#this is in a dream sequence after being called the chosen one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hermesserpent-stuff · 1 year

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request on ao3:

""And... sorry for the audacity, but I listened to "Blessed Messiah and the Tower of Ai" on the eve and I came up with such a plot idea: What if Peter dozed off while listening to this song. As a result, he has a dream in which he, Harry, the Enforcers and Sinister Six (except Kraven) are the characters of this song. In the story, nine companions of the main character (Peter) betray him and take away the nine blessings necessary to save the world. But in fact, they saved him from a terrible death by sacrificing their lives. The realization of the truth brings Peter grief, but then he wakes up in Montana's apartment, awakened by her owner. Later, they have a conversation in which Peter admits that in his heart he is still afraid of betrayal, but even more that his uncles will suffer because of him. ""

reply:

This is a dream sequence one shot! Sorry if it gets confusing. Ive also changed up a few things since i wanted to.

Peter streaches and then winces at the feeling of his side wound complaining against the movement. Ugh. If only Ock sucked a little less and Rhino was a little weaker, he might not feel so achy right now. He collapses into his bed at Montana’s apartment, yawning. Sleep comes to him quickly despite the pain.

The world is dying. A fact that is well-known and pressed into everyone's heart. The god’s had been unimpressed with the hubris of man and had taken their blessings away. Peter knows this from stories repeated and spoken on every corner. He stands on a hilltop, staring across the wavering grass. A note sits in his hand, one that he knows to be a prophecy calling him to travel to the tower where the blessings have been locked away. The gods had deemed it fit to pass along the blessings to one chosen to allow them back into the world. He cannot recall reading the letter. But he knows its contents by heart.

He turns to the loghouse he shares with his uncles, knowing that they would be eager to hear the word of the messenger. They might also come with him to gather the blessings. He enters the home, greeted by open arms and warm smiles.

“Peter, what was the message?”

Peter smiles brightly.

“I am the chosen one. I am being sent to collect the blessings.”

People had long awaited the return of the blessings and the news is exciting. The four adults share a moment and then Montana gives him a tight hug.

“This is great news!”

But the man’s voice is wavering slightly. Peter dismisses it. Quentin shoots him a watery grin and thumbs up. The excitement must be bringing a tear to his uncle’s eye.

“We should round up a posse. I think that all the Six will come. Never can be too sure what the gods’ll shove in their towers.”

And so it is. Peter with his four uncles and his favorite adults from the village, Ock, Toomes, Electro, Flint and O’Hirn march with him across the countryside. He feels like time flows faster and that the journey should be taking longer. But Peter shrugs it off as having fun. The time is passed with music and conversation. He gets to ride on a lot of shoulders as his legs tire. It is nice to feel unafraid of any of the adult’s hands. A thought that fades after a confused attempt to examine it. The whole journey he absently notices shared looks and Quentin and Ox comparing notes and showing them off to other adults, with some worried looks that shift into determination. Ox is a monk and so Peter assumes that it is a discussion of scriptures and prepping for whatever the tower has in store. Quentin is their resident sorcerer, and could decipher ancient texts so that fits Peter’s assumption pretty well.

When they arrive, the mood is still light. The door opens, unlocking at Peter’s touch. Something is carved there, but his eyes glaze over the text that mushes. He shakes off the feeling off oddness and grabs the torch that would light the altar at the top of the tower. The group enters, the cold stone smelling sickly sweet.

The first blessing is rumored to be on the first floor. He looks around and sees the rune for it. Peter takes a breath as he opens the door and prepares to take on the blessing of Blossoming Wave. But then his outstretched hand is held by O’Hirn. The man looks down into Peter’s eyes, an unreadable expression crossing his face.

“We share joy and pain.”

And with that Peter is violently shoved out of the room. O’Hirn grabs the blessing and the door slams closed with the ruin glowing brightly. Peter feels shock. How could O’Hirn do this? How could he forget that the man is a criminal? Were the others just here to grab the blessings in their own greed? He can see Flint already heading for the stairs and Peter dashes after him, hoping desperately to beat him to the next blessing, “Fire Banquet”. The man reaches the room moments before Peter and looks at the teenager with red-ringed eyes. Probably red from rage that he had not stolen the first blessing. Peter is pulled into Montana’s comforting arms as the door closes on Flint’s treacherous actions.

“We have to get to the next blessings!”

He bolts to the next floor where two opposite blessings rest together on opposite sides of the floor. But he is pushed away from the first blessing that he sees on the floor.

“Ah the glorious light. The power of the sun at my fingertips.”

Ock says as his hand touches the blessing. And as if not to be outdone by the other man’s actions, Toomes quickly takes “Peaceful Darkness”, the door sealing him as well. Peter feels shock press against his system, tears streaming down his face. Electro betrays him next, blocking his entrance to “Rumble of Thunder” with a quirked smile. He pushes Peter back into his uncles and takes the blessing with a crackle of electricity. He is left with just his uncles who he turns to with begging eyes.

“Please. Please let me gather the last of the blessings. Four is still better than none.”

Montana wraps him in a hug. And then Ox takes “Trembling Ground” after ruffling Peter’s hair. Horror fills Peter at even his family betraying him and he looks at the faces of his remaining uncles. They look determined. But Peter no longer knows if that determination is to rob the world of blessings or to help him. The room containing “Rondo of Whirlwind” jingles with the sound of wind chimes that Dan steps in beat with and snatches blessing with a soft look as he twists to look back at the three remaining disappear from view.

Peter feels helpless as Quentin shoves Montana back and claims the next floor’s blessing “Garden of Silver Snow”. He looks backs at the two and tears freeze on his cheek. Peter grips the barely lit torch as he hopelessly stares at the still closed door. He had thought… how could Quentin turn on him? He thought his uncle loved him. He looks up at Montana and sees tears freely flowing from the man's eyes. His uncle never cries. His hand shakily reaches up and touches Montana's cheek. Montana pulls him close, presses a kiss to his forehead, and then steals the final blessing, “Fetal Movement of Magma” with a proud look in his eyes.

Peter hollowly looks at the torch that no longer held any flame. He shivers. He had failed. All the blessings were gone. He struggles up the last flight of stair, lungs scraping in air. But before he can reach the top of the tower the last stair case flickers and glows.

“You still dont understand, do you Peter?”

Tombstone? Is he here too? Peter blinks through his tears and glances around. Scenes shiver to life on the walls of the staircase. He sees O’Hirn drowing in a stormy sea, a faint smile on his face, Flint standing in hell fire, eyes closed against the dancing flamed, Ock sitting in the cracks of a drought ridden field gasping for water, Toomes screaming in the eternal darkness as it drives him mad, lightning from the heavens smashing down and frying Electro completely with its judgment, the earth swallowing Ox into its depths, Dan is being torn to pieces by a hurricane, Quentin standing frozen from the inside out with tears glittering like diamonds on his cheeks, and finally at the top of the steps he sees Montana craw through burning heat. They had taken on the pain and sorrow of the tower. The blessings were not blessings at all, but sacrifices of atonement that must be made. He stands at the top of the tower, in front of an alter already lit by the blood and love of the men who he had beleived betrayed him. He stares a the flickering flames. He had always been alright with self sacrifice, willining to die for what he believed in. But for others to choose to die for him. His body crumbles and he throws his head back and screams. And screams. And screams.

And then he is awake and scrambling out of a bed that tries to entrap him. Peter feels the horror of the nightmare yanking at him and he rushes down the hall to Montana’s room. The man is asleep, but soon wakes up as Peter presses himself into his uncle’s side.

“Peter?”

“Don’t die for me.”

The request is met with a tight hug, but no words. Peter whimpers a little at the implication of Montana’s silence.

“Please.”

“I’ll do my best kid. That’s all I can promise. But Im safe now and so are you. So breath.”

Peter knows that Montana will not lie to him and closes his eyes against the pain of knowing that the dream had held some elements of truth. It is hard to fall back asleep, but the steady beat of his uncle’s heart lulls him.

#hermes speaks #spider nephew au #tssm #tssm peter parker #tssm montana #Youtube

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benjaminthewolf · 2 years

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Sweet, Evil Dreams (Vore Story)

Welp.

I did it.

I’ve finally reached the end of my self-indulgent list of vore story ideas to get to someday.

The experience I had writing this was quite literally the most downright insane experience I have ever had writing anything ever. And as a result of that, a little while after this story releases, I will be releasing as a complementary story, the, as it is labeled in google docs, “Shitpost edition” of this same piece.

****

Nights in the Skylander Academy dorms were barely any different from each date to the next. The area was extremely well protected not only by a complex web of security cameras and alert systems, but also by constantly patrolling specially trained security guards, ever at the ready to strike upon any unforeseen intruder should the situation arise. As a result, if one were predisposed to launch an attack on any amount of the slumbering residents within, the most promising method of doing so would seem to be by pouncing upon them internally, rather than externally. Or, stated another way, deep within their dreams.

Thus, on this particular, otherwise unassuming night, a dream-bound battle of victims seemingly chosen by random promptly appeared inside the other reality, and a sequence of events destined to be remembered only by one at last commenced upon a call.

“Tread Head!” a voice called to the relatively unknown tech trap team core whom was rather unfortunately overshadowed by his elemental counterpart of Chopper back when the series was in its prime. The lightly shifting body of the Skylander told the voice on the outside that the little guy was conscious, but still needed to be coaxed a little more in order to open his eyes.

“Hey come on, wake up! Something’s very wrong here!”

Now that the odd, murmuring tech core was considerably more aware, he was able to subconsciously pair the voice he was hearing to that of a face. He definitely recognized it. It wasn’t something he could’ve known on the spot, but upon flickering open his big light blue eyes, he finally figured it out.

“Wham-Shell?” he sputtered out with a gasp as he swiftly sat up.

****

Now, taking the moment to interject, I must of course preface that the following duo of characters, as well as the actions that they are about to take, were not made by conscious decision in any stretch of the imagination. If the little introductory section at the start didn’t already tip you off, this story is going to be very hard to write. Not because of length, nor any technical roadblocks. No. In reality, this entire scene was chosen by my subconscious brain, and my subconscious brain alone, to play out amongst my slumber well over a year ago. There is a very good reason I saved this story for last on my list of self-indulgent ideas to get to. It is because the concept was not, in truth, made by me. I have of course, invented details here and there and added on description in order to make the narrative flow better. But the fact of the matter is that the only reason I am sitting here now writing this story is because my concept was practically forced upon my being using the will of the dream. Had that dream not happened, this entire concept would be entirely nil.

I do indeed have my thoughts on why my brain might have chosen these two characters in particular. I have a soft spot for Tread Head, if only for how underappreciated he is in the Skylander community. Wham-Shell, though he was never on my list of favorites, not by a long shot, was still held in somewhat high regard if only because he is indeed a part of a character group so near and dear to my heart, that of course being the Skylanders as a whole. I am unfortunately not able to make any discernible connection between the two of them other than that they are of the same fighting group. That being said, if you are one of those readers that almost immediately looks up a character’s design upon the author not providing significant description right away, then congratulations. You might have already figured it out.

Yes, it is indeed my belief that the only reason my brain chose these two in particular to be put through what is going to happen to them next is that fact that their designs have but a few superficial similarities, though only superficial, of course. A color palette of reds and browns upon the body, whilst possessing blue eyes, a body that is more circular in nature than most of the others, now, at last, there is an established connection.

I do intend to utilize this story to do quite more than just write down the contents of the dream, though that, of course, will be the first and foremost priority. Either way, I believe I have said my piece. You have, of course, come here in search of vore, and that is exactly what I intend to provide you all with. Thus, without further ado, please, sit back, relax, grab a snack, and enjoy this utterly bizarre experience I had in my sleep many many many moons ago.

****

“Yeah, yeah it’s me. Listen. Do you have absolutely any idea at all why we might have ended up stranded in the middle of a desert?” Wham-Shell proceeded to ask his still waking fellow Skylander, with a bit of hasty panic in his voice.

“...the desert? I-huh?” Tread Head awkwardly replied as he attempted to survey the area. He did know through his peripheral vision in those first few seconds that wherever the two of them were, there sure was a lot of open space with a ground that was a weird shade of golden-orange. Yet prior to actually being told it was a desert, the possibility that such a biome could be the explanation for this area’s oddly specific traits had never actually consciously crossed the little guy’s mind.

