil doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“Just so you know,” Virgil says, cutting into the kind babbling, “I am really sorry about this.”

Patton blinks at him from behind those black glasses. His eyes are so innocent and naive and “Hmm? Sorry about what? Breaking in? I’m sure it's just a misun--”

“Waterlock.”

At Virgil’s focus and spell, the floor under Patton bursts into the familiar magic circle spell, glistening with his deep sea indigo-blue color and flooding the room in the sudden light. Water explodes from everywhere: the command pulling droplets from the air, dragging the rain from outside under the door, the pipes groan and ache where the faucets burst and it all crashes down on Patton without a warning, wrapping him up in a sphere of unbreakable water.

The Star Burst member’s mouth opens to scream reflectively, but the water just pours down his throat and strangles his lungs. He thrashes against the lock, and Virgil watches somewhat guiltily.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says again. “Don’t fight it, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m really sorry about this.”

Lightning strikes outside, and the lights in the house flicker threatening to plunge them into darkness. Patton fumbles for his cards, but Virgil’s been drowning people since he was sixteen.

“It’s like falling asleep,” he says, as Patton goes limp and three of his cards float aimlessly in the sphere next to him. “It’s like a really bad way to fall asleep. I’m so sorry. But it’s going to be okay. I swear.”

He lets the spell drop, and catches the weakly coughing Patton in his arms before he can hit the ground. The heir tries to push him away, but he’s too weak in the end to do much more than slump over, spitting out water, and let Virgil hold him while he wipes the area clean of those droplets that don't belong there.

“That’s it,” he murmurs softly. “Go to sleep.”

Patton makes a pitiful noise that sounds like him fighting it, but he’s unconscious before it forms actual words that can stab Virgil through his bleeding heart. Virgil sets him carefully on the floor, running his hands through the air over him to pull the water from his clothes and his hair. He takes one last bite of his apple before dropping it and the book on the bookshelf and getting out the rope from his small hip pouch.

Tying up the Star Burst member is unfortunately very easy. He doesn't stir at all while Virgil maneuvers his arms behind his back and begins the knots that he’s decently practiced in. Making sure that the bonds aren’t too tight, but still prevent him from moving, Virgil leans back and unhooks the hip bags that contain his cards and leaves them on the sofa, because the last thing he needs is for Patton to somehow get out and manage to get his cards and force Virgil to actually fight him.

Also Virgil doesn’t try to be an asshole. Card Magic isn’t technically inherent, but even Virgil knows it’s tradition to pass down cards from from generation to generation. If they made it back to the guild it was likely someone would appropriate them for some quick cash, and Virgil feels bad enough about this as it is.

He sighs, checking the clock in the kitchen. He knows that he’s cutting his window for the kidnapping close (“Quick and Quiet”), but he’s also not a monster, so he takes the time to find the closet and picks out a raincoat that looks like it would fit Patton and secures it over the guys back, flipping the hood up to cover his dirty blond curls.

“Sorry,” He says one last time, as he picks up the heir. “Really, if I had another choice I would have done that. I swear.”

Patton probably doesn’t care, and definitely won’t in the future when he realizes what exactly is going on here. Part of Virgil aches for the narrative that Patton had thought was going on: that he was just a traveler caught in the storm having gotten turned around and lost and walked into the first place he found for solace. Tea with Patton sounded like it would have been lovely, homey, and cozy in a way that Virgil had never experienced before-- a dream that he had spent most of his teen years wishing would actually happen when he crawled his way into a new city.

He opens the front door to the house and carefully steps out into the rain again, making sure to regulate his internal water temperature to something he thinks might be “warm” enough to keep Patton from freezing on their journey.

His magic cycle is waiting patiently and Virgil sets both of them up gently with Patton sitting in his lap, with Patton resting against his chest, sleeping soundly with the rain hitting the hood of his jacket softly. Virgil straps on the SE plug again, hits the ignition, and swings back into the road, back the way that he had come into town without a single person peeking out of their curtains.

“For Remus,” Virgil whispers to himself. “Rule Four, for Remus.”

Luckily there’s still a two hour drive to Chimera Tongue’s Secondary Guild Hall, and Virgil can spend all of it imagining the faces of Patton’s friends when they come back to find him missing without a trace.

[Next Chapter]

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #fairy tail #because I have no self control #kidnapping #drowning #Virgil is a water mage #Patton is a card mage

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russianshavefun · 3 years

Text

How and why people live above the Arctic Circle?

Many people have fixed in their minds an image of the Arctic Circle. It is a harsh and dangerous place, covered with a thick layer of snow, the people there are desperate, few of them and they are friends with the bears. But what is really going on there, in the land of permafrost?

