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sillovn · 10 months

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Adventures of Jolain 1/1: The Gelmir Rant

Short journal - this one is bad. The brief adventures of Jolain the Brimstone aka. Shitty Grandma, the worst build Ive made.

Awhile back, I read a post about how the Carian Family all represented a celestial body. Rennala the Moon, Ranni the Dark Moon, Radhan the Meteors and for Rykard ~ the very world itself.

Inspired, I decided to make a magma sorcery build. Even worse, I commited to a fire damage only gimmick. Yes - fire damage sorcery only. And boy, is this character terrible.

1. Background

Sorcerors tend to have stone related names - Glintstone for the academy's worthy. Bluntstone for the unworthy. Therefore - Brimstone for a magma sorceror.

Faith was the chosen damage stat as it was the only way to scale fire on attack (flame art infusion) and spell damage (Staff of the Guilty).

Gelmir Staff would be better, but its too rare.

Gelmir spells face 2 main problems - poor damage and slow speed. This weakness is not innately a deal breaker - unless the entire build IS gelmir spells. Theres also the problem of how limited our arsenal is - a fire only sorceror has 4 spells and a handful weapon arts.

Ended up benching the character ~RL90. Problem solving with her was simply draining - low power level + limited combat tools is a real fun killer.

2. Summary

1. General combat boiled down to 1 main spell (Roiling Magma), Flaming Strike WA and weapon fundamentals. Essentially, a Flame Art fighter that sometimes throw a landmine. 2. Trying to squeeze out spell damage (physicks, scorpion talisman etc.) did not give any good result (eg. charged Magma Shot has comparable damage to a jumping heavy on small weapons). Simply drawing a weapon and hitting things was the better option in almost all cases. 3. There is 1 interesting combo (PVE only); kite an enemy over the Roiling Magma 'landmine' and Flame Strike as it explodes for burst - but thats it. 4. in many ways the pain here is self-inflicted, by choosing an unusual damage type (fire), in a school with limited spells (gelmir) and with a stat for which staff options are poor (faith). 5. Main takeaway is combat options and a good 'feel' playstyle is important to me. One of the reasons why I dont enjoy 'X weapon only' runs or builds that stack buffs to combo-burst enemies. 6. For future builds, I need to be aware if a build idea is just rotten. Issues started to show ~mid-game; trying to brute force with levels and upgrades didn't change the playstyle being limited.

3. The Rant

While the build was a failure, I need to talk about the Gelmir magic school for abit. This school has a few distinct properties...

Fire damage sorcery

Int/Fth, req. low fth + high int.

Lingering lava pools

Slow cast times

Long range + arcing projectiles

Decent poise damage for spells

The idea here seems to have been 'big casts, explosive impacts' - Wizard artillery essentially. In practice, the game offers much better options for artillery in the form of ballistae and other spells (eg. Cannon of Haima).

Can be argued that fire damage gives options vs magic resistance - but Gelmir spells are not suited to direct spam due to slow speed as well as reasons unique to each spell. You can't just spam enemies from afar as with glintstone school.

This, along with lava pools mean that Gelmir spells care most about raw impact.

Due to how defense works - multiple small hits are less effectice than a single equivalent big hit. Lava pool burn is poor until late-game (~280 staff scaling seems to be the point where its notable)

This then brings up staff choice - At 80 int rennala also has significantly more scaling that Gelmir at 40/40 int/fth. Same is true of academy staff at 70. Gelmir staff is only competitive vs pure int staves at 60 int.

Now for the individual spells...

Magma Shot

Magma Shot dares ask the question - "what if a throwing pot costs 16 fp".

With lockon, the range and accuracy is awful. Manual aim fixes this but runs into a different problem - hitbox and impact explosion is very small. Expect it to fly through enemies harmlessly or explode near their feet with no effect. Damage is also very unimpressive if it hits.

Has a niche of cheap but weak artillery. Problem is that long range bombardments need splash to be good. IMO, a mid-point between explosive impact and precision has limited use.

Roiling Magma

The landmine has great impact on paper, though landing this in active combat is hard. The game is fast, the spell is slow and the explosion is modest. Compared with the other big explosive spells like Haima Cannon - its very mediocre.

Does allow for some intresting PVE - clearing dungeons via. 'stealth bombing'.

The landmine will 'fizzle' on many surfaces - such as breakable objects. This includes things like pillars that only big enemies can smash.

Gelmir's Fury

Has the niche of being the best way to flood a wide area with lava. Strangely, its strongest property is a weird (maybe bugged?) hitbox - very commonly deals burst damage to enemies that don't appear to be hit by the spell.

Rykard's Rancor

Not a commonly used or particularly strong spell, but its fair IMO. Found 3 common uses.

Screen flooding in PvP

Crowd-control, can kite large groups though the flames.

Multi-hitting large foes.

Only complaint is that it doesn't free aim well - Rykard himself uses a variant that travels in a simple big arc.

Final Thoughts

Despite all this, I do like Gelmir spells alot. They are situational tools and not straight replacements to melee combat - which is preferable to *some other* schools we shall not name.

Biggest issue is the small hitbox and poor aim on Magma Shot. That and Roiling Magma 'fizzling out' on a large number of surfaces.

#elden ring #elden ring builds #build journal

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

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IRS leaks reveal billions reaped through ultra-wealthy lobbying on the tax bill

The latest in Propublica’s Secret IRS Files reporting is a crossover episode, combining leaked tax-returns of America’s ultrawealthy with campaign contribution data to reveal the incredible return on investment the rich reaped from Trump’s Tax Scam.

https://www.propublica.org/article/secret-irs-files-reveal-how-much-the-ultrawealthy-gained-by-shaping-trumps-big-beautiful-tax-cut

You may remember how Trump’s “Tax Cuts and Jobs Act” (AKA the “big, beautiful tax-cut”) was a shambles of amendments and annotations, whose final draft was literally covered in hand-scribbled changes that handed millions to donors.

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/2017/12/02/handwriting-wall-and-page-senate-passes-tax-bill/915957001/

The new Propublica report quantifies the effect of those last-minute changes, and also reveals their causes — the handful of one-percenters who bankrolled senators like Senator Ron Johnson with $20m in campaign funds and reaped $215m back in just the first year of the tax cuts.

Johnson stunned fellow Republican senators by announcing that he would not support the tax bill, then pressed them to add the provision that allowed three people — owners of Uline and roofing magnate Diane Hendricks — to pocket $215m in one year, with more every year since.

Uline’s Dick and Liz Uihlein and Hendricks stand to make more than $500m from Johnson’s amendment, which created deductions for “pass-through entities.” Johnson claims he did this to “simplify and rationalize the tax code” and help a wide range of business owners.

But Johnson’s pass-through rule overwhelming benefits a tiny number of people, most of them major donors to his campaign. These are donors who met with Johnson extensively in the runup to the introduction of his bill.

All told, the major beneficiaries of Trump’s tax bill were just 82 households, who pocketed $1 billion in benefits. Many of the beneficiaries are the children or grandchildren of successful businesspeople, who owe their wealth to an accident of birth.

The US system doesn’t just allocate billions to people on the basis of which orifice they emerge from — it provides a vast range of bespoke services to allow orifice-tycoons to maintain their fortunes, including accounting magic and lobbying might.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/19/dynastic-wealth/#caste

Take the mysterious, anonymous addition of eight words to the final draft of the tax bill: “applied without regard to the words ‘engineering, architecture.’”

No one knows who inserted this text, but it produced $111m in additional wealth for orifice tycoons Brendan, Darren and Katherine Bechtel, the great-grandchildren of the founder of Bechtel. Their father, cousins and other relations also benefited.

While no one knows for sure who added these 8 words, a Bechtel lobbyist called Marc Gerson claimed credit for it. The Bechtel lobbying effort cost $1m. The return on that investment, again, was more than $111m. Why make things when you can make laws?

Bechtel is a curious enterprise: for generations, it firehosed cash on anti-tax extremist politicians and thinktanks — yet the entire Bechtel fortune comes from government contracts.

Today, CEO Brendan Bechtel leads the corporate charge against Biden’s infrastructure plan.

The Propublica investigation matched other major donors to specific tax-breaks. Donald Bren, who owns the massive Southern California Irvine Corporation, pocketed $22m after hiring Ernst & Young lobbyist Wes Coulam to go to bat for him.

Real Estate Investment Trust (REIT) tycoon Steven Roth spent $5m lobbying for a 20% deduction on REIT dividends. The change lets him deduct $5m/year on the dividends from his company, Vornado Realty Trust.

The heirs of Enterprise Product Partners, a Houston-based pipeline company, pocketed $150m from a pipeline-specific amendment introduced at the last moment by Senator John Cornyn.

They’re the 11th richest family in America — and their family pumped a fortune into Cornyn’s campaigns through industry association cutouts.

Everyone who voted for the tax bill knew that it was a conspiracy to benefit a tiny number of people at the expense of the vast majority. Treasury economists say that 60% of the tax bill’s benefit went to the 1%, and the majority of that went to the 0.1%.

I am not a believer in the Great Man Theory of History. Our world changes because of broad-based political will and grassroots organizing.

But stories like this are enough to make me believe in the Shitty Man Theory of History.

That’s the theory that while improving the world is a cooperative, mass effort, destroying it is easy for a handful of immoral sociopaths — ultrawealthy looters, orifice tycoons, and enablers in the House and Senate.

In America’s state religion, “business acumen” and “political effectiveness” are code for the dead-eyed, pathological absence of empathy and conscience, and the cynicism to turn those deficits into billions.

#pluralistic

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wistfulrat · 3 years

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a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[ for my fellow fledgling drarry stans! the drama list is here and, well. like i didn’t initially intend to go off in the mini-reviews beneath every rec but it’s just that you can't nOT yell about drarry as classic literary foils!! also it’s my dumb sideblog so i decided there are no rules and i get to be annoying about good writing.

but rly, the whole premise of the drarry pairing is shaped by this genre and if the ~serious world of serious published writers~ weren’t absolute cowards, they would admit that drama fic authors have contributed more to the genre than the average shit you can find at your local chain bookstore. so that's that on thAT. & if you love a fic here, don't forget to follow the authors, leave kudos & comments on their work, send them nice msgs bc they do all this shit for free xoxo ]

part 2: dramas

mood: for when I need emotional catharsis and maybe 7 hours to sob/brood about loneliness, the cost of love, & the perpetual fear of being truly known

includes: angst, hurt/comfort, reconciliation fics. it’s cruelty o’clock folks and someone is about to say/do something Fucked Up that they can’t take back. but don’t worry!! there will be a Reckoning feat. hamlet-worthy monologues, ugly truths, unbridled rage, trauma, insecurity, and just a fuck ton of tears!! but maybe even tender apologies and mended things.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil - 36k - E | Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected. | --- can a fic be tender and unflinching at the same time? bc this story strikes that balance rly well and for a piece about unwantedness, it is incredibly humanizing. ginny holding her own, draco being gentle but not letting harry play victim, hermione calling harry “hazzah” and just the way this friendship insists on the validity of found families even when harry is spiraling?? and you’re forced to consider that no one has the monopoly on fucked-upness and that doesn’t absolve us of the ways we hurt each other but it means that everyone has the same potential to be better after being broken. goD JUST READ IT, OKAY.

Blood Magic, the series by @houseofhebrideanblacks and @thestralsofspinnersend 335k - E “Later that night. . .Draco wondered at the depths of magic, its breadth and scope. The ways in which life pervades and eludes death, the ways in which they endure all manners of small and large deaths within their lives.” -- if you don't read any other fic on this list, i hope you read this series bc holy shit it’s breathtaking. harry’s a recovering addict, draco’s recovering from abuse, and in a cottage within the forbidden forest begins an unlikely partnership as the boys take up the tedious work of healing. there are thestrals and everyone's in therapy. there are whole chapters of cottagecore drarry. it's a beautiful exploration of how we bare the immensity of loss against the miracles of birth and regrowth.

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia - 18k - T “A ship in a full sail, a ship in a state of decay, a ship that had been rebuilt, slightly different. A repeating cycle. “What makes the ship the same?” asked Harry. “I don’t know. There must be something in it that lasts across the changes.” -- DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS QUOTE LIVES RENT FREE IN MY SAD, SAD BRAIN. DO YOU KNOW HOW I LOSE SLEEP THINKING ABOUT THE FUCKING SHIP OF THESEUS. it’s a memory loss fic and everything is so unFAIR. you want to murder harry sometimes bc he’s such a shiT and you suffer through the ways he questions desire, penance, redemption, true love. and by the end, you want to believe in those golden slumber lyrics: “once, there was a way to get back home”

Yours to Keep by @dracoismytrashson - 135k - E i love the university setting, i love getting to see harry and draco’s first forays into a real LGBTQ community, the class and race structures outside of the wizarding world. i love that this is the context in which they’re allowed to confront the shittiness of PTSD, anxiety, depression etc. as they come together and fall apart against each other’s traumas. it makes the ending feel earned af. “Baby, we’ve been easing into it for a decade.” -- my god this line

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered - 153k - T this fic is devastating. like, completely forget whatever reticence you might have towards a de-aging fic and read this. the de-aging premise allows the author to cut through the ways harry and draco hold each other at a distance and you end up with these stunning moments of clarity where they’re truly seeing each other for the first time. and suddenly everything makes sense. i won't spoil it here but there’s a scene towards the end where harry is talking to hermione and ron about realizing the first time he felt what its like to be loved and I fucking SOBBED. an all-time fave fic about learning how to belong.