Sure enough, however, just as Wham-Shell had said, upon but a simple, few-second long inspection, Tread Head had it all but confirmed within his mind that it was, indeed, a desert. The open, seemingly infinite fields of the previously described golden-orange sands did not lie.

The sun appeared to be right above the two Skylanders’ heads at the moment, with not a single cloud to speak of tampering with its shine, and the only other thing around the area that could be seen aside from themselves and the blinding orange and blue was an old, worn-down stone brick fort of some kind, secluded nicely south of the two, relative to their current position, thus giving them but one single option of where to go if the option of retreat became necessary.

Yes, there was absolutely no denying that they were currently in a desert. But that was just it. That was all they knew about where they were. No other hints, signals, or clues as to who, what, where, when, or how they had gotten here. Nothing. Nothing, zip, nada. Nothing.

It was only a little while after this fact had set in that Tread Head noticed that his iconic tread bike that gave him his name was indeed with him, too. So was Wham-Shell’s arguably more iconic mace that also gave him his name. This meant that the two of them were able to defend themselves if the situation called for it, but regardless, the presence of their weapons was only to give the poor confused Skylanders far more questions about their current situation than answers.

“...Wham-Shell.” Tread Head eventually ended up saying. “I have just as much of a clue as you do as to what’s going on.”

Wham-Shell let out a sigh. “Well…….” his voice began to thoughtfully trail off in rather deep inquiry before finally piping up again. “I mean-”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”

“...*sigh*.....” Wham-Shell rather reluctantly heaved out, whilst forcing himself to shelve for the moment his previous train of thought. “Forget I said anything at all…”

It was only now that the two of them finally had some sort of clue as to what was going on. And yet, as was to be expected at this point by members of a group who were trained to thwart at least three of this guy’s evil plans all before lunch, they really, really, really wished that they didn’t.

“Lord…if I had to count the amount of times I’ve had to deal with that laugh…” Wham-Shell irritatedly grumbled to himself through clenched teeth. “The academy would probably have to build another library!”

A sudden puff of black smoke was instantaneously blown into the unexpecting man’s face before the deep, roaring noises that could only be indicative of an engine suddenly revved up.

“Nevermind about that right now, Wham-Shell, we’ve gotta get to that fort over there, fast! He’s probably going to make mincemeat out of us if he catches us out in the open!” Tread Head piped up as he continued with starting up his tread bike. “Get on!”

As he understood implicitly that, indeed, getting to the fort was currently their only option, Wham-Shell didn’t protest, swiftly getting himself situated onto what was left of the seating space on the thing, holding his mace sideways in his hands as he sat, before a huge cloud of sand and dust was rapidly kicked up around the duo of Skylanders, causing the poor crustacean to choke a little, until at last the tread bike gave a screech whilst it peeled out away from the thing, roaring viciously as it effortlessly grinded across the fine, desert grounds.

Wham-Shell wasn’t really sure how many seconds, exactly, had passed until they were at the fort, (he was so lost in thought at for the time being that he could barely even discern that there was sand around him anymore), but regardless, once the tread bike screeched to a halt in front of the thing, he was forced to take a moment to regain his bearings before he swiftly clammored off. Though, his little mental reorientation, plus the fact he had to maneuver his mace so that it didn’t accidentally hook onto the bike as he dismounted, and the fact that the little tech Skylander naturally had more experience quickly getting off the thing, Tread Head was up and at the small, wooden door of the fort far before Wham-Shell was.

Grasping ahold of the handle (the door was scaled so that the handle could be reached by him in spite of his height for whatever reason), he attempted to fling the thing open in an instant, only to find, instead, that the door was firmly locked. Tread Head was just about ready to call out this information to his current partner, until, completely unbeknownst to him, the unexpected booming crash that was something heavy suddenly hitting the door instantaneously graced his ears.

Instinctively scrambling away from the scene as such, thus discovering that Wham-Shell had indeed made use of his mace to complete the, upon retrospective, relatively easy feat of breaking down the door, Tread Head didn’t really have the need in the end to actually say anything at all.

Swiftly getting back on his bike, for he knew that a battle at this point was pretty much inevitable, plus dragging the thing in by hand was rather inconvenient, Tread Head was thus into the fort and up the first set of stairs he took note of along with Wham-Shell in nothing short of a flash, ending up on the roof of the thing soon after completing the ascension. He was barely even able to get a fleeting glimpse of the internal layout of the fort's first floor as a result of this, but right now, that barely mattered. All that mattered was pinpointing the source of that iconic evil laugh, so that the two Skylanders would be able to track the midget villain down, and-

“Boo.”

Once again, for a diversely humongous number of reasons, not the least of which was their current internal shock, neither Skylander at hand knew any minute sliver about the whos, whats, wheres, whens, whys, or hows of the current circumstances, and yet, once again, they knew deep down that it barely even mattered anymore.

The decidedly NOT midget form that was the one taken on by the infamous portal master at the ending boss fight of Swap Force, a form only known as Super Evil Kaos, stood right there in front of them with a rather smug grin on his face, his arms o’ so casually folded over the edge of the fort, as both of the two, comparatively miniscule Skylanders merely stood there in silent disbelief.

Neither Wham-Shell nor Tread Head were really expecting anything in the way of an explanation anymore, partially because they weren’t really sure if they even wanted to have one in the first place, and seemingly, Super Evil Kaos recognized this; as all the crystalline, purple giant gave to the now significantly more composed and therefore battle ready Skylanders below, was a simple act that apparently, via Netflix subtitles, I learned is formally referred to as “blowing a raspberry”, before the fight began.

“Super Evil Kaos.” the announcer boomed from…somewhere around the area, as Wham-Shell gently leaned into the ear of his fellow bike-riding Skylander, in order to try and give him some tips.

“I’ve fought this form of Kaos before. I know how all his phases go. First, he’s going to slam down his feet in front of us and create shockwaves. We’ll have to destroy the crystals on his toenails in order to complete the phase. Then, after that, he-”

“Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait- hold your goddam horses right there, Wham-Shell!” Tread Head, in a decidedly uncharacteristic fashion, swore back to his teammate.

Wham-Shell was silent in an instant.

“Did you just say HIS FEET?”

Wham-Shell couldn’t help but grow a little embarrassed. “Err…well…umm…yes, you see…he…”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SORRY SKY-LOSERS, NO TWENTY MINUTE LONG VIDEO FEATURING MY FEET FOR YOU THIS TIME!”

Neither Skylander was in any sort of position nor mental state to be able to respond.

“*Tsc* Just…just prepare to fight him, okay?” Wham-Shell finally concluded with a sigh whilst readying his mace for a strike.

Tread Head…would…have opened his mouth to respond. Would. If only the ground beneath them hadn’t vigorously rocked itself apart in a compounding multiplicity of furious, crackling vibrations as both of the Skylanders were instantly knocked to the floor.

“WHAT IN THE-” Wham-Shell cried out, as yet another bout of these shockwaves physically forced them to stay down whilst the foundations upon the fort rapidly began to fail.

Once again, although the length of time that was expected to happen between the event and its consequences was much, much longer than the amount of time said consequences actually took, the end result, just as always, ensured it barely mattered.

Buried deep underneath a giant heap of bricks and rubble, both fragile Skylanders lay still and limp within their fully, undeniably, unconsciousness, therefore prompting Super Evil Kaos to cheekily give a bit of a preemptive victory pump, before at last he crouched down, and thus, began to wait patiently for one of the two to wake up, in order to initiate stage two.

****

Tread Head gave many consecutive sputters and wheezes in an attempt to void all the dust from his lungs, before at last he felt himself able to breathe properly once more. Letting out a pained grunt as he slowly dragged himself off the floor, the little, bike riding tech Skylander wasn’t exactly sure what to expect upon groggily flickering open his eyes. Subconsciously, he was holding the expectation that Wham-Shell, the decidedly more experienced one between them, had managed to wake up first. That was why, precisely, it came as such a shock to the poor man when he inevitably realized that, in reality, the opposite of that was true.

“WHAM-SHELL!” he searingly screeched out, making a B-line over to the unconscious crustacean’s form.

Tread Head had indeed learned from his training as a Skylander how to check someone’s pulse, however due to Wham-Shell’s exoskeleton, this was almost instantly ruled out as a possibility of making sure he was okay.

“Oh by the love of Master Eon, THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!”

“Pray to your precious Master Eon all you want, you literal bean with legs…” a voice suddenly piped up, forcing the tech Skylander to freeze up all his movements. “...none of that will do anything to save you from your fate by my hands…”

Tread Head could practically feel the shivers as they sequentially rattled down his spine.

“Since when in the heck did Kaos actually learn to be intimidating?” he silently questioned to himself.

“...or, perhaps more accurately….” Super Evil Kaos towering above the poor man only continued on. “...my stomach.” he at last concluded with a crystalline grin and a swift pat over his midsection.

You could practically hear the one final ounce of composure that Tread Head had left inside of him crackling apart into particles just as fine as the sands beneath him as he practically leaped forth amongst the rubble.

“WHERE’S MY BIKE WHERE’S MY BIKE WHERE’S MY BIKE?” he frantically yet frivolously repeated to himself ad nauseum whilst he fiercely dug through the rubble.

“Oh…so that’s what you’re all riled up about right now, hmm?” Super Evil Kaos sneered in absolutely nothing but preemptive joy down at the struggling Skylander below. “Yes…your bike and ol’ Whammy’s mace is indeed the only chance you two have of making it out of here alive!”

Tread Head was barely even able to hear what the gigantic purple monster thundering above him was saying, nor did he really have it anywhere in him to care. His current state of fixation on attempting to find the weapons was just far too important to get distracted from at the moment. Rather unfortunately for the poor little tech Skylander, however, per Super Evil Kaos’ creepily increasing grin, that there mental state was not exactly destined to last for much longer.

“...oh, yes, yes! Where oh where in the world could those precious little objects be, hmmm?” Super Evil Kaos chortled heartily whilst Tread Head continued scrambling around down at the rubble. “Maybe, perhaps, HERE?”

It was only at that point in time, after the passing of many, many others, did Tread Head finally look up. And, upon at last doing so, once more froze on the spot.

“Wha-I…how did you-” was all he could muster to sputter out.

Super Evil Kaos silently swung in a slight, teasing manner, the two Skyladners’ weapons, right there above their tiny little heads.

“Heh. You want a chance to be able to defend yourself and your snoozing sleepyhead buddy over there, eh?” Super Evil Kaos chuckled out. “WELL TOO BAD FOR YOU! Aaaaaaaaaa…”

Swiftly unhinging his jaws from their current position of being locked in an evil grin, Super Evil Kaos’ slimy, dark purple tongue leisurely extended outward from the warm, sticky chamber that was his depthened maw, now prompt and at the ready to accept the two weapons upon its wide, squishy surface.

Before poor Tread Head even had the chance to say anything, Super Evil Kaos let go, and both his bike and Wham-Shell’s mace consequently splat down onto the great, thickened muscle, right before the thing popped itself back into resting position, deep within the maw. Super Evil Kaos maneuvered the objects around towards the entrance of his throat for a while, before at last, he teasingly tilted his head back, and, passing a glance down at Tread Head, swallowed.

Able as a result to view plain as day the, due to the head’s tilt, somewhat accentuated bulge that the weapons made in the giant man’s throat, Tread Head instinctually jostled with a shudder, for he knew with a near-certain confidence, that both he and the still unconscious Wham-Shell were all but destined to be next.

Super Evil Kaos promptly followed up this display with a smirk whilst admiring his victim’s terror, before a sudden echoing gurgle could be heard coming from his middle, seemingly due to the two weapons’ arrival. Rather than react with embarrassment from the suddenty of the action, however, he instead decided to give his stomach a couple of light pats, before cruelly throwing upon the poor tech Skylander below him a good, searing glare.

“...It’s almost as if it's just begging me for more…” Super Evil Kaos added onto the moment whilst he began to reach down, giving a saliva-soaked lick across his chops.

As it had been all but solidified within the poor man’s mind what his fate was to be at this point, Tread Head was not even able to resist as Super Evil Kaos’ gigantic, incoming hand confidently swooped in and snatched him all the way up, coming down with his other hand in order to get Wham-Shell but a few seconds later.

Tread Head’s breath, though it had already been rather short and ragged up until this moment, began in an unexpectedly erratic manner to grow into that of a rather strained pant, as he was at last placed face-to-face with the monstrous portal master who was destined to consume him whole.

Super Evil Kaos simply took a few moments to merely revel in the circumstances, before at last, it became time for the main show to commence.

