#(is she talking about god?? perhaps. do i care?? no. its about another person now bc i said so)

[ratboyy-withtheexistentialdread]

Nevermore Chapter 97

Spoilers ahead, lads. Skedaddle if you don't fast pass. EDIT I guess I’ve said too much in this post and need to pull it back a little. So imma gonna edit it so it doesn’t say too much about this chapter.

Alright, first my reaction cause HOLY HELL those last few panels really got me like

I really had to put my phone down and talk myself through them. Now, lets talk about what I gained from this chapter and the infamous Annabel Lee. I've noticed, at least in the comment section, the fandom really doesn't care for Annabel's character and its difficult to know where the animosity has come from. Tumblr obviously loves her but us heathens support women's rights and wrongs (Don't we gents?) Many call her a sociopath or what’s happens in the last few panels. Annabel is indeed ruthless, calculating and stone cold but she obviously cares. She cares for Lenore above everything. It can be easy to see this as obsession as we really haven't seen her care about much else or even herself. But one comment on the Webtoon brought up a very valid point which I've also picked up on.

Annabel and Lenore in life were very isolated and broken people when they met one another. Annabel, broken and then rebuilt into a prim and proper lady. Lenore, broken physically and mentally and closed off from the world.

Meeting each other saved them. They were no longer alone. There was an understanding between them at least that we know of.

Their differences though is what divides them in death.

Annabel played games, and masked her true self around her father and family connections. She now makes games of situations to retain what little control she had in life over a society she knew she could never break the rules of. A Game that was always rigged against her.

Lenore rebelled against society. She fled the estate to escape a suitor, was bound to the attic and ostracized by her family, she then faked her death and posed as man to court Annabel, the one person who cared for her.

Lenore wants to break the rules of the deans Death Game. Annabel wants to follow them.

It’s all they’ve ever known.

Before it was only them that mattered. Now Lenore has so much more to fight for and Annabel still only has Lenore. Both are right in their own way of playing the game but it pains the other to witness.

Annabel, I’m sure is aware that the Deans are not all they seem to be and won’t simply allow the students to turn the tables on them if they played how Lenore wants to.

And playing Annabel’s way means the callous death of many many people that do deserve another chance at life.

Now. I do have to agree with Annabel in the sense that Lenore forgets

This is a Death Game

Right now the “villainous” characters show their true face with pride and the “hero’s” are charming and true but as we get down to the wire, it’s going to get grey. There are no good or bad at the end of these games, only survival.

Could Annabel show some restraint and more tact when speaking strategy and making plans with Lenore? Absolutely. She’s little too giddy about sweeping some pieces off the board.

Lenore also needs to stop being so naive. She saw first hand what exactly the Deans are capable of in Dreamland, it put the fear of god in her.

In fairness to both characters though they and we are still missing big pieces of what happened between them and what their causes of death were. Which could hold big aspects of their characterization.

Maybe Lenore was originally very callous about others. In life, aside from Theo and Annabel, we’ve never really seen her interact with others. Perhaps this is the Lenore Annabel speaks of.

Anyway, I’m rambling. In conclusion, I’m a bit disappointed in Nevermores comment section. I enjoy Annabel’s character although some parts do worry me a bit but I have hope Red and Flynn have plans to curve this to a satisfying reason and conclusion.

That cliffhanger, boy howdy, what the fuck is Lenore gonna do…

#nevermore webtoon #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #white raven #duke #Pluto #nevermore webcomic #nevermore WEBTOON spoilers

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 22.

Summary: After mostly resolving your issues regarding Oliver and Venetia, it's much easier to enjoy the time leading up to the dinner with the Henrys. Still, Oliver seems more than a little nervous to be around you and Felix, much to Felix's ongoing chagrin. He wonders how long it will take for Oliver to take the hint.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 3044 words. oh yeah, its all coming together. :) i know the last few updates have been kind of spaced out, so i'd love to get some feedback from you lovely folks about how you think it's coming along now that we're in the back half.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

One day - probably one day soon - you'd have to tell Felix the truth about Oliver and Venetia. By that time, you reasoned, you'd have come up with a way to say it that would make him see why you hadn't called Oliver out for lying, and why you'd kept it from him. His gut reaction, like your own, was to immediately jump to the worst possible, malevolent conclusion. Based on past events, it was a sound conclusion to jump to. But Oliver's not Eddie. It was a moment of weakness, and Oliver really does love Felix. Somehow you'd find a way to make this painless, perhaps even a way to show how much Oliver cared, because that's what you'd seen, that's the why behind your own deception.