Had To Be You by @lettersbyelise - 59k - E a genuinely excellent slow burn about absolute fucking morons who refuse to express their mutual love over the course of literal years?? HOW MANY TENDER MEET-CUTES DO 2 GAY IDIOTS EVEN NEED. a car ride a bookshop a street corner -- when harry met sally is my enemy. but you know what? this fic is masterfully written, it’s an epic tale of unexpected friendships and the inability to say the things we feel. also its very much also a soft boi fic if not for the Major Fuck Up that pushes it into drama territory for me. so worth the turmoil tbh.

Hurricane by phrynne - 120k - E auror partners terrified of love. it’s a fic about walls - where the emotional landscape of this fic is occluded by dishonest words so you feel the tension play out in hollow voices, shuttered looks, emptied eyes. it’s like watching two ppl get flayed alive in slow motion and everything is SHIT for a little. it’s mean, it’s ugly, it doesn’t let you give the characters an out when they’re being cruel - to each other and to themselves. but harry and draco are two violent forces hurling toward each other’s walls and the inevitable reckoning comes and it’s so very worth the ending. the hospital bed scene to rule all hospital bed scenes.

Returning Tides by @zigster-ao3 - E “Is my timing that flawed? Our respect run so dry? Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives” --those fuCKing ian curtis lyrics in the summary!! p a i n. why do i put myself through getting-back-together fics knowing full well i’m gonna be Sad As Hell during the not-together portion of the story?? we are all unfortunately hoes for heartache. anyway this fic is beautiful. draco’s a dad and recently widowed, harry has a thestral reserve, the settings here are stunning. a story about grief and love that lingers.

A Piercing Comfort by @talithan - 44k - T “There is no objective scorecard. There isn’t anything that a person does that tips the balance from ‘deserving’ to ‘undeserving’, or vice versa. A ‘deserving’ person will not run out of worthiness after a set time of happiness and have to then go about working to deserve it again. And an ‘undeserving’ person does not have to suffer at length before having the opportunity to be ‘deserving’.” -- the heart of this fic. harry’s in therapy, facing depression, and learning how to accept love he doesn’t think he deserves. (also draco is harry’s therapist but yes, that power dynamic is handled ethically-well imo and addressed in the author notes I promise!!).

Borrowing Courage by @xx-thedarklord-xx - 70k - E |After years of being a Magical Artist and painting for other people, Draco decides it’s time to paint for himself for once. The secrets pile up as he tries to unravel the mystery of his relatives but the only thing he didn’t count on was having to go to Potter of all people for approval.| --god i love this fic. the thing about drarry here is that they never mean to hurt each other but they do. they do and draco’s trying to do the right thing and he wants so badly for good family but harry’s never rly stopped grieving sirius and it’s this whole unintended mess of festering wounds forced to heal. everyone needs a hug. also ron/blaise pairing and ron+draco’s friendship here is everything!!

Reparations and the sequel, Foundations by Saras_Girl - 320k - E | Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.| -- incredible. harry and draco’s dynamic as healers, the cast of original characters, the boys learning what it means to trust each other, draco building a rehabilitation center, harry falling in love with him, and “meus fabula est mei ut dico: my story is mine to tell.” i cry

The Ties that Bind by phoenix_writing (not on ao3) - 61k - T | Upon Andromeda’s death, Harry and Draco are given custody of Teddy. Their lives will never be the same.| -- harry’s got major abandonment issues and he’s just trying to be a good co-parent with draco but everyone is being the woRST and you want to murder them on behalf of harry. but then, the boys learn to listen to each other and god it all becomes so tender. also harry has a gay panic. things are awful but it all works out. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #drarry dramas #im so sorry if this got long but also #I have too many Thoughts #all I do is cry over two sad gays #its pain o'clock sweeties #time to Sob about the mortifying ordeal of being Known

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aleapple1216 · 2 years

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Doing horrible Jacob quick sketches is what keeps me sane.

Keep reading if you're interested on some lore about this bitch

Tw: Mentions of people getting tattoos at a pretty young age, smoking, violence, bullying, mentions of being a womanizer, partial nudity in a not-sexual-way.

So yeah, Jacob is my only way to practice dynamic poses and male anatomy at the same time. This dude have been practicing Muay Thai since a very young age.

(yes he has VERY hairy legs)

Jacob inherited his slim physique from his mother, so gaining muscle was a bit of a chore for him. But he made up for his attacks with agility and flexibility.

Jacob has two important permanent scars on his body, both caused by Patricia Rakepick. The one that cross his face is the one he's more insecure about, the other was caused when Rakepick locked him on the portrait, and covers a long place on the right side of his back, even reaching a little bit of his shoulder and neck.

Jacob and Duncan were two proud Slytherin Quidditch Beaters. They were always together, talking about their ambitions, sharing their food, cigarrettes and clothes, talking about cool brooms, about Rakepick, about joining R... At 15 they decided to seal their promises by tattooing the same snake on their arm: Jacob on the right and Duncan on the left. This would later bring them a bit of trouble, as people confused the snake tattoo with the Dark Mark, since both were located in the same place on the body. Thus began the rumors that these guys had actually joined the Death Eaters and were in some shady business.

With them was always Sophie, a very shy and quiet Ravenclaw girl. Everyone tried to wonder how the 3 could actually be friends having such different personalities.

Sophie, Jacob and Duncan's friendship was born from their second year at Hogwarts: Sophie's calm, quiet, shy and sensitive nature (in addition to her muggle origin) made her an easy target for teasing, horrible jokes, hits, and bullying from other students.

One day, a group of students attacked her and began to torture her pet rat. Jacob and Duncan arrived at the place and had a big fight (physical and magical) with the group to make them leave her alone, they won, and that cost them -50 points to Slytherin, but no one messed with Sophie again for the rest of her time at Hogwarts.

Once as friends, Jacob and Duncan taught Sophie how to handle the broomstick, fun and useful defensive spells and curses, dealing with magical creatures, as well as various things about the workings of the wizarding world. For her part, Sophie showed them the Muggle world: technology, literature, customs, movies, music, video games, Muggle fast food like instant noodles and McDonald's chicken nuggets (this became Jacob's favorite food btw) and so on.

More shitty things:

Jacob has a tongue piercing, because he thought it would be the most discreet place to have it so his mother wouldn't find out.

Jacob covers up his snake tattoo all the time, only showing it when he's with people he trusts.

As an adult, Jacob is 1.80 m tall.

Jacob inherited his blue eyes and delicate facial features from his mother, his messy hair and huge eyebrows come from his father.

Jacob became claustrophobic after spending 5 years locked in the portrait.

Jacob is a whore womanizer, he usually goes out with many girls just to have fun and he has no affective responsibility (no, I am not romanticizing this: In real life this is not right. Jacob is not really a good person and has many negative and questionable attitudes)

Jacob is greyromantic

Jacob almost never takes things or people seriously because he's used to having what he wants and that everything goes well for him (again, this is not a good attitude in real life)

Jacob likes to call people by stupid, goofey nicknames because it amuses him to see their reactions.

#hphm #hphm mc #hphm jacob #jacob pierce #duncan #duncan ashe #hphm fanart #hogwarts mystery #hogwats mystery #shitty sketch #shitty doodles #hogwarts mystery jacob #arlene pierce #jacob's sibling #jacob's sister

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that-house · 3 years

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Viego Rant (villainy and character design and tragedy and all that jazz)

Introduction The more I think about Viego, League of Legends’ newest character, the more enamored I am with him as a villain (unrelated to his general sexiness, though that does tie in with what makes him such a good villain).

I’ve seen a lot of complaints about his design. The Ruined King, one of the greatest threats in Runeterra, the progenitor of the Shadow Isles, the lord of the undead, is finally released as a playable champion and he looks like this:

People were expecting another Mordekaiser (who is similarly an undead king with a ghost army), a lich-tyrant clad in iron, decayed flesh peeling from an aged face. What we got was an angsty anime prettyboy, and it was infinitely better than the alternatives.

Lore Viego isn’t a conquering king. While his combat abilities are indeed badass, his personality is far from it. He’s a whiny brat and that’s incredible. He isn’t bent on world domination. His character arc revolves around just how human, how fallible he really is. For those unfamiliar with his lore, I’ll paraphrase it here:

Viego was the second son of a great king. Overshadowed by his brother and with no expectations upon him and near-limitless wealth, he wandered around being an idiot fuckboy for the vast majority of his formative years. Disaster struck when his brother died in an accident, and Viego took the throne with no training, no experience, and no desire to be king. He was a shitty king. The worst king. Just all-around apathetic. Gave zero shits. Can you blame him? It’s a lot of responsibility to be thrust upon someone who isn’t much more than a child, and with no preparation. He didn’t care about anything, that is, until he met Isolde. She was a poor seamstress, but he fell in love with her upon their first meeting. Together they ruled the country but it was really just them staring longingly into each others’ eyes. His allies were kinda fucking pissed about that, and one day an assassin came from Viego. The assassin fucked up and stabbed Isolde instead, and the poison on the blade made her fall gravely ill. As she lay in her bed, slowly dying, Viego went mad seeking a cure. He ravaged the land seeking any knowledge that might help, pouring all of his money into finding an antidote. He failed. As a last resort, he brought Isolde’s body to the Blessed Isles, a place rumored to be able to resurrect the dead. It worked, to an extent. Isolde’s wraith, confused, afraid, and angry at being ripped from the peace of death, unthinkingly stabbed Viego in the chest with his own magic sword, creating basically a magic nuke that turned the Blessed Isles into the domain of the undead. Viego resurrected as the king of the Shadow Isles some time later, having totally forgotten that Isolde killed him. He controls a big-ass ghost army, could probably beat up any living thing in a fight, and has evil ghost magic. Now this stupid simp wants his wife back and if he has to kill every living thing on Runeterra, well, anything for his queen. He’s even a tier 3 sub to her Twitch.

Music His musical theme isn’t some heavy metal anthem or intense cinematic piece (unlike the Pentakill song named after his sword, Blade of the Ruined King). It’s mostly sad and slow, almost sinister, with a piano and a music box. It has its loud moments featuring violins and choral bits like any villainous music, but the song is mostly subtle. It is a banger though.

youtube

In the comments section of this video, someone pointed out that the music reflects his story from beginning to end:

Everything about this champion is so well done. Riot Games really outdid themselves on this one. Bravo, encore please.

Motivation While the Mordekaiser circlejerkers on r/LeagueofLegends won’t shut the fuck up about how powerful Mordekaiser is, Viego is the better villain. Mordekaiser may be a bigger threat to all life on Runeterra, but Viego is a better character. (There’s a guy on my League discord server who won’t shut up about Mordekaiser so forgive me for being pissed at Morde stans).

Mordekaiser is motivated by a desire for control, to rule the world. Viego is motivated by obsession and misplaced love. There aren’t a lot of Mordekaisers on Earth. Supervillains are rare in real life. But Viego’s motivations are a lot closer to home. People in positions of power that they don’t deserve can do a lot of harm (for example: Trump).

He’s a grieving husband who was never prepared to deal with anything more difficult than choosing what wine to drink with dinner, who is trying to get his wife back because the world had always complied to his every whim. He’s a funky mix between a truly hopeless romantic and a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum.

Obsession is scary. It’s a real-world emotional state that’s been the cause of a lot of murders over mankind’s history. In contrast, Mordekaiser’s cartoonish Genghis Khan XXL schtick isn’t something that we encounter often. Of course a superpowered ultradictator would be worse for the world, but if you give ultimate power to a random person, you’re more likely to get someone like Tighten from Megamind. Or, more relevantly, Viego.

Design His design is sexy and stupid, just like him. He wears an open shirt into battle and wields his sword like an idiot (I’ve seen all the rants about how that’s not how that sword is meant to be used) because he was never really a warrior. Even at his most violent, right before the end of his mortal life, he didn’t do much combat himself, leaving his military endeavors to his underlings. Even now that he’s essentially a god, he still has a colossal wraith army that causes far more devastation than he ever could personally.