First, the humongous evilized man moved his miniscule prey downwards, before he slowly squished the tiny Skylander into the thin layer of his body that lay in between the outside world, and his gurgling stomach within. Tread Head knew for a fact that pretty soon, he and Wham-Shell were indeed going to breach this barrier. At this point, it was only a matter of time.

Sensing that he had indeed shut down his still conscious prey’s being down to a degree where gulping him down wouldn’t be a significant issue, Super Evil Kaos at last felt satisfied. Bringing the tech Skylander back up to his face as such, the grotesque, crystalline portal master proceeded to say nothing, as he once again stuck out the tip of his tongue from between his lips, made a little fart sound with it, and then extended it just a little so he may give poor Tread Head a preparatory lick across his body.

Sputtering and coughing just a little as he did what little he could to try and shake all the saliva from his form, Tread Head was soon enough graced full force with the reality that, it didn’t matter how hard he shook, he was still going to end up positively smothered in the stuff when all was said and done.

This, of course, was only the case, simply because it was finally time, in the mind of Super Evil Kaos, to fully unveil his maw.

The slick, cavernous, dark purple depths the poor little tech Skylander viewed before him constantly heaved upon him front after front of damp, heated air, thus reminding him once more of how slimy he was going to get.

Super Evil Kaos knew very, very well just how paralyzed his singular conscious prey was for the moment being. His body positively flooding with joy knowing he quite literally possessed a life in his hands, a pleased shiver proceeded to casually tingle its way down the center of the evil man’s spine. Eventually, upon a long, long wait of practically uncountable moments, Super Evil Kaos backed the poor Skylander, as well as his unconscious ally, a little ways away from his maw, before, in nothing but a quick flinging motion and a simultaneous release of grip, both of them were quite literally flung all the way inside, one slightly after the other, Tread Head naturally coming in first as, right behind the arrival of his poor crustaceous friend, Super Evil Kaos’ jaws came began to come crashing down around them. Snapping his maw firmly shut with a bit of a reverberating Echo, now at last, for all intents and purposes, it was all over. There was absolutely zero method that either Skylander still had available to them that would allow them to successfully escape. Now, it was all in the hands of Super Evil Kaos.

Super Evil Kaos gently lifted up his tongue. Raising the hot, cushiony muscle almost to the roof of his maw, Tread Head was thus forced to lie down on it in order to not scrape his head against the rough ridges up there. Folding the downwards sloping portion of his tongue upwards, thus curling back the entire muscle towards his gullet whilst wrapping up the tech Skylander and his unconscious water elemental friend, Super Evil Kaos slowly squished the heavy layers of force that was the longingly salivating tongue upon his victims’ beings, holding their bodies downwards as he sensually swished the folded muscle between his cheeks.

A little bit of rouge drool trailed down the man’s chin as he continued on with this motion, the squishy, flexible tip of the tongue dragging itself back and forth across the unresisting Skyladnders’ bodies, swirling itself around within their flavors. Naturally, being a crab, Wham-Shell tasted like fresh, out-of-the-ocean seafood, his rough, hardened exoskeleton positively glistening from just how many times Super Evil Kaos had dragged the tip of his tongue around its surface.

Tread Head on the other hand, was, in fact, someone who’s attack style left him regularly covered in dust, muck, and other kinds of filth. And yet, seemingly by some unspoken miracle, he instead emulated the rather peculiar flavor of…out of every conceivable food in the world…cheesecake. Super Evil Kaos had absolutely no idea why this was the case, but nonetheless, it barely even mattered at this point.

Of course, cheesecake and seafood didn’t exactly go together very well, so Super Evil Kaos simply ended up taking many many minutes of his own precious time in thoroughly examining each Skylander individually, knowing quite well that neither had it anywhere within them to be able to resist.

After having taken all the necessary time in order to enjoy his food, however, Super Evil Kaos at last knew it was time to escort them on down to his stomach, and as a result, carefully returned his tongue back to its resting position.

Lifting up the purple muscle once more, though this time, sloping the back portion of the muscle downwards, Wham-Shell and Tread Head were thus forced to slide down the slippery, wet surface, whilst the as of yet unnoted plump, dangling uvula began gently swaying above their two heads.

Now, having come from a small, relatively secluded village in the dizzying dunes, Tread Head wasn’t exactly an expert, per say, on anatomical structures, much less any of their functions. However, upon taking note of the floppy, wide sack of dark purple flesh leisurely hanging above him, something…strange…started happening within his mind. Of course, Tread Head couldn’t exactly tell you why, exactly, his brain suddenly perked right back up into survival mode after probably more than five minutes of being shut down, but regardless, the result was all the same. Super Evil Kaos was expecting to feel the two round-ish bodies of the ultimately doomed Skylanders fitting cleanly into his upper esophageal sphincter, finally at the ready for the swallow. Instead, however, what the evilized portal master got, was a sudden lurch forwards as was dictated by his subconscious, whilst he fiercely suppressed a powerful gag.

Firmly grasping onto one of Wham-Shell’s claws with one hand, and wrapping the other all the way around the uvula, Tread Head hung silently, the only noise escaping from his throat consisting of his rather erratic gasping, therefore locking him out of the ability to speak, whilst his body subsequently hyper fixated in on but the single most intense game of keping grip the little tech Skylander had ever experienced in all of his years of fighting. He had never ever been more thankful in his life that he wore gloves.

Super Evil Kaos, able to feel in great detail each and every minute swing that the dangling appendage took as his only conscious prey desperately clung on, viciously gnashed his teeth as he allowed a low growl to escape up from his throat. The furious cry of rage boomed itself around the enclosed space of the maw as Tread Head risked a glance downwards. He was able to take a glimpse as such into the giant portal master’s throat, which was also dark purple in color, praying relentlessly that someway, somehow ANYHOW, he and Wham-Shell were to make it out of his situation alive.

Swallowing hard in order to try and get the little tech Skylander to let go of his uvula, Super Evil Kaos could feel the appendage stretching downwards as his tiny prey only continued to maintain his grasp. Swallowing once again, Super Evil Kaos could feel the rather strained sack of flesh stretching out as Tread Head’s arm consequently slid downwards, locking itself around the rounded bit at the bottom, as poor, poor Wham-Shell was mere centimeters away from reaching the gullet, causing his currently conscious partner to start positively hyperventilating as he began losing his hold on both his fellow Skylander and the uvula.

Super Evil Kaos could feel the crab’s claw gently scraping the muscles around his gullet, thus telling him that he was only one more gulp away from the ultimate, certain victory that he so viciously craved.

Placing a couple of fingers against his throat as he prepared himself to swallow once again, Super Evil Kaos’s epiglottis covered the entrance to his windpipe as, at last, his uvula was flung all the way back up into its natural position, and a great, squishy bulge proceeded to form itself in his throat. Swiftly swallowing one final time just to ensure that both of his prey were, indeed, trapped helplessly inside of his esophagus, Super Evil Kaos was thus soon able to confirm that the two Skylanders were there, not the least of which was because of Tread Head’s incessant, yet in the end futile resistance that was him shoving and punching against the squelching walls of the throat.

The poor man on the inside, now that he had lost his grip on the uvula, was rapidly losing his grip on reality, and vainly struggled against the constant downward pulses around him as a result whilst the slight weight of Super Evil Kaos’ fingers pushed down onto him from the outside. The sleek, tight muscle walls shoved in and out in an almost rhythmic pattern as, at last, he was able to pick up the faint pounding emulating from within Kaos’ heart.

Now that both of his prey had disappeared behind his collarbone, Super Evil Kaos proceeded to heave forth one gigantic sigh, before taking a second to glance down at the pile of rubble beneath him. Eventually deciding to heap together a pile that he could lay his back against, the humongous purple villain proceeded to do just that, casually ploping himself down against the grainy, desert floor once he was done, whilst placing a hand against his midsection.

Cris-crossing his legs over each other and setting them against the sands whilst his currently uncovered feet lay open and free against the scorching desert atmosphere, Super Evil Kaos couldn’t help but start back up a searing, victorious bout of his iconic evil laughter.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

He positively howled out into the dunes as the maniacally echoing screeches of his own final victoriousness were positively overshadowed back on the inside with the melodic backup of rumbling gurgles and growls that told Tread Head he was finally reaching the end.

In spite of his efforts to cling himself onto the muscle rim around the lower esophageal sphincter as said structure effortlessly squeezed him out into the awaiting chamber below, Tread Head was indeed able to pick up the inevitable splash that sloshed all around his being as he finally landed in the stomach.

The poor little Tech Skylander had lost so much of his sanity at this point that he was barely even able to recognize the shifting, dark purple walls casually squeezing in around him as the gastric acids around him began to sizzle at his clothes.

Super Evil Kaos on the outside was able to feel the organ churning and glorping around as he hazily pat over his guts in his current state of euphoria. Rubbing his hand all the way around the sloshy section of his body, he could tell that the stomach walls were just about right up to his prey at this point, leaving him able as such to feel the relentless resistance of mainly squirming and shoving that Tread Head was exuding upon him.

The poor Tech Skylander on the inside was only able to make out a few things around him by this stage. The still unconscious body of Wham-Shell, the bubbling acid pool, the thick, goopy walls squeezing in closer around him, Wham-Shell’s mace, and-wait a second…the mace? Tread Head’s eyes immediately diverted downwards, almost immediately causing him to suddenly remember the rather important detail that their weapons were, in fact, down here, too. Suddenly feeling just a fleeting flicker of what could barely be described as hope sparking itself in his chest, the tiny man on the inside was just about to reach forwards and grab hold of the mace, before all of a sudden, seemingly completely out of the blue, the lower esophageal sphincter opened itself back up, snatching ahold of poor Tread Head’s attention for just long enough to deny him escape once more, as a considerable front of air suddenly breezed past.

Super Evil Kaos on the outside was indeed able to feel the objects rising back up in his throat, a feeling which ultimately culminated in a deep, echoing belch which positively chimed its booming melody out across the sky. As the objects had landed right next to his right thigh, Super Evil Kaos was able to casually reach over and grasp onto the mace, placing one hand behind his head before he made use of the thing in order to cheekily pick at his teeth. Eventually just flinging the thing off to the side, Super Evil Kaos now knew for certain that there was absolutely nothing that poor little Tread Head could do in order to save his and Wham-Shell’s lives. As a result, he once again decided to break the formerly held silence by snorting an exceedingly teasing:

“HEH, YOU SKY-LOSERS ARE A REAL PAIN TO DIGEST!” out at the quivering Tread Head within, whilst giving a couple pokes at his belly. Proceeding to just place both hands behind his back and allow his stomach to do the rest, Super Evil Kaos was, at this point, excessively well prepared to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the results of his victory.

However, as was the reason he wasn’t able to feel Tread Head struggling against his stomach walls anymore, not as though that detail currently mattered to him, deep down within the dark, cavernous mind inside of the dark purple, cavernous guts inside of the equally dark purple man who had swallowed him whole, the poor little tech Skylander that was only known as Tread Head, had finally reached an epiphany. He did not know how to fight without his bike, nor did he have access to Wham-Shell’s mace. He bore no claws, spikes, or any other biological weaponry that could allow him to escape. He was not physically strong enough to be able to punch his way out. It was true. Tread Head was, indeed, completely and utterly lacking on every single one of those listed fronts, and yet, in direct spite of all that, he still knew, as a simple matter of fact, that he still had one option left.

At first, Super Evil Kaos was only able to feel a slight pain inside of his guts, causing him to swiftly sit up. Before the confused, crystalline portal master could even muster out an “Eh?”, however, seemingly instantaneously, he had vomited all the way up, straight onto the now darkly stained desert grounds, a deathly amount of blood.

Tread Head viciously sank his teeth all the way into the walls of the stomach. He knew quite well that they were, indeed, not specialized to be able to cut and tear through flesh, and yet, despite that fact, they still completed the job just as well. Savagely tearing off yet another chunk of flesh, even more blood proceeded to gush its way into the wound as the chamber painfully growled.

Super Evil Kaos had fallen over onto his front at this point, flailing around in agony and clutching his stomach in positively tormenting pain. Tread Head was completely unable to make out any of the poor portal master’s screams, however, as both the world around his being and the world inside his brain swiftly faded to black as the color drained from his eyes. Subsequently crashing down right next to his fellow, highly respected Skylander Wham-Shell, Super Evil Kaos’ stomach contracted once more, and, riding along with the blood, both unconscious Skylanders were finally set free.