Except Felix wasn't even ready to admit out loud to himself, let alone you, or god forbid Oliver, that he genuinely felt that way about him. Even if he definitely, clearly did. But again, past heartbreak makes some of his trepidation far more excusable.

At least you have a distraction for the afternoon - not Oliver, no, he would never be so bold in direct sunlight as to do anything more than make out with you on the pool lounge. No, this distraction wasn't a particularly good one.

The NDA from your parents, sitting in your study.

Part of you knows you should probably have a lawyer look over this, but there was something about the idea of involving yet another person in your parents ongoing attempts to abandoned you that left a sour taste in your mouth. So that left you to look over it all on your own. The sticky-hot afternoon in the study wears thin on your nerves, but irritation was all that ever came of it, not upset or disappointment. Reconciling with Oliver probably had quite a bit to do with it.

Dinner is a welcome reprieve. When Oliver smiles at you across the table, there's a weight that's lifted from your shoulders are you smile back. Felix too is in notably high spirits, though he's decidedly not talking to Venetia; his parents don't seem to mind, however, as long as he's happier than when he'd started the day.

"Is there anything planned for after dinner?" Oliver asked, eyes wide and earnest as he looks around the table, all present sharing an equally confused look as if one of them may have planned something all the others had forgotten.

"Not as far as I'm aware," Sir James offers after a moment.

"Tomorrow will be quite the busy night," Elspeth elaborates with ease, "I'm sure we'd all like to conserve our energy."

"Last chance to cancel dinner with the Henrys," Felix says, already knowing it's not a real option, even after Elspeth chides him for the suggestion, that they'd already had all the food brought and extra help hired.

"Has the seating chart been organised yet?" You asked hopefully, to which Elspeth smiled when her gaze landed upon you, assuring you she'd finalised it that afternoon, turning only to remind Duncan to have it delivered to your study that evening.

"You'll be seated next to Henry of Suffolk, dear," she also tells you, and immediately you're filing that information away in the back of your mind. Henry of Suffolk, partner at Richmond & Suffolk Legal; his late wife was named Clarice, he had a daughter and son a few years younger than you... their names escaped you at that moment.

Beside you, Felix is shamelessly admiring you.

"What?" You ducked your head to try and hide your embarrassed grin.

"Just watching your mind work," he teased with a laugh which had you rolling your eyes with fond exasperation.

"So you can see the cogs too then?" Venetia giggles across the table, though Farleigh chimes in before Felix has the chance to give his sister a look.

"Surprised there's not steam coming out of their ears."

"I'm not a robot," you insisted, flustered by the attention and their combined teasing.

"Just your beautiful brain then," Oliver adds fondly, and out of sheer surprise you look up to meet his endeared gaze as he looks back at you. When had he been let in on that particular joke, you wondered? Something in the back of your mind is sure that it was Venetia, after all, she was the one who most often referred to your 'robot brain' as such, but you don't have it in you to be upset. You never do at these jokes, even though you may occasionally protest about them, they're always intended as a compliment.

And there's no way you could be mad with Oliver looking at you like that.

Dinner continues on with very little fuss after that, and you return to your study feeling much lighter than you had before. Felix joins you, complaining about how you'd spent all afternoon in here, and he couldn't bare to think of you spend all evening alone in here too. Of course he knows that Oliver will more than likely join you when it gets late enough, but he's brought a book, and has quietly claimed the sofa beneath the window for himself. These nights have never been uncommon, but this Summer has seemed especially busy at Saltburn, so you more than welcome his quiet company as the day's heat slowly burns away.

It's not long before there's someone approaching your door.

"It's Duncan," you say, mostly for Felix's benefit, before the butler himself knocks and you invite him in.

"The seating arrangements for tomorrow night's event, Captain," Duncan says graciously, giving you the faintest smile as he hands the document over and turns swiftly on his heel, practically evaporating into the darkness of the house silently.