Despite his slim build (by League of Legends standards), he easily wields his colossal sword because of the strength of his state of undeath. Like his political power when he was alive, his posthumous magical and physical powers were never something he sought out, they were just given to him by circumstance.

The big cool-ass triangle hole in his chest where Isolde stabbed him is the source of the Black Mist, which is evil ghost mist that ebbs and flows from the Shadow Isles, bringing with it hordes of the undead. The sadder Viego is, the more Mist he creates. Poetically, his invasion of the world is inspired by his sorrow at his wife’s death and enabled by his wife’s reluctance to return to him. His story is perfectly reflected by his design.

Isolde Isolde’s spirit took up residence inside a young Senna (who’s another League champion, not particularly important here). This led to some Black Mist-related shenanigans and at least for the time being, Senna uses Isolde’s power to fight off the servants of Viego which threaten all life on Runeterra.

It seems pretty clear that whatever love Isolde felt for Viego is gone by now. Whether or not she ever loved him or was just unable to say no to the king is up for debate, but I’d like to believe there was something there. In my opinion, Viego’s story hits harder if they really were a great couple at first, torn apart by circumstance and obsession.

Much like the Maiden of the Woods in that one comic that circulates around here, to whom the knight gave his heart and she was like “yo what the fuck i literally never asked you to do this,” Viego went a little too far in trying to save her. They may have once been happy, but the Ruined King ruined his own life, too.

Unless Isolde is a lot less morally decent than we’ve been led to believe, I doubt she can forgive all the massacring that her husband’s been doing lately. In the recent cinematic, she was shown to be pretty anti-Viego. Maybe she’ll get a bastardization arc, but it certainly seems unlikely.

All of Season 2021 is based around Viego, Isolde, and the Shadow Isles, so we’ll just have to see what comes next. It’s possible that we’ll get Isolde as a playable champion, which should clear a lot of things up.

Final Thoughts Unlike so many villains, he’s not fueled by rage or hatred, but rather by sorrow. He’s stuck in his past, unable to move on. He regrets the actions of his life but is set on his course now. The sunk-cost fallacy comes into play here; he’s put so much time and effort and blood into bringing back Isolde, that turning away from it would feel to him like an insult, not only to her but to the innocent lives he’s taken in her name.

His tale is a tragedy, a love story gone horrifically wrong. Viego has suffered throughout his thousand-year life. Despite this, he’s undoubtedly the villain. His permanent death would be a net positive for the world. In has rage and grief he’s destroyed multiple civilizations, and will burn down the world to get Isolde back.

His heart may be in the wrong place, but it’s in a very human place. I don’t think he’ll get the ending he’s looking for, but I hope he finds some closure in the end.

#League of Legends #viego #i swear no one's gonna read this #even if you dont care about League i tried to make this interesting #even if you don't like League as a game the lore is pretty fucking solid

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phantaloon-books · 4 years

Text

(some) Riordanverse characters (bc I never read TKC) and which Hogwarts House I think they would be in

Warning: this is a long one

Nico: the dude is definitely Gryffindor without a doubt. Like Sorting isn't about some traits and some characteristics, it's about core personality. He may have gone through some of the roughest stuff when he was 10-12, and he was resentful and bitter, but he was brave and bold af throughout everything he did. From learning about his powers, to using them relentlessly despite knowing how exhausted he is afterwards, to his willingness to do whatever is necessary to do what has to be done, because it has to be done. You can't change my mind that he's Gryffindor lol.

Grover: Do I even need to explain why he's Gryffindor? He's a satyr, and even if we're shown strong satyrs, they're not really supposed to be brave fighters. Yet he is one of the strongest, bravest nature spirits we've ever encountered in the Riordanverse, and one of the bravest in general. Like he's so passionate about doing what is good, he's a hero, and the only thing he doesn't match with common Gryffindors is that he's humble and as far from arrogant as could be possible, but it doesn't take his courage away.

Hazel: She's Gryffindor, and core personality-wise, she and Nico are very much alike. They don't ever think about themselves, like Hazel really always does what has to be done, no matter the cost, I mean she literally died preventing Gaea to rise the first time, and she freed Thanatos while believing he would take her back to the Underworld. She's brave af, and she has one of the most strong willpower we've seen in the Riordanverse. She's a passionate hero, and she's the closest thing to a real knight in shining armor.

Lester: I'm gonna place him in Gryffindor because I don't think he fits in in the other houses lmao. That said, as Apollo he's very shitty, but as Lester, he's one of the most courageous people. He's grown so much, he's so willing to actually do stuff now, and sacrifice everything to do what's right, including his life, even if he doesn't know he's gonna survive. Hell, he really went most of TTT with an incredibly painful wound that nearly turned him undead, and he cared more for the future of Camp Jupiter than his own life. Additionally, he's a bit arrogant and cocky, but he truly means well, I love Lester so much.

Clarisse: Look look, all I have to say is that no one could have pulled off less than half the stuff Clarisse has done, she's so Gryffindor it hurts. She's reckless and impulsive, but she's driven by her passion to do good, even if she's the daughter of war, and was bullied by her own father. She's daring, she's bold and she is the hero. She's also arrogant and thinks she can solve everything by herself, something characteristic more of the canon Gryffindors in the books, rather than what the fans have shaped. In fact, she's very much like Gryffindors in the books, who are actually very rude to other houses and think they're the best. Still, at heart, she's in this house.

Alex: I'm in a huge dilemma about where to put them, but I reckon they'd fit pretty fine in Gryffindor. Not only are they daring and courageous, they're proud of who they are, but not in a too full of themselves kind of way, rather in a 'I am who I am, and if you can't accept me, fuck off' kind of way. They can get carried away rather easily though, and very arrogant, thinking they don't need anyone else, when they do in fact need some company. They are one of the kindest and at the same time most ambitious characters we've met, but they are brave beyond understanding in a very personal way, thus, Gryffindor.

Percy: I think it's fair to say he'd be Hufflepuff, because loyalty is literally his fucking fatal flaw, and he is the kindest sweetheart to all those who deserve it, he goes out of his way to help those who need help, whether that be mortals, halfbloods, gods, magical creatures or even his own enemies. He's too good for this world, and even if he's grown a bit bitter, he always looks to fight justly for what is right, and never loses faith in others. That, and the fact that he turned down immortality so that the olympians were more inclusive of minor gods, and their children were treated better. He's just a lovely soul, he's like 80% Hufflepuff so that's enough for me. All that and he's stubborn as hell.

Jason: Hufflepuff. Just, undoubtedly Hufflepuff. Like he seems to be this cold and self centered hero with a superiority complex (bc of all the son of Jupiter stuff) but he's the softest guy there is. Not only is he hardworking, open minded and kind, he appreciates justice but he doesn't seek for revenge or anything, he makes sure people are treated fairly and wants everyone to be accepted. Proof of that is how he continued Percy's job of including more gods, and made sure Nico felt comfortable with who he was. He truly has a heart of gold. (He deserved better btw)

Meg: God I can't decide between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but I think I'll go with the former. She's so strong, my baby, she's faced so much wrong, but she's still so kind and understanding of others, especially those who deserve kindness. She puts up such a hard facade, but she's so patient and warm and inclusive. She's brave and strong (as strong as the big three kids, if not stronger), but she's also so loyal to her beliefs despite how she was forced someone else's beliefs for years, so I'll keep her in Hufflepuff. Also, she's stubborn af, and she can be lazy, so that settles it.

Will: I KNOW some people will say Will could be in other houses that are not Hufflepuff, BUT I won't have it any other way. Will is literally the warmest person ever. He is kind and sympathetic and enthusiastic and patient and inclusive. Like Helga Hufflepuff would take one look at him and lose her shit screaming "mine". He's the guy who saw the son of Hades so many people were scared of and immediately grabbed his hand and transfered him some warmth and didn't let him go ahead and get himself killed. He's also the one who everyone loves and likes, so much that Clarisse gets along with him and he can calm her down. He's the ideal Hufflepuff, you can't change my mind.

Magnus: I mean, what else can you expect from the son of the god of summer? He's literally a guy who heals others with warmth. He's also the guy who spent years on the street with the most difficult situations, and accepts every single person the way they are. He's inclusive af, and tolerant of everything. He's the guy who's closest include a deaf elf, a Muslim valkyrie, and a black dwarf, and he's dating a genderfluid person. Yes he's brave, and he's kinda smart, and he's ambitious, BUT none of those qualities overpower his Hufflepuff nature.

Piper: Kinda debated whether Gryffindor or Ravenclaw fits more, but in the end I went with Ravenclaw. Even though she isn't a fighter, she's very very brave, yet her bravery isn't compared to her wits. Like others in the PJOverse, she wins her fights by outsmarting her opponents, but unlike others that's one of her strongest traits. She's witty and creative and a little on the negative side, she really struggled to work in a group rather than by herself. On another note, she's able to keep calm in crazy situations and come up with the craziest most unthinkable solutions (I'm talking borderline ridiculous) that always somehow work. She's not booksmart, but she knows so much about everything, and she's lifesmart you know?

Reyna: Why are some of these so hard? Deeply debating whether she'd be Ravenclaw or Slytherin. In the end I'd go more for Ravenclaw though. Reyna's smart as hell, she's strong and sharp, and she always sees the best way out of a situation. She's witty and observant, being able to keep her cool in battle and lead others in the best direction. She's always looking to grow, and she prefers to do things on her own, but she's a great leader. She has some Slytherin qualities, and she's not learning as learning oriented as others, but she's definitely Ravenclaw.

Sam: Let's face it, Sam has the only active neurons in all of MCGA, she's definitely Ravenclaw. I'm gonna be honest though, I've only read MCGA once, so I can't remember much of their personalities, but Sam is witty and clever, pretty much the only one who can come up with competent plans, while the others rely mostly on luck and whatever plan they can cook up in 5 seconds. She's loyal and true to who she is, and she's extremely courageous and proud of who she is, but her sharpness is what she stands out for me, which is why I put her in Ravenclaw.

Annabeth: I know the obvious option is Ravenclaw, but I genuinely think she's also Slytherin. Yes she is booksmart and wise like Ravenclaw, but her personality matches Slytherins' ambitious, cunning and resourceful nature. She's smart as fuck, but she's calculative, she always finds a way to end up winning, and while she does so by outsmarting her opponents, she wouldn't need to outsmart them if she weren't so competitive. I feel like there's this 40/60 odds on Slytherin rather than Ravenclaw, but it's that small difference that counts. Plus her leadership skills are so powerful that people don't ask, they just know she's the boss.

(Also just picture the sweet and loyal Hufflepuff boy with the strong and cunning Slytherin girl, like it should be as opposite as it is with Poseidon and Athena, but they're so cute)

Leo: Idk what you can expect that's not Slytherin. This boy is the embodiment of ambition and determination. Reminder that not all Slytherins are bad btw (I'm slytherin myself), but like he's life smart and cunning, and he can analyze situations faster than anyone else. He's charismatic and talented, and there's no one to stop him from triumphing. I don't have much to say, I just know he'd be in Slytherin.

Rachel: She's kinda a difficult one, and I struggle between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and tbh I'm still not sure. But I think I'd place her in Slytherin, because even if she's brave af (especially since she was a mortal fighting in a war out of her power), her main trait is her determination. When she's set on something, she gets it done. You can't tell her she can't do something, because she will find a way to do it. She's kind, and she's only a mortal, but she still has incredible power unlike any other. I don't think I can really name it, but I think she'd be put on Slytherin with much difficulty from the Sorting Hat.

Luke: Where else could Luke possibly go? On the meaner side Slytherins have created themselves, Luke would be part of those misled by who preceded them, by those who want to take advantage of their mistreatment (bc let's face it, Slytherins are mistreated by both students and Hogwarts staff), and turn them cold and bitter. Luke is ambitious and manipulative, being manipulated himself, and it comes easily because of his natural charisma and talent. He's very freaking determined and cunning too. He'd fit right into Slytherin, but he'd be viewed as one of the rotten lot.

Thalia: I don't have much to say about this, but Thalia is the girl whose fatal flaw is their desire for power (or smth along those lines), just like most Slytherins. She's ambitious, she's smart, she's truly talented, she stands out between the rest, and she knows it, and she actually kinda likes it.

(Also I put Annabeth, Thalia and Luke in the same house because they're all kinda similar, even if their beliefs and postures are different.

Frank: Ngl I'm having more difficulty with Frank than anyone else. I'm kinda torn between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I literally can't choose. He'd fit perfectly in any of them lmao, I just can't decide where he'd go. You decide this one yourself.

Please keep in mind, this is my personal opinion and my take on the characters, and not all of you will agree, and that's fine! You can let me know what you think (kindly please, don't come at me), and if you want to, send me an ask on a character you want me to do the same as these (as long as it's not TKC, I'M SORRY I haven't read those) go ahead, don't be shy!