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dropintomanga · 2 years

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What Should We Really Be Learning from Anime and Manga?

Ever since I re-branded myself, there’s something that has been bothering me for a while. It was the promotion of the idea that “hard work can save the world!”, which is common in mainstream anime/manga series. I look at series like Dragon Ball Z and the inspiration they have given to many fans across the world to work hard to be the best. But then I start to wonder if fans have forgotten another message the series was trying to say - one that fans should take to heart more than just achieving your dreams.

And then I found a book that validated my thoughts.

I just finished reading a book called “Laziness Does Not Exist” by Devon Price. It was an insightful book about how the idea of laziness is pushed to encourage personal productivity and efficiency to the point of burnout for society’s sake and not yours. The “laziness lie” exists to make sure you work your butt off and only blame yourself if certain things outside of your control happen to you. In the 1st chapter, Price mentions anime’s potential culpability in pushing the “hard work” narrative and this is what they said in the following passage.

While I’m not horrified by what happens to the characters in shonen series, I do realize that the “chosen one” trope is problematic. It’s like saying everyone has the capability to be special. Of course, when everyone is special, no one is. Calling someone special without context somewhat ignores the personal feelings of the person being called that. What if they don’t really care? Is that really so bad? And yes, fighting for chance can’t be left to one single person despite what the internet says and we can’t take on every important issue out there.

Back to the other message about Dragon Ball Z, I want to say that Dragon Ball Z is also about having community there when you need it. Son Goku is the hardest working fighter in the business, but he needed Piccolo to help raise Son Gohan after his first death. When a one-armed Gohan was struggling to kill off Cell for good, Vegeta snuck in to help at the last moment. And finally, in the Majin Buu arc, it took Vegeta’s planning and Mr. Satan/Hercule to convince the entire planet of Earth to help Goku defeat Kid Buu. The gigantic Spirit Bomb/Genki Dama was a thing of beauty because in life, it does takes a community of that magnitude to generate much-needed change.

There was a Mega64 video that summed up the Majin Buu arc in a small amount of time and to me, it had one of the best damn homages to that Spirit Bomb sequence. A whole lot of cameos featuring Japanese video game developers all raised their hands in the air to give energy to the Mega64 Goku. It was touching. I felt that the video was also a huge shoutout to all the people who helped made Mega64 a still-relevant force in video game culture.

I know there will be fans who be like “100 push-ups all day, every day!,” so I ask what happens if you can’t work as hard you would like. What happens if you can’t be the best in whatever it is you’re doing? What happens when life deals you shitty lemons that you can’t make lemonade out of? Are you going to call yourself a failure? Are you going to let people dictate how you should treat yourself?

It’s okay to quit certain things when it gets too hard. I’m trying to think about a series that focuses on just enjoying life, but I know this is a very pervasive cultural thing. Maybe Yotsuba&! qualifies since that series is all about just enjoying life. Yes, it might be too slow and boring for an anime, but the truly important lessons come from the mundane life. God, now I wish that really became an anime since that’s all about community, family and being there for one another with boundaries. And more importantly, loving someone for who they are despite whatever quirks they have. Yotsuba&! is more relevant than ever before.

Speaking of quirks, I do hope fans take notice of the start of My Hero Academia’s final arc when it gets animated. Seeing Deku become a brooding hero and try to take everything on himself isn’t something to celebrate. It was nice to see all his fellow classmates fighting for him despite the public outcry against him. They knew he needed help. No one person should shoulder all the responsibility in resolving a huge crisis that’s affecting the entire world. While Price does decry anime’s glorification of children working super-hard to fight against evil, I do think My Hero Academia is a bit different from the typical shonen fare due to its focus on getting along with your fellow peers.

When I think about why outcast youth get into anime and manga, it’s because those outlets favor community over competition. Sure, there are rivals, but they usually end up as friends and/or treat each other with mutual respect. Anime and manga are a reflection of Japanese culture, which is collectivist by nature. While there’s definitely problems with extreme collectivism, I sometimes wonder if fans forget how anime and manga emphasize having good relationships in life and how powerful they are when you really need them.

There’s limits to hard work. From what I learned from other people, in the end of the day, no one really cares how hard you worked. What matters in the end is if you’re able to connect with people that benefits both sides. Connections make the world go round. I’m just tired of seeing people work jobs to the bone in obscene times of the day out of fear of being ostracized that they aren’t being productive enough. They’re sacrificing relationships that can help address their vulnerabilities and respect their humanity.

That’s what I like about anime and manga more than anything - the emphasis on those kinds of relationships. That’s the lesson I wish we can all take from our favorite series because we definitely could all use a real-life Piccolo/Vegeta/Uraraka/Bakugo/whoever in our life as they make it worthwhile to keep going. That way, we can experience IRL anime/manga in a way that really honors the humanity in all of us.

Note: Definitely read Laziness Does Not Exist. I hate how productivity is pushed to be the answer to all of life’s problems when it’s not.

#anime #manga #meritocracy #hard work #community #laziness lie #mental health #psychology #youth #Dragon Ball Z #My Hero Academia

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hdmolan · 1 year

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* ╱ ʀʏᴜ ᴍᴏʟᴀɴ ♥︎ 𝑫𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆? 𝑷𝒕. 𝑰𝑰 * ╱ ♥︎ 𝟔𝟎𝟖 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝟑,𝟑𝟖𝟏 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. : 𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒂, 𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝒉𝒓𝒊, 𝑨𝒉𝒏 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏, 𝑮𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌

Her makeup was nearly finished when her artist had to step away for a call. She took a break from admiring herself in the mirror to scan the room and somewhat pulse check — Sumin sat directly behind Molan but in the opposite direction, so she couldn’t see Molan's attempts to get her attention. She chuckled at Gabrielle, seeming annoyed, as she was scrolling on her phone while her makeup artist moved exceptionally slowly. Sienna and Ahri sat at her immediate right and left. Waving and blowing kisses to them both as they’re getting worked on, admiring their makeup.

Molan noticed the photographers taking test shots and directors checking the lighting; she knew it was almost time. The labels high-tech robo-hounds came in to bring the girls dressing racks. “Oh yes, honey,” Molan whispered as she opened her rack chest to find designer garments. All appeared to be off the runway, and this excited her even more. Each outfit had a paper tab displaying which look it was meant to be worn for. As Esteban returned to her, the two of them swooned over the selections chosen for Molan to wear. It just so happened that Molan was the first up for the beginning shoot. Her first outfit was a gorgeous Roberto Cavalli heart-shaped pleated bell gown that she felt regal in. Getting her bob freshly bumped before stepping in front of the lens - Molan softly swiped her hair behind her left ear and fell into a soft yet commanding pose. The photographer screamed from behind the camera, “YES, that’s it!” It was all she needed to power through this day. Subtly striking new post after pose, she couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful and blessed to be living her dream.

All the girls were not in the scenes the label had put together. After Molan finished her first shoot, it was a little ways before the next up, and she had a moment to ‘relax’ on the side. That stopped when one of the cameramen approached Molan for the B-role. He instructed her to be herself but show off the dress — Molan took no time to provide just that. Sharing soft, pointed looks with the camera, she wished she could do this every day.

The next shoot and sequence were swiftly coming up, and Molan had to change clothes. She cutely squealed and jumped in excitement when she saw she was wearing the new Chanel three-piece fit and matching mules - and was expected to walk the runway. Moments such as these she dreamed of as a child. She went a step further in her excitement by adding a diamond Chanel knuckle ring and some Chanel double c broaches to her blazer - she felt they complemented the Chanel glasses that some of the girls were all wearing. The girls changed looks a few other times as well; one of the looks was added to Molans’ favorites - a fitted black mini skirt paired with a custom ‘boyfriend-sized’ white collar shirt, all Chanel. Molan strutted down the runway, as the day almost wrapped up, once more in this outfit - this time wearing a white and black Chanel hobo bag with french baguettes in them. It must be the director's humor?

The day had ended, and the girls were worn out from being pinned, pulled, and photographed all day. Molan had zipped her cropped hoodie and stuffed a muffin in her mouth as she grabbed her tote and headed toward the exit. She kissed Esteban on the cheek on her way out, “Same time tomorrow, babes?” the laughter of the two fades down the hallway.

#ᴍꜱᴏʟᴏꜱ 💎#hd:events #hd:ggd

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zak-kondo · 2 years

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The Summer 2022 Anime season is approaching it's end. It's been a twist of turns and surprises among what I decided to watch. Overall, it felt very weak, though recently, it redeemed itself to me somewhat with the debut to Tamami Galaxie's so called sequel The tamami Time Machine Blues.

There was disappointment, such as with RWBY: Ice Queendom. I recently became a fan of Shaft after watching Madoka Magica and Bakemonogatari, but was harshly disappointed with this one. It starts by going into so bad it's good territory with 3 recap-like episodes that rush through the story ridiculously fast, shamefully skipping a lot of scenes in the process. I don't even know the source material or previous adaptation, but I know this series managed to ruin a character named Penny early on because of this. The way conflicts get resolved are so rushed they feel nonsensical. The art and animation has it's moments where it can be good, though it's hardly ever the case, and mostly in these first 3 episodes. The amount of off model shots, ugly art, alongside weak CGI and terrible animation is the norm. The opening sequence is disappointing in that the song is terrible, in my opinion, and recycles the best looking parts of the first 3 episodes. At least with the ending sequence, they upgraded it with better footage eventually. Not with the opening, however. After 3 comical episodes, it goes into a new original story, and the pace slows down dramatically and painfully. Many of these episodes felt as if they were wasting a lot of time. It felt as if every two episodes were better off being condensed into one. The dream within a dream, and Weiss changing her dreamworld and the people in it by how she perceives them was a bit interesting. Overall, a disappointing disaster. At the very least, I enjoyed the end card Yoshitoshi Abe made from the series. He is known for working on Serial Experiments Lain, Hanbarei Renmei, Texhnolyze, and Ghost Hound, among other works.

Call of the Night, to me, felt like a poor attempt to be similar to Monogatari. As a romance, I haven't been moved at all by the main duo. I felt bored at times, and confused who was who because the art looks all too similar at times. The constant bombardment of background art looked alright, though it was drowning me in the color purple. Regardless, it came off as annoying eventually. I rather the series do some world building of the town, the people, and more of the exciting night life, than vomiting background art devoid of people. It made me feel like it's a ghost town because of that.

Kou fits that mold of protagonists I have come to despise. Coward like main characters, who fight with friendship and who are awkward, and insecure about themselves. Anime needs better protagonists in general.

I don't have much to say about Nazuna. I find it amusing that the viewers can't stop arguing about her anatomy. The new characters have done nothing for me, and the plotless episode in the maid cafe didn't help at all, but to at least make Kou's character a bit better.

It's dialogue isn't interesting enough for me, and during the last few episodes, It almost put me to sleep. With 3 episodes left, I don't feel very motivated to keep watching. If I had not chosen this to review it, I would have dropped it weeks ago. If you are looking for a good romance, watch Kare Kano. If you also want vampires, check out Bakemonogatari instead of this.

My next disappointment is with Orient: Part 2. Part 1 I reviewed last year. It proved to be a very poorly made, bland, and hideous looking shonen anime. Part 2 started much stronger, though still carries over many of the same issues.

Part 2 actually showed some promise at the start that it may become decent. It expanded the world vastly, and introduced a lot of new characters. the funny part about this is that many of these new characters have completely outshined the main cast. Speaking of the main cast, Musashi has become annoyingly useless. I thought at first it was to give a different type of shonen protagonist that isn't all too powerful. Eventually, It became annoying out of how useless he became, and how he uses the power of friendship. Kojirou and Tsugomi have essentially been shafted to the side as background characters.

The powers in this anime at first seemed like it they could be interesting, as some of the warriors fight with all their energy combined into whoever is leading the battle. Their powers are determined by which color blade they are born with. Then, the swords became goofy laser guns. The worst part about the fights in this anime is how ridiculously overpowered some of the heroes and villains are. I like Shiro's character. This antagonist, who seems to have ulterior motives among his so called allies, is this sadistic, constantly smiling bushi who likes satisfy his own thrill more than the mission. He has the power to teleport the bottom of the ocean at you at will to crush you with it's pressure. It sounds ridiculous, and it is. There's no telling what is going to happen because of how random and overpowered many of the characters abilities are.