"Still have no idea how you do that," Felix sounds rather impressed from where he's draped himself over the sofa.

"Do what?" You asked distractedly, examining the seating chart in the golden glow of the lamp.

"How you know exactly who's coming and going without even seeing them."

"Duncan was just being courteous for me," you mutter off-handily, "if I'd heard nothing before he'd knocked, I'd still know it was him."

"You know that's even more impressive, right?" Felix laughs, and finally you turn to him, only to see him watching you like he can't quite believe what you're saying. Sometimes you find yourself surprised by the Cattons, and how little they seem to understand or appreciate about the Estate on which they live.

"No, what's impressive is that I can tell what kind of mood your in half the time just by the sound of your footsteps," you tells him with a grin.

"Now you're lying," Felix snorts, shaking his head. But you continue.

"No, seriously Fi, it's not always entirely accurate, but it's pretty close; I'm not quite there with the rest of your family, but I think I know you well enough."

"That's like, stalker levels of dedication," but his smile is bright in the light of the moon, and his tone turns teasing, "do you have a thing for me or something?"

"I wouldn't go that far," you huffed a laugh, playing along with the bit.

"Shame," he sighed dramatically, "I was really hoping you did, 'cos I kind of have a thing for you."

"I wouldn't if I were you," finally standing, you sauntered over to him, smirking as he beamed up at you, thoroughly pleased by this silly little bit, "that sounds like a scandal waiting to happen."

"Call the tabloids then," Felix laughed softly as he welcomed you into his arms.

"Any stalker-like tendencies of yours I should be worried about?" You asked, settling against him, leaning into him.

"Yeah, I've got a bunch of your things in my room," Felix murmurs right before you kiss him, grinning as you do so. Things devolve from there to the two of you making out in the moonlight, giggling together, teasing nonsense passed back and forth as the moon rose higher in the sky.

"Ollie's at the door," you see fit to finally tell Felix, who looks down at you with wide, surprised eyes. Sheepishly you admit, "he's been there for like five minutes." It's getting terribly late, but you really don't want to go bed right now, or go anywhere that isn't here, in this moment. Felix snorts a laugh, face scrunching up with something close to embarrassment; he knows letting Oliver get away with this kind of thing is part of the game you're all playing, but it still catches him off guard with just how aware you were of the whole situation.

"Ollie," Felix called out, and you both heard a him start behind the study door, "Christ, mate, don't linger," he insists, righting both him and yourself to something more respectable on the sofa, but still insisting on holding you close, "come in already." You're practically in his lap.

Like a deer in the headlights, looking absolutely mortified at being caught out, Oliver pushes the door open and faintly apologises, telling you both he didn't want to interrupt.

"Interrupt what?" Felix says far too easily, smile wide and a bit coy, "nothing to interrupt," though you can hear it for what it is; nothing you, Oliver, could ever interrupt if you simply asked to join. How long would it take Oliver to realise this, you wondered; Felix is getting less subtle by the day.

"I was going to ask -" Oliver pauses, focus stolen by the way Felix presses a kiss to your shoulder, before his gaze returns to your face, your expectant smile. Felix knows exactly what he's doing, "um, was going to ask about the seats for the dinner tomorrow?" Oliver manages, "I don't... know the Henrys?"

As you stand, Felix lets out a loud, disappointed sigh, but lets you go, returning to his book. Every movement, every sound Felix makes captivates Oliver in this moment, and both you and Felix are more than aware of this. Still, you swan over to your desk, looking over the seating chart before you usher Oliver over.

"They've got you next to Ven and Lady Daphne," you show him, pointing out his place along the table, "she's Henry's wife," you add wryly, and hear Felix bark a laugh behind you. Oliver, for a moment, seems confused, gaze flicking between you both.

"Aren't all the -?"

"That's the joke, Ollie," you tell him, but he still seems too nervous to properly see the humour in it, just making a faint noise of understanding in the back of his throat. "Did you want to hang out for a bit?" You offered, "this contract's doing my head in," you flicked at the thick contract on your desk dismissively, "so I'm probably going to get stuck into something lighter, but you know we always love your company."

"Thanks, but, uh," Oliver hesitated, looking to Felix again, "I think I'm gonna turn in for the night."