Why do people live there if it is so cold and harsh?

It was the opportunity to earn money that made many people move beyond the Arctic Circle. Today the inhabitants of the Far North receive supplements to their wages, which are called polar explorers.

The prerequisite for getting the polar bonus is the length of residence in the Far North. An employee coming to work from a warm land will have to make do with a single salary at first. Nothing extra is accrued for one-time payments like holiday bonuses.

What North is considered the Far North?

The Far North in Russia is the territory located beyond the Arctic Circle. It includes all the islands of the Arctic Ocean, as well as the islands of the Bering and Okhotsk Seas. It includes Murmansk and Magadan Regions, Chukotka and Nenets Autonomous Regions, and Kamchatka Territory.

How do people live?

The life of people depends on the weather.

In the North there is a concept of an "active day" when it is forbidden to go out because of frost or strong winds.

Every schoolboy's morning begins with listening to the radio: they announce the same "activations".

Students study in all kinds of weather, and working people work.

All these disadvantages are not felt so much, as the air is dry and it is quite real to move around the streets, the main thing is to dress warmly.

Worse with airports: store shelves can be completely empty if "the airport is running on actual weather," which in Nordic terms means: "The weather is not flying, waiting for supplies."

In the Far North, all food is imported, so food prices are very high compared to other regions. The markup on fruits and vegetables is simply cosmic.

But there are also good local products: dairy products, bread, meat and fish. Hunters and fishermen are the people who will not let an ordinary resident of the North die of hunger. They do not depend on airports. If food is not delivered from the sky, i.e. airports are closed, the residents immediately switch to everything local.

Is it possible to drive a car?

As the northerners say, you can leave your car at home - it's hard to find it later. If the temperature drops below -40 ... -45 ° C, the engines simply do not turn off: the cars are running and waiting.

*When you digged someone else's car

The panacea is a heated garage, but not everyone has this luxury. If a driver hasn't prepared his car for winter and it breaks down somewhere on the highway, he will have to make a fire from the seats and eat snow. Joke. Surely other drivers will stop to help. The responsiveness of northerners is not a stereotype, but a habit to survive in harsh conditions.

There is enough transport in the North. But for everyday life it is better to choose a car with big wheels: the roads can be very badly covered with snow.

Winter comes, a long night comes.

During the polar night it is useless to look out the window: it is still impossible to determine the time of day. So it is recommended to have a watch with you. The sun comes out for a couple of hours a day and weakly tries to shine through the fog, the rest of the time it is dark. But this darkness on the streets is not frightening: there is a lot of white snow around, in which the streetlights are displayed. Romantic, in general, but it is better to look at this beauty from a warm house.

And then comes the polar day.

The advertised white nights of St. Petersburg can never compare to the white nights at the Arctic Circle, where the sun never sets in the summer.

You can only sleep with the blinds closed or with a blindfold over your eyes. By the way, in summer, people become more active and sociable.

Children can safely be outside at 2-3 in the morning, families walk at that time with small children in strollers. And all because it's sunny!

Summer is an unpredictable thing.

If you go to work in the morning in a sweater, in the evening you can already walk around in a light shirt. June morning +7 ° C in the afternoon may turn into +27 ° C, and in the evening again falls to the usual +7 ° C. So a summer coat is absolutely normal. It may snow in the summer. And the fact that it may not melt by summer is completely normal.

*Children in Norilsk on their summer break

But sometimes in the summer it is so hot that people go to the beach, to the shore of their cold river. As the northerners say, you can swim before it gets hard.

People in the North have really long vacations. Sometimes even four months.

Residents of the Far North have a number of advantages compared to the rest of Russia: the wage increment, vacation twice as much - at least 2 months a year.

But to leave the North is a big problem. It is possible to get to the Big Land only by plane. "Air tickets" - how much pain there is in this word. To get to where you want to go, you still have to fly to any big city first and plan how to go from there.

That's why vacation days in the North are allowed to save up. Many people take 2-3 years' vacation and are absent from work for 4-6 months at a time. To learn how to work during this time is quite real. It's not 10 days at the sea and back to the office.

There are no trees (and no mosquitoes or snakes!)

Ordinary trees, so habitual to any inhabitant of the south or middle zone of Russia, are absent here. Few plants can adapt to the conditions of permafrost. This is the tundra.

Northern Lights do exist and locals observe them quite often.

#north #russian culture #russia #russian #far northwest side #polar bear #arctic #culture #speak russian #amazing facts #polarr #polar lights #murmansk #norilsk #russian north #siberia

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