#Parade of Peril

[fibrefox]

Brennan: That's a natural one! Two failed death saves for Santa [laughs, claps hands] Lou: Don't fuckin' clap, you fuckin' monster.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20: the unsleeping city #dimension 20: the unsleeping city chapter 2 #brennan lee mulligan #lou wilson #kingston brown #wally claus #Parade of Peril #d20

[angstics]

on my chemical romance's history of racism:

(edit: i wont rewrite anything since that will create discrepancies in reblogs. however, i will include these important additions: post 1 and post 2)

cultural appropriation is a neutral term that turns negative when people co-opt a culture without consideration to its people and history, or their prejudices and privileges. the rising sun japanese flag is an imperialist symbol used during japan's occupation of other countries from 1870 to 1945 (the guardian 2019). unlike other symbols of terror, the rising sun is normalized because of the japanese government's refusal to acknowledge its history. the symbol's meaning was popularized a few years ago when people from south korea protested its legality in the 2020 tokyo olympics (bbc 2020). aware or unaware of its history, americans have long appropriated the rising sun. in part because of their fascination with japanese art, in part because of orientalism -- a fixation on asian cultures that centers "exoticism".

my chemical romance has been associated with the rising sun symbol a couple of times. frank iero used to have a tattoo of it. gerard way designed frank's killjoys outfit to include it (seen in concept art and music videos). it is often used in mcr fanart.

tokenism is when something contains limited diversity to divert criticisms for the lack of it. my chemical romance has had a very white cast of characters in their music videos and stories. in the "i dont love you" music video, a main character is in black body paint. in the casting call, they specifically asked for a white man (there is 100% an online source -- please let me know if you have it). even casting a black person for this role would place him in a video that appropriated his skin color to mark his "difference" from the light-skin female character.

the female character points to the band's main problem with tokenism. if they arent casting a white woman, theyre casting a light-skin asian woman. the woman in the "i dont love you" mv is fetishized for physical traits stereotypically attributed to east asian women: big eyes, daintiness. east asian women feature most prominently aside from the band and main characters in the "welcome to the black parade" music video and photo shoot. the photoshoot is the only place where an ashy-faced black man and ambiguously tribal? brown man are seen (brought in by photographer chris anthony per the "making of the black parade" book). the director antagonist of the danger days music videos (shown in "sing") is a japanese woman. she is the only main character of color in the music videos and the killjoys: california comics. the focus of this post is on my chemical romance, but the comics are important to showcase that the reality is never "color-blind casting" or "limited roles". it's mostly white creatives (band members and directors and artists) who ignore non-white people when they cant use them, reflected as much by gerard way years later (nyt 2019).

"japan takes over the world" is a media trope that is built on the late 20th century fear of the return of imperial japan. this trope frames japanese people as unique aggressors, feeding into "yellow peril" fears of asian people "taking over" the white race. this trope is suggested all over the danger days universe, where the corporation BL/ind overthrows the US government. the appropriation of the japanese modern flag and lettering on the killjoys outfits, the primary BL/ind villain being a japanese person who only speaks japanese in videos, the official BL/ind website having a ".jp" domain and english-japanese translations. japanese people and culture only exist in this universe to decorate and threaten.

the point of this post is not to punish my chemical romance. in the decade+ since, they have made meaningful changes -- the sing it for japan project to aid japan during the 2011 earthquake-tsunami, developing diversity in gerard's comics / tv show, a mexican-american main character in the 2020 summoning video. people of color treated as real goddamn people.

however. all these faults exist in frozen time. there is no discussion attached to the work. so anyone, fan or casual, may come across it and not notice or care for these important issues. i know all this shit and i still fail to see instances of what i highlighted. it's difficult locating not only your own prejudices but those of others. those you look up to.

"my chemical romance" is the product of many people from 2001 to 2013. many of these people were male, white, american, and/or, most radically, liberal. clearly laying out what they did wrong is important. being careful with history and culture and personhood is important. prioritizing growth is important. constantly. forever.

#mcr #this has been weighing on me for a long time. i just didnt know how to say it. why i should say it if someone else already has #and well. thru writing this i figured everyone should say it to really understand it #qessay

[raina-at]

Box

Sometimes Sherlock's mind runs at high speed, sometimes he's brilliant and every input sparks a million deductions and interesting thoughts and new ideas. Sometimes he marvels at the complexity of his brain, the intricate rooms and spires of his mind palace.

Sometimes, and there's no other, less harsh word for it, sometimes Sherlock hates being in his own head.

Sometimes, when everything is loud and wild and too much, he feels like he would do anything, anything, to have a moment of peace. A moment of quiet, the insatiable engine of his brain stopping just for a second for a second so he can rest.

Sometimes, days are slow and grey and boring, and his mind is a slog of conflicting thoughts and memories, and the very idea of any kind of movement is already too much. Sometimes even the light hurts. Sometimes even John's voice is too loud. Sometimes even his dressing gown chafes his skin raw and even the air feels like pins and needles on his feet.

Sometimes Sherlock goes quiet, on days like this. Sometimes he gets high.

But he really hates the days when he gets nasty. He can't even really stop himself, he just spews out all the hateful thoughts about himself and other people into the face of the first person to touch him the wrong way.

Sometimes, that person is John.

Like about half an hour ago. Sherlock had been lying on the sofa since yesterday evening, unable, unwilling to even think of moving, and John had insisted he at least drink a bit of water.

Reasonable. Kind, even.

Sherlock opened his mouth and he eviscerated John. With deductions about his family, his bad habits, every tiny inadequacy in the bedroom he ever experienced (though their sex life, let's be honest, is fantastic, but at that moment he didn't care, it would hurt John and he would leave Sherlock alone in his misery). 

John, predictably, left.

Sherlock seriously asks himself whether one of these days, John won't come back. And he's frankly baffled when John comes back, not twenty minutes after Sherlock said some things to him that Sherlock himself will probably not be able to un-hear.

But John doesn't even seem overly angry. Resolute, yes. Wearing his 'Fuck with me at your peril' face, yes. But not angry.

"Okay," he says. "This ends now. Sit up."

Curious in spite of himself, and fully aware of how thin the ice he's walking on currently is, Sherlock does as he's told.

John puts a nondescript cardboard box on the table. "We're playing."

Sherlock doesn't roll his eyes, but it's an effort. This is an old game, one John invented for him back when he first moved in to entertain Sherlock between cases. John calls it 'What's in the box'.

Sherlock calls it a waste of his precious time and brain capacity. It's never taken him more than ten minutes to guess what's in the box. The only reason it’s even a bit of a challenge is that John is delightfully unpredictable. But still, Sherlock always guesses correctly.

But one look at John's flinty eyes, the telltale tension in his jaw muscles and the way he stands nearly at parade rest tells Sherlock that arguing right now would perhaps not be altogether in his best interest.

Sherlock holds John's determined gaze for a moment, then, after John raises a challenging eyebrow, directs his attention at the box.

It's a square box of brown cardboard, about 20 centimetres in diameter, large enough to hold a novelty mug, for example. Sherlock picks it up and starts examining it. It's very light, he notices that immediately. It's also cool to the touch, and slightly damp. It's snowing outside, so the deduction that John just went out and purchased this box is immediately obvious. But did he purchase the contents as well?

It has no discernible smell aside from the slight whiff of John's hand cream and London snow. The edges are smooth, whatever John put in there fit easily. The box makes no noise when he shakes it, so either the contents are well-secured or fit the box so perfectly that there is no room for movement.

“Five questions,” John says quietly.

Sherlock acknowledges the rules of the game with a tilt of his head and asks his first question. “Did you purchase the contents?”

John nods. “Four.”

“Did you do it within the last hour?”

John shakes his head.

Sherlock looks up from the box and meets John’s eyes. John is watching him with a mixture of anticipation and wariness, and Sherlock is suddenly overwhelmed with guilt, with disgust at the horrid, uncontrollable part of him that’s capable of spewing such ugliness to a person he loves so much. “Why are you still here?” he whispers, holding John’s eyes.

“Where would I go?” John asks quietly, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Anywhere has to be better than here on days like today,” Sherlock answers, his voice raw with emotion and the full force of his self-loathing. 

“Open the box,” John says gently, nodding at the small cardboard square between them.

“But the game-”

“Sod the game,” John says with his usual impatience. “Open. The bloody. Box.”

Sherlock decides arguing is pointless and opens the lid.

Inside is a lot of packing paper.

And inside the packing paper sits a small, square, velvet-covered ring box.

Sherlock looks up, surprised, aghast, shocked. “Why?” he asks, unable to say any more.

John shrugs, a quiet smile on his face. “Because. Because most days you’re wonderful. Because most days we have fun and adventure and closeness and great sex, because most days you’re brilliant and clever and funny and charming. Because on the days you’re not, you’re still you and I still love you. And I don’t see that changing any time soon. And I want you to be able to think about that when you look at that ring, and remember that even on the days when you hate your brain, I love it, and always will.”

Sherlock is speechless, helpless, planless in the face of this onslaught of affection. He looks down at the box and opens it with gentle, shaking fingers. 

The rings are lovely, of course. Plain white gold, simple, perfect.

“I don’t know what to say,” he says, addressing his words to the box because if he looks at John now he might very well die of overload. 

“It’s customary to say either yes or no,” John says, and underneath the teasing he can sense John’s actual uncertainty.

Sherlock takes John’s hand, encircling John’s ring finger with his fingertips, imagining the ring there. Finally, he looks up, and he smiles. “Yes.”

-------

Tags under the cut as usual, please tell me whether you want to be tagged or untagged. Sorry if I forgot to tag you, it's been a looog day. Also sorry if there's any mistakes in there. Long day.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @jrow @jolieblack @helloliriels @discordantwords @lisbeth-kk @victorianpining @catlock-holmes

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #ficlet #may prompts 2024 #box

[staff]

tumblr today: costumes you’ve conjured

Felicitations, Frankenfolk. We wish you a very Halloween, Tumblr, on this most auspicious of eves. We have, alas, reached the end of the Build a Beast challenge. Today is—as some of the more discerning among you will have noticed—a Monday. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Today, we celebrate your costumed critters. 