"Okay," you say sunnily, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the lips, which seems to startle him, "hope you sleep well, Ollie."

"Yeah," Oliver still seems to be reeling from the brief show of affection, "you too."

"Good night, mate," Felix offers with a cheery wave.

"You going to kiss me good night too?" Oliver sounds almost dazed, and suddenly looks mortified once more, like he can't quite believe he'd said that. Felix, unphased, stands and makes his way over to you both.

"Sure," he seems to take the suggestion in stride, kissing the top of Oliver's head before he bends to quickly kiss him on the lips. For a moment after Felix has pulled back, Oliver's look at him like he's staring at the sun, and Felix is wearing a sharp, knowing smile, "'night, Ollie," he says, quieter this time.

"G'night, Felix," Oliver murmurs, making his way to the door as Felix nonchalantly reaches to take the seating chart from your hand to look it over for himself. You, however, watch Oliver go, feeling both helpless and amused all at once.

"You think if I fuck him he'll take the hint?" Felix asks quietly once the door was shut, and you'd both heard Oliver's door squeak closed for the night.

"Do you think if you fuck him you'll take the hint," you asked disbelievingly, "that man is so into you, Fi," you hissed, almost furiously wide-eyed as you looked up at him. As always, Felix responds dismissively.

"Told you I'm not saying anything until he does," Felix puts the document down, choosing instead to drape his arms over your shoulders, "we can fuck around all Summer for all I care, but you know I'm not going to hold my breath for things to get more serious unless he tells me."

"He just asked you to kiss him, Felix!"

"I wasn't in love with you when we first kissed."

"Bad example; yes you were."

"Okay, bad example, yes I was," Felix admits with a faint flush, "but for the record, I didn't think I was at the time; we were twelve," he regains his composure quickly, "but it's not like you're in love with Farleigh or my sister; yeah, I know you love them, but you're not in love with them."

"That's different, Fi, we've been fucking around since forever," you sighed, resting your head against him for a moment.

"It's not different," Felix insists, "I just-" but he paused, and when you chance a look up at him, his face is scrunched up, like he's on the verge of admitting something he really doesn't want to, "I don't want to be getting my hopes up if it's just fucking around with Ollie, you know?" It comes out far more frustrated than you'd anticipated, and though you pat his back comfortingly, you can't help but add -

"He drank your bathwater."

"He fucking watched me get myself off and didn't even do anything about it until after it happened! And not even with me!" Felix points out, sounding almost like a petulant child, "I left the fucking door open and everything!" He's pouting now, actually pouting.

"He probably thinks that if he's too forward he'll scare you off, or your parents will kick him out or something," you tried to reason with him, to which Felix groaned.

"But they won't! You saw how much they loved Eddie, fucking hell," he huffed, stepping back, now wearing a scowl. Where had this night turned to something unfortunate? "Mum would throw a fucking parade if I got a boyfriend who wasn't a cheating dickhead."

"You should tell Oliver that," you pointed out frankly, "or at the very least tell him the truth about things with Eddie, so he knows that you do more than just fuck around with pretty boys."

Everything suddenly goes very still.

"What?" There's no frown, no anger anywhere on Felix's face, just pure surprise, "do you think he thinks that?" You watch Felix re-evaluate the entire situation, giving him space to sort out his feelings, "I made it clear I'm into guys too- do you think he thinks -"

"I think," slowly, carefully, you step up to Felix, voice firm but kind, "that despite how much he's seen you fuck around with other people on campus, the only person you are actually in love with is me," Felix is quiet, looking down at you with this crestfallen look like he's disappointed in himself, "and he, like most people I'll remind you, probably assumes that if he wants you to look at him like you look at me, it'll be a competition."

"Of course it's not, that's so stupid," Felix muttered reflexively.

"I've tried to tell Ollie that," you sighed, wrapping an arm around him. Felix presses his face into your hair for a very long moment.

"What if he doesn't, though?" Comes through muffled and forlorn. You're not quite sure what he means, and thankfully Felix continues, not that he moves his face at all, "what if it is just fucking around and we've misread all of this; I can't tell him I actually love him too, I'd look like an absolute freak."

"Tell him about Eddie," you advised softly, "at least he'll get the hint that you're capable of falling in love with someone who isn't me." The reminder of Eddie would always probably ache, you're starting to come to realise. For now, however, you ignore it.