There is a decent section in the middle where Michiru has her moments with Musashi, though after a decent start, Orient fell off for me again, and it seems hopeless now. Near the end, it's been focusing more on character drama between the new cast. Orient that that annoying thing anime does during this where the monster just stands there as the characters talk on and on. I think Akihito is alright, though nothing amazing of a character.

Next, among the anime that isn't that bad, and more around average, is Tokyo Mew Mew New. Besides it's environmentalist message, it's about these two suspicious men who force animal DNA into 5 poor unsuspecting girls, thus turning them into magical girls. They make them work at a cafe, and fight aliens to save the world. It's a magical girl series. The only magical girl series I am really familiar with are Revolutionary Girl Utena and Madoka Magica. This is different, and nowhere near the quality of those two anime. This series feels too light hearted and happy to me. It feels like a kids show.

The monsters look laughably bad, and don't look menacing. The characters constantly, and annoyingly go off model. Ichigo does this the most. She can look adorable many times, as I have been very charmed by her thus far, and I think her debuting voice actor is doing great, but the series looks too bland and lowly produced. The villains are like team rocket. They try to appear menacing, but are useless and have the annoying formula of showing up, and pathetically losing each episode. There's nothing exciting about them.

One of the parts of this series I can praise is the music. It's well made, maybe even too well made for this series. I think this is has my soundtrack of the season.

The romance between Ichigo and Aoyama can be adorable at times. However, many other times, it comes off as annoying and dragged out. They make aoyama so oblivious and foolish it makes me want to yell. It's another romance that moves so much at the pace of a turtle, that I am nearly over it now, and want them to just start dating already instead seeing the writing make them both constantly look like fools.

There's a character named Lettuce, and though attempts have been made, some characters like Zakuro almost feel as if all they ever have to say is the same line over and over again.

Slightly above average is Summer Time Rendering. It's nearly done with it's 25 episodes. It tries to do what anime like Re:Zero does. It involves a character who discovers he can go back in time if he dies. He has limited chances and can't do it too quickly as a result, and there is also a threat from shadow monsters who are trying to kill everyone. It's a mystery series with a plot so convoluted and ridiculous at this point, that I can not take it seriously anymore. It's annoying when a character knows something crucial to the plot, and responds with "I won't tell you" the way this series executes it. It's annoying how too many of the twists and moments where character outsmart each other isn't cleverly written, but done by the writer making up ridiculous mechanics with the magic that come out of nowhere. The protagonist annoys me and feels like a copy of Subaru from said Re:Zero. He does learn to grow and mature, to the extent he becomes much braver, and an amusing tactician. The last episodes are intense, and very engaging, to the extent it reminds me of how Attack on Titan: the Final Season made me feel. I still have too many problems with it, however.

To build tension and to make dramatic scenes even more dramatic, this series takes this comical approach of hilariously exaggerating the characters reactions and facial expression. I cannot take this seriously when it happens and laugh every time. The gore can come off as too cartoony at times also.

The back and forth between the protagonist and antagonist is turning into tom and jerry. I can enjoy watching this story unfold, but have given up that it will be coherently done.

I have enjoyed Black Mio's character. It's nice to see a shadow try to become human, and not come off as another rei yanagi clone. Hizuru became another of my favorite characters, and has a special case regarding her and her twin brother that makes her more interesting. At this point, I think all I'll remember this for is it's first opening sequence. The song is very good, though the second opening sequence is a major downgrade, in my opinion.

Next, and with the same score, is Lycoris Revoil. Aside from how I feel about the series itself, this anime has produced one of the most annoying fan bases I ever had the displeasure of being a part of. Trying to discuss anything about this leads to people crying about the yuri question, destroying almost all discussion.

As for the series itself, there isn't much to say about it anyways. I don't blame them for spamming the internet because of the lack of meaningful discussion. It started out as this seemingly action packed "girls defeat villains with guns" type of series, but often deviates into the two main leads, Chisato and Takina, doing casual things together. It tries to be political, though it's attempts feel laughable with Majima, who's plan to stir up trouble feels pretty laughable.

Speaking of the action, there is a disappointing amount of it in this series, and towards the end it feels like it abandoned it and stopped trying. I don't really find any depth to any of the characters. The only real interesting part for me, personally, is the relationship between Mika and Shinji.

Chicato annoys me in that she has that problem protagonists have that irritate me to no end. It's the "killing is bad" mentality, even if it includes killing the bad guys. It's costed her painfully so far. Her personality is very optimistic to the point it has an uplifting effect, such as what the characters in K'on! can do, though her never being able to face reality and showing any real emotion has mostly gotten on my nerves.

With Takina, I appreciated that they developed her quickly. Then she just becomes completely devoted to Chisato . Towards the end, her, like almost all the characters, how almost no meaningful development of depth to them.

Visually, I have enjoyed the nice intermission art, though the series begins to shaft it's action scenes, disappointingly.

This used to be my anime of the season, but was surpassed by a lot of other anime towards the end, and ultimately disappointed me.

I'm Kodawa Kawashiri is a 24 episode series consisting of 2 1/2 episodes. Sadly, most of every episode is the opening sequence. As the series progresses, the audio quality of the opening song becomes more and more inaudible. Kodawa shows the viewers life hacks among her greasy, chaotic life. A fan of fried chicken and beer, the series feels as if it is showing her mental decline as she hilarious descends into degeneracy. There's a charm to the series with it's absurd style, and voice actor Aoi Yuki delivers a great performance. She also voices the sound effects and other characters. By the end, there wasn't much to this series, however. I was at least and amused to see Kodawa try to educate me with her lazy way of life.

The new Made in Abyss has caused me lots of disappointment. It leeches off the first season too much to the extent it feel as if it overuses season 1's OST and even recycles it's moments. One of the highlights of season 1 is the music, though with this second season, the new music has been disappointingly used and overall not that great. Instead of being marveled by a new and great soundtrack, it uses songs from season 1 too much, drowning out the chance for the new soundtrack to shine, which it hardly ever does anyways. Regardless, even the composer himself showed some doubt of it's quality on Twitter.

Animation wise, it's a major downgrade from season 1. Instead of the sinister and detailed shots of the monsters in season 1, season 2 is filled with jarring CGI. That's not to say that CGI can't look good. Instead, This is to say it failed in this case. Honestly, it was painful watching Made in Abyss become this bad after I was moved deeply by it's first season and third movie. The obvious Bondrewd clone does nothing for me, and it takes a while for the new season to get better.

It doesn't feel Riko has done much besides eating roasted testicles. The creepy things the author tries to slip into his work are present here again, also.

Story wise, the Golden City is interesting in what happened there, and continues to happen. Reg gets much needed exploration, and his past begins to slowly unfold. Fortunately, the more recent episodes have been much better, as the one hour finale approaches in two weeks.

The surprise of the season for me has been the second season of Shadow House. It's not saying much, honestly, though it has been inspiring to watch. The rebellion against the Shadow House gets more intense as Kate struggles to radicalize the shadows and living dolls that are willing to listen. Her own character's development has gone along nicely enough to show her determination and plans to expose the hierarchy. This time around, the mystery aspect is done much better than in season 1. The way the characters outsmart each other is written much cleverly than something ridiculous like Summer Time Rendering. Many of the characters get their own episodes and much more focus this time around. I don't particularly care about Emilico, but seeing John being funny and some of the recent characters like the mysterious one in the hood has been pleasant.

On the other hand, I can't help but feel the animation feels lazy with characters that are literally pitch black. the production isn't that impressive.

Last, and certainly not least, is what has quickly become my anime of the season with just 1 episode: The Tatami Time Machine Blues. This one I was really interested to start watching because it's a sort of sequel to Tatami Galazy, which is one of my favorite series, and the next directorial work of Shingo Natsume, from Sonny Boy.

The first 30 minute episode brought back many of the vague memories I have from the prequel. Watashi is always amusing to see talk about anything, as he has this bizarre but sincere type of way of critically looking at things. Ozu returns and reminds the viewers the type of troublemaker he is. This is even more interesting now because Watashi isn't the only who can go back in time. The music so far feels mostly reused from the older entry. The visuals are surreal and beautiful, and overall, a strong start for the series. The fast talking is there, though not as intense as before. All throughout, there is a lot of good, cleverly written humor that I can really connect with.

Overall, this is the weakest season I've covered. Despite that, it had some amusing twists and turns around the end.

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mishasminions · 4 years

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The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15.

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

#THE LAST TIME I'LL CLOWN FOR THIS SHOW #SUPERNATURAL #DESTIEL #15x20 #15x19 #15x18 #UNTAGGED #INSIGHTFUL INSIGHTS

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parvulous-writings · 3 years

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Nightmare // Liu Kang x reader

Request: I was wondering if I could request a scenario of either Liu Kang or his s/o having a nightmare, maybe of the other dying. Along with the prompt “It’s okay… I couldn’t sleep anyway…”

Requested by: anon

Summary: Reader has a series of nightmares, and goes to Liu Kang for comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of death, fairly graphic descriptions of various forms of death.

Words: 1.7K

Notes: My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

not my gif

Nights in Raiden’s Temple had always been peaceful, even in the most troubling of times. The blanket of darkness only truly fell in the early hours of the morning, when the torches finally fizzled out in their mounted sconces, with no one left awake to tend to them. The only light left to illuminate the hallways of the ancient structure was that of the moon and her many stars. For you, tonight though, it was not a very peaceful night. It had started off as one, the same as any other. You had adhered to your schedule as you religiously did each evening- you washed your face, ridding your skin of the grime of the day, you folded your clothes to take them down to the washroom in the early morning, like you did every day with your fellow champions. You had nestled yourself into the sheets of your bed, curling up to rest, falling asleep quite quickly. You were not wrapped in tranquility forever, though. In the very early hours of the morning- perhaps two or three hours past midnight- you awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in your bed, a slick sheen of sweat adorning your skin. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you were short of breath, as if you had been training or sparring with other champions, rather than sleeping. You wiped your hands over your face in an attempt to calm yourself, as disturbing images flashed through your mind. They were burnt beneath your eyelids- scenes of Liu, scorched by his own flame, his flesh bubbling and blistering as he cried out in pain. His skin turned to char, and he collapsed, slumping over on his knees as his body finally caved in to the injuries he had sustained.

Then another- Liu engulfed by an emerald green light. It snaked around his limbs, bathing him in the eery glow of the streams of light as several strands shot down his throat, choking him, drawing the life from his lungs. You were forced to watch as he began to decay, the muscles beneath his skin wasting away, leaving him as nothing more than skin and bones- if you could even class it as that, as even from a distance his skin now seemed as thin, and as delicate as rice paper. He was not given a peaceful last breath in this vision, it was forcefully ripped from his lungs. A third- a disagreement between himself and his cousin and closest friend Kung Lao. Ordinarily, the pair would either agree to disagree, or they would work out his differences, but it was not the case this time. The two were in the fight pit, lashing out furiously at one another. Liu was hailing down a rain of fire upon his closest of companions, whilst Kung Lao expertly slung his chakram hat back at the monk. Though Lao was suffering many, many burns, it was Liu who was taking the majority of the hits. There were gashes on his face, his gi was slashed open in several places, exposing his torso which was littered with bruises. After a particularly harsh throw from Lao, Liu stumbled, losing his footing for a moment. Kung Lao took this as an opportunity to take advantage of Liu’s weaknesses. He hurled his hat towards his cousin, the blade of the brim running through Liu’s shoulder, creating a fountain of blood. The fire wielding monk fell to one knee, choking on the fluid, and Kung Lao started to approach him, calling his hat back to his hand. The descendant of the Grand Champion of the Order of Light approached the Chosen One slowly, an almost smug smirk on his lips. He gave a quiet chuckle, but had chosen not to gloat, kicking Liu Kang on to his back, watching him squirm and struggle. Without wasting anymore time, Lao threw his hat into the sand above Liu’s head, using his arcana to make it spin like the blade of a buzzsaw. Grabbing his cousin’s arms, and dragging him along the ground, until he had been split in half, his blood and his organs spreading out and drenching the sand.