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uglymanchronicles · 3 years

Text

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

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

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

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

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

#my writing #urban fantasy #ugly man chronicles: reignition

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irwinkitten · 4 years

Text

black cat magic | l.h

notes: look i am alive! things have been hellish but i got this out for the writers collab event that @maluminspace and @h0tsos created! since i had to bow out for the last one, i was determined to do this one and had an idea inspired by this comic strip. despite life being particularly shitty, i still enjoyed this idea. also not using my old tag list because effort to find it all and go through, so my apologies. warnings: none? just injured kitty who gets some love. word count: 2k prompt: Person A finds an injured black cat, and takes it home to take care of it, not knowing the cat is actually a shapeshifter

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There was a legend from days of old, when warlocks and witches ruled in tandem with the fae and shapeshifters. ‘Should you want to meet your match, then try to befriend, or trap, or catch, the black feline that lives where the grey door is told, to be a secret gateway for jewels and gold. But do not fool the cat with thieves or you shall pay with your misery.’ It was a legend that no one ever learned if it was true, but the house with the grey door was never sold, never had any kind of people live there in the years.

Many attempted to rob it and those who had tried suffered in life with struggles which left them with nothing but misery. Most ignored the black cat with startling blue eyes as it watched the world go by. But not you.

The first day you greeted it, you were slow, knowing better than to trust any kind of animal that could bite or claw you.

It purred once your fingers threaded through its fur, content to let you stay there and pet it.

“Aren’t you a handsome kitty?” You crooned, scratching under the cat’s chin. As it tilted it’s head up, you glanced underneath it to read the tag on it’s collar.

‘Luke’

“Luke, huh? Are your owners in or do you just roam freely?” Not expecting an answer from the cat, you chuckled when he meowed back at you before hopping off the wall and heading to the door.

“See you soon, I’ve got to get back to work.” You weren’t sure why you were reassuring the cat, but you headed back home, with your thoughts drifting to the black cat that had startling blue eyes.

On one of the sunnier days, you chose to bring one of your books with you and you’d found a small hill beside the house that had tall ivy plants hugging the walls. Atop of the hill was a tree that gave you good shade to hide from the heat of the day and as you sat down and studied, it wasn’t much longer until you had a visitor in the form of a black cat.

“Hi there Luke.” You greeted the cat as he came up for fuss. It made you chuckle how he settled himself in your lap, content to sleep whilst you read on, occasionally biting your hand gently when your eyes grew sore.

“You must have a sixth sense or something.” You murmured after tucking the book away, switching to one for pleasure instead.

This time, he maneuvered himself under your hand so that your fingers were running through his belly fur, purring non stop, making you chuckle.

“Maybe I should bring some toys with me for you to play with. You’re more likely to turn my hand into a scratching post should I pet your belly for too long.” You laughed at your own joke, but he simply meowed in return and stayed sprawled across your lap on his back.

Ignoring all instincts that told you to stop petting him, you carried on, surprised at the lack of teeth or claws, and when you next looked up from your book, you found him fast asleep under your ministrations.

“Weird cat.” Was the soft murmur from you as you carried on reading until it started getting dark and you had to make your way back home.

You found yourself returning until the day you found him on the side of the road, the pitiful whines breaking your heart as you realised he’d been run over.

“Oh my poor boy.” You whispered, carefully scooping him up. He seemed to know you were there to help him, claws digging into your shirt as you cradled him. “Let's get you to the vet and make sure that they can help you. If you’re still fighting to hold on, they’re not gonna give up on you.”

The journey to the vets was harsh with his painful meows ringing through your soul. But he behaved as the vet helped him, biting the technician only once when they caught him unawares.

You’d been right in your assumption, however. They weren’t willing to put him down because there was still the chance he would survive. So you made the decision to nurse him back to health.

The first few nights were tiring. They warned you it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was also the most rewarding watching as he snuggled down into the bedding on the first night.

It was weeks of falling in love with the cat, knowing that it wasn’t yours. Despite the owners not seemingly answering, there had been a letter in your post, with money to cover costs and a small thanks of taking care whilst the owner was currently away.

You had wondered how they’d found out, but in the small town, news travelled fast and more often than not, everyone knew everyone, so someone had to have informed the owner.

When he was allowed to walk again, you found yourself with a small black shadow, almost like he wasn’t willing to leave you alone. And this didn’t bother you, but it didn’t help with the heartbreak that you had, knowing you couldn’t keep the furball of joy that was changing your life.

After six months, he simply vanished one evening and you wondered if he’d made his way back home and part of you felt your chest ache, but you knew you couldn’t keep him. He wasn’t yours and you had to remind yourself that constantly as you carried on about your evening and settled into bed.

That was the first night you’d had a strange dream, a man with golden curls and bright blue eyes sat with you under a familiar tree as he talked about an old tale that you’d heard from your great grandparents when you were a small child.

“The lore is as old as the town itself. I wanted to find someone worthy to share everything with.” That pulled your attention, even in your dream state.

“You wanted to? Then wouldn’t that make you like, well over two centuries old?” He laughed and you wondered if it was real or not because it sounded beautiful.

“Three and a half actually. Time has no essence when you’re immortal though.” His lips were curved up into a smile as he shifted so that his head rested in his lap.

The dream felt familiar as you threaded your fingers through this stranger's golden locks.

“But you look so young...” You trailed off in confusion.

“Benefits. I could choose to grow old, but I want to be with someone who I love. Maybe then I’ll grow old. But I’ve waited for so long now, I shouldn’t be bothered waiting any longer.”

You hesitated.

“What’s your name?” This made him chuckle as he turned onto his back, his eyes holding yours as your fingers slowly stopped.

“Luke.” And then you noticed the familiarity of his bright blue eyes.

You woke up with a gasp, glancing at the clock as you did so. The numbers read three am, and without even thinking, you wrapped yourself in your jacket, barely remembering to collect your house keys before stumbling along the streets towards the old house that had sat there for centuries.

The lights were on when you reached the home and you felt uneasy for a second before pushing open the gate. Before you could knock on the door, you heard the meow.

“Luke.” Your voice was quiet as you turned, studying the cat who was sitting underneath a window. You watched as he stood on all fours, turning tail to head around the corner of the house, and in the dark, you could see his bright blue eyes shine against the lights of the house and without thinking, you took a step forward, only to be stopped by the door opening.

Your heart left your chest as the very same man from your dream opened the door, a kind smile on his lips as you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“A spot of tea, perhaps?” His voice was exactly as it had been in your dream, and it had jolted you back into reality as the wind picked up and you shivered. “And maybe an extra blanket?” He sounded amused as he stepped back to let you in, and you felt your skin tingle.

“So you were telling the truth in my dream?” He smiled.

“Lets get your coat off and get some tea for you, love.” You didn’t hesitate to follow, part of your mind concerned, but a larger portion thinking you’d follow him anywhere if he asked.

You both sat in silence whilst he was making the tea and you couldn’t help but stare at him. He was exactly the same in your dream. Part of you wondered if this was real.

“Are you really a cat?” Finally came the question as he set the tea in front of you and you looked away in embarrassment when he laughed.

“Not the first question I expected, but I expected it.” His answer was encouraging as you glanced at him and watched as his entire body began to shrink and then suddenly Luke, the very black cat that had slept in your bed, sat on the table in front of you.

He shifted back and you felt your body slump as your eyes rolled backwards and he lunged forwards to keep you upright.

When you next woke, the scenery was different. You were in a lounge of sorts, the still hot tea, resting on the coffee table.

“That was a lot of you to take at once, I’ll admit. Are you feeling better now?” Luke crouched in front of you and you didn’t stop yourself as you reached out, your fingers touching his face.

His skin felt real and you watched as his eyes fell shut at your touch, a noise of content escaping him.

“Holy shit this is actually happening.” You finally whispered and he smiled, letting your hand drop from his face.

That was when you noticed that you had a warm blanket thrown over you and the comfort that it offered was reminiscent of the nights that Luke the cat had spent curled up with you on the harder days.

“It’s a lot to take in, but I’ve got all the time in the world for you.” His smile was reassuring and you took in a deep breath.

“Reckon I can sleep with Luke the human?” You finally asked and he grinned.

“I think I can do that.”

You could feel the couch shift underneath you and you realised that the back was moving so that it lay flat. Glancing at Luke in surprise, he looked unconcerned as pillows zoomed down the stairs, followed by a heavier quilt and then the couch cushions seemed to meld together and turn soft.

“Magic. Right. I’ll probably have more questions in the morning, but I certainly need more sleep.” You muttered and Luke laughed as he climbed under the covers with you, his arms pulling you against him and suddenly everything felt better, for just a moment.

“Everything that is mine is yours should you so wish it. My things, my home, my heart.” He whispered as you cuddled closer and although it felt like a lot, you also knew in your heart that you weren’t going to let him go.

“I’m happy with just the last one. The rest are bonuses.” You sleepily murmured before succumbing to your dreams once more.

“And that’s why everything I have will be yours, love.” Luke whispered quietly before he too, followed off in the land of dreams.

When you woke the following morning, you knew in your heart that you weren’t to be parted from Luke. So when one day the house suddenly vanished from sight, those that grew up with the lore, silently toasted to the one who had won the sorcerers heart.

@sexgodashton, @loveroflrh, @maluminspace, @h0tsos, @cashtonsangel, @mermaidcashton, @malumsmermaid, @5-secondsofcolor, @devilatmydoor, @lashtonswildflower, @karajaynetoday, @calpops, @rosecolouredash, @goth5sos, @cakesunflower, @calmlftv, @spicycal, @talkfastromance4, @wildflowergrae, @wildmichaelflower, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @superbloomirwin, @superbloomed-c, @ashtonlrwin, @colormekaykay, @thecurlsofgod, @treatallwithkindness, @kiwijulia

#halloween fic event #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings blurbs #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings fics #5sos blurbs #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5sos fic #5sos fics #halloween!sos #witch!luke #sorcerer!luke #shapeshifter!luke #new writing #my writing

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 4: Venusian Vogue

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:

Images of broken light Which dance before me like a million eyes They call me on and on across the universe. Across the Universe-The Beatles

“I am Loki.”

“I asked for a bride.”

The declarations smashed into you like fists and took your breath with them.

There was a ring on your finger. Silvery, plain, simple. Why hadn't you noticed it before?

This was clearly Loki. Sunken eyes, and onyx hair, and refined bones. Exactly like the pictures. Why hadn't you noticed?

Too many things all at once. Too much. A fearful whine escaped your teeth, as you tugged on the ring. It didn't budge.

“You're supposed to be dead.” You whispered.

His face fell the instant you spoke.

“You know. I sometimes think that myself. Yet somehow I remain. Take it as a reassurance: you will not lose me to battle, or accident. I will never leave you. I suppose that is something that new brides must worry about, especially human ones. You may put that fear to rest.”

“That's not what I'm-” You clamped your mouth shut. You were in a bad position, worse than you'd ever been, maybe. You were completely alone here; you could contact no one for help. You weren't even sure where exactly 'here' was-no one knew where Asgard was located.

You were trapped in a room with a madman. A prince among his own people, who had proven himself capable of the mass murder of humans like you. Yet claiming you were his bride.

No one would come to your aid.

Did anyone even know you were missing?

You glanced at the ring once more. Its twin rested proudly on his own left hand. What choice did you have?

You had to play along. At least until you found some way out of this. Stay on the madman's good side, as much as that was possible.

“Why me?” You asked, fighting down your panic. Just gather information for now. “I'm literally nobody.”

“I don't understand either.” He sat down on the bed, just a little closer to you than arms length. “This was supposed to be a chance at reconciliation. I willingly gave myself up in a symbolic act of unity. Sacrificed my own freedom.”

You side-eyed him hard. Gave up his freedom? In what capacity? He wasn't the one kidnapped and married without any knowledge or choice!

“This isn't an uncommon arrangement.” He continued. “Your species has done this since time immemorial. From kings all the way down to commoners, uniting families, uniting fortunes, uniting entire lands. Surely your...leader...understood what was to be gained. Yes, I did a terrible thing to your people, but this should have forged a new alliance. A promise that not only would I not do such a thing again, but that my formidable prowess would be for your people, rather than against them. Was this not enough? This should have opened the way for trade, for treaties...And you! Why do such a thing to you? One of his own people?”

“Oh, I'm not his.” You said. “I voted against him. I march in protests against his shitty policies. I oppose him in any way I can. I'd say 'maybe that's why', but it really can't be. I'm nowhere near important or influential enough for the government to pay any attention to me. They're too busy trying to kill me through austerity. Or through the cops.”

Loki's face darkened. “I should find that officer and flay him. Make you a bodice of his skin.”