How will you celebrate? If you haven’t yet, check out the entire parade of crafty characters your peers have created. If you’re new to the challenge, you could even have a go yourself if you like. It’s never too late to build a beast (here’s a reminder of week 1, week 2, week 3, and week 4 templates for your convenience). For now, enjoy these:

@clockspur​:

@colinarcartperson​:

@megumar​:

@randomxiwi​:

@rinachiba​:

@imstillwandering​:

@northofnothing​:

@sl33by-gh0st​:

@5c3n3​:

@beingmegucaisnotsuffering​:

@pentultimate-peril​:

@galladegamer​:

@baby-of-goo​:

#tumblr tuesday #costumes you've conjured #happy halloween #character design #oc artwork #creatures #critters #beasties #build a beast #halloween #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr

[cor-lapis]

Quest-Related Content

Chapter I Act IV Prelude: Bough Keeper Dainsleif

Chapter I Act IV: We Will Be Reunited (extra)

Version 1.5: Beneath the Light of Jadeite (Zhongli Story Quest II, Teapot quest)

Bennett and Barbara hangouts, other misc doodles

Chapter II Prologue: Autumn Winds, Scarlet Leaves (and other 1.6 content)

Chapter II Act I and II, Yoimiya and Ayaka Story Quests

Version 2.1: Chapter II Act III (Trailer, Omnipresence Over Mortals) and Raiden Shogun Story Quest I, Kokomi Story Quest

Version 2.2: Labyrinth Warriors

Version 2.3: Shadows Amidst Snowstorms (Trailer, Quest) and Arataki Itto Story Quest (extra Itto doodles)

Interlude Chapter Act I: The Crane Returns on the Wind

Chapter II Act IV: Requiem of the Echoing Depths

Interlude Chapter Act II: Perilous Trail (pre-release cowabunga)(quest summary)(alt ending animatic)(childe moment)

Chapter III Act I and II

Version 3.1: Pre-release anti-gap-moe + aranyaka, Chapter III Act III and IV, SCREW TIRZAD

Version 3.2: Pre-release scara drip, Chapter III Act V

Interlude Chapter Act III: Inversion of Genesis

Version 3.4: Al-Haitham demo, Desert World Quest 2

Chapter III Act VI

Version 3.5: Windblume's Breath

Version 3.6: A Parade of Providence

Chapter IV Act I and II

Chapter IV Act III and IV

Version 4.2: Furina demo, Chapter IV Act V

#holy moly this was a doozy #I think i really found my stride post-omnipresence over mortals #that's when the jokes got funnier. and more structured generally #I'll link to this in the pinned post (u_u)b

[worldhistoryfacts]

Occasionally, the Manila galleons that traveled from the Philippines to Mexico and back didn't make it. Sometimes, this was due to foul play.

The capture of Nostra Seigniora de Cabadonga off Samar Island in the Philippines was a massive coup for the British. Not only did Anson take all of its goods — 32 wagons’ worth, which were paraded through the streets of London — but he got hold of important Spanish navigational charts that detailed the routes of the Manila galleon and other Spanish trade ships, allowing the British to harass Spanish shipping in their contest for imperial dominance. Anson’s feat was given a heroic treatment in English art, too. Here’s Samuel Scott’s 1772 painting of the incident:

{WHF} {Ko-Fi} {Medium}

Much more here:

#history #painting #art #spain #philippines #navy #mexico

[lolotheparagon]

Every MLP G3 Special In a Nutshell

A Charming Birthday: A bunch of ponies construct a 50 ft tall friendship bracelet for the village hermit's birthday cos she've never been surprised before. I think that would surprise anyone tbh.

Dancing in the Clouds: Two ponies ride a rollercoaster, immediately get inspired to do a dance routine and then GOD APPEARS to summon butterflies to make the ponies fly. Cos why dance in a routine when you can cheat?

Friends are Never Far Away: This is the first time I've seen in a kids cartoon where the main characters meet indigenous people with the offering of friendship and not colonisation and seizing their land. Funny how MLP G4 completely spat on that idea.

The Princess Promenade: A pony becomes princess because she was given a flower by a stinky old lizard...oh and she also has to organise a flower parade as well because a pixie couldnt do it....Nah, being a princess is boring, let's make everyone princesses!

A Very Minty Christmas: Minty's OCD caused her to break a magic candy cane and thinks she's ruined Christmas for everyone so she goes on a perilous journey to fix things when all her friends want is her to be home. Awww.

The Runaway Rainbow: A unicorn filly who's a part of The Rainbow Justice League is teleported to Ponyville, spends a day rolling around in mud and eating cake and then says im tired i wanna go home. Oh and this filly is apparently a vital element of nature because without her making rainbows, THE COLOURS OF THE WORLD ARE FADING THIS IS A SIGN OF THE END TIMES

The Ladybug Jamboree: Pinkie has a brain blast that makes all her band members play successfully for the first time...moments before they go on stage

Greetings from Unicornia: Rainbow Dash and Rarity fuck around in a castle for a few minutes

Come Back Lily Lightly: A unicorn is scared of being judged because her horn lights up when she giggles... I have no idea what kind of metaphor this is supposed to be.

Two for the Sky: A lesbian couple desperately want to fly. They get their wish but they quickly hate it cos they cant sleep together with those giant wings in the way.

Positively Pink: The ponies pink-ify the entire town for Pinkie Pie's birthday but realise they just wasted a whole day because her birthday's not until tomorrow.

Pinkie's Special Day: Oh so this is what they did for her birthday: they gave her a clipshow! Wow, that's cheap. That's like the giftcard equivalent of birthday surprises.

Rainbow Dash's Special Day: OH GOD DASH WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU WHY DO YOU SOUND SO WRONG?!

Star Song and the Magic Dance Shoes: Starsong and Pinkie try to do a dance routine without their shoes but realise its they cant dance without them. THE SHOES ARE A CRUCIAL ELEMENT IN DANCING WHERE'S THE SPARKLY PINK SHOES?!

Pinkie Pie's Party: Pinkie Pie has an anxiety attack during a trip about party and then goes to speedrun prepare for a party. Then her friends decide to make a party out of preparing for a party. Yknow Ponyville can make even paying taxes sound like a party.

Rainbow Dash's Party: Dash hosts a hat fashion show for all her friends where she likes everyones hats so much, she lets them all win. Even though one clearly should’ve won. I mean come on, Starsong’s has functioning piano notes on it. Do you know how much wiring goes into that? No, in fact Toola Roola's should win, its got the best motif and why arent easel-style berets a thing yet? Im way too into this. Lets carry on.

Cheerilee's Party: The ponies have a sleepover where they refuse to go to sleep. Hey, why dont we let Crane tell the scary stories. That'll help them stay awake.

Scootaloo's Party: Scootaloo hosts a sports day party for her friends and they decide to give her the trophy. Awww.

Starsong's Party: A pony gets stage fright about singing on stage but her friends encourage her to try anyway at a concert and whilst the pony is singing off stage, the curtains go up, revealing her talented voice to the world. And then G4 remade this plot into someone's nervous breakdown.

Toola-Roola's Party: Toola Roola spends a whole day waiting for her friends' painted plates to finish drying cos she doesnt know what a kiln is. Then she gets them mixed around cos the namecards are lost when its clearly obvious which is which. What a disaster horse.

Sweetie Belle's Party: The ponies put their own ideas for a cake into one batter, end up making something that even Buddy the Elf would have a heart attack and then Sweetie Belle suggests making them into a cake with separate layers….that’s still gonna taste like shit.

Twinkle Wish Adventure: A dragon steals a star Pokemon from the ponies because she thinks its a toy and by her logic, will help her get more friends. And then the ponies sing about how great their friendship is. Girls, she stole your property. Punch her.

Waiting for the Winter Wishes Festival: This is literally just a deleted scene from Twinkle Wish adventure. If you want to see Scootaloo fumble around doing a holiday tiktok dance, here it is.

Sweetie Belle's Gumball House Surprise: The core 7 ponies spend 5 minutes searching for Sweetie Belle in her house via scavenger hunt only to find she's just in the backyard. The little gremlin.

Pinkie Pie's Ferris Wheel Adventure: Pinkie creates/manages an entire theme park by herself just for her friends to visit. Pinkie, where did you get the money to create this theme park? Are you a rich kid? Do you have a trust fund?

So Many Different Ways To Play: Baby Scootaloo is just pure chaotic gremlin mode and drives her sister and her friend ragged. This is the content I want to see.

Over Two Rainbows: The baby ponies find out baby Sweetie Belle has god-like powers but just wants to have a dress up party. AND APPARENTLY BABIES ARE MADE WHEN TWO RAINBOWS FUCK

The World's Biggest Tea Party Live: It's weird to see me watch this without 3 ex-bronies screeching at the screen for how 'cringeworthy' it is and then go completely off the rails to talk about Tumblr memes and have nipple fights.

....Oh yeah, the plot of the show is that Pinkie and Minty have a miscommunication boo-boo and now their tea party's fucked cos they aint got a teapot. Then they ask the audience to summon a giant teapot with the Tea-necronomicon. There was much rejoicing

#mlp g3.5 #g3 mlp #mlp g3 #ramblings

[disneytva]

November 2023 - Programming Highlights

Kiff

Hungee Squirrel ; Foreverangees 11/4

Snow More Ketchup ; Kiff And Barry Go To Prom 11/11

Hamster & Gretel

Shush Hour ; I Was a Teenage Mad Scientist 11/4

Too Many Crooks ; President Fred 11/11

The Ghost and Molly McGee

Smile Valley Farm ; The Grand Gesture 11/4

The Many Lives of Scratch ; Alaka-Sham! 11/11

F.O.N.A.A.! ; Game On 11/18

Mickey's Christmas Tales

Starstruck - SHORTS PREMIERE 11/27

How To Build A Snowman 11/28

Holiday Hideaway 11/29

Slip N' Sleigh 11/30

Playdate With Winnie The Pooh

Piglet And The Kite 11/1

Eeyore, Kanga And The Treasure Hunt 11/15

Tigger And The Toy Hoop 11/29

Pupstruction

Itty Bitty Barn Build; A Colorful Job 11/3

Pupstruction Saves Christmas; Pups On Ice 11/27

Star Wars: Young Jedi Adventures

Charhound Chase ; Creature Comforts 11/8

An Adventure with Yoda ; The Talon Takeover 11/9

Mystery of the Opal Cave ; Clash 11/10

Stuck in the Muck ; Junkyard Sleepover 11/17

The Great Leaf Glide ; The Harvest Feast 11/24

SuperKitties

Merry Mousemas 11/28

Firebuds

Hello, Halo!; What's Up, Woodpecker? SEASON PREMIERE 11/1

Sugar Crash; The Cut N' Chrome Caper 11/2

Mayhem At The Museum; Wrong Way Rescue 11/3

Apple Pie Peril; Hike & Seek 11/10

Blizzard Buds; Parade Escapade 11/30

Alice's Wonderland Bakery

Jacques Turtelle's Soup; The Curious Case Of Crumbs 11/4

Mickey Mouse Funhouse

Mickey's Sky-High Birthday! ; The What About Me Birthday 11/17

Minnie's Snow Ball! ; The Snow Princess 11/19

Spidey and His Amazing Friends

How To Train Your Doggy ; Dome Alone SEASON FINALE 11/10

#Kiff #Disney Kiff #Hamster And Gretel #Hamster & Gretel #The Ghost and Molly McGee #Ghost and Molly McGee #The Curse of Molly McGee #Curse of Molly McGee #Mickey's Christmas Tales #Playdate with Winnie The Pooh #Winnie The Pooh #Pupstruction #Star Wars Young Jedi Adventures #Star Wars: Young Jedi Adventures #Star Wars #SuperKitties #Firebuds #Alice's Wonderland Bakery #Alice In Wonderland #Mickey Mouse Funhouse #Spidey and His Amazing Friends #Spiderman #Disney Channel #Disney Junior #Disney Jr