You wanted, so badly, to look away from this monstrous sight, but you couldn’t. Your tried to close your eyes in this dreamworld, but it was of no use. It was this final segment of the dream that had caused you to wake up in your cold sweat. Your eyes darted around the dark confines of your room, trying to find something that could provide you with some sort of comfort. But beside your blanket, which felt more vaguely restrictive than anything, you had nothing. Though perhaps, that wasn’t strictly true. There was something, or rather someone, that could comfort you. You shakily got to your feet, getting dressed in something that covered you a little bit more than the typical night wear, padding out into the dark hallway, heading down as quickly as you could muster, given the lack of light. Eventually you wound up at the door you desired, or at least you hoped so. You raised your hand to knock timidly on the door, trying to be quiet so as not to wake the others nearby, but loud enough to catch the attention of the dweller within those quarters. You wrapped your arms around yourself, waiting patiently. You didn’t have to wait long, as the wooden door creaked open slightly. Before you stood Liu Kang, his eyes just barely open from sleep, his hair tousled slightly from tossing and turning, as he told you he often did at night. He rubbed one eye with his hand, his prayer beads slowly sliding down his arm with the movement. He mumbled something inaudible, as he registered you standing just outside his doorway. He noticed your slightly disturbed expression, and became much more alert. “Are you alright?” Were his first words to you, and you gave him an almost sheepish look. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to spill out thanks to the elder gods for him being alive, but you restrained yourself. “I did not mean to wake you... I was more wondering if you were awake.” Your voice is soft, just above a whisper; the thought of him dying in your dreams underlying your every words, although he was unaware of it. You could tell he had only recently gotten to sleep, something he didn’t often get much of. The monk shook his head at these words. “It’s quite alright… I couldn’t sleep anyway…” He offered you a brief smile. “You seem worried. What seems to be the matter?” He asked you, moving aside and beckoning for you to enter his room. You step inside, rubbing the back of your neck as he closes the door carefully behind you. “I... Had a nightmare.” “Oh?” Liu replies, moving to sit on his bed. “May I ask about the nightmare? It is alright if you do not wish to divulge what you dreamt.” He told you, “Though perhaps it will relieve some stress from your shoulders.” He encouraged, and you sighed gently. How were you to tell him this? Sure, it may not have been a reality, but it had felt so real.

“I saw you dying.” You say it bluntly- why sugarcoat something that blatantly troubled you so? Liu is stunned to silence, just staring at you, unsure of what to say to comfort you. You decide to continue, hoping this will help him comfort you more effectively. “I saw it happen several times... You were burned, then you decayed, and...” Your eyes glaze over for a moment, and you swallow a lump that had formed in your throat. “And Kung Lao killed you.” This shocked Liu even more; what had provoked such vivid and horrific dream sequences? He didn’t know, and he thought that perhaps it would be better for him if he didn’t know, it may not have been his place. You didn’t come to him to have your problems solved, you came to be comforted. He remained quiet for a moment more, as his arm slipped around you, pulling you closer to his chest. “It’s okay.” He soothes, moving you both so that you laid on his bed, facing up at the ceiling, “It was nothing more than a dream. It’s gone, now.” He told you. You glanced to him for a moment as you settled onto his chest a little more. “But... It felt so real. Everything about it. The sounds... The sights... All of it. Even the way you fight- all of your inflections, and even Lao’s smirk. It was all there and-” Liu shushed you as you started to babble. “It was a dream. I will not deny it has clearly had an impact on you, but I will remind you of the fact.” His voice was soft as he spoke, “And I will remind you that we are all safe here- from death at least. I will not get injured from flames, I can control them well enough to defend myself from them. Decay will certainly happen eventually, of course, but it is many years away I am sure.” He paused for a moment, letting you just process his words. “And as for my cousin... You know he will not let loose all of his skill on me.” He’s right, the relationship between Kung Lao and Liu Kang was a tight knit one, rife with humor and playful jabs, but at the same time a sincerity that they will both be there for one another. You nod slowly. He starts to gently trail his warm hand up your upper arm, soothing you a little more.

Liu falls silent, and the pair of you just lay there on his bed for a while, his hand still carefully gliding over your skin. You start to feel drowsy, and your eyes weigh themselves shut as your body succumbs to the exhaustion your adrenaline had staved off. Liu didn’t move you, he just smiled down at your sleeping form, shuffling slightly to settle down himself. He finally finds sleep with you in his arms, finding the same sort of comfort in you that you had found in him.

#liu kang #liu kang x reader #liu kang fluff #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat movie #ludi lin #requested #please request #requests open #x reader #x reader requests

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

Note

Hey! Love your stories on Ao3 and I’m so happy that I found some more of your work to read!❤️ If it’s okay can I make a poly request? I was thinking of a girl from our time being sent back to the lost boys and them falling for each other. There can be some angst if you want, such as her being sent back to her dimension but maybe finding a way to go back to their time after months of being away? Thank you for giving us some of the best stories ever! 💕

So, this is a pretty big request (possible spanning over multiple chapters), so I’m gonna actually write/continue this on my ao3 account! I may post the later chapters on here later, but for now I’m gonna keep them on ao3. Here’s the first chapter!

It’s Just a Movie (Fem!Reader x poly!Lost boys) fic

Next Chapter ->

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 1504

It had been a simple night. Sure, it was halloween and, sure, it was a full moon. A blue moon at that. But that didn’t mean anything, right?

You sure as hell didn’t think so as you went to see a showing of one of your favorite movies, the Lost Boys, with some of your friends. With everything going on with covid, the theaters were empty and your local one had been showing older classics for the past few weeks. They had a selection of horror lined up for halloween night, and your group had chosen to see your favorite vampire movie.

You had even dressed up for the occasion, donning a dark, almost gothic look. Hell, you practically looked like one of the extras in the opening sequence. You and your friends jammed along to the soundtrack, laughed at Sam’s antics, and nearly cried when you witnessed your four favorite vampires meet their inevitable end. A movie’s gotta have an ending, right? After Grandpa delivered the classic ending line, you and your friends packed it up to head outside.

Well, they did. You had forgotten your wallet, and you ran back into the theater to grab it. Your friends had promised to wait for you, and you fumbled to put your mask back on as you searched through the dim theater. You used your phone to find it half stuck in one of the chairs, and you quickly jogged out of the auditorium, and then the theater, to find that your friends weren’t waiting for you. And that the streets were far more packed then they had been a second ago.

Sure, there were people in halloween masks and costumes littered about, but you nearly scoffed when you saw that no one seemed to be taking any of the social distancing rules seriously. You took a step, planning on looking for your friends when you noticed that the theater had almost...changed. The outside didn’t look the same as it did before. Instead, it had the old sign outside, broadcasting what movies were playing inside. Sure, you had expected some older movies, but some of these you hadn’t even heard of. You thought it was weird, considering the theaters would probably want to stick to the most popular ones during a pandemic.

You looked back around, but your friends were nowhere in sight. You thought to walk to the parking lot, but you paused. You heard a whistle, and a wave of relief washed over you. You turned, expecting your friends, and, instead, you were met with a different familiar face. This night couldn’t have gotten any weirder.

You looked him up and down. Teased blonde hair, blue eyes, straight nose, slight stubble on his sharp jawline, a black coat paired with white pants and a mesh shirt? He was even wearing those calf things that your friends had made fun of that one time, because what the hell type of 80s fashion things are those supposed to be? You shook your head, touching one side of your forehead while thinking that perhaps you had hit your head or something while looking for your wallet. There was no way you were looking at Paul from the Lost Boys. He sent you a grin, flashing rows of straight, normal, non-vampire looking teeth, and said,

“Well, hello there to you too, doll-face. Need some company?” He asked, and you nearly thought about pinching yourself. Holy shit. Before you could answer, you heard,

“Who’s this?” And you wouldn’t have been surprised if this whole sitation wasn’t boggling your mind. As all the fans knew that where one Lost Boy was, the others weren’t far behind. You turned, and found yourself looking directly into the face of the other natural blonde. You met big, hazel colored eyes, and your eyes instinctively fell to his lips. Just in time to watch his thumb be pushed between them. Clean jaw, cherub face, golden curls, a heavy, colorful jacket, jeans, and leather chaps? There was no mistaking him. The second half of the blonde duo had arrived, and you almost wondered if the others weren’t far behind.

“I don’t know. She seems shy.” Paul said, a smile on his face as he reached out to brush a hand against your cheek. Cold fingers barely brushed against you, and you leaned back. Almost into the blonde on your other side, who had taken the spot right next to you. “I’m Paul, and that’s my buddy Marko.” Paul added, pointing at the blonde with his eyes. Before they trained themselves back onto you. Marko leaned in a bit to say into your ear.

“Your turn.” And it nearly caused you to flinch. He laughed, steadying you. “C’mon, we don’t bite.” He said with a grin, and a shiver nearly ran down your back when the taller of the blondes laughed. Too hard. If you hadn’t been so caught up in the complete and utter shock you had been experiencing you probably would have been thinking more about how these boys were vampires. Sure, it had been fun to talk about them on forums and on different apps, but suddenly you were hit with an urge to run. Especially before the other half of their gang arrived.

“I’m- I’m just looking for my friends.” You quickly blurted. You started walking, but your brain was on hyper-drive. If this was real, if this was really happening, then you were in a horror movie. And the killers had already taken an interest in you. They quickly started following, staying just as close as they had been before.

“Ooh, are they as pretty as you? We can help you find them.” Paul offered, and you almost wanted to accept. He sounded like he was just trying to be helpful, albeit flirt a little. It was the eighties, so you couldn’t quite blame him for being so persistent. Part of you really wanted to accept, but you reminded yourself. Horror movie. Killers. And they probably wanted to make you apart of the menu. You had only taken a few steps, but the shorter of the two jumped in your path. He walked backwards and said,

“C’mon, you don’t wanna walk alone, right? It’s halloween, and all the weirdos are out.” Marko started, and Paul was quick to waggle his fingers and make a spooky sound to accompany his claim. You faltered. You hadn’t necessarily thought about where you wanted to go, and the parking lot was dark. Far darker than the front of the movie theater. And emptier. You gulped, reminding yourself once again. Horror movie. Killers. You looked between them, trying to think of a way to not end up as a juicebox for the two unfairly attractive vampires in front of you.

You had to admit. You had no idea where you could go, and it wasn’t exactly like you knew what the hell was going on. As far as you were concerned, these were some of the only familiar faces you would find. That, or the Emersons. But you had no idea what time it was in their- what could you call this? Dimension? Or was this just some weird dream? Whatever it was, you had no idea if the Emersons even arrived yet or where to find Grandpa’s house. So, you were shit out of luck. You supplied your name before you quickly added,

“My friends and I- We were going to meet on the boardwalk.” You said, and the boys grinned. You knew it had to be one of their favorite places, since they went there every night. At least that's what the movie made it seem like. Maybe, just maybe, you could get there, let the boardwalk distract them, and figure out what you were going to do. And have some fun with two of the biggest heartthrobs from the eighties.

“Sweet! We can totally take you. We just need to wait for the rest of our friends.” Paul said, and suddenly every last bead of hope slipped from your body. Two vampires already had the odds against you, but all four? Especially one of them being David? You would be screwed! Before you could make something up, Marko said,

“Yeah, here they come.” And you wished that whatever this was would end. That you could go back and be in your own dimension. You turned, seeing a brunette wearing just a leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. His dark, brooding eyes practically shined in the night, and his resting face made you want to shrink in on yourself. To avoid them, your eyes flicked to the blonde besides him. Blue eyes, scruffy cheeks, and a leather jacket-trenchcoat combo paired with leather pants, boots, and leather gloves? Oh, you were so screwed. If you had any doubt in your mind that this was happening, you were sure now.

As the rest of the vampires approached, you tried to calm your oncoming panic attack with a mantra of it’s just a movie. But now you weren’t so sure.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #david the lost boys #the lost boys david #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #marko the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader

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ginnyweasleymybeloved · 3 years

Text

heartbeat on the high line / fred weasley

unresolved angst for freddie because i felt like it <3

summary: fred broke your heart a long time ago and a walk through diagon alley brings up old memories for the both of you

word count: 2.9 k

warnings: post-war timeline, mentions of torture sort of?, mentions of being underweight because of said torture, fluff sort of if you squint?, angst, open ended, tiny mention of death, let me know if i missed anything!! <3

let me know what you think <3

this is based on the song “cardigan” by taylor swift but it’s not a song fic <3

Skies of dark grey released heavy sheets of rain onto the cobblestone streets below, the pitter-patter of the torrential downpour barely muted the sound of your high heels against the all too familiar stone street. A stark black umbrella held primly above your head shielded you from the typical English weather as you strutted through Diagon Alley.