He'd been reaching for your shoulder, but you flinched away.

“Okay see? That right there? That's why people might not want to ally with you.” You pointed out.

“He shouldn't have hurt you.”

“That's true. That doesn't mean you can use my pain as an excuse to rampage on Earth!”

“I shan't!” He protested. “Never again, I promise you that.”

But how good was the promise of government? Politician or hereditary ruler, it was all the same. How good was the word of a murderer? How many promises had he already broken?

“How do you feel?” He asked. “You seem...lively. Whatever you were drugged with, is it having a lasting effect?”

“I'm a little disoriented, but I'm awake.” You said. “The food and water helped.”

“Yes. About that. Ah. Would you like to see your rooms? I've been anticipating your arrival-well, someone's arrival-for some months now, and I've had chambers created that befit your new station.”

The big unknown outside. Beyond this room was nothing but uncertainty. But you would be the first human being to see this new Asgard. You told yourself it was a perk.

“Um...” You mumbled. “My clothes...” You weren't going out there in a flimsy hospital gown, that was for sure.

“Being cleaned and mended.” Loki informed you. “I have a simple gown that I believe should fit you. Here.” Wit a sweeping gesture, he produced a voluminous, forest green garment out of seemingly nowhere.

You scooted away. “How did you do that?” You demanded.

“Magic, of course.” He said. “You...don't know about the magic...?”

You shook your head and took the robe from him. It felt real enough, smooth and soft, with fur trim and pin tucks. This was simple?

“What do you know about me, my dear?” He asked.

“Not much. Just what...turn around!” Sheepishly, he turned his back so you could change. “Just what was on the news. And the approximately three million conspiracy websites that popped up afterwards. You might be shocked by how many people think you were an inside job.”

“A what?”

“That's not even counting all the cults. You and Thor really got the radicalization machine cranking them out. White supremacists, nationalists, doomsday cults...thanks a lot. Not as if we didn't have enough problems cleaning up the mess you left behind.”

“That...was not my intention. Were you...?”

“I was not part of any cults. I was also not part of the celebration of your death, either.”

The news broadcast had interrupted every television, lit up every phone. A tired and battle-worn Thor, looking not one inch the hero the world knew him to be, as he towered over the reporter. He gave only a short statement: His brother Loki was dead, perished in honorable battle, in an effort to protect the galaxy from an ancient enemy.

People had trusted him. They'd seen the destruction that enemy had caused, in their quest to destroy everything. The odd teleportation anomalies in England that had dominated youtube for a long time. The leaves in your bathroom, the foreign plants in the park. Exotic, even alien creatures being spotted.

People threw parties at the news of Loki's demise. You'd gone out, gotten yourself exactly one drink, and then stayed home for the weekend. It didn't seem right, not after seeing Thor so hollowed out. You didn't really get on with celebrating the death of your enemies anyway, only the success of your causes.

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“But yeah, all I really know is that you attacked us out of the blue, and brought an army with you. You caused billions in damages and cost hundreds of lives. Thousands more lost everything. The economic blow is still with us, and led to some of the problems I've been marching against. And then you died. Except not, obviously. Was Thor lying to us?”

“No. He truly believed me dead. I did too, until I woke up. So you know nothing of me. I feared that might be the case. I am no warlord, not truly. I am the foremost sorcerer of Asgard. My magic has many applications, one of which is that I am rarely found without what I need.”

“So magic is real?” Why not? Aliens were real. Gods were apparently real.

“Yes, very. When times were...better, I used to tutor younger students. I might go back to doing that, once we are more established. Once we are safe.”

Safe? From what? Was whatever it was that had destroyed Asgard still out there? Thor had said otherwise, before the radio silence, but he had also thought that Loki was dead, and he was wrong about that, so...

“May I look now, dear?”

“Oh...yeah. I'm dressed.” The gown did fit, though mostly because it was a shapeless, oversized thing that was closed around you with ties. Still, it was luxurious, and made you feel like you were actually pretty-as long as no one looked at you too closely. Was this what a princess wore? You shouldn't allow yourself to get too used to it. As soon as you found a way out, you were out.

“Delightful. Even such a simple gown enhances your beauty. Will you come with me, dear? Let me show you our grand achievements.”

You didn't really want to be exposed to the people of Asgard, but this room was no safer than anywhere else right now. Loki hovered, and you stood, and managed a few wobbly steps before you overbalanced. He caught you instantly.

“Don't worry.” He murmured. “I'm here.”

As if that wasn't the problem in the first place.

“So, while you were carrying me off...I mean, when you, uh, received me, did you notice a cane lying around?” You asked. “I had one. Did the guys who brought me give it to you?”

“I'm afraid not.” He said apologetically. “They seemed strangely eager to quit the area.”

“Yeah, well. They had just committed a felony.” You griped. “They probably had orders to disappear. And they probably didn't want to hang around and witness what a warlord was gonna do to me.”

He winced. “I promise you, that's not what I really am.”

“Sorry.”

He held out his arm for you. “I don't have your cane, but I can support you. We will have another cane made for you. There should have been an Artificer and an apprentice Healer in here at some point, to measure you for a new prosthetic.”

“Uh, there were. I, uh, kinda told them to piss off.”

“Ah. I suppose I cannot blame you, now that I know of your situation. But they are here at your service, as is all of Asgard.”

He helped you limp along, somehow maintaining his dignified stride, even as you wobbled along like a penguin. The hallways were as bland and labyrinthine as a human hospital, if somewhat more softly lit. Again the light source was obscured behind thin panes of cloudy crystal, which diffused the light, giving everything a comforting, if slightly mysterious atmosphere, which the general emptiness of the area only enhanced.

There were few people here, but for some reason, you had been placed in a room far within the hospital complex. Maybe they wanted to hide you away, so that no one knew you were here until they were ready to introduce you to Asgard. Or until they were certain you were going to survive. It might cause a scandal if the prince's bride just up and died upon arrival.

Or perhaps it was to protect you. There were plenty of reasons why a human bride might not be accepted by the Asgardian populace; everything from nationalism, to someone wanting to make a bid for that crown themselves.

There were still no windows to be seen, and everything was made of stone, just like in the hospital room. Out here, in the halls and waiting rooms, the desks, chairs, and tables all seemed to be joined to the walls and floor, as if the whole place had been carved from a single, solid piece, like the rock-cut architecture of the fabled city of Petra. Here again were the creamy grays and oranges lining the walls, though a smooth black also made an appearance.

Eventually, you came to what must have been a foyer, with a high ceiling, complex stone mosaics, and huge, gorgeously carved double doors, but still no windows.

“We will be going outside now.” Loki said. “This facility is within the palace complex, and is not far from your special chambers, but we will have to cross a few halls and courtyards. There are plenty of places to sit, so if you need a rest, simply say so.”

He opened the doors for you, and you stepped out into a world of stone.

Everything was stone, stone or metal. Before you was a wide open courtyard, clearly unfinished, but spacious. At regular intervals were stone towers supporting open pillared hallways in a multiple storied, vaguely Roman courtyard style. The towers shot up, and up, and up...you climbed them with your gaze, following them to the heights to which they had to buttress each other with thin struts of stone, higher still, where they joined with an impossibly high ceiling.

There was a roof over the courtyard, so tall that your couldn't fathom how it had been built. Beyond the courtyards stacked walkways-six full stories-you could see the tips of other towers, lined with lights, merging with this high rise ceiling. Was the entire palace built under this massive shelter?

Clearly the sun did not reach into the palace. To offset this, the crystal-paned, inset lights were everywhere, creating complex patterns that mimicked the intricate knotted carvings that chased up the towers and pillars. The corbels glared down at you, fierce masks of bearded men, wolves, dragons and birds, lights in their eyes.

Combined, it was not as bright as sunlight, but not dim either. The softness of the glow made shadows diffuse, made the stone look soft and fake, and even shimmery in places, like the set pieces in eighties fantasy movies. If not for the pain in your bruises, you'd have thought the dreamy atmosphere was just that, and that you were about to wake up from this absurd dream any moment now.

But the pain was there, and denied that simple, hopeful wish. And Loki was there, gently urging you forward like he was a real gentleman, instead of a heinous war criminal. There were a few other people out here as well; walking the courtyards pillared halls, resting on stone benches, carving hollows into the ground.

There was no soil here. All stone. As you crossed the courtyard, you noticed black, and gray, and cloudy crystal inlaid into the ground in a shape reminiscent of a compass rose, decorated with silvery wire knotwork in bird and serpent shapes.

There were troughs and niches being carved into the ground that looked to you like they were meant to be flower beds...eventually. You had seen no dirt here yet, no grass or growing things at all. Maybe once you finally got outside. But for now, it felt as if you had left a building, only to exit into another building, that was in turn, within another building.

It was a bit suffocating.

Loki led you across several courtyards, each with a different pattern inlaid into their bare floor, and through vaulted hallways that still contained no windows. Many of these hallways intersected in large, circular domes, and few of them had any distinctive markings. Soon you were completely lost. With any luck, you would be able to get your hands on some paper, and create a map-otherwise, any escape attempts would be doomed from the word go.

But maybe that was the point.

Your staggering steps echoed down a particularly tall and wide hallway, almost completely devoid of people. You were almost at the end of your physical capabilities, and while there were places to sit, you felt like you must be close to your destination. You really wanted to be in a room whose dimensions you could be certain of. A space you could comprehend.

Loki brought you to a stop in front of a pair of carved wooden doors. As the first piece of architecture you had seen here that was something other than stone, you found them more beautiful than anything you'd seen all day. They were something almost normal, almost like something you would have at home. If you were insanely rich, or your dad was a carpenter or something. They were a warm terra-cotta color, carved with a dizzying array of knotwork, framed with blackened, riveted iron. The handles were iron serpents.

“We imported some things from your homeland. This redwood lumber is one such thing. From what I hear, these trees are emblematic of your country.”

“Er...” How to politely say, 'not really, even though most people who live there do know what a redwood is'. They weren't very important to anyone who didn't live near where they grew. They weren't what you would call 'quintessentially American'. There wasn't anything you could really call that. The place was just too damn big.

“We couldn't bring too much, not yet anyway.” He continued. “It is expensive, unfortunately, and we only have one ship. It can only carry so much, and it takes about three days to transport. Things are moving slowly, but our construction projects are moving along speedily. There's little else to do right now, save build.”

He opened the doors for you, and led you into a fairy tale.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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constablegoo · 4 years

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STUDY : Odo.

— basics.

▸ is your muse tall / short / average ? 6′0″ (and described as tall)

▸ are they okay with their height ? it’s one of the few things he has complete control over, so. yes.

▸ what’s their hair like ? slicked back, sandy. the texture is only approximate to real hair. it’s in mimicry of the scientist who ‘raised’ him. it’s never out of place in the slightest, but if it is, something’s seriously wrong.

▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming ? it takes about half a second to achieve his usual look -- but it wasn’t always that way. recreating hair is not easy but it’s straightforward, and so he’s spent a lot of time practicing it. he won’t often deviate, but if he does experiment, it’s usually because of someone else’s passing comment.

▸ does your muse care about their appearance / what others think ? terribly. he’s both extremely self-conscious AND has an image to keep up, one he’s fabricated to appear more authoritative. at the same time, he’s not uncomfortable in his body -- just finely aware that he’s wearing an imperfect mask and that what lay beneath breeds hatred and fear. he’s extremely protective over who gets to see evidence of his natural state.

— preferences.

▸ indoors or outdoors ? outdoors. but he’s spent most of his life inside. :/

▸ rain or sunshine ? both, very strongly.

▸ forest or beach ? he would loooooove to see both, some day.

▸ precious metals or gems ? only in terms of an interest in their physical properties.

▸ flowers or perfumes ? no sense of smell. :( but he does love to look at a flower!

▸ personality or appearance ? hahah. personality. imagine the irony.

▸ being alone or being in a crowd ? alone... just not isolated.

▸ order or anarchy ? ORDER, babey. he sucks.

▸ painful truths or white lies ? painful truths, GOD the painful truths. he’d far rather know, any day -- and he dishes them out, too.

▸ science or magic ? science. he’s very much a detective.

▸ peace or conflict ? peace. but he’s never really seen it.

▸ night or day ? either.

▸ dusk or dawn ? same.

▸ warmth or cold ? warmth, although it’s more difficult to shapeshift.

▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends ? a few close friends. he says for ages he doesn’t need anyone, but he’s a big sad liar.

▸ reading or playing a game ? reading uwu

— questionnaire.