Felix hugs you tightly, and mumbles that you're probably right. Something eases in your chest at that.

Curled up together in bed not ten minutes later, neither your pyjamas or duvet are as comfortable or warm as Felix's arm around you. He's still deep in thought about the night that had just passed; when he muses that at least it was a better talk than the night before, he sounds like he's still making his mind up about that. Settling into sleep, however, you're contented knowing it was true.

The following morning feels comparatively serene, chattering away to the rest of the family about the night's coming festivities. Both you and Felix drop a quick kiss to the top of Oliver's head in passing on your way to collect breakfast - Farleigh's the only one who notices, and he rolls his eyes at you both. Venetia asks you what you'll be wearing to the event and lights up when you tell her it's the jumpsuit she'd bought you from Yves Saint Laurent for your last birthday, while Elspeth coos that you'll look just darling in it.

After yesterday morning's tenseness, getting to work in your garden, planting the flowers that had arrived for you, music playing cheerily through your little speaker, it feels like a dream. The sun is warm against your back, and for some weird reason you think you see Oliver skulking around in one of the gardens by the wall of the house. Lurking again. Probably habit more than anything else, you figured. Considering the games you've been playing with him, you don't see the need to discourage that kind of behaviour. He's by the window of one of the little libraries; you wonder what must be going on in there to have caught his attention.

Oh well, you'll ask later if you remember.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[mathiwrites]

the justice league's moms' book club's guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

Chapter 6 - Love, Love, Laugh

“You are telling me,” Hippolyta measures her words carefully. “That this book was selected specifically to appeal to me.” Judging by the cover, there is nothing that stands out to her. It is a woman in a green dress. Good for her. And yet, in her attempt to dismiss the culture of man’s world while remaining included, she has managed to miss the point entirely.

They are here, a part of this ‘club’ to bond with one another that transcends the invisible tether created by their children’s friendships. She may claim not to care about this world, but she has been paying attention. The people have raised good children and excellent allies for her daughter, regardless of gender. It is why she gave this any thought at all. 

“And you all thought that a book with a female protagonist, polyamory and a female love interest are what my tastes consist of?”

“Oh, I didn’t think. I know.” Alfred smiles.

The man spends too much smiling beneath that coiffed moustache of his. Hippolyta glares at him, loathing how he has been one step ahead of her this entire evening. From what they have told her, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo sounds wonderful. Though her disposition is tough, Hippolyta’s heart is as soft as her daughter’s. It was her who pleaded with the gods for a child, so that she could be a mother and impart boundless love on a precious little being. 

She blames her daughter for Alfred’s cleverness; she must have prepared him for this day, somehow.

“One day, I will wipe that smile off your face, but for now… Grin all you like.” She sighs. “This sounds like the exact story that I would enjoy, and perhaps encourage my sisters to reenact as a play.” Hippolyta folds her arms and steals Atlanna’s copy for safekeeping. She turns to Atlanna, resting her chin against her palm. “And will it take you seven husbands before you realize that I am the one for you?”

For all the velvet in Hippolyta’s tone, Atlanna remains unmoved. She laughs and waves her friend off.

“So, wait, did you two… really?” Martha motions between them. It’s unlike her to ask too many personal questions, but she’s genuinely curious about the lives her friends have led before they became parents to the world’s heroes. She has known Alfred for decades and he never said anything about his life before the Waynes.

“Yes and no,” Hippolyta hums. “Themyscira has always had a political alliance with Atlantis, even before its fall. I have seen many Kings, but only one Queen.” She looks at her affectionately. “I have known the pleasure of her lips, and the softness of her gaze, but she will never be mine.” Her fingers reach out and caress her cheek. Atlanna catches her hand and kisses her palm.

“It is a different kind of love. Hippolyta has my mind, but Tom is my one and my only. I will never love another the same way I love him,” Atlanna holds Hippolyta’s gaze, then turns to smile softly at Martha. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. He brings you balance and peace,” Martha nods.

“And I would only elevate you to the height of goddesses,” Hippolyta laments dramatically.

“But what about… multiple partners,” Martha asks softly and awkwardly. She’s not unfamiliar with the concept, but she worries about overstepping and misspeaking. 