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on showing your face in the magical hotspot, not so soon after the war anyway. Years worth of memories haunted every twist and turn of the street you seemed to own in the moment, light grey stones darkened and slick from the rain completely devoid of any feet other than your own.

You recalled all of the significant moments, each bookmarked by a certain area of the various alleys. Flourish & Blotts; where you’d met your first love all those years ago, at the age of eleven you’d been so bright eyed and sure of the future, sure of him. In the distance you could make out the bright orange exterior of Weasleys’ Wizard wheezes; where you’d walked away from your first love, all those years later however not so long ago that the sight of his legacy, as vibrant and joy inducing as it always had been, didn’t elicit an uncomfortable pang to spring in your chest. As you progressed past Olivander’s, your lips quirked up ever so slightly as the aging paint of the shop expelled all misconceptions you had about the boy who still haunted all of your “What If?”s, the lightly rusting windows screaming at you as if to remind you that, actually, he hadn’t been your first love. Olivander’s Wand Shop had been the true site of your first love and you’d found that first taste of true, pure, untainted love in the form of your phoenix feather core, thirteen inch, English oak wand.

A wistful giggle left your lips, your feet unmoving, rain lashing down aggressively and sliding off the edges of your umbrella, creating streams of water that fell around you but never got close enough to you to so much as dampen your outfit. Losing yourself in the joy of recalling how happy you’d been upon being chosen by your fateful wand, you failed to notice the familiar frame who had made his way to the doorway of the shop. The creaking of the old door pulled you from your thoughts, a dazzlingly grin broke out on your face as Mr. Olivander himself leant against his propped open door, keeping himself dry inside the comfort of his warm shop.

A grin similar to yours adorned his lips as he called out rather loudly over the rain, “I do recall that smile getting you out of quite a bit of trouble, back in your Hogwarts days,” your smile only widened at his recollection.

“To this day it’s the secret to my success,” you beamed jokingly as Olivander shook his head and released a low chuckle. He had no doubt that you’d be going places, ever since the first moment he’d clapped eyes on you he knew you were destined for success, of course, it was also no wonder that bewitching smile of yours had helped you get there. Like your wand; you chose your company carefully, held nothing but passion for the things you craved, were fiercely determined and surprisingly flexible without breaking your morals.

“I also recall thinking you’d grow up to become one of the brightest witches this country had ever seen. It seems as though you proved me right, dear girl,” he spoke with such reverence that you almost wished to cower away from his gaze, however, you held your confident stance and let your smile melt into an adoring grin once more.

“Don’t act as though you had nothing to do with it, sir,” your voice carried through the wall of worsening rain between yourself and the older wizard, “If it hadn’t been for your encouragement during the war, I think I’d have simply given up in the cellar of Malfoy Manor,” it was a dark time, of course it was, it had been a war after all. You supposed, the love you held for your coveted wand extended to the man who had supplied it to you in the first place; Mr. Olivander, he was more than just the slightly daft wand shop owner, he had been- for longer than you cared to remember- your cellmate, the man who had slid you his rations from across the dungeon when you’d faded to nothing but skin on bones, the one who encouraged you to pursue your dreams of becoming a journalist with the hopes of shining light on issues far more important than the ones covered by that roach Rita Skeeter. He was a lot of things, but above all else, he was your friend.

“Now, now dear,” he chastised teasingly, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as lively now as it had been on the day he was born, and, every day since, “You better be getting to Gringotts. Lots of galleons and sickles to collect I’m sure. Being the head of the Daily Prophet surely keeps those money bags heavy, eh?”

Your laugh echoed through the street one again, your lips which were painted black, supplied him with the very best smile you could possibly muster. “I suppose I should get going. Look after yourself.” Olivander shot you a wink before retreating back into his shop.

A familiar lamp caught your attention, the ghosts of your past passions rising as brutally as the rain fell. You could remember it, clear as day.

His laughter mingled with yours, the hearty belly laughs bellowing through the darkened street as the pair of you stumbled out of The Leaky Cauldron in the early hours of the morning, systems altered by the copious amounts of fire whiskey you’d managed to consume. His hand held yours in a tight grasp, he swung your interconnected arms childishly.

One second you’d been walking and the next he was twirling you around beneath the spotlight of the flickering post above you. Drunkenly, you’d spun your little heart out, spurred on by his slightly slurred, yet somehow sweet, singing. He admired you as you shimmied ahead of him, completely free, fresh out of school and not yet weighed down by the darkness that loomed in the distance. When your eyes caught his you shot him a smile, he knew it well, it was the smile, it shun like sequins when they caught light and he knew it was worth more than all of the gold in Gringotts. You beckoned him over to you with a finger, taking his hand when he got close enough you spun him around and laughed weightlessly.

The feeling of his hands gripping your waist would be imprinted on your skin for as long as you lived, you’d thought, charmed by the look in his brown eyes when you internally swore that you would’ve loved him for a lifetime.

What you didn’t know, as you shook off the phantom hands on your waist, was that he’d seen your eyes that night and despite his heavily intoxicated state, he noted your devotion and even now, when he’d lay awake and think of you; it was that look and that sequinned smile that haunted him. Just as the streets of Diagon Alley haunted you.

Thinking of the sequence of events that led you to walking away from the person you’d honestly believed to be your once in a lifetime, perhaps even your once in twenty lifetimes, or infinite lifetimes, did nothing but torment your already scarred heart. He was always hard to pin down, how could he not be? With a face like his and the world wrapped around his finger, he knew he didn’t have to settle for only one of each thing.

Chasing two girls excited him, at the time. All of the secret keeping, high stakes secret meet ups, illicit affairs and sensual politics had kept him energised. Until the novelty wore off and he was left with nothing but a side-piece whose favourite colour he hadn’t bothered to learn. But he’d known yours, he knew everything about you, he still did. He knew you, he remembered how you’d stared at him, eyes heavy with betrayal and filled to the brim with tears the day you’d confronted him, your bags already packed as you made it clear that; yes, you love him, but no, he couldn’t fix this. No matter how hard he’d fought to change the ending to your fairytale-esq love story, you’d slipped through his fingers like water.

Various knick knacks that had once been yours still lived in his flat, above the shop you’d encouraged him to open, back in school. For weeks, your scent lingered like a tattoo kiss on his skin, his clothes, his bedsheets, his everything as a constant reminder that he’d forced you away. He’d practically paid for your ticket for the last train out of London that day. He told himself that he was only seventeen; what on Earth did he truly know about love? And again he reasoned; he knew you.

Months before the war he swore time and time again that he’d seen your face amongst the busy, condensed crowds of Diagon Alley. On countless occasions he found himself chasing down strangers like a madman, hoping for nothing more than to catch even a glimpse of the woman who made his heart smile as beautifully as she herself did.

Chin tilted upwards as you passed his renowned joke shop, you walked with a sense of importance willing your feet not to stop, but you couldn’t deny the urge you had to check up on him.

The last time you’d seen him, the world around you had been in complete chaos. You’d only just been saved from the months of endless torture you were forced to endure. Nothing like now, you’d been frail and weak and hollow. But still, you’d saved his life. Without a word you’d saved him from being crushed, as if he had been just another person to save, as if he hadn’t shared the most intimate of moments with you, before rushing back off, back into the fray until the battle had been won. That was the last time he’d seen you in the flesh and he ached to see you again- so he could thank you, so he could tell you that he was grateful to be alive but his life wouldn’t be worth half as much if he never got to hold you in his arms again.

The rain smashed unyieldingly against the windows of the shop as he worked on the tills, the shop was unusually empty, nobody willing to do any sort of shopping on a day so miserable. With a bored sigh, he stared out the large window before him, only one woman walked the street, an umbrella struggling to fight off the rain. The raindrops that accumulated on the window blurred his view of the lady’s face but there was no amount of rain in the world that could hide your signature strut of defiance from him.

Quickly he scampered out from behind the counter, “George! Watch the counter!” He screeched, bombing it out the front door while George released a tired sigh, hoping his twin wasn’t regressing back to his chasing strangers phase.

As soon as he’d entered the open air, he was completely soaked to the bone. Your heels clacking like the countdown on a ticking time bomb as Fred stood frozen as few meters behind you. His hair sopping wet, his shirt sticking to his body and his face completely desperate as he called your name.

His heart was beating so aggressively that he was positive you could hear it from up the street. You’d stopped in your tracks upon hearing his voice, your stomach erupting with butterflies while simultaneously dropping in anticipation when you turned to face him.

“You’re here,” he stated dumbly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he took you in. As beautiful as you’d always been, he carefully inched towards you, you stayed rooted in your spot but let him advance on you. The phantom feeling of his strong hands on your waist clouded your judgment and made you long to have him come back to you.

You nodded your head, “I’m here.”

Fred nodded too, exhaling a deep breath now that he was sure he wasn’t imagining your presence as he had countless times before. Before either of you knew it, you were standing within arms length of each other, however, far too unsure to touch. The rain was roaring and Fred began to blink rapidly, the water hitting his eyes ruthlessly before you took a single step forward and saved him from the onslaught of droplets. You were close now, so close Fred could smell your perfume and see every detail of your face. The handle of your spacey umbrella rested in between the both of you, acting like a barrier so he wouldn’t tug you against his shaking form and hug the daylights out of you.

“You never let me say thank you,” he started, tears very quickly forming to mix with the raindrops that slid down his freckled face. “At the battle. If you hadn't been there, Y/n, I would’ve died.”

“Don’t say that,” you begged, you’d mulled the scenario of “what if I’d been too late?” over in your mind, more times than you were willing to admit, and the image of Fred cold and dead, despite how terribly he’d hurt you, made your gut wrench so violently that you thought you might be sick. “I was there. That’s all that matters.”

His brows furrowed and suddenly the hands on your waist weren’t that of a past ghost anymore, they were his; very real and in the moment. “Why didn’t you stay? After you saved me you just ran off, I couldn’t find you after it was over-“ his voice was so vulnerable, it cracked and hitched and you forced yourself to cut him off, your umbrella shaking in your hand.

“Because I didn’t want you to see me like that- the way I was after Harry got the others and I out of Malfoy’s,” you told him honestly, biting back tears as you offered him more elaboration while he shook his head in a frantic sort of disbelief, “I was weak and skeletal, I couldn’t face you. Not when I saw the way you looked at me.”

“I looked at you the same!” He exclaimed and you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Exactly, Fred! I was vulnerable and damaged beyond belief and even after everything- every screaming match, or slammed door or horrible words that we wish we could take back you still looked at me like I was your favourite thing!” You rambled, chest heaving painfully as you tried, uselessly, to keep your building tears at bay. Fred didn’t waste a second before he was pulling the umbrella from you and tossing the thing, that had become more of a hindrance than a help, away from you before he cupped your cheeks urgently.

Rain enveloped the both of you and Fred knew he shouldn’t have been thinking it, but merlin, you seemed to glow in the rain and he acknowledged the fact he’d been aware of all along; you were truly an angel.

“Because you were! You are,” his voice was dripping with honest desperation, “I might not have known anything else back then but I knew I missed you, I knew that hurting you would be the worst thing I ever did and when I saw you that day I knew I still loved you and my life wasn’t worth living if it wasn’t spent with you!” You were at a loss for words at his shouted, emotionally charged confession. His eyes searched yours for the look that haunted him, the promise to love him forever that was hidden beneath your irises and after the next words slipped from his lips, he thought that maybe he’d uncovered it.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make things up to you. You’re quite literally the only reason my heart is beating and I’d sooner actually die than let you go one more second thinking that you aren’t the greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my stupid, idiotic life.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n

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abluescarfonwaston · 3 years

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Hi! So, um,, I know this isn't something you should ask a writer so please feel free to ignore this. I was wondering,, , your "the white wolves" story has brought me so much joy and I am grateful that you wrote it! I was just wondering, if you're not going to finish it (this isn't meant to pressure you. If you don't want to finish it that is 100% fine and your choice and I'm thankful for the five chapters you gave us!!!) so, anyway, I was wondering what the conclusion was going to be? If you're comfortable answering that. If not, that's absolutely fine of course and I'm sorry for asking.

Thank you so much for your lovely stories and I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Okay first off, we're totally cool don't even worry about it. I am always touched people still care about and think about an unfinished piece from like 10 months ago. And now that I have seen that it's almost been a year I feel it is important to point out that while this fic has clearly been physically abandoned, it has not been emotionally. Or Else I would not have spent the last hour pacing back and forth angrily lamenting that I do not have more hands. I do not want to provide you with an unsatisfactory summary in an undercut about how the story was going to unfold. It is not that I mind sharing these details - I have done so to others who have asked. It's just that admitting something I still love so dearly may never get done hurts.