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits ? oh boy. self-isolation, self-destruction... not asking for help when he needs it. taking matters into his own hands. and he’s P-E-T-T-Y, overly sensitive, fiercely independent, touchy. he’s short-tempered and grouchy and gnarly to be around a lot of the time -- and rarely happy. he’s cynical and sarcastic every chance he can get away with it, stubborn, haughty, condescending, and self-conscious to the point of pushing everyone away... yeah he’s got issues lmao and he perpetuates this deflective image out of a deep fear of rejection. but he’s also a little tsundere with a very soft heart. :P

▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them ? how has it affected them ? for the longest time, he hasn’t allowed himself to become close to anyone. he has, however, seen a lot of death and a lot of injustice, and it has informed his view of the universe. he also reacted so strongly to the threat of kira’s execution that it shook him out of a kind of hypnosis :’0

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has ? there aren’t many lol. he had absolutely no childhood and grew up in the midst of decades-long social and political turmoil. but after the end of the occupation, he, like the rest of bajor, began to heal, and im sure the fondest memories of his life are with the family he finds aboard the same station that saw so much misery.

perhaps the only other early memories he has resembling something fond are of seeing wildlife while under mora’s care. :”)

▸ is it easy for your muse to kill ? he won’t, as a rule. he does kill someone, but he won’t unless it’s accidental or the situation is extreme (wartime). even then, he won’t touch a weapon (he already is one). :)))

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down ? he,,,, literally melts...... dsfjglkfd he becomes a mess!! in spite of what he projects, he’s very emotional and very easily emotionally influenced, almost a little bit of a teenager. he can’t physically cry, but when super angry he WILL lash out and become surprisingly destructive. he’ll also shut down and/or lock himself away... he’s so miserable lmao and he actually doesn’t handle it all that well

▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life ? oh hell ye. for someone so chronically paranoid and kinda lone wolf, he works so well in a team afsgdjkdf

▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love ? this goo... is the softest lover,,, ‘lover’ is kind of a lofty word i dont like to use but that’s what he is, a huge hopeless closet romantic. :/ he daydreams and get distracted ... he’s so dumb... he reads self-help books and shitty romance novels adgfhjs and he’ll pay EVERY cost to make sure his crush never knows, but it’ll still show in a thousand little ways,,, its so stpuid... it’s gentle... a little bit shy but earnest and certain..... it is intense, unwavering loyalty and devotion and attention, but it’s honest, too, grounded in the reality of the world and the fact that people are deeply flawed and corruptible.

he’s also so ??? perplexed by it all that one time he thinks a small disagreement means its over, and so he quietly and respectfully accepts it but doesnt think to ASK. oh you sweet summer slime ://///

tagged by: @downpaths thank u!! :D

tagging: @memoryfaded / @blossomingbeelzebug / @sailorvinus / @sadnessruns / @fasciinating / & anyone else who’d like to do this!! tag me and i’ll read it! :^)

#sorry can u tell i started writing my first ship for odo on discord :/ terrible news everybody :/ :/#its been 2 years tho so i GUESS he can have a little happiness #⌀ EVERY SIXTEEN HOURS I TURN INTO A LIQUID! [ about. ]

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lexiconoffear · 4 years

Quote

Well, what do you know? A tragic glimpse to my right presents a view of a little stranger with a charm for whispering nonsense to the air. Fucking Harper Lee over there is writing shit all on her frosted green MacBook with the creativity of a blunt hacksaw. That she casually smiles with a hint of disdain towards those that give her the stern eye when she infrequently cowers behind Jane Austen books is nothing less than revolting. Why do I sound surprised to see these people at Verve? All of them with the usual brand of “I want to make it in Hollywood too”. Here’s a newsflash for you. Stop pretending that you like to read Lady Susan and Sanditon. Oh and Miss Fucking Perfect, we know you haven’t read any classics in your sunny shell of an existence. I would also like to add that drinking five cups of mint mocha and mumbling your shitty screenwriting lines is a non-starter with any professional worth a damn. It’s insulting that people like you think otherwise. But you like giving out shitty blowjobs to every one of your followers on Insta if it gets you some undivided attention. The nerve. For once, I would like to rip open her fucking head and look inside. But we all can’t take unnecessary risks. Can we Joe? Cut to our little hideaway in that golden Americana cul-de-sac. Repose feels great in the evening. Some might beg to differ. Now, it’s time for some pressing news. Shock. Horror. A domestic violence case in our own quaint suburbia. To say that I'm intrigued to see how you handle this crisis is a bit of an understatement. Typical. Color me fucking surprised. You try to console yourself with many crafted truths. A bad case of false reporting. Lack of circumstantial evidence. You even blame it on something out of your control. But I'm glad to hear that you’re slowly dying on the inside. The world can finally find comfort in knowing what a stand-up guy you are, Joe Goldberg. You want a do-over? Some respite from public heat? No bueno. Why will it be any different this time Joe? Do you honestly think that low of me? Every word you espoused was a lie. Like crimson etches that forever stains our vision of what’s real. Comeuppance is nothing but a decorum now. The viewers of the media and our community love to crucify every fucker that slowly chips away at the perfect household image. The perfect family. Our fucking so called perfect lives as couples that be. But that’s the least of your concerns. What you should worry about most is a woman who owns her narrative. Her story. Her triumphs. She doesn’t pretend to be some victim of circumstance. She is a fucking survivor. Fucking America loves this piece to death. People love it. They all can't get enough of that shit. As soon as it's served up, everyone eats it up like magic rice. You were too oblivious to see what is at stake here. Don’t give me that dirty look as if you're entitled to it. Really, it’s a fitting retribution. Any scorned lover would see this punishment as fit for the crime committed. Did you think for once that the cost to all the insanity you inflicted was justified? Has nothing sacred ever matter to the likes of you? You weren’t like this before we grew and settled. Those restless struggles. Endless disputes. Our relationship certainly wasn’t the easy paradise that we pictured in our minds. That much I can tell you. But it was worth fighting for. Nothing else meant more than the first word we chose to define our union. Don’t tell me it meant nothing the moment you pulled closer at a wedding and reassured me with vows that came to be. Don’t you dare lie to me and say that our love was an illusion that ended while we fucked each other in my third trimester. When you saw me for the first time at Anavrin, you witnessed that wonder. A one-of-a-kind love. That incited all this madness and ecstasy. I was the cool girl you envisioned in your hopeless dreams. That cool girl who did everything right. Who like every asshole envisions as the definitive girl they like to fuck and bring to their family home for Christmas. Manic pixie version. She is that fucking cool girl. The same girl with a mouth that is sure to win some prizes in any department. What a fucking joke. To think that I shaped myself to be the ultimate lover. Unmatched in both scale and vision. Did you think that my fucking name was a joke to you? Yes, that’s a rhetorical question by the way. One fucking word. Love. How the fuck did you fuck that up? My charming hardened New Yorker guy with a wounded soul. I remember when you were different. Smitten by a dumb joke about fucking fruit of all things. I saw that darkness in your eyes. A wit that followed with a charming presence. Can’t also deny you weren’t easy on the eyes either. This had to be it. The thing we both searched for our entire lives. Love. In Hollywood of all places. You were all in and nothing else mattered. I loved you unconditionally. Yeah, that’s a fucking cliché if I hear it again. We fucked each other, blew one another and rose in the morning like fucking squirrels on mescaline. Perhaps, that’s a little too intimate for the ears. Forgive me for not censoring shit that needs to be heard. So, how the hell did we end up here? Call me a little jaded now, if I don't look back at our history with rose-tinted glasses. I should have seen the signs. Yes, love can make us do terrible things and be blind to each other's faults. That's a fucking given. But I never thought I would lose trust in you. The one who finally brought a sense of ease to my heart. The same guy who later cheated on me and fucked a woman from behind. Our neighbor no less. On a day that very well should have marked the death of me. Just one glance and I saw the vision of our nuclear family undone. All you ever pursue is another work of project in sight. That’s how your fucking story always is. Just like Delilah. Just like Beck. Add that cutthroat bitch with a revenge agenda to the fucking equation too. You killed assholes. Left. Right. Center. Yet, you stand there and face me with a familiar look. A smugness that reeks of self-righteousness. That appearance of hypocrisy. The very look my mother gave me when I didn’t do my part in taking good care of Forty. The same look is all I see now. Disappointment. Disgust. Revulsion. Like a damaged commodity that you pass on when you’re done. You didn’t even have the balls to tell me what you really felt. It’s all a delusion that you hold to encourage that shitty desire of buying new merchandise with an exclusive item on the side that some cunt upsells you at Walmart. Forgiving the unforgivable is not in my fucking rule book. You think you can get away. Unscathed. Unfazed. Unhurt. No, you don’t. No fucking way Joe. Now, I know the truth. I wasn’t destiny. I wasn’t love. The worst part is that you made me believe in hope. Made me hold onto faith. Then, you reduced me to a foil in your self-absorbed romance story. But make no mistake, you will pay the price. Mark my fucking words. Don't think I won't make plans well ahead in advance to fuck you over. You will see what I'll bring to the table. I must thank you though. You brought something else out of me. Something I tried to hide for a very long time. All it took was a little nudge in the right direction. The follow up act was less painful. But you wouldn’t care, would you Joe? You never thought about family. The lengths that many would go to protect their kind. To spare them of any anguish. A quick head dash into a collective antique vase from Montalcino should do the trick. Maybe, a little cut on the arm with a help of a few broken shards. That will save myself from the shame. From the silent screams. The undying pain. Nothing compares to the deep cuts of the heart. All I see now is a vivid painting of torture. Filled with cinnabar streaks all over the Vermillion carpet that my late brother cherished. What a perfect expression of grief. The dull ache. The fading memories. The wild stench of blood. When your other half dies, nothing eclipses the misery of loss. That’s what I told myself. Family is everything. It always came first. Above all else. But when I fell in love again, my entire perspective changed. Until reality hit me in the face. Sheared off in patches and defiled like every other celebration past the fourth of July. Do you really think I wouldn’t see to it that justice will be sought for the unseen wounds, the unheard abuse, and the million masks people like you wear to fool their loved ones? Don’t kid yourself Joe. It’s time we put an end to this fantasy. One way or another.

Love Quinn (YOU)

#gone girl #you on netflix #you netflix #netflix you #love quinn #cool girl #monologue #joe goldberg #joe x love #relationship #quote #season 3

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somepinkthing · 5 years

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thirty four is a rough age when you’re a shitty sect leader

A/N: Basically a collection of post-canon NHS centric fics. My OC's pop up on occasion too! But the story can be read without worrying too much about them. Qinhe Nie is just free real estate given we do not know the name of a single disciple or servant so I needed to create some. This is part 1!

[LIST AND DESCRIPTION OF OC's FOR THOSE INTERESTED]

---

Huaisang found himself at a loss these days. He never really thought that the death of Jin Guangyao would fill the hole in his heart that his brother left, but he at least thought it would make his life a little easier. Foolishly, he’d believed that once his world stopped being constantly tinged red with rage that his life would become clearer. Like maybe life would seem a little clearer to him instead of this hazy fig. As if this one event would make his life less like a pathway crumbling rapidly behind him at a pace that left him scrambling forward. One month and a hundred hours of paperwork later and Huaisang suddenly was hit with a horrible realization.

“Oh shit. I actually have to start being a sect leader on my own now.”

---

“I’m surprised you’re actually willing to talk to me.”

Wei Wuxian smirked, downed another drink, and leaned beck with a sigh.

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t be willing to talk to you, Huaisang-xiong? Have you done something wrong?”

Nie Huaisang smiled that perpetually gentle looking smile of his and matched his drinking companion by downing his own cup like he was drinking water. An absurdly high alcohol tolerance was one of the perks that came with being a Nie and while Huaisang had fallen into the short end of the gene pool in all other areas, he somehow managed to inherit this particular trait.

“Don’t be like this, Wei-xiong. Is there any need for these games anymore?” he asked before pouring himself another drink and gulping it down just as fast as he had the last five.

Wei Wuxian copied the action. “No, probably not. I just figured you wouldn’t want it getting out is all.”

“Whether it gets out or not is out of my hands now, isn’t it? I just have to believe I’ve covered my tracks well enough. That’s all I can do at this point,” Huaisang said in a wry tone.

“That’s true.”

“Besides,” he continued, “As far as convincing you or the others at the temple anymore... well, there’s really very little chance of that, isn’t there? I can learn from the mistakes of my enemies, Wei-xiong. Some things you just have to let go. I’m afraid that no matter what I say, it won’t make any of you think any better or worse of me. That’s the way it is with these things, isn’t it?”

It occurred to Huaisang that perhaps he’d had a bit more than the six cups he’d thought he had and that maybe, just maybe, he was a little too tipsy to be entrusted with his own secrets. Still, nothing he’d said was untrue nor was any of it damning. It was just... what it was at this point.

Wei Wuxian hummed in agreement.

“So how’s the sect leader life?”

Huaisang raised one perfectly curated eyebrow. “Same as it has been for thirteen years?”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes.

“Now who’s playing games?”

Huaisang really didn’t want to get into this. He’d taken Wei Wuxian up on his invite more out of curiosity that anything else. The last thing he wanted was to admit to the man how much he truly sucked at running a sect.

Because he did. He sucked. Reason number one of many with the plan of “Just Kill Jin Guangyao And Go Back To Normal” was that, well, his normal sucked. Huaisang truly was awful at being a sect leader! He didn’t have the presence or brute force his brother had. He had taken classes in diplomacy but only went as far as had been expected out of the sickly second young master and the son of a courtesan to boot. When he’d first approached his brother’s sworn brothers for help, it had been out of sincerity. He’d had no idea about the truth that early on! He hadn’t been trying to get Jin Guangyao to underestimate him back then! He really was just bad at leading a sect! And, as it turned out, spending over a decade playing at incompetence didn’t make him any more competent at running a whole providence.

Apparently leading a sect involved more than playing deadly mind games, late night detective work, and honing your ability at espionage.

Apparently being perceptive and cunning and secretly good at managerial roles couldn’t totally make up for a lack of experience and leadership ability.

Apparently leaving most of his sect’s important affairs to Gusu Lan and Lanling Jin for the past decade in the attempt to gain their trust actually had consequences.

Apparently secretly plotting the death of your arch nemesis didn’t magically make you a respectable sect leader. Apparently it couldn’t make your presence more commanding, it couldn’t make your weak little arms and stronger, and it couldn’t make suddenly having no support any less daunting. Apparently relying on a man you intended to see dead was a bad long term plan for the continued success of your sect.

Go figure.

But like hell he was going to admit that to Wei Wuxian in the middle of a seedy bar in Caiyi.

“Why am I here, Wei-xiong?” he asked instead. An obvious change of topics but hopefully Wei Wuxuan had learned how to take a hint in the long years since they'd been children.

Wei Wuxian smiled that same blinding smile that had seemed so strong and comforting to Huaisang a lifetime ago.

“To drink, of course!”

Huaisang mildly wondered how Wei Wuxian managed to make inhabiting someone else’s body seem so seamless. Mo Xuanyu had been his own person with a his own lifestyle and his body reflected that.

Mo Xuanyu had been his own person....

And now he wasn’t.

Was that Huaisang’s fault? He certainly hadn’t tied the boy’s hands and forced him to do what he did. He hadn’t created the situation the boy was in. In fact, the information he’d provided Mo Xuanyu had been blatantly upfront about what he could expect to happen. Mo Xuanyu chose his fate knowing what it could cost. He'd wanted revenge with the same fervor Huaisang had. All Huaisang had done was suggest a possible option. That was fine, right?

As if. Huaisang was weak and cowardly and afraid to face his problems upfront, but he was also raised a Nie. He knew better than to try and deflect blame. He had made his choice, there was no point in sugarcoating the facts now. True, Mo Xuanyu had chosen his fate but Huaisang was the one who benefitted. He did not kill him nor had he either forced or coerced the boy's hand but he had knows what would happen when he'd approached the boy. He'd known that the decision would be, had seen the same hatred he saw every morning in the mirror burning in Mo Xuanyu's eyes. It's not as if murder and blackmail were the only crimes a person could commit (they were just the most heinous, right DaGe?).

“Huaisang-xiong~” a lilting voice called out to him, breaking through the shroud of guilt that he feared may have been all too visible for someone as sharp as Wei Wuxian.

“Huaisang-xiong, you’re really spacing out a lot today. Rough month? Can I offer you a drink in these trying times?”

Huaisang couldn’t help but laugh a little. With everything else in between them, he’d almost forgotten how easy it was to like Wei Wuxian.

“Don’t be like this, Wei-xiong. Don’t tease me about my suffering! As if a glass of wine could possibly solve all my problems,” Huaisang lamented dramatically, “Do you have any idea how much paperwork goes into being a sect leader? It’s one thing to see a stack but to fill it out? I haven’t slept in weeks! Weeks!”

“Ah yeah, I know what you mean. Lately Lan Zhan’s taken to sleeping at his desk filling out all that garbage.”

...since Zewu-jun is no longer in any condition to.

It probably wasn’t what Wei Wuxian had meant with that comment but it was certainly what Huaisang heard.

“Well I understand his pain,” Huaisang commiserated, swallowing down his bitter feelings surrounding the first jade with a swig of sweet wine, “Sometimes a desk is better than nothing.”

“But he doesn’t have nothing!” Wei Wuxian whined, taking another huge gulp, “He has a husband! A lonely, lonely husband who’s rotting away waiting for him in the jingshi!”

Upon finishing, he dramatically threw his head down into his arms and groaned at the counter. Instinctively, Huaisang brought his hand up to pat Wei Wuxian on the back.

Suddenly Huaisang had an inkling of why he was here.

“Wei-xiong, were you feeling lonely? So you invited me out?”

It was a notion so preposterously simple that it seemed almost unbelievable. And yet...

“Well, of course!” Wei Wuxian replied, “Why else would I have flagged you down on your visit? Do I seem like someone who just goes out drinking with everyone I see? I’ll tell you what, maybe that’s what I was like in my youth but I’m a married man now! I can’t just do things like wander off with anyone who catches my fancy anymore. I have my husband’s reputation to think of...”

His voice trailed at the end. Wei Wuxian was always the kind to be openly joyful but was as tight lipped as Lan Wangji when it came to his pain. But a childhood of living with his brother and a decade of learning Jin Guangyao’s tells had made Huaisang a little bit of an expert at reading in between the lines. Wei Wuxian was laughably expressive in comparison to that fox if one just learned where to look.

“I can’t imagine trying to marry into the Lan family,. How many rules is it now? 3000?”

“Over 4000,” Wei Wuxian moaned miserably, “Can you believe that? Are there even that many things to restrict?”

If there were, Huaisang couldn’t think of them. Then again, with rules like “no excessive sadness” he supposed it was easy enough to come up with 4000.

“If I’ve heard correctly, one of them is that no one is to speak to you?” Huaisang couldn’t help but to dig deeper, it was practically second nature at this point. And besides, he really just wanted to know how that worked. For all that he knew Lan Qiren to a proud and slightly ridiculous man, he was a bit flabbergasted when he heard of the most recent rule the Lan’s had chiseled onto that mountain.

“Hm, your information is as sharp as always, Huaisang. They barely put that up a week ago. How’d you hear of it so fast? Someone leak it to you?” Wei Wuxian was the kind of person that couldn’t help but dig either it seemed.

“Nothing like that!” Huaisang replied honestly, “I’m simply in correspondence with the disciples we send to the Cloud Recesses. Some of them I’ve known since they were children. They mention night hunting with you quite often so I was curious as to how that worked.”

Wei Wuxian laughed lightly. “It doesn’t really. The kids there are all really good kids and most of them are more used to answering to Zewu-jun or Lan Zhan more than they are to Lan-laoshi at this point. But they’ve been avoiding me a bit out of fear of punishment ever since the rule officially went onto the wall. Lan Zhan assures me that it’ll die down within a week and that he’ll see it removed from the wall soon.”

Wei Wuxian smiled fondly before catching himself and coughing while hiding his blush.

Interesting how admitting to want to bed a man didn’t embarrass him but admitting that he thought fondly of his husband was enough to send Wei Wuxian reaching for the wine.

“I didn’t even know that was possible,” Wei Wuxian continued after downing another glass, “I mean the rules are literally chiseled into the wall. But Lan Zhan said he’d do it so...”

Huaisang also doubted it was possible but he also remembered how easily Bichen had sliced through the thick stone walls of his ancestral tomb. He doubted the mountain face would fare any better against Lan Wangji’s fierce protectiveness.

“Still,” Huaisang said, “even with that new rule in effect, surely you didn’t need to hunt me down in order to have a drink? Wouldn’t someone else have been closer?”

And less dangerous? More trustworthy? A better candidate in general?

Wei Wuxian snorted.

“Huaisang-xiong, you may be overestimating me. Even I cannot afford to single out juniors to take out to drink. And Lan Zhan is great but he’s my husband! Some time apart is supposed to be... beneficial. And-and...”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, no longer interested in finishing his sentence it seemed. But Huaisang heard him loud and clear:

“And other than that, who else could I ask? Who else would be willing to even receive an invite from the Yiling Patriarch?”

Newly cleared as his name was, many cultivators still held onto their hate. Not an entirely unexpected reaction given all the damage and death dealt by one man alone but it would make it hard for Wei Wuxian to find willing friends his own age.

Huaisang wasn’t a fan of bloodshed or the rules of war, but he had been raised a Nie. Contrary to popular belief, he had some understanding of honor and duty (though he was well aware his actions hardly reflected that). That “conference” had been a war council. And even before that, the ambush at Qiongqi Pass had been as good as a declaration itself. You didn't attack a man during peacetime without the intention of starting something. So, for all the blood that was shed, Huaisang himself held no ill will towards Wei Wuxian. If you pick a fight then, win or lose, you better be ready to finish it--that was something his father had drilled into both his sons before passing. Huaisang had always taken that lesson to heart, it was why he didn’t pick any fights!

"Well. If that's all then let's go somewhere with nicer wine. I don't know how much more of this I can choke down. If we plan on drinking the night away let's go find wine that's drinkable."

"You don't seem to be having much of a problem."

"I just have an excellent poker face."

---

Somehow, they both woke up in The Unclean Realms in Huaisang's rooms.

"How did we get here?" Wei Wuxian asked, groggy and holding his throbbing head.

"Maybe we flew?" Huaisang answered thinly, still hiding his head under covers.

"Impossible. I can't fly and you can't carry me."

"Well," a rumbling, amused voice jutted into their conversation, "I can both fly and carry two drunkards. What do I win?"

"Fan HuaLan," Nie Huaisang sighed, "get lost...."

"Now is that any way to speak to your savior?" she asked.

"Is that any way to speak to your sect leader?" Huaisang shot back.

HuaLan barked out a loud, utterly grating laugh. "It is when you're the sect leader."

Huaisang groaned at the volume. HuaLan was a mysterious woman and, by nature, didn't say much... except with him. He took a second to mourn the days where she would salute him like a proper subordinate and didn't speak out of turn.

"You're fired and I'll have you stoned to death for this disrespect," Huaisang muttered into his pillow.

"Try it, trick-ass-bitch."

There was a noise outside.

"Huaisang?" ZiShen called in, voice slightly muted but still loud as hell drifting through the closed door, "Huaisang are you awake?!"

Suddenly the doors burst open and a veritable giant of a man bolted in, jumping right on Huaisang's bed illiciting a pained yelp from his sect leader.

"You should have seen yourself!" ZiShen said with a smile, "I don't think I've seen you that out of it in years! You threw up on JuDuo-daren! It was hilarious!"

Zhang ZiShen. As loud as the day Huaisang met him all those decades ago, when a better man ran the sect.

"Nie Huaisang, shut that guy up..." Wei Wuxian moaned.

"If I could, I would. Just ride it out."

"Hey everyone!" ZiShen called out the still open door.

Huaisang paled. "Zhang ZiShen, don't you dare! Shut your mouth!"

"THE SECT LEADER'S AWAKE!"

Huaisang never regretted The Unclean Realm's long, echoing hallways more than he did now. Not even when his brother used to roar down them about saber training or whatever else it was that Huaisang had recently skipped out on doing .... Huaisang took it as a small victory that the memory of his brother's booming voice brought more fondness than it did pain. He really was hungover.

A crescendo of loud, mostly annoyed voices started heading towards them almost immediately. Huaisang got up reluctantly. No point in going back to bed now. Might as well get on with his day.

"By the way," HuaLan stage whispered to him as soon as he found his footing, "who's your friend?"

"Wei Wuxian. The Yiling Patriarch. Better watch out."

HuaLan raised an eyebrow at Huaisang. A silent question. Huaisang shook his head. He was safe. Even Wei Wuxian wouldn't be bold enough to try anything within the halls of this fortress.

"Huh," HuaLan carried on with a smirk, turning to appraise their guest, "I thought he'd be taller."

Huaisang watched Wei Wuxian's groggy facial features immediately twist into afront.

"Wha-HEY! I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL BODY. I WAS AS TALL AS LAN ZHAN!"

"Wei-xiong. Shut up."

---

"I'll tell Xichen-gege that you're doing well."

"I doubt he'd be interested."

Wei Wuxian smiled an actually genuine smile. The kind that Huaisang used to try and coax out of him in those months they'd had together.

"You don't just stop loving people once they hurt you, we'd all have an easier time if that were the case."

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. The sudden invite. Wei Wuxian's abnormal friendliness. HuaLan knowing precisely where to find him. Wei Wuxian's silent observation during this morning's commotion despite it being just the type of chaos he usually revelled in.