The last time she had dallied was before Jonathan, her sweet traditional farm boy, and never with more than one person. Leaving the social circles her mother had practically worshipped for a small town shifted her entire world. It simplified it, and she focused all her love towards her husband, her son and what she can make with her two hands. 

She glances at Alfred. The two of them come from a time when people simply did not talk about these things. They just happened, and they were either accepted or vilified. 

“It’s not that simple,” Atlanna hums.

“It is not that simple here. Your world has many rules and hangups. Multiple partners can be compatible, but the useless baggage and insecurities.” Hippolyta groans, rolling her eyes.

“You speak from experience,” Martha wonders, out loud. 

And that comment has Hippolyta closing herself off. 

“It requires all participants to let go of everything they have learned in this modern society, and to choose love above all,” Alfred says softly, looking at his tea. 

“You speak from experience,” Atlanna says to him instead.

“Mhm,” he hums. “There are certain kinds of love that you do not let go, ever.”

Neither he nor Martha have ever spoken about it, even if he’d never hid it, either. Too long glances when they thought no one was looking, or overly indulgent touches. She had seen right through them, far too observant for her own good, but she never commented on it. She never asked, not until today, and even now, Martha did not direct her question to Alfred.

“Why didn’t you tell me? When they,” she swallows the agonizing thought. To lose not one, but two pieces of your heart at once. Martha cannot imagine the grief; when Jonathan died, his loss suffocated her. Alfred had been there for her, along with Clark and Bruce. “We would have been there for you. We could have helped with…”

“I know, but I didn’t have the words. I still don't.”

Martha reaches out to him and squeezes his hand. She sits there for a long moment, looking at him with empathy. 

The conversation is sobering, and it is wonderful. It reminds each of them that they are more than their roles, their stations and their accomplishments. They are individuals whose stories are not told, quietly tucked behind the legends they have raised. They do not need recognition, but this—what they have here—is freeing .

“My deepest condolences, Alfred,” Atlanna hums.

“If it is of any consolation, I know a place where you retrieve their sou—,” Hippolyta starts.

“I appreciate the offer, but no.” It is not in his nature to toy with life and death. He will let others do that, and he will face the consequences as they come. Alfred chippers up, lifting his chin. “Enough of this serious talk. I am on vacation. Let us leave the glowering to the Knights of Gotham. Tea, anyone?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could have dinner.” 

Outside, the sun has set. Normally, Martha would have had dinner by now, and readied herself for bed. A buzz settles in her bones as she washes the teacups and the saucers. She doesn’t stay up late often, and it’s exciting to have friends over. They’ve all agreed to stay. She also has no qualms putting the others to work. While she cleans up, Alfred has been tasked with putting the food from tea time away, and both Queens work together to set the table. 

Her mind wanders as her hands work. The farm looks different at night; she admires the way her berry bushes have begun to grow on the side. She likes to dream of happy little creatures nibbling on this season’s yield. In the distance, the barn looms over the farmhouse, but she knows it's a place of warmth filled with animals who want nothing more than chin scratches. 

The rest of her land is a forest of stalks—corn and sunflowers—but the verdant colours have turned into nothing more than a dark wall surrounding her home. Had she not spent the better part of her life surrounded by these fields, and had she not found the greatest gift in the middle of that field, then maybe she would have found the farm isolating. Intimidating.

Movement snaps her out of her reverie. The stalks don’t move, not normal. They stay still, watching her with the same intensity that she watches them. Martha stops the water, leaning forward on the counter and looking outside the window. 

There. 

A quiver of leaves, and then it’s gone again. She squints, willing herself to see what’s there. 

An animal?  

Most animals that roam freely through the farmlands are too small to cause that kind of movement. The neighbours must have lost a goat again. Her own cow, Bessie, has been known to wander. 

Your mind is playing tricks on you, she mused, looking down to dry her hands. The moment she looks up, she sees it.

A dark figure standing among the stalks, its head illuminated by the moonlight, but its features darkened by shadow. It stands there, watching her. Chills ripple across her flesh, lighting her up from the inside out with a certain kind of fear. 

“Martha?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. Atlanna looks at her, as if she has grown three heads. Her gaze follows Martha’s out the window, but she sees nothing. Atlanteans eyesight is not made for the surface. Her body may have adapted after all these years, but seeing at night is still difficult.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes. It’s just this new generation of teenagers. They have no respect for others.” The lie is a comfort, but not for Atlanna. “I’ve slow roasted beef. A spin on Alfred’s recipe,” she grins. “I’ll be with you in a quick sec. Have a seat.”

One last glance out the window, and all she sees is the dark row of stalks—corn and sunflower.

That’s what I get up for staying up late.

#my fics #dc comics #dc fanfic #atlanna #alfred pennyworth #martha kent #hippolyta #superfam #batfam #batfamily #aquafam #wonderfam #pennywaynes #alfred pennyworth x martha wayne x thomas wayne #polyamory #superman #batman #wonder woman #aquaman

[songbird-of-eden]

WARNING: GOOD OMENS S2 SPOILERS!

Okay, so I have a lot of theories bouncing around in my brain after watching the finale of Good Omens S2.

I understand the fandom is currently drowning in a sea of angsty, shared suffering, HOWEVER, I want to voice my opinions and theories of how I personally saw things play out in the finale.

Firstly, I know there's currently a lot of anger directed towards Aziraphale right now. And I get it, but at the same time, I have some thoughts.

This is a man who believed he would be giving Crowley, the being he cares about most of all, the greatest gift he, or anyone including God herself, could ever give: a chance to become an angel again. To go home. To be together.

So brainwashed into believing Heaven to be the "good guys", he truly thought he and Crowley could make things better and be happy up there. He saw the flaws of the system. He saw an opportunity to change it. At least, what he believed to be.

But the Metratron is downright devious in this finale.

He tempted Aziraphale with earthly goods (the coffee) before manipulating him by saying everything he wanted to hear. Which sounds pretty demonic when you think about it! And why? Because of two reasons:

Aziraphale knows Earth. He is a pool of knowledge Heaven can use. Too valuable to be erased.

And, more importantly, Zira and Crowley are the only two beings with the power to truly stand in the way of Armageddon. By intention or dumb luck, they thrawt Heaven and Hell's plans time and again. Let alone the fact that their shared miracles create surges of power so incredible, most angels only believe this to be achieved by the strongest among them.

(I am calling it now - this is gonna be a big plot point in a potential season 3. Perhaps as a way to restore the world).

Now imagine pitting Aziraphale and Crowley against each other. The Metratron knew Crowley would never accept the offer, but now, he has them separated and hurting. The trap is now set for Heaven's plan to spring.

(Tbh, I would not be suprised if the Metraton was watching Crowley and Aziraphale kiss, to use as a form of blackmail or threat when it serves).

Other things like something being in the coffee by the Metatron's insistence that Zira drinks it, to the worried expression of Muriel in the background looking in to the shop before she waves are... interesting, to say the least. But, those are theories for another time.

But my final and biggest point, is that, for me, Aziraphale finally realised that Heaven was playing him. Despite his naivety, he is anything but stupid, and all these years spent with Crowley have rubbed off on him.

As soon as he heard of the 'Second Coming', he looked away from Crowley and went with the Metratron with a coldness we rarely see.

He knows the only way to save Crowley, is to find out what is going on in Heaven and try to stop it.

Remember the discussion about bees in a hive? Aziraphale is acting like a wasp. Feigning innocence, imitating his way in to earn the trust of the angels once more.

He realised in that moment, Heaven was not going to stop, and all he could do is play along to find the corruption at its source.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

#good omens #good omens s2 #aziraphale #crowley #theories #good omens theory #good omens finale

[tagthescullion]

The Undead Diary of Luke Castellan

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: T

Summary: It's not Luke's fault the Underworld is understaffed and some of its doors connecting with the living world are left unattended.

Chapter 1

AO3 link

Chapter Two

“No can do,” I argued for what felt like the millionth time. “I can’t travel by air, or sea.”

Maria, who frankly never stopped moving her hands, put her palms up as if praying in mass. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there’s not another way of reaching the continent of America that isn’t on a ship or plane!”

There had been a hesitation the first time she’d explained that to me —and, believe it or not, I had already known that oceans are an obstacle for intercontinental travellers—, as if she did know of another way.

To me, it felt unwise