Hopefully one day I will find that voice again.

Spoilers for a fic that will (probably) never get finished under the cut. It is 2.6k and includes most of the final section.

The next sequence in the story is them all taking a nap on the side of the road. Jaskier gets up and calls Yennifer for help. Do you know that part in the books where Yennifer saves Dandelion and he doesn't know why? Because I owed you one. You kept him from being alone. I think about that alot. I think that's why she comes. Not then. She meets them at the keep in a few days time. She is too tired to arrive before then.

There is a scene of the four of them in an inn. Of Ciri, afraid to sleep least she destroy the inn like she destroyed that forested grove. We have a moment when he looks at candle on the inn nightstand and remembers a inn fire that almost killed him and how he hadn't wanted to sleep in an inn ever again. (I foreshadowed it. It's allowed. I once read that Regis saved Dandelion from an inn fire. I thought it was canon. I know its not. I think. I only ever read the short stories. They sit on my shelf. One day I'll read them.) He understands. Still he tucks her in and tells her it will be alright. That is the empty words of adults who lie to children that they think do not know better. No. It is the empty words of a bard whose job is to write lullabies that get children to bed on time. Besides it will be fine. Even if things go bad, we will be with you the entire time.

These are the two scenes I largely blame for the fact I stopped writing this fic. I got stuck on Yennifer's conversation and then wasn't sure how to get that inn scene to actually play out. Anyway. Back to the part you were actually asking about. What's the deal with the wolves? Both of them.

They arrive at the keep. They are greeted and loved and yeered at and pestered. Jaskier is nervous and concerned as he eyes the silver in their blades. It is strange they believe the doppler. But he was a very good Doppler. He digs his fingers into white fur. Remember you promised. You promised you were him. Don't let it be a lie.

And oh I have lost the voice but they are in the great hall with Vesemir and Eskel and Lambert and Geralt and Geralt and Yennifer. She peers into his eyes and does not reveal him. Silver medallions brush against skin and he does not flinch or melt. Geralt of Rivia is Geralt of Rivia. Of this there is no doubt.

The conversation turns to Ciri and Jaskier quietly slips out. It is snowing, just a few flurries on the still air. The wolf flows him to the room they set their bags in. Geralt's room.

This was not how it was meant to go. This is not how it was meant to go. Yennifer was supposed to look at the doppler and then at him and go what the hell and they would slip away and break the curse on the wolf - on Geralt. And they would quietly change hands. The Doppler into the wolf. The wolf into Geralt. Ciri would not know of the quiet deception they had pulled. The magicians trick with revolving mirrors.

Because clearly the doppler loved them. Because clearly the doppler had chosen them. Do you ever think about how in the short story Geralt is ready to kill the doppler that wears his face and it knows this because it is also him so it turns into Dandelion. Because he Knows Geralt would never hurt Dandelion? It's falling in with a lie. It is so easy to in love with a lie. Jaskier knows this.

It was supposed to be like this. Laying in a bed in the Keep with a white wolf next to him. Playing ballads for Geralt and Yennifer and Ciri and not hurting. Because he'd lay next to the wolf at night and bury his face in its fur. And in the spring they would run off to the coast together. You can wear a different face, whatever one you'd like, and will prove to you again and again that I still love you.

I am good at loving people. You know this about me. I might not be able to love you first. That might be why you love me. Because I loved Geralt of Rivia first. So completely that whatever motive you had you abandoned for the sake of it. For the taste of it. I know what it is like to want so desperately to be loved. Wearing different faces and personalities in the chance that someone might.

I know that very well.

But unlike you I'm always still just Jaskier.

The wolf slips in the door behind him.

Jaskier rounds on him. 'What the actual fuck? What the fuck are you? You Promised me. You Promised me you were him." The medallion bounces off his chest and he hates it. Rips it from his neck and brandishes it like a weapon. "I kept this for you! I thought you were him! You promised me you were him! What are you?! I told you I would help you even if you weren't him! Why?!"

The circle of the medallion cuts into his hand.

"Is this funny to you? Bringing me all the way up here and making me look a fool?! Making me watch Geralt picker her Again? Is this funny to you? You and this sadistic game?!"

And he throws the medallion. It hits the wolf dead on. Hit's his bowed forehead. Right between the eyes. Just in front of his flattened ears.

He has always been a good shot.

It is snowing outside. Just a few more flurries. The winter stretches out, immeasurably long in front of him.

He knows who Geralt chooses. That those 'I love you's are lies. No. Not lies. Geralt did not mean to lie. Not intentional. But it was so easy when your heart is broken to bury yourself in someone that does. Love you. Drowning men love life boats but they'd much rather be on the ship that cast them out.

He knows. It exactly what he was doing too.

I love you doppler. I could love you too.

The winter stretches immeasurably long in front of him.

"I can't do this." There is a bag in his hand. A case. "I can't do this."

There is a whine but he does not hear it as he rushes out the door. He can't do this. Down the stone hall. Wind whips through a hairline fracture in the Keeps walls and cuts his cheeks red where they are wet. He can't do this. Out the doors. Through the large wooden gates. He can't do this.

The winter stretches immeasurably long in front of him.

In the great hall a sickening feeling curdles in Geralt's gut. Honestly its seeing Yennifer again. This is all so wildly out of hand. Even if he knows they need her. That Ciri needs her.

"It's startin' to snow. Your idiot better come back soon."

"What?" He turned to Lambert who had curled up in a mountain of blankets in the window nearest the fire.

"Said it's starting to snow, dumbass."

"No the other part."

"Peacock left a while ago. Think he had the right idea. If I'd know she was coming I'd have stayed down south."

"What?" Snow was coming down hard. Big wet flakes. Could hardly see the keep walls through them. "Why didn't you say so sooner?!"

He shrugged. "His dog went after him."

His gut does a funny thing then. It eases in relief before his brain catches up and yanks tight in terror.

The wolf went after Jaskier.

Jaskier is alone.

With the wolf.

In a snow storm.

Jaskier is is alone in a snow storm. He walks down the mountain alone. As he knew he would. Why did he think it would be any different this time? Why does he never learn? He is a fool.

The wind picks up. The snow buries the path. He huddles in a protected alcove and wishes he'd been thinking clearly enough to steal one of Geralt's cloaks. Just to be petty.

He is probably going to freeze on this mountain. Walking down it alone. He might die. But even if he doesn't something will have died. Something in his chest that he cradled like wounded bird.

How many times must you touch fire, how many times must you be burned before you learn? How many times Jaskier? How many times?

He pulled his doublet tighter around him.

Just the one more time it seemed. Just once more.

Barking. Just one voice barking. Barking into the snow and wind in the distance.

Are you looking for your pack? Did you get lost? Separated? I hope they find you. I hope they answer you. I wish I had a pack to call out to.

The snow drifts down in heavy blankets and there is nothing to do but sleep. All he wants to do is sleep.

There is warmth in his dreams. Heavy and warm and soft and reeking of wet dog and something deeper. Something less domesticated and tame.

"You found him?"

Geralt's voice. Deep and soft. Reaches him. Buried in the snow. Cruel and kind in equal measure. To make him hear that voice before he, probably, dies.

"... Thank you."

There is a gasp. He recognizes it. That shocked little inhale of Geralt's.

"I think... That druid overpaid."

He wakes up to a stone ceiling. To thick and heavy furs covering him. to a wolf pressed into his side. To a man known as the white wolf pressed into the other.

Words will find him soon. But for now they are held back by a dam of confusion and exhaustion.

Geralt reaches an arm over him and scratches at the wolf's forehead. "Hm." Got it. The hum says. The same one he uses when Jaskier reminds him to pick something up in town. Hm. Got it.

The dam breaks.

"Oh so you're just okay with each other now? Everything is hunky dory? Jaskier goes out into a snow storm and you drag him - Unwillingly mind you - back here and now you're best fucking friends?! Well it's not all A-O-Kay over here so perhaps you might let me up so I can demand Yennifer do me the solid of getting me out of this godforsaken keep?" He wiggled under the mountain of blankets that held him captive.

"Wha-" Geralt's hand pressed down on his chest. Preventing escape.

"Or you know just go back to the love of your life, take your one goddamn blessing and leave me be!"

"Jask-"

"Oh don't give me that- you're gonna run right off after Yennifer and we both know it and you," Glared. Bared his teeth at the wolf. "Are a lying manipulative bastard and I hope she turns you into a gnat or a pigeon or - or something!"

"Jaskier!"

His jaw clicked closed. He did not soften his gaze.

"We- He - it's not. He didn't lie."

He scowled harder at Geralt.

"You remember that druid Ciri told you I helped?"

"... Vaguely."

A woman and woman who was not her wife. But was. In his story, in his song, he would tell it as if she was.

You saved my heart, I don't know what I'd have done if she. She. Witcher how can I ever repay you?

What food do you have on you?

Uh.

Fine. We don't have time. Don't tell them which way have gone.

No that's not- perhaps the law of su-

No. No. Lie. That will be enough.

It's not!

"He," Nodded to the wolf. "Was how she decided to pay."

He studied Geralt. Then the wolf. Their matching golden eyes.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Geralt grimaced. Hair falling over his face. "He's a familiar. She made him for me. Of me."

He studied the wolf again, distrustingly. "How does that work?"

Shrugged a shoulder. "You'd have to ask Yen."

"Don't care that much." He tried to wave his hand and the idea off but couldn't get it free from the covers. "Shouldn't you have known then? If he's made of you?"

"We weren't... connected. You have to. Touch."

"Oh and she thought you'd just go out of your way to touch a big white wolf? Honestly what was the plan there? You'd have just killed the damn thing."

"Mhmm."

"Seriously what kind of mad man goes out and pets a two hundred pound wolf? Could have at least tied a note to its neck for explanation before setting it loose on the countryside, wandering around looking for you."

"It wasn't..." He hummed his prodding question. "Looking for me. That's not what it was supposed to do."

"And pray tell what was it supposed to do?"

Geralt was quiet. The charged quiet that said he knew the answer but didn't want to tell him.

Eventually. With a fair bit of glaring and wiggling on his part, he answered.

"She was repaying the favor."

"Oh and what's that supposed to mean?! What you saved her partner and she sent the wolf to go out and save yours?" He scoffed. "What did she magic you 'a white wolf to protect your heart when you could not?' as you did for her? Is that it? Absolutely absurd, I wouldn't write that drivel."

Neither Geralt met his eye.

"Geralt...?"

"That's..." He ducked his head. "Hm."

Right.

"But then why-"

A wolf appears in the darkness. All white fur and golden eyes. Protects him from the bandits. Brings him a rabbit when his stomach growls.

I love you Jaskier. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize.

They lay on the bedroll and Geralt kisses him like a thousand drunken kisses. Like a thousand sober ones. And the wolf follows after Ciri and comforts her when they cannot.

The wolf seeks him out in that ruined clearing while Geralt cradles Ciri. While Geralt debates with Yennifer and Vesemir over Ciri's fate. Her training.

I love you Jaskier.

Protect his heart, white wolf, when he cannot.

"Oh."

He let his head fall to the side. Watched Geralt watch him with those golden eyes he had memorized decades ago. Listened to the sound of his breathing that was more familiar than his own.

"Tell me again."

Geralt cocked his head a fraction. Brow furrowed in confusion.

"Tell me again, what I did not believe. If it is true. Tell me again. Geralt of Rivia."

"Tell you...?"

"I love you, Geralt. Despite all sense and reason. Do not lie to me. Do not pretend if I am fated to walk down that mountain alone again. Do not lie to me."

His eyes widened. He pushed himself up and over him. Caged him in his muscular, scarred arms. Shoved the wolf aside.

It grumbled. Huffed. Walked out of the room. Towards Ciri. Towards his heart.

"Jaskier. I love you." He said again.

And this time. This time he believed him.

"Then, You absolute fool and dullard." With only Geralt to hold him down he worked his arms free. Held Geralt's head in his hands. Traced the stubble of his jaw that he could, if he needed to, shave blind. From memory alone. "Kiss me. I have waited long enough."

Geralt leaned down and did.

He remembered the barking of a single wolf. It's howls into the storm. Searching for its pack.

I hope your pack finds you. He wished to its unseen form.

Mine did.

#writing #the white wolves #geraskier

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