"And you accuse me of being the sneaky one," Huaisang muttered without any malice. As far as sneaks getting into his home, this one he didn't mind so much.

Wei Wuxian only laughed.

"Tell Sect Leader Lan that I am doing fine. The Nie Sect isn't the type to fail just because of one man's incompetence."

"Let alone the fact that no one around here seems incompetent," Wei Wuxian said.

That caught Huaisang off guard. Was that... a genuine compliment? Aimed at him? Or at his disciples? Or a pointed comment? Unsure of how to take it, all he could do was stay silent and try not to gape.

Wei Wuxian didn't comment on the sudden silence. Instead, he looked off to where JuDuo was yelling at HuaLan who was obviously not listening. ZiShen stood off to the side, trying to listen in without drawing either of their ire. The younger disciples nervously flapped around, trying to get them to stop in vain. Huaisang figured they'd stop soon enough once GuanJia finally dragged himself over to the training field and drew all of JuDuo's ire and energy just with his presence.

"This is nice," Wei Wuxian muttered so softly that Huaisang almost didn't catch it.

It occured to Huaisang that perhaps, like any good lie, Wei Wuxian's ruse had held a bit of truth in it. Truly, who else would be willing to recieve an invite from the Yiling Patriarch? Who other than the Headshaker? And perhaps Huaisang felt for him, just a bit. He too knew the crushing feeling of that the empty, lonely hole left behind by those already passed and the sharp sting of having no one else to turn to.

......

......Huaisang shouldn't. This would be bad for his sect and awful for him. Wei Wuxian would report everything to his husband and there were things Huaisang definitely didn't want confirmed. This was a bad idea.

But then again, when was the last time he'd had a good idea? And when was the last time he'd made a decision without the fear of being found out? Was he to live like this until the end of his days? Was this fear and secrecy all that was left for him now that he'd killed his enemy? Was that to be the climax of his life, everything before building up to that moment and everything after consumed with recovering from it? Had Jin GuangYao stolen this from him as well?

"If it's nice," Huaisang said carefully, unsure, "then feel free to stop by more often."

Now it was Wei Wuxian's turn to be caught speechless. That was fine, Huaisang knew how to wait.

"I-I couldn't possibly intrude on the sanctity of your home, Sect Leader Nie," Wei Wuxian finally choked out with his signature it's-all-fine smile. So easy to see through, so transparent.

"Nonsense. If you hadn't noticed yet, there's no sanctity in this home anymore. Nor is there much worry about intruding. My subordinates are all vile beasts," Huaisang said, trying to keep as much affection out of his tone as possible. It wouldn't do for them to think he approved of nosiness, funny as it was.

"But they seem to like you," Huaisang continued, "and I could do with a drinking partner. All of them are lightweights except for ZiShen. And I value myself too much to drink with him."

Huaisang didn't consider himself an overly sentimental man (not anymore anyways) but the way Wei Wuxian's head snapped up, the way his eyes shone hopefully, made Huaisang feel warm. Like maybe he'd made the right choice for once.

#nie huaisang #wei wuxian #wei ying #yiling patriarch #yiling laozu #nhs #wwx #mdzs fic #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #founder of diabloism #gdc #my fic #my writing #oc

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bigscaryyanderewriter · 5 years

Text

Frosty Fear and the Fury of Flames (Dragonshifter! Shouto x Reader) Part 3

Part 2 ^

Hahaha, a part 3 for you??? It’s more likely than you’d think. This is actually kinda fun to write in parts, although it takes me a while. I have a few requests waiting to be answered still and that kinda bums me out still. Gonna be getting a lot more of Todoroki though. Haha… I like fire boys. Also, if you can’t tell. I really want to play dnd.

Tw: Yandere, Nightmares, Slight Gore

2.1k Words

“Bakugou, are you sure about this? I mean-”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Shitty hair? Come on, get that damn wimp ready to go. We’re going to need to get out of here if we are going to get them away from that damn dragon.” The grimace on his face as deeper set than usual as you were forced to pack up with the others yet again.

They were going to abandon their mission, since there were other things they could do. That was what Bakugou told you at least, you had a feeling that none of the jobs in this tavern were worth half as much to the group as the one involving Shouto was. Still, you were grateful that they wanted you to stay and that you could be useful to them.

You couldn’t stop the sinking feeling though as you knew that getting farther away would be good, but also… They had to do something like give up the goal they had been working towards to assist you.

The morning was still dark, no sun peaked on the horizon as the birds only just began singing their morning songs. The bags were packed and soon you were all ready to go by the time the sky began to lighten. You would be heading east and down the mountains a good ways until you got to the plains, travelling for about two weeks before stopping in another city called White Fields. Something was said about dangerous rock formations that would cause small landslides and magic folk you couldn't talk to. Not much rest would be allowed, wanting to get as far as possible from the mountains and desert. If luck was on their side, they would be out of reach by that point, since Shouto was still unable to travel that far from what you have learned. Something about territory disputes and bad blood.

That was the plan and you were praying to whatever would listen that it would work.

"Are you ready, (Y/N)? We had better get going." Mina spoke from the doorway of the little room of the inn. Her face showed a bit of concerned and you realized you had been scratching a bit at your arm. You hurriedly covered the scratches and grabbed the sack with your more material belongings, the golden jewelry, things you had taken from the cave. Following her out to the boys, you all got moving as you walked out of town.

The place where the sun rose was your destination. Going throughout the day. The further day the mountains, the darker the forests and the colder it was. It was a bit misty out with the morning still being new. The winter would hit quickly this year and you could tell. At least it would here. The cold air from last night seemed to be cradled here. Your arm hairs prickled as you all walked.

It was as you pulled your arms closer to yourself that you heard Denki speaking, "Hey, you look… like you might want this." He pulled off the warm yellow cloak he had worn throughout the time you had seen him and offered to hand it to you.

"Oh- It's nothing. I'll be fine… The sun will warm me up soon enough. You know I'm not a princess though, so you probably shouldn't call me that." You said with a tiny fake smile. "I appreciate the offer though."

"Aw, maybe I shouldn't call you princess then. No princess holds a candle to you anyways! You have to be the product of some goddess of beauty." He laughed as you couldn't stop the heat rushing to your face, "Don't be so shy. I'm just teasing you. Though you do make a cute face when you're embarrassed. Still, you should take it. I'll be fine without it for a minute."

"Kaminari, I swear to all the gods that I will shove so many rocks into your mouth, if you don't stop flirting. You'll be shitting so many rocks that you could put it on a resume." Bakugo was throwing nonsense threats and this just resulted in some laughter as you had never heard a threat more ridiculous. It was like it was written by someone who didn't actually know how to properly threaten people or something.

Ah yes. That is me. The narrator, who cannot narrate without getting sidetracked. Now, watching you and the group laugh… The tension of impending doom is nowhere to be found as you all walk the beginnings of the mountains' autumnal scenery. The yellow cloak draped on your shoulders as you continued and Denki at your side, chatting idly with you. His presence and the conversation taking the pressure of the situation away. It seemed he was an expert, being a bard. Something told you to be careful though. The stereotype with musicians and their unfaithfulness…

There was more time to mull over the prospect later, but you also just found him so jolly. It was a real treat. Going through the day, nothing happened. It was painfully boring event-wise, tiring, but you made progress. You had begun to feel uneasy, despite Kaminari distracting. Something was lurking in the forests, in the trees. Everything seemed about as turned around for you as a spinning carnival mirror maze.

Sero, Kiri, and Mina seemed to have had no problem as you were led by them. The group was much closer together now and the laughter began to cease. Night would come and the wish to leave these mountains was becoming louder within your head. It was eerie.

No one spoke much while the dark branches of nearly black barked pines hung above with their ruddy red leaves. The silver of the wood beneath was visibly upon some broken branches and on the stumps that you would sometimes pass on the thinning path. They looked unpleasantly rough to touch. Small barbs lining the branches and serving as more than a small warning to be careful around them.

Soon the light would go, so Kiri found a spot around where some trees had fallen and sat up a fire for the night, while you picked up anything on the ground to make it less rocky. It was also handy for you to get more sticks for the fire. These trees burned infamously easy. A single mistake with a fire and it could go up in minutes, but it would burn for a long time. It was not usual for anyone to cut any down due to the inhabitants though and the consequences. You didn't know what they were and you weren't about to try to find out by harming the forest.

Dinner was easy, still being able to have some good leftovers from the inn. You had to eat them all today, but it was still going to be fuel until the next time you went to eat fresh food, cooked by someone else at least.

Denki couldn't help lightening the mood as he pulled out his stringed instrument and started playing a lovely song… It was familiar, somehow. You struggled to think of what it was called, but you knew the words. It was peaceful and it definitely seemed to help Mina perk up again as she began talking with Sero. Bakugo seemed less irritable as he ate, the music must calm the beast. You couldn't help the smile that came on your face at that thought.

Singing along probably wouldn't keep him calm, but you oh so wanted to… It would be a little embarrassing, but others might join in.

So you did. It was time to have some fun.

You hummed along and started singing,

"How much is love worth?

Yet, we're giving it for free.

Didn't cost a penny, but

I've gained everything.

I'd do anything to make her smile

My darling

Darling~

If only she would look out

Of that dreamy little world

She would then see

That while I am no prince

And will make her crazier than me

I would never quit to admit I'm wrong

I'd always get on her nerves,

She would hate the way I eat

And only then it's worse.

I'd complain about her mother

Even though she's quite alright

I won't stop til I see her blush

Red in the dead of night.

An immoral proposition

If not only for a tease

But I have some qualities

that put her mind at ease.

I love her more than the sea does a shore

As the sun does the horizon,

Unafraid to come back home

And get her blood arising

Kiss her face and hold her hand

I'll never let her go.

I'm lucky that she loves it

Where I'd be without it, who would know

That she likes to feel the spite

That even though I mess around

I'm in her bed tonight

Of my darling,

My darling

Darling

Not doing as the birds and bees

But holding on her hand,

Kissing at her face

And saying things for show

Her pretty crimson blush

Cause when I see it, then I know

That the hand life dealt

Was a royal flush."

Denki sang with you as the others watch, some la's and humming as you got up with a spin. The swirl of your dress and body as you sang out each part with more confidence. Mina laughed when you would dance and Kirishima was keeping the beat.

After a while, the singing stopped and soon the group started to settle in.

Bakugo took first watch with Kirishima, Sero and Denki. Then Mina and you. Only because of practicality. It was to be in three hour shifts. It was when you laid down on your bed roll and cover yourself with a blanket you had been given. The night would be cold, but the fire was big enough to warm you as you sleep. As soon as you eyes closed, you were out. A day of travelling made you more than ready to sleep. It was a wonderful thing to sleep with good dreams, but you seemed to lack any dreams lately.

Not tonight.

You woke up in an ashen forest. Smoke choked life as blue flames rose in the distance. It snowed. You could hardly distinguish the ash from the snow until it would either burn you or melt on your skin. Getting up was impossible, the burning branch crushed your legs.

The acrid smell of burnt hair and smoke. It stung your eyes as you tried to tears away while coughing. You just couldn't stop coughing. "Please! Please! Denki?! Mina!"

You were crying and struggling. The wood was too heavy and you could see the blood on the snow. You were bleeding heavily. It hurt. It hurt.

"Somebody help me! Please! I don't want to die." You couldn't stop the tears as you thrashed about. Soon you stopped though. A growl sounding above you. Blue eyes and blackened scales, injuries beyond counting.

El diablo azul. The shivering continued as you looked up, nothing short of full blown trembling as he snorted hot air over you and knocked the branch away. Draconic was spoken to you as you scrambled back from him. It was deep and grumbling, not hissing or growling like the words spoken by Endeavor or Shouto.

"I don't under- understand. Thank you though…" You couldn't look away from those blue eyes as they seemed to glint with amusement before the great black wings beat against the air. Smoke and snow getting caught up as he was off again and soaring over the burning forest. Lying in the snow though, you wouldn't be able to get up. Maybe he wanted to give you a chance to survive. So you pulled yourself up and began to walk through the blizzard, blood oozing from your thigh and ash caked on your skin. You weren't going to make that help mean nothing.

Though, you were confident. You looked up to see something far worse than the fire ahead. Red and white scales. Shouto was coming for you.

Blinking your eyes open as you were shaken awake. Sweat coated your body while you panted, "Stop- Stop! Please."

It was as you jolted up, you saw Denki looking with fear at you. His hands had been shaking you awake and scrambled away. Out of breath as you looked around frantically. "Shshshh, You need to be quiet. You're attracting too much attention. You were screaming in your sleep. What in the world were you dreaming about…?"

"Nothing, it was nothing, Denki… Just a bad dream. I um, I'll take the rest of your shift if you want to go back to sleep. I don't think I can…" You murmurred.

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