[kylobith]

LotR Week - Day 4 (14th Dec)

friendship | family | loyalty

Word count: 3,668

Flutes, fiddles and harps enlivened the streets of Minas Tirith on the day that the silver crown graced King Elessar’s head. Chants, clamours and cheers resounded from the gate to the citadel in celebration of the rebirth of Gondor. Fairy lights and colourful banners hung between the houses and the royal colours were hoisted high from the roofs, if not from the facades and the ramparts. As the people raised their pints and cried out their elation from windows and doors alike, giddy of heart and red of face, it seemed that the promise of a bright future had reached them at last. All looked up to the White Tree, now certain that it shall flourish and blossom anew. Hope had returned.

At the citadel, a banquet was thrown in honour of the new monarch and his company. In the Hall of the Kings and onto the terrace where the coronation had occurred, distinguished guests walked out and about, goblet in hand and lavishly clad. They mingled and met, talked and shared, bowed and laughed. In the crowd stood Men and Hobbits alike, Elves and Dwarves equal. Hearts were lighter, as were their shoulders now rid of armour, with the exception of military leaders. Common soldiers had been permitted to shed them for the festivities, facilitating movement and dancing.

Aragorn moved from group to group with his beloved Arwen at his arm, in order to thank them warmly for their presence and for their loyal service to Gondor and the greater good. By the end of the feast, he would have met about everyone, now that he had paraded the streets of his new seat, meeting with the people he swore to serve and protect until he last drew breath. His arrival and ascension were met with unanimous enthusiasm by the population, who had long suffered the decline of their realm and the tarnishing of the glory their land had once known. He intended to restore all of it and more. This time, Gondor would never falter again; it would stand tall and proud, strong and loud until any evil-wisher would be vanquished. All the while, he could not help but think to himself how much he wished that Boromir were there to see his cherished city come to life again.

Farther away on the terrace, the remaining members of the Fellowship gathered organically, clinking their glasses and exchanging smiles. Towering over them, Gandalf looked ahead to watch the king, his chin raised and his eyes wrinkling at the corners.

‘It is a new era begun,’ he announced in peaceful solemnity. ‘It should not be long until the White Tree burgeons again.’

‘It is indeed,’ Legolas acquiesced, sipping at wine. ‘I, for one, am honoured to witness this change.’

‘Change will be an onerous task still, whether in Gondor or in Rohan,’ the wizard continued with a nod of his head towards the Elf. ‘Nothing will ever be the same again. And I can only imagine that it also rings true to any of you. Tell me, my friends, what will you endeavour to do next?’

There was a momentary pause as his companions thought about what their future entailed. Their perilous journey, only just completed had left no room for contemplation about what they would do once peace was restored and the enemy defeated. Starved and strained, sore and struggling, the mere idea of home was nothing but a fantasy, a faraway illusion whose existence they so often doubted. At times, it had felt as though their fight had occupied their whole lives. As though they had been born right in the middle of combat and left to fend for themselves, or grown up climbing mountainsides and venturing through cursed marshes. When they were finally given the luxury to ponder about it, ideas and inspiration eluded them.

To nobody’s surprise, it was Legolas who answered first, running his fingertip along the rim of his cup.

‘I will return to Taur-nu-Fuin and report to my father. Then, I suppose we can finally clear our beloved woods of its evils and see it reborn.’

‘I remember the days when Mirkwood was a most inviting forest,’ Gandalf responded, rubbing his bearded chin pensively. ‘When birds and butterflies flew by each other’s side and deer and boars feasted on the plentiful grass. It was nearly as green as the meadows in the Shire!’

The Elf nodded knowingly, his thin lips curving into a joyful grin at the recollection. Yes, there used to be a time when Mirkwood was not so… mirky. His kin had witnessed it, but none of the living Men, Hobbits and Dwarves had been graced with its fulfilling sight.

Gandalf eyed his other companions, wondering whether they had plans once they returned home. The Hobbits shrugged and shook their heads, exchanging innocent glances.

‘We will return to the Shire, yes, but what we are going to do there, we don’t know,’ Merry said.

‘There is this book that Uncle Bilbo started to write,’ Frodo spoke up, his gaze lost ahead of him, as though seeing something that none other could behold. ‘He left blank pages for me to write my own adventure. Perhaps I should do just that.’

‘Yes, that is a wonderful idea, Frodo,’ the wizard chimed. ‘If you do, none of the fallen will have truly disappeared. They will live in your tale.’

Frodo bit the inside of his cheek, the tips of his eyebrows pointing upwards and creasing his forehead as he considered Gandalf for a second. Whether the old man was right or not, he could not tell. Maybe it depended on one’s belief. Or, perhaps, it was another way for the wizard to protect the young Hobbit’s feelings. It was something that had irritated him as of late, although he never showed his annoyance at it. Everyone walked on eggshells around him, weighing their words and smiling more than usual. Why would they do it to him, and not to the others?

As he distracted himself from his frustration by tasting the bitter pale ale of Gondor, it was Sam’s turn to express his enthusiasm.

‘I believe I will return to gardening and add flowers from the various lands we crossed on our adventure to my beds,’ he beamed. ‘But I will also make time to tend to Mr Frodo as he heals.’

‘And we just don’t know,’ Merry and Pippin said in unison, before the latter added: ‘Perhaps I will pester Sam from time to time to keep things fun.’

‘You do that, and I’ll make sure that Farmer Maggot gets his hands on you for stealing his crops!’

All of it was in good fun, of course. As soon as the words had left Sam’s mouth, they were followed by a hearty laugh as he wrapped an arm around the younger Hobbit’s shoulders, squeezing him against his side and clinking their pints together.

‘Well, it seems that there will be much merriness in the Shire after all, and I should worry about neither of you,’ Gandalf chuckled, before bringing his attention to the Dwarf smoking his pipe with a foaming mug of ale in his other hand. ‘What about you, Gimli?’

‘Aye, I would set out to recapture Moria if I weren’t on my own,’ he announced in his husky voice. ‘I’d much like to see my cousin’s hall restored to its former glory. If Minas Tirith can, Khazad-Dûm should know the same fate!’

‘I see. Perhaps you should seek the help of Ironfoot. Now that the Balrog is gone, I am certain that he would be willing to send troops to rid the Misty Mountains of its goblins.’

Gimli blew out the smoke from his lungs and swigged the ale, leaving foam bubbling on the copper hairs of his moustache and the tip of his large nose.

‘Dáin will never agree to it. He lost too many men in the mines already.’

‘He would be foolish to refuse. Besides, the fallen Dwarves deserve a proper resting place, not a forsaken mass grave.’

‘Aye, they do.’

Before he could take another sip of his beverage, a group of children emerged from behind him and jumped on his back. Taken by surprise, Gimli let go of the mug — narrowly saved by Legolas’ sharp reflexes — and his pipe, eyes wide and arms waving around to try and rid him of his assailants. The children held on, roaring with laughter as they laid their hands on the Dwarf’s head. Swinging from side to side, trying not to tumble down, Gimli shouted and protested, cursing his mates for watching the scene in amusement and laughing along with the little ones. Once their cheeky deed was done, the four boys fled, and the little girl accompanying them pecked his cheek before hitching her skirts up and following them.

‘Ah, children,’ Gandalf exclaimed, his shoulders still shaking from his laughter. ‘I believe that two of them are the offsprings of the Lady of Lossarnach.’

‘Noble or not, they are little rascals all the same,’ Gimli grumbled, patting off his sleeves and his tunic. His motion was interrupted, however, when the stifled chuckles of the Hobbits reached his ears. ‘What?’

‘Don’t you think that Gimli smells better all of a sudden?’ Pippin asked Merry, eyes watering as he restrained himself to keep his composure.

‘He sure does, Pip! Like the loveliest lady!’

‘What are ye two blabbering abo—’

As the Dwarf’s eyes lowered to his tunic, he caught sight of daisies adorning his beard. He patted the top of his head and felt flowers in his hair as well, dropping his hand by his side as the pair of Hobbit finally allowed themselves to give in to a fit of hilarity. Gimli snatched his pipe from the ground and proceeded to wipe the mouthpiece from dust and gravel, before retrieving his mug from Legolas.

‘Oh yes, make fun of the Dwarf! I was attacked, I’m telling you! Attacked!’

Gimli’s remark did not quieten his peers’ amusement. Rather the opposite. Merry and Pippin scampered off as he grumbled in their direction, and Gandalf seized the opportunity to talk to Frodo and Sam alone. Left with Legolas, the Dwarf sighed and thanked him for saving his pint. They stood in silence for a few seconds, before Gimli shook his head again.

‘Bairns…’

‘Well, they certainly made you look rather elegant,’ Legolas teased with an eyebrow raised. ‘They managed what I could not.’

‘Nobody can change this Dwarf,’ Gimli scoffed and puffed his pipe.

‘Certainly not.’

The Dwarf peeled one of the daisies from his beard and instantly heard the gasps from the children a few feet away. He met their gazes and took notice of the flowers they had gathered in the palms of their hands. They loomed over him as a threat, ominous and menacing.

‘Ah, well,’ he said loud enough for the children to hear, sliding the daisy back in the coarse red hairs of his beard, ‘I might as well leave them in.’

‘Good choice,’ the Elf acquiesced. ‘Children are not too bad, are they? They have seen their share of suffering here. They should embrace their childhood now.’

‘Aye, aye, they should. Perhaps they should even make me a flower crown. And one for you too, Elf.’

Legolas laughed and finished his wine, watching the little humans tiptoeing through the crowd of nobles in search of their next victim to embellish. There had been a time when he had wished for children of his own. He had longed to hold his flesh and blood in his arms, to look after and coddle until the bairn would have been old enough to train in archery with him. Often, he pictured himself braiding his child’s hair to keep it out of their youthful face until they were able to do it themselves. And such a day he would have fervently dreaded, for it would have meant that his help and love in such simple gestures would no longer be needed.

But after all that he had seen and lived, the idea of producing offspring sounded much less attractive to him than it used to. For once, he found himself yearning to care for the living more than for the unborn. He felt no sorrow at such thoughts; if anything, there was peace in his decision. He would gladly tend to the children of his dearest friends, but having his own would be out of the question.

Lost in thought, it was the unexpected pressure against the side of his neck that dragged him out of his reverie. Blinking in confusion, he caught a glimpse of Gimli folding his arm back against him and looked down at his pale blond locks, among which one daisy was nestled. Legolas chuckled and took it out, tucking it above his ear instead with a smirk.

‘Much better,’ he commented, flipping his hair over his shoulder. ‘See? You are not that much of a grouch after all. You do have a heart underneath that tough shell of yours.’

‘Of course, I do, pointy-eared lad!’

‘You do indeed. You have a lot of it, I must say. It is one of the reasons why I like you.’

Gimli flinched and furrowed his bushy brows as he stared up at the Elf. His heart seemed to have stopped as all colours drained from his face. His mouth opened and closed, yet no sound escaped it. Not a peep. Out of panic, he snapped his head around and called out.

‘What is it, lad? I’m comin’, I’m comin’! Sorry, Pippin is calling me.’

With this said Gimli hurried away, cursing under his breath, leaving a dumbfounded Legolas behind. The latter shrugged it off and approached one of the tables to find something to nibble on.

The celebration continued until late in the night. Dancing was now the main preoccupation, and many were the pairs twirling and pressing their hands together in the lofty hall. Aragorn and Arwen engaged in the most elegant choreography, once taught to them in Rivendell. Sam danced with one of the few children still awake, complimenting her on her steps and spinning her around to trigger a laugh from her. Merry and Pippin leapt around the place, inebriated and their mouths full of food — it was a wonder that they had not yet choked on any of it. Farther towards the thrones, one could see the tall, dark-haired beauty from the coastal lands of Gondor bowing and circling around the unusually bashful, yet pleased king of Rohan in a traditional dance of the realm. Under the arches, resting their weary feet on a bench, Faramir placed his head on Éowyn’s shoulder as she weaved her fingers through his hair, spying on her flustered brother with a bemused stare.

Gimli did not partake in any of that. He leant against one of the columns, drinking more ale and stealing fleeting glances at Legolas. The Elf seemed deep in conversation with Prince Imrahil, unaware of the Dwarf’s scrutiny and scowl.

What did Legolas mean by what he said? Gimli could not wrap his head around it. Was there something on the Elf’s mind that eluded him or that he was too blind to see? Had he done anything to warrant such words?

When Legolas bowed to Imrahil and excused himself, Gimli instantly looked away, focusing instead on Sam and Frodo sharing a pastry while sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the hall. The Elf approached Aragorn and Arwen and whispered something in their ears, which he could not discern with the music and the clamour of the guests cluttering his hearing. The king pulled Legolas into a warm embrace and patted his back, smiling and speaking words that did not reach the Dwarf either. Arwen did the same, and smiled sweetly at the Wood Elf, squeezing his arm before waving at him as he left the festivities.

Yes, he might as well go, Gimli thought while grumbling, lighting up the weed he had shoved into his pipe while observing the scene. If Legolas was in the mood to pronounce such silly words, then he could not be helped.

Blowing out a cloud of smoke, the Dwarf pressed the back of his head to the pillar behind him. Despite everything that was happening around him, he could not get the damned Elf’s words out of his head. He had tried to follow conversations, but it took less than two sentences for him to find his mind wandering back to his embarrassment earlier. Gimli scrunched up his face and grunted. He needed to know.

Once in his quarters, Legolas stretched his back and sighed in relief, his head buzzing after leaving the constant hubbub of the coronation feast. He delicately removed his belt and unbuttoned his silken tunic, lifting the intricate circlet from his brow and placing it back on its velvet cushion on the nightstand. Disrobing and carefully folding or hanging the pieces of his garment, he entered the bathroom and picked up the satin robe he had left there in the morning, covering his bare body with it.

Before he was even done tying it around his waist, there was a soft knock upon the door.

‘Ent—’

A loud bang thundered across the room as a furious Gimli kicked the door in and entered without letting him finish his invitation. The Elf shrieked and nearly tore the robe off himself in a start. Not giving him a chance to protest this violent entrance, the Dwarf pointed his finger at him and stomped over to him.

‘What did you mean earlier? I’ve thought about it over and over again and it makes no sense to me!’ he roared.

‘What are you talking about?!’

‘You said that you liked me! Now, what was that about?!’

Legolas stared at Gimli for a few seconds, before erupting in a fit of laughter. He squeezed the Dwarf’s shoulder as he passed him by to close the door, relieved to see that it was not damaged despite the forceful kick it received. His friend watched him in confusion, an eyebrow raised as the Elf went to sit on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him.

As Gimli joined him, maintaining some distance between the two of them, Legolas grinned and tilted his head.

‘What I meant by that,’ he started, his voice quiet, ‘is that I like you. Nothing more, nothing less.’

‘I don’t understand, lad.’

The Elf snorted and rubbed his bare heel against the wooden floor.

‘Is it so difficult to conceive that I might consider you as my friend?’

‘Well, it’s odd comin’ from an Elf.’

‘Ah, that is what worries you.’

‘Mh. Not really.’

Gimli sighed and relaxed his shoulders, dropping his hands onto his lap. Now that he knew for sure that there had been no hidden meaning behind any of it, he felt rather foolish. The heat rising to his cheeks reddened them into a similar hue to that of his hair and beard.

‘You know,’ Legolas intoned, tucking his hair behind his pointed ear, ‘now that the Fellowship is dissolved, I fear that I will lose most of what I hold dear. And you are part of it. I sincerely hope that the end of our journey does not mean that we must sever our ties.’

‘Nah, laddie, don’t worry ‘bout that,’ Gimli guffawed, patting him sharply in the back and sliding a little closer to his mate. ‘We’ve been brothers in arms through the worst our world has seen. There’s no way that I’ll let this happen.’

Silence settled in as Legolas gave him a nod of gratitude. He noticed that Gimli’s hair was still full of drying flowers, and he could not help the grin from forming on his lips. Indeed, the Dwarf had much more heart than he had originally given him credit for when they met in Rivendell at the start of their saga. And even after the horrors they had encountered, he would not trade it for anything in the whole world. Neither would Gimli, although he did not express it openly.

What Gimli did express, however, was his desire to see Legolas again once the celebrations ended.

‘Will ya visit me in Erebor?’ he asked bashfully.

‘I would love nothing more. And you are welcome anytime in Mirkwood. After all, we do not live so far from each other, do we?’

‘No, I suppose not.’

Another moment of contemplation lingered as they gazed at each other. An idea bubbled in the Elf’s head, but he hesitated to voice it at first. When the Dwarf raised his eyebrows, taking notice of his conflicted expression, Legolas yielded.

‘You spoke of retaking Moria,’ he intoned. ‘I can try to speak to my father about it so he can send some of his men to accompany you. It will take some convincing, but I am sure that we can find a compromise with him. And even if he refuses, I will gladly help you reconquer your cousin’s hall if you accept me.’

Gimli grinned and bowed his head.

‘Aye. There’ll always be a place for you in my company. It’s about time that Elves and Dwarves bury the hatchet. It’s caused more harm than good to our kin, and your deeds likely earned the sympathy of my kind.’

Legolas placed his hand over his friend’s and squeezed it gently, smiling from ear to ear. The twinkle in his eye pushed the Dwarf to say something else.

‘Besides, counting dead Orcs is only fun when it’s you I’m competing against, lad.’

‘You stand no chance against me, Gimli.’

‘We’ll see about that!’

They shared a hearty laugh and Legolas cupped the back of Gimli’s head, tilting it closer to his until their foreheads touched. Understanding it as a gesture of affection and acceptance from the Elf, the Dwarf held Legolas’ head in turn and grinned.

‘I’m glad that I know you, brother.’

#I want their friendship #me and who #Legolas #Gimli #Sam #Frodo #Gandalf #Aragorn #Merry #Pippin #Peregrin Took #Pippin Took #Merry Brandybuck #Meriadoc Brandybuck #Legolas Greenleaf #Gimli son of Glóin #Dwarf #Elf #Dwarf/Elf friendship #Gigolas #lotrweek #Friendship #Family #lotr #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fic #lotr fanfic

[diejager]

PLS me and my homies love your childe and zhongli yandere fics!! will another one come? or a sequal to the Shared Contract? We need it 😫

I decided to make a separate fic, I think it'll have 2 or 3 parts.

You Paint My World pt. 1

Yandere Zhongli & Childe

Tw: blood.

Note: not proofread

Wc: 1723

You were brimming it excitement, smile wide and eyes gleaming. You'd been to most nations before, painting, sketching or drawing the landscape and its beauty - the unique flora and lovely fauna - along the way, except Inazuma and Liyue. Inazuma would have to be last on the list because of its sudden confinement towards the whole of Teyvat, hiding its lush nature behind the perilous thunderstorm that guarded the Inazuman Isles.

You rode through hills and occasionally towns on your way to Liyue Harbor. The ride was bumpy but breathtaking, you wished you could've taken out your book and sketched a few things you had seen on the way, but the bumps on the road threatened to make your pen slip.

It was a quiet ride, you didn't feel uncomfortable nor was the driver asking for any payment, being true to his words to drive you to the harbour. The bustling merchants and the rich architecture unique to this nation made your eyes twinkle in wonder at its beauty. You might end up staying here longer than you hid anticipated, wanting to engrain the whole of Liyue in your mind through your art.

"Thank you for the ride, sir," you bowed lightly, smiling thankfully at him for saving you the trouble of days of walking.

"No, it was my pleasure of helping you," the nice gentleman waved you off, flashing his elderly smile before you went on separate ways.

Finally within the walls of the famed nation of trade and contracts, you took the time to admire it for its splendour. You gripped your bag tightly and flashed a determined grin, marching up the stairs to find a place to live for the period you'd live here, possibly a cheap place with only the necessities. After that, you'll spend the rest of your day exploring the harbour and its surroundings, painting whatever caught your attention.

You sat near the port, watching the sailors work, gazing at the ships dock and sail away, and basking in the sounds of crashing waves and glimmering water. You had your pen out, drawing the scene that went on before you, painting out what made the nation thrive with such focus that you missed many passing glances from the citizens that seemed to have recognized your art. You were deeply concentrated on your work, only raising your eyes from the paper to stare at the scene you had printed on the canvas. You stared at your finished work, holding it at an arm's length and ran over it to see if it had any flaws. A satisfied smile grazed your lips, you simply couldn't wait to see what else Liyue had to offer. Guess it was time to call it a day and go eat somewhere-

"Hmm, what a masterful artwork, " a deep voice rumbled behind you.

You jumped, twisting rapidly to face the person with a surprised mien. It was a man, seemingly in his early twenties from appearances, that spoke to you. His voice was deep and soothing, and his eyes held some sort of gleam, as if aged by hardships and time, but they were calming to stare at. Although his looks were praiseworthy, what you found the most admiring was his air of elegance and modesty, clothed in lavish silks yet soft-spoken like someone you met in Mondstadt.

"Ah, thank you...?" you tilted your head gratefully, smiling sheepishly as you scratched the back of your head.

"Zhongli, pleasure meeting you," he spoke softly, in the same knowledgeable tone he held. "You're (Name), I presume? The travelling artist from Mondstadt."

Zhongli - as he presented himself as - somehow knew you, you were sure you hadn't sold that many paintings. You hadn't paraded your artwork like some artists and hadn't bragged about such feats. So, you wondered how your name came to his lips as if he knew you. Perhaps someone you knew from Monds talked about you to this finely dressed man.

"Uh- yes, It's nice to meet you, Zhongli," you lowered your head lightly, ears turning pink when his name rolled on your tongue, it felt nice. "How- can you tell me how you knew my name?"

Said man hummed, gloved hand reaching for his chin as he pondered on his answer, how can he reply without sounding too... awed by your work of the world he saw for the past millennia.

"I have an eye for fine work, you see. Yours display the world in such lights that it feels as physical as ours. I, however, find myself purchasing yours when I see the chance."

Hearing those words from a handsome man, someone who made your small hobby into a lifelong job made you bashful and embarrassed, red painting your cheeks and ears with a fiery blush under his string gaze. Then, you felt his eyes move from your bowing head to the drawing in your hand, wanting to see your new work.

Feeling the intent being his gaze, you showed him your work, moving it closer to him so that he could see all the small details you captured in your black and white landscape of Liyue's port. He hummed slowly as his eyes ran through the expanse of the canvas, in a deep and amazed fashion that felt like he was appraising a piece of treasure. It made your heart beat with nervous happiness.

"Fine indeed, " he mumbled, staring down with such strong intent. "Are you perhaps thinking of selling this?"

"Mr. Zhongli, is that another piece of (Name)'s artwork?!" a boyish voice called out to the liyuen, filled with disbelief and shallow envy. "How do you keep finding them? I can hardly see a single one on sale nowadays, it's like they vanish the moment they're known."

The ginger shook his head in disappointment, lowered in exaggerated sadness that Zhongli's collection kept on growing every week while his stayed the same, a few artworks of Snezhnaya and Fontaine, two of his favourite nations. Childe stared and stared at the number of canvases Zhongli hung on the wall, unending and increasing by the week. What was his secret to such a treasure trove of famous pieces? Maybe he could steal one while Zhongli wasn't looking, but it wouldn't feel right. He wanted to win them fairly through a hard challenge like bidding against the richest men and women in all of Teyvat- or, he could find how Zhongli got them, it would be easier and less time-consuming.

"Where do you get them?" Childe took his chance, a king the man with many secrets about his source.

"(Name) is currently residing here, I met them 3 weeks prior. I've seen them around the Harbor, that's where I get these," he truthfully answered.

He found no reason to withhold this information, Childe liked your artwork as much as he did. Though Zhongli learned to not only like your artwork, but you as well. You were quiet and didn't speak much, so we as it easy to hold a conversation with you, who quietly listened to him drone away when you met on coincidences. Perhaps he sought you out during his leisurely hours, the need to see you increased every now and then after purchasing your work. He liked talking to you too, wanting to sit next to you and watch as your nimble fingers painted the scene with finesse like he wielded the polearm. Your dynamic with him was calm and comfortable - he thought so. As amiable as you were, you didn't seem like such an outgoing and sociable person like Childe, but perhaps, if you two were to know each other, you'd feel more inclined to stay here than venture far into the world and leave his nation behind as a memory. The Snezhnayan may have his dark secrets and dangerous history, but he was friendly with some and could form a friendship if given; after all, both of them were avid collectors of your work.

"Say, Mr. Zhongli, would you mind taking me to see them?"

Zhongli, the gentleman who'd been buying your newest works almost every day, had asked to meet up at the Third-Round Knockout for the reason of "meeting an acquaintance of mine who likes your artworks". Feeling inclined to accept after all the patronage he had given you, you told him when you'd be available to dine together.

That's where you currently were, asking directions to the tavern, thanking whoever helped you. You walked around the plaza, following the instructions they gave you until you saw the brunette sitting idly on a table, gracefully sipping tea near a tall ginger. You steadily approached them, softly calling out to Zhongli as you made your way up the stairs.

"(Name)," he nodded, your name rolling off his tongue like sweet nectar.

The ginger next to him perked, eyes widening in excitement as he turned to you, grin so wide that they reached from ear to ear. He stood up, greeting you politely with his pretty eyes and boyish grin, presenting himself as "Childe".

An alias, you thought, no parents would name their child with such a... bizarre name.

Other than his name, Childe was friendly - extremely so - he gushed about being lucky enough to collect your Snezhnaya collection and some of Fontaine's with liveliness. He continued on how you painted his homeland so prettily, so fine and great beauty to the land that lost people feared. How you granted the show wasteland beauty through your talent and hard work. He couldn't help himself when asking about your new work and if you'd go back to Snezhnaya for a second collection. He liked Liyue and Fontaine the same, but his home would always hold a special place in his heart.

He offered to take you outside the Harbor, where monsters lurked and promised to protect you while you worked. He oozed of thrill at the thought of being the one to take you outside and keeping you by his side, safe and sound. He wanted to see you in your moment, see how the spark behind your splendour worked. Was it like the sudden adrenaline during his battles? Or was it as exciting as tainting his hydro blades red with his enemies' blood? He had found another interest in the bustling city of contracts.

Next

#yandere x reader #x reader #yandere #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #yandere x y/n #childe #childe x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli #yandere childe #genshin childe #gn reader #yandere childe x reader

[newyorkthegoldenage]

New York has two Grand Army Plazas—the one at Fifth Ave. and 59th St. in Manhattan, and one at the entrance to Prospect Park in Brooklyn. On May 30, 1936, more than 50,000 people, including tens of thousands of children, marched to the cheers of a half million others to mark Decoration Day (as Memorial Day was then called) as well as Brooklyn’s 300th anniversary.

The Times said that that day “was one of the most spectacular—from the point of view of parades—in the 300 years of the borough’s history, since that day long ago when two men made the perilous trip across the East River from the Dutch village on Manhattan Island and established a little settlement on Gowanus Bay which they then spelled Bruijkleen.”

Photo: NY Times via Instagram

#vintage New York #1930s #vintage Brooklyn #Brooklyn #Grand Army Plaza #Memorial Day #Decoration Day #parades #May 30 #30 May

[yandere-sins]

Reviving the Bloodline

a/n: This and one more part (Ayato) was spooking around my head after that festival event in Inazuma, so I finally got around to write it! Enjoy!

Characters: Kadehara Kazuha (Genshin Impact) x F!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Lemon, Dub-Con, Breeding/Impregnation Intention, F!Reader, Kidnapping, Knife mention, Threatening, Fingering, Overstimulation, Arranged Marriage mention, Long Post

With a soft oof, your back hit the mattress inside Kazuha's small cabin, a previous prison cell that had been transformed to accommodate the traveler. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that in a second, you'd open them to find yourself in your home, awakening from a nightmare. However, when you forced them open, all you saw were two dimly-lit, flaming orbs staring right back at you.

"Why are you doing this?" you whimpered, unable to keep your composure any longer.

This morning, everything had been peaceful and life had been good. But after meeting your friend, spending all afternoon together until the stars twinkled over your head, reminding you to bid goodbye to him, things had changed rapidly. Kazuha should have left you this evening—for good. You had allowed too many feelings to fester between you two, knowing he'd never settle for you or your peaceful Liyue home. It would have been in your best interests to kiss farewell and keep the good memories while your paths separated.

Even so, you weren't supposed to be on this ship with him.

Yet, you couldn't have ignored the threat of a knife at your back. The peril of him waking your family, revealing all the dirty secrets a wealthy merchant's daughter, soon to be married to a business partner, shouldn't have. How he told you ways of ruining you more than just with those truths. You might have fallen for Kazuha before, enjoyed the tender touches under the trees of your secret hide-out, and kissed him on the nights of passion you had lied to your family for to attend. But after being paraded through town by him with just a few dear belongings he allowed you to take, the goodbye letter he forced you to write, and the threats he used to take you from your home, you weren't so sure about your feelings anymore.

You had side-eyed him all the way to The Crux, the ship he traveled with. The way he still smiled kindly, greeted people nicely while hiding the small blade in his palm, pressing it to your back with urgency. "Don't say anything," he instructed you as you two boarded the wooden vessel capable of traversing the rough sea. "It'll be alright," was his assurance, the knife moving from your back to your side in a cutting motion as he put his arm around you, pulling you close against him protectively. Out of reach from anyone, so no one could take you away.

The sailors - pirates? - didn't so much but bat an eye at you. Their captain was different. She listened intently, looked you up and down while Kazuha revealed he wanted to bring you as it was "your wish to travel". It seemed like she wanted to ask you, and you opened your mouth to beg her for help. But the knife was ever so present, sharp, deadly, and you were too scared to talk when he looked at you, asking you to confirm his story. You nodded, biting your tongue, hating yourself a little for not doing the right thing.

But as soon as the curtains to his little makeshift cabin fell, the wooden door locking into place, your composure fell like a house of cards. Tears flooded your eyes as the ship was rocked by the waves, departing from the place you loved most; your home. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room from the floorboards above. Still, you had no doubts that no one could hear your little conversation, especially not when Kazuha muffled your cries with his chest, arms around your back, and pulled you tightly against him in a hug after seeing your eyes.

It was the comfort he always gave you, but it felt bittersweet now that he forced you into it. Hours ago, you would have gladly jumped into his embrace, but now you weren't sure who this man even was. A scammer, a kidnapper, a threat, but certainly not your secret lover, ever so caring and gentle with your heart.

"I know," he whispered, patting your head, brushing back your hair as you cried. You found yourself between angry and sad, ready to throw the first punch and desperate to hold on to the familiar-looking person in front of you for any kind of stability. "I hate that I had to do this, but would you have come if I asked you?"

What kind of question was that? "No," you answered honestly. Not like there had been any moment in your relationship that you two didn't know it would end and you would go separate ways. It may have been unfair to let any feelings develop over the time you spent together, in tender embraces and whispering sweet nothings, but that wasn't a reason to force you away from your responsibilities and where you wanted to be! Fantasizing about always being together didn't equal the reality of what you had to do and who you wanted to be. The time with Kazuha had been fun and relaxing, but he wasn't the family you were loyal to and loved.

Just he seemed to have different ideas about that.

"See? I had to do it. How else could you have followed your heart and stayed with me?"

"But I didn't!" you immediately corrected, firmly. "I wanted to stay in Liyue! With my family! I wanted to decide my future, marry, and build my own family! I never said I wanted this."

Lifting a hand, you gestured to the poor excuse of a room. Just a bed, a table, a chair. Some trinkets laid about, reminding you of the tales of Kazuha's adventure, but none of them mattered to you. This wasn't the life you dreamed of when you once told him to stay with you forever in jest. When you asked him to marry you instead of the husband your parents chose. But it was his. He already knew it back then when he denied you with a shake of his head, saying he wanted you, but not this life of yours. A life that wasn't like his. He made you believe that things would go as you planned. That he could let go when the time came.

But the truth was, he couldn't.

Kazuha caught your chin between his fingers, your breath hitching with surprise about the sudden force pressing into your face. Pulling you to look at him, his eyes danced from yours to your lips briefly, restraint showing on his expression before he got a grip on himself. "We can still do that. I can give you all of this but on my terms. I know you love me, but maybe you need a reminder of how much I love you. Maybe I wasn't thorough enough the last couple of times. Maybe you simply can't understand because I haven't shown you enough."

Lips crashing into yours, you were only let go when you returned his fervent kiss. Your heart could not keep up with his passion, and your mind couldn't with his words. But his feelings were genuine, true to the love he spoke of. You had barely left behind the lights of Liyue Harbor when he forced you back on his bed, your head on his sheets, and his lips on yours in an unmistakably need to prove himself to you.

Hands wandering, you felt them picking away at the buttons to your clothes, clawing at the fabric impatiently until it gave way to his greedy touch. Even though he had undressed you multiple times, Kazuha had never done it with so little relish before. He had always treated you gently, like his personal treasure, but now his need to prove seemed to get the upper hand, stripping you from what felt like your armor, keeping you safe from him.

Bare before him, your clothes falling over the mattress to be lost in passion later, Kazuha nibbled on your lips, a surprised gasp escaping you as he pulled it with him before backing away. His eyes stared into yours as if he was trying to see into your soul, find the specks of love you harbored for him. But he disappeared from sight before he found them; a momentary relief.

Next, you felt his breath around your nipples, strong hands enveloping your breasts, bringing them together to have a taste of your body. His need for you was like a drug, a shudder escaping him as his tongue lapped out, playing with your sensitive nips. Kazuha groaned into your tits as he heard you moan in electrifying pleasure, your back arching instinctively to his touch, remembering it as something you loved. Bad, bad memory! you scolded it, whining as he sucked at your nipples hungrily.

If only Kazuha didn't know you so well, it might have been easier to resist.

You dug your hand into his hair, clawing hard at the back of his head. But one of his hands had simultaneously wandered low, tugging at the flimsy underwear you wore just for him that day. You never had time to change clothes, looking the same you had when you met him in the day. The same as you were when he made love to you under the huge Sandbearer tree far away from the bustling city and your normal life. This was an entirely different situation, and yet, ironically, almost the same.

"F-Fuck," you stuttered, his fingers slipping past your lips, meeting your clit and settling on it. He chuckled against your skin, hot breath branding you in little spurts as the sweetest sound of his playful laughter filled the air. "What naughty words, Milady," he scolded you playfully, words that danced into your ear, making you tense. Though the longer he played with you, the less firm your grip on him became.

As you muffled your mewls, your body was winding, biting into your free pointer finger. Under Kazuha's knowing touches, you were coming undone much quicker than you wanted to allow yourself. You tried to resist, keep face in this cruel, unjust situation. If only you could have had the upper hand, something against him. But that wasn't the only thing you wanted desperately at this point.

Tugging at the ends of his hair, it was your last chance of control. To make a wave in this sea of insanity and perhaps bring you back to shore. Not like the ship rocking and the sound of splashing water was any reminder of how far away from home you already were. But still, as long as there was a chance, you would try! You had to! You…

At the slightest tug, Kazuha lifted his head. No hesitation, no grumbling. His hands stopped roaming, his mouth working at your sensitive parts paused expectedly, and he looked up at you. A soft smile played on his lips, eyes so full of affection you were sure you could have asked anything from him at that moment, and he would have gone out of his way to pick the stars from the night sky for you. There he was. The one you loved so dearly all summer long. Who made you forget about the dreadful lingering future of being married off to someone unknown. The one that held you until late in the night and made sure you got home safely before anyone noticed without ever asking for compensation. The Kazuha that cared for you, adored you, loved you. Your Kazuha.

You looked deep into his eyes, eyes that you once looked for in the crowd. That helped you calm down before an event and the ones that reflected the campfire so warmly whenever you were together. It was your turn to look for any hints of a soul that would take you back tonight as well, make you forget the awful things and fear he put you through. But what you found was love. Nothing more and nothing less, filling him to the brim and emptying him out simultaneously. It made you realize that nothing you said or did would ever satisfy his craving for your love. Make him reasonable and empathetic towards you again.

Your Kazuha was already lost in the ocean. You.

Lost in the sea of obsession, of never wanting to part with you. When did he change? Why didn't you notice as he switched from sweet and caring to mad and so, so void of humanity? Or had he, perhaps, been like this all along? Was it all just pretend?

"For a moment…" he muttered, his brows furrowing as he slowly rose from on top of you, not stopping until his face hovered over yours. "You loved me again. Where did it go, my little wind chime? Don't worry. I will get it back."

As if on cue, two of his fingers pressed against your entrance, spreading you rapidly as he pushed them in, up to his knuckles. A silent gasp escaped you, fading into a whimper as he began scissoring his fingers inside you, widening, probing, and testing your ability to clench and howl as he rubbed over the good spots. The wetness coating him was undoubtedly yours, and you were thankful for it as he applied his fingers more, leaning his weight on top of you to still you from squirming while his mouth worked soft, electrifying kisses over your shoulder. You had no doubts Kazuha knew your body better than even you did, every move so calculated yet unbearably pleasurable. The perfect mix of soft and fierce, gentle yet passionate.

Two fingers soon weren't enough as he pumped them in and out. Faster, deeper, and more demanding of your little pussy, but still not enough. Not when you knew how good his dick felt lodged inside you. How every clench of your pussy accentuated the ridges on his cock's surface and how bittersweet the kiss of his tip was as it spread you wide open for his length. Even Kazuha's thumb caressing and teasing your clit only made you miss the fullness of his cock inside you more.

It was a fight with yourself, but ultimately you lost, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself up against him, wanting so much more than you had. Kazuha was much more open with his feelings, chuckling in amusement as you rocked your hips over his hand, wanting to feel every little touch of his fingertips inside, bringing you to the edge. "That's a good girl," he praised you, memories of him saying the same thing while you were riding him returning to you, making it even harder to restrain yourself. All of you remembered, but you craved something that was lost already. An intimacy that not even sex with him could bring back.

But it came close, you had to admit bitterly.

With a loud moan, your head fell back, the sensations and memories too much to bear. You didn't care who would hear, and Kazuha didn't stop you from crying out loud as you were pushed over the edge by him, feet curling and your mind shutting down for a good ten seconds, entirely lost to the pleasure.

His fingers popped out of you, mouth opening to taste all the sweet juices you had made for him. Kazuha licked his fingers as if it was the sweetest candy, and to him, undoubtedly, it was. Breathlessly, you stared at the wooden floorboards above you, feeling the ship sway your body, heavy from your orgasm. He moved, but you merely wanted to stay like this, never facing anyone again. Who the hell came on their captor's fingers so hard they saw stars?! Right, you.

But Kazuha wasn't finished. His body shifted between your legs, the sound of shuffling clothes all around you. You couldn't be bothered to lift your head in the state you were in, relieved it was over and yet a little dissatisfied still. However, you snapped wide awake and out of your thoughts the moment you felt something round and thick probing against your already roughhoused cunt, something you knew all too well just from the feeling of it against your hot skin.

"W-Wait! I just came! I can't–"

Forcing the tip of his cock inside despite your hesitations, your breath caught in your throat, and you fell back on the mattress. Your hands that you had previously pushed into his chest to stop him were caught in his grip as Kazuha helped you to touch him, driving your fingertips down his chest and stomach, shuddering. He wasn't the only one whose touches affected the other, and you had no doubts he craved your hands all over him more than you did. "You can, Babygirl. You're spreading so well for me; can you feel it?"

While he spoke, his dick kept moving forward, deeper inside you. His preparation had been flawless, making it easy to accept him inside you no matter your state of mind. You wiggled in his hold, unable to show your discomfort in any other way as your mouth betrayed you, moaning loudly. "I know you want me," he suddenly whispered, leaning forward against your ear and kissing the earlobe as you felt him direct your hands to his hips, urging you to hold on to him. He wanted your participation, your guidance even after all this. Kazuha wanted you to show him the thing he craved most.

"After all, you love me, right?"

And with that, he bumped his hips into yours, jumping over the last few inches of his cock as he hammered it inside you, deeper and with more purpose than he ever had. "I won't give you up, never, to no one. You're mine, and no one will take you away from me. I love you. I love you so much, [Name]."

Every sentence came with a thrust, but his words were slurred, fast, and messy, unlike the educated way he usually articulated himself. The poems he usually spoke were so ethereal, but right now, pounding into you, Kazuha was nothing but a feral animal, forcing himself inside until he had kissed every sensitive, aching part of you.

"You want a family? I'll give you one! I'll take care of you! Make you happy! So never leave me, okay?"

All of a sudden, he stopped, your cries turning into whimpers as you slowly blinked away tears of overstimulation, looking up at him. Kazuha breathed heavily, his upper body slumped over you, almost as if he was trying to get to his senses. "Don't tell me goodbye again," he whimpered suddenly, and your eyes widened in shock. His head snapped upwards, and you could see the desperation, the pain, and the anger in them. It was a side he had never shown to you, and you were wholeheartedly overwhelmed with questions about what to do.

You should have been angry, scolding and screaming at him for his erratic behavior and forcing you into all kinds of things, but at the same time, Kazuha looked so vulnerable at that very moment. Hurt, scarred. As if something similar had happened to him before. Something he couldn't risk to repeat, or it might break him completely.

But just as quickly, his expression changed, a sad laugh crumbling out of his mouth before he shook his head slowly. With harsh movements, his thrusts returned, and you squealed loudly as he pushed in and out rapidly again. Even with the overstimulation, your body jumped in joy from every hit, every little press at your pleasure spots. You felt the tension run up your back like little needles, inflicting nothing but more and more sensations that wanted to be numbed by his cock and your orgasm. Kazuha's babbling soon faded into the background as you moaned and sighed with every push, your pussy clenching around his cock until you felt him pulsing, so close to release as well.

"That's why I had to do this. But don't worry, I happen to at least have my name left in Inazuma. If you need to settle and build a family, you can do it with me under my name." 

Picking your legs off his thighs, Kazuha forced them wider apart so far that there was nothing holding him back from plunging his cock inside until there was nothing left of it. You couldn't stop him as he soothed your aching with every push, only to leave you wanting more with every pull. He was so intent on getting deeper, making the few inches of difference from before, just to fulfill your dream in his twisted ways. When he said, "I'll make sure this will be the only thing you ever want in your life again," you knew immediately want he meant. Him. His cock. The way only he could make you shudder like a weak little girl.

Kazuha was going to imprint this mindset on you in both the best and worst way possible.

Leaning over you, you were so close to cumming. Desperate, shuddering, aching. When he kissed you, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against him so tight, it felt like he was everything there was. Everything you could see, smell, hear, feel, and taste. The hot spurts of his semen were what woke you from a nightmarish daydream, the pulsing against your walls seemingly endless as he kept coating your insides white. Cum was going everywhere until you could feel it swap from side to side inside of you. Even then, he didn't stop pressing deeper, ensuring it would breach the entrance to your sanctum.

With a last, long moan, you caved in, your pussy drowning in Kazuha's cum as you simply tried to survive the foot-curling, back-arching, eyes-rolling-back-in-your-head orgasm it gave you. You saw stars before, but now you were blacking out as your body twisted and shook. He rocked you back and forth as you clenched tightly around him, your pussy not yet ready to let go, your body knowing better than even you how to make sure you'd not let a single drop go to waste. Your shudders were uncontrollably in his arms, but he held you throughout it, gently, comfortingly, until they were over, only making sure you didn't slip off him. You were his cock's safe haven and his cum dumpster at the same time.

"No matter how long it takes, I'll give you want you want."

More words whispered into your dizzy mind, and it got harder and harder to understand them as your conscience seemed to drift off. What did he mean? Would he let you go? Was it over now? Could you go home?

"Until you only want me as much as I want you."

In a way, your wishes were going to be fulfilled. You would be going home, have your duties, and the family that you want. His home, his family. Kazuha wasn't rich or even seemed very interested in those things, but he made up for it with his feelings for you. He would take care of you, just as he promised, doing whatever dirty or manipulative thing he had to, to make sure you'd never leave him.

And the first thing in order, was flipping you to the side, spooning you from behind before positioning his tip against your entrance again. You noticed much too late he was pushing his dick inside you again, terribly beautiful sounds coming from both your mouth and pussy. Even with his semen still hot, squirting out as Kazuha pressed inside, another round was waiting for you. And another one, until he could be sure at least one sperm made it into your precious, fertile womb, no matter how many shots it would take. There was still so much time before arriving in Inazuma, and ideally, you'd already be in love with him by then, more than you ever had before.

Kazuha couldn't care less for his old name, his long-lost clan, but if it would make you stay with him, he would gladly revive it.

#Kaedehara Kazuha #Kazuha #Kazuha genshin #yandere kazuha #yandere!kazuha #genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere!genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere!genshin impact #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #OW

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

The latest issue of the Obi-Wan comic has me wanting to write SO MUCH STUFF ABOUT IT it’s insane - but I’d have to brush up on Heart of Darkness, Apocalypse Now and Shatterpoint to be halfway coherent about it!! 

But!!!!

There’s this imagery of going up the river into the jungle to confront and probably kill a man tortured by death and war into a demented agent of death - with the risk of becoming the very same thing, and with the line between hunted and hunter blurring. It’s all swamp and mist and shadow and night! It’s that classic structure that has already been used in Star Wars so well! (In Shatterpoint, which was heavily inspired by Apocalypse Now and follows the same beats and atmosphere.)

We have that same insight into the pov character's struggle with the idea of killing a comrade who has lost their way, while questioning whether adherence to peace is even possible, or if it wasn't just denial and hopeless naivety.

Going up the river is a grotesque parade of dead bodies that chills the soul - and the living share the characteristics of the dead. The person looming over the story now inspires cult-like devotion in the other lost souls. It's SUCH an effective storytelling trope and one of my favorite explorations of war! Compare this to the previous issue.

This was the 'classic' examination of war: fairly straightfoward violence with clear goals that you either achieve or die trying, followed by the contemplation of how hollow and bitter victory feels.

This is the next step - there's no longer anything to fight for or against. Violence and death have become the very fabric of the world rather than an anomaly that can be rectified. Moral considerations have no weight and actions have no effect. The road is a river - you can't stray from it, and it only leads to one place, death (whether you want it or not. Anakin didn't want to kill Mekedrix, but he does). As Mekedrix says:

There's no point in virtue or honor or courage anymore, as all roads lead to death.

And the only way to escape this apocalyptic and perilous night and go back to the sunrise of the last issue (the sunrise that Obi-Wan kept seeking) is even more death.

It's so bleak but SO POWERFUL and effective. I'm not kidding, as means of conveying a tragedy go it's next to the perfect trope.

Going back to the cult-like aspect, with people being warped into symbols...

(I wish they'd make Shatterpoint into a movie just for this comparison. THE COMIC STRIP LOOKS LIKE ACTUAL FOOTAGE)

I'm going insane over these personifications of the outcome of war, shrouded in shadows and stripped of personhood that you find in desecrated old Temples.

People who can't connect to their names anymore or are robbed of their faces by the shadows or robbed of their health or cannot talk at all anymore (Shatterpoint). Obi-Wan keeps trying to remind Mekedrix that identity and life are what give nature and death meaning, but THE NIGHT IS JUST TOO DARK.

The art is SO GOOD. THIS IS THE FACE OBI-WAN MAKES WHEN HE KNOWS SOMEBODY IS LOST

From the very beginning of the story he KNOWS he won't save Mekedrix just like everybody who goes up the river into the Temple KNOWS what they'll find will be far beyond any hope of rescue. The question with that trope is never - will we bring this person home? - but what will we be when we come back?

I LOVE LOVE LOVE THAT WHAT DEFINES OBI-WAN IS THAT HE'S DEMONSTRABLY INSANELY RESILIENT TO THIS FORM OF HORROR. The original trope has the pov character coming back irreparably tainted. The variation in Shatterpoint has Mace's faith hanging by a string - by the end, he's beaten, bruised, exhausted and thoroughly tired of it all, and it costs him incredible pain and every last reserve of strength he has to make it through. But in this comic, Obi-Wan's crisis was last issue, when he could still see the sun, more so than in this one.

In this issue he's Anakin's rock and he's more focused on Mekedrix's despair than his own. HE'S CENTERED AND MOTIVATED BY THE THOUGHT OF PULLING PEOPLE OUT OF THE DARKNESS WHEN NOBODY CAN SEE THE LIGHT.

I don't even know where I'm going with all of this except that!!!!! The parallels and contrasts between William and Mace and Obi-Wan!!!! And Kurtz and Kar Vastor and Depa and Mekedrix!!!!!! The ART!!!!! THE POV CHARACTER NARRATING HIS JOURNEY UP THE RIVER INTO THE JUNGLE!!!!! THE IDEA OF A STORY ABOUT SEEKING A PERSON THAT TELLS YOU MORE ABOUT THE SEEKER THAN THE PERSON SOUGHT!!!!!!!! I just. It's good.

#obi-wan comic #anakin skywalker #mace windu #shatterpoint #apocalypse now #long post #meta #my meta #obi-wan kenobi #kenobi comic #obi-wan issue 4 #mekedrix

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Penguins on Parade

Edgar Allan Poe: i feel like there's been way too much drama here lately Poe: too many cranks just venting obsessions and paranoias! Poe: can't we just hear a nice, simple, old-fashioned horror story? HP Lovecraft: i-i've got one Poe: ...son of a bitch

Poe: ok howard let's hear it August Derleth: wooo! yeah! Derleth: go off Howard, you got this! Lovecraft: y-yeah ok Derleth: a-grade storytelling, right here! modern master!

Lovecraft: a premise occurred to me one night while in the throes of fitful sleep Derleth: yes! yes! tossing and turning! sweat that plot out Lovecraft: about an ill-fated expedition to the Antarctic Derleth: cold as ice! chilly like my willy, baby Lovecraft: p-please stop

Poe: ah, the South Pole Poe: a promising location for a doomed voyage Poe: not to spoil anything but Poe: they all drown in the magnetic whirlpool, right? Lovecraft: Poe: that resides at the bottom of the world, right? Lovecraft: Poe: perhaps they're slaughtered by hostile peoples of the inner earth?

Lovecraft: n... Lovecraft: no, there's a continent there Poe: oh, a fantasy story? fun!

Lovecraft: even the beginning of this terrible journey is fraught with peril Lovecraft: for they must encounter that most loathsome of all birds Lovecraft: THE PENGUIN Clive Barker: Barker: ah ha ha Barker: oh man Barker: let's fucking go, curtain up

Dean Koontz: i like penguins :) Koontz: stephen let me watch happy feet Koontz: it was funny Koontz: except for the seal Stephen King: we had to fast-forward past the seal King: and the orcas King: pretty much the entire second half Koontz: i like when they dance

Lovecraft: b-but these are no ordinary penguins Lovecraft: the average penguin is black AND white Lovecraft: a hideous mixture in itself Lovecraft: yet these massive creatures are ALBINO

Lovecraft: so pale as to be mistaken for snowdrifts at a distance Lovecraft: you might say they are passing for white Poe: uhh Derleth: shhh, let him cook

Lovecraft: t-the group found a perplexing frozen specimen Lovecraft: i-it was only when they discovered the ruins later that they realized it was a being of great intelligence Lovecraft: for, you see Lovecraft: the thing had no skull to measure

Lovecraft: millions of years ago, the Old Ones flourished upon the continent Lovecraft: they built a society dedicated to pure scientific achievement Lovecraft: yet, in the cruelest irony Lovecraft: they were overwhelmed by sheer brute strength Barker: lol Barker: get owned nerds

Lovecraft: i-it was a most grand civilization Lovecraft: accomplished universities. safe to slither the streets at night Lovecraft: and then a certain kind of creature Lovecraft: i shall not say whom Lovecraft: took over Lovecraft: and the property values... they plummeted

Derleth: okay look i'm getting a little sick of all of you calling Howard a bigot Derleth: i keep telling you he's simply a man of his time Lovecraft: the shoggoths were faceless slaves of the deepest black hue Lovecraft: possessing a fiendish malevolence to compensate for their lack of a brain Derleth: Derleth: oh and i suppose you're just going to take THAT out of context

Lovecraft: most chilling of all the shoggoths' attributes was their infernal piping Lovecraft: it imitated the structure of the Old Ones' music Lovecraft: but it was as if they spoke rather than harmonized it Lovecraft: and inserted coarse references to anatomy

Lovecraft: there were indeed some horrors in this house Lovecraft: and they were wet and gushy Lovecraft: no bucket or mop would suffice

Lovecraft: they escaped with their lives, yet Danford was tormented by visions of the shoggoth unto madness Lovecraft: for knowledge of the unknown has a terrible price, and death and ignorance are our only mercies Lovecraft: the end Derleth: Barker: Poe: Koontz: King: King: so, Dean, I have this DVD of Norm of the North

John W. Campbell: say, that's a pretty good yarn, but couldn't more happen with the shapeshifting Campbell: what if the shoggoth was able to fully mimic its human prey Lovecraft: fully ASSIMILATED among men? Lovecraft: there is cosmic horror, sir, and then there is simply bad taste

Thanks to guest writer my pal Morbiose for help with this thread!

#midnight pals #midnight society #the midnight society #hp lovecraft #clive barker #edgar allan poe #stephen king #dean koontz #august derleth #joseph w campbell

[captainkurosolaire]

X5 ~ Prelude to Destiny

[Prev:C] Sunbreak Treachery ~ Scarlet Destiny ~ ♪"Good Guy"♪

Surging water rushed down stream and woodland insects began hissing. A process of wild nature was coiling, a serpent slithering up an evergreen, where chirping birds held host, were being nurtured by their dearest mother of plucked worms being divided kindly, a few newborn eggs left to hatch. A predator serpent salivates a most-scrumptious treat, practically anticipating its course-meal, down those impressive elastic-like mandibles. Camouflaging alongside bark on the unexpected-prey. Its winding patterned-tail curling in support with a sturdy bough. Preparing itself to lunge when their grown-guardian drew close among the edge of the abode nest. One-strike all it’d take. Drooling venom-leaked against its fangs.

The Primeval Law; weak was fed to strong. All abide even if they’ve yet to encounter their devourer. Lonely and with a trouble-soul on a nearby bench gave a daring-stare to this process. Words reciting back in harmful-memory from his own pit-betrayal consistent snakes on his Crew or swimming in believed friendly-waters, hiding deceitfully. Recently departing a treacherous brother consumed by envy, he left them to their own-fate to a volunteering infirmary after their emotional-battle. Far as their long-history was concerned, this was the conclusion.

Again. Left with no-one, nothing. Giving a castaway didn’t mean his Crew would care or remember him after the Summer-break that was agreed-upon. Everything built-up to be demolished again, perhaps in the end, that’s all his purpose served. Fleeting reprieve or an experience to parade; merely a tale. Constant-cycle, that no-matter how many times, attempted to evolve past being simply defined, he always fell-short where it mattered. Teeth-grit angrily with rebelliousness, this was his shade. Always resisting what’s supposed to be assumed, standard, natural. Traitor’s venom from Sol, sept into his veins, and momentarily obscured reflection, <”You’ll become no-better than me, blight akin to myself. All that preaching of goodness, light you bring… Those accursed eyes… Constantly shining against darkness will collapse, you’ll be confronted with the forces we ran to maintain freedom. That we both know, are impossible to overcome. Irrefutable tides, power-beyond-power, none can oppose and it’ll come for your sanctuary. When it DOES, you’ll become at the forefront butchering to survive; thrive, or die empty as nothing.” Winning against their grueling contest, but it didn’t feel like that at-all. He lost a practical considered-brother, a friend, someone trusted. So many wounds overtook and festered. Couldn’t help but wonder if there was painstaking truth in this omen. Not-the-first time something demonic, prophecies his foretelling of the future. That stalking-serpent about to gobble up, let out a hiss before lunging at the motherling, feline-ears quivered, before a bellowing shout, raged forth his own tatted-scarred arm maneuvered like serpent itself grappling the snake in tracks. Poisoned-dipped-fangs close to the motherly bird who collapsed in frightening fear. Wanting to strike at the interrupting-handler, but expertly strangled in prevention. He was its predator, the traumatizing snakes surrounding his story-past made feline instincts-flare. Vengeful frustration wanting to keep squeezing, serpent with a vicious-grip back that often choked-prey’s life out of them. Taking his own wrathful-distraught on something, anything to remove-feeling. Facially-feature’s intimidatingly surfaced, before roaring and snarling stood against the snake, making its resisting force act cowardly; skin shedding early in fear, wanting to slip away to escape desperately; preservation crying. Knowing the serpent was now in-peril. Clutched callous-grip stayed viciously snug until suddenly, the conflicted-soul, dropping below on his knees freeing the creature with mercy, as it slithered recoiling into hedges onward, it’d find meal elsewhere.  Balled-fist kept pounding against the soils beneath, until this boiling-fury was vanquished and knuckles busted open. Resisting urges to become another vile-design; proving them right. Thought crept-in. Opposing so many oppressive forces, notions, order, acted on his own principles, but never saw any succession. No reward in this road of kindness. Nay treasures, glory was had, the people of the land-he-idolized their simplistic and normal settings, mocked for being too mundane. To him it seemed so routine but above-all, they owned peace, knowing no enemies, they lived-unadventurous life but held an inspiring wealth that was long-lasting that didn’t slip from their fingertips, nor materialistic or fool’s gold. His chaotic world navigated upon, continuously rejecting him seemingly from being any symbol-good. As-if wasn’t meant-to-be, swore himself to such-a-daring task with a-sea itself. The pledge prohibited him from ever tasting any true solitude. Condemning his own slavery in mind, body, spirit and soul so foolishly in brazened-youth. Whether desired or not; he must become a conqueror. 

Would figuring out who his Mother was grant clarity a sense – closer to mastery? His-feet shuffled back to standing composure resettled. Taking a breathing; believing unlikely with an exhaled-sigh. Yet his prismatic, fluttering inner-guide hadn’t steered him wrong. He’d boldly walk to this next-seek. Unknowingly that the perceived ‘inadequate’ heart-thrumming inside him, would be contested against warring deathly drums written; in scarlet-destiny. Whole barbarous Isle with a purely-dominating Nation of blood-thirsty predators, eating upon the world’s core effortlessly once again reawakened, stirring up on his beloved-seas, their appetite gluttonously, insatiable, devours in power, ruthless savages.

Collision tides were inevitably forecast to meet; in forces of two, Gorey seas of crimson-bloody murky polluted waters versus unfiltered gilded-gold with an illuminating sun-ray, overhead reflecting the tiniest semblance of hope, that encouraged invitation to waters.

#Barbarous #Present Timeline #ffxivwrite2023 #Tales of the Goldbrand #-Captain Kuro Solaire #This is going to lead into a huge story #So prepare for 300+ chapters #With many many layers and chains #Hopefully I can get the -start- done by end of year #FFXIVWrite #Sol Akami #Creative Writing #ffxiv writing #I might use the XIV prompts to motivate me even if the challenge isn't valid and gone. #Rather release this stuff in quality-in-mind #Cause this arc I've been working on for 4 years of buildin #Also might start making gif-borders #Just for flavor #I've been caught lackin' still but love this #I want to buy energy so badly :( #Need some stress-removing patches too #Scarlet Destiny: Volume 4 #Scarlet Destiny #SCD4

[thenightdayblogger]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @silvery-bluish :) tagging (no pressure!) @emeraldgreaves @6kate1bishop6 @honor-among-thieves @witchfall and @invisible-goats if you guys have anything you wanna show off!

currently banging my head against the wall reminding myself finished is better then perfect and a good deal less fucking annoying. anyway. asawt snippet be upon ye

The reversal leaves her speechless. The Countess had complained, loudly and at length, about encroachment of the noveau-riche. How could she now turn around and marry her nephew and heir to the people she viewed as interlopers? Well, that was not really the question. It was money. The Tisserands were one of the wealthiest families in Bruntë, early advocates for southern trade rewarded lavishly for initiative. They had dropped an obscene sum on a parade, she can only imagine what they will furnish Aurelia with for a dowry. Which Riquen would need. The very announcement made it clear as day without a word about it; the Countess was desperate, or very close to it. She had bargained her name and rank to save herself, and probably the Riquens, from the indignity of bankruptcy or auction-house. “She could well have skipped the giant gold statue then.” She mutters to herself, focusing on stripping the corrosion from the metal. Riquen spent lavishly, as did all courtiers, but Cordelia could not understand why she would have done that much, while knowing that her finances were perilously close to tipping. She hoped Pierce had been savvy enough to get his commission upfront. Or perhaps the Tisserands were the ones being billed. A small price to pay for a Countess for a daughter.

#cordelia marchand #a strange and wondrous thing #cordelia judging riquen for her inability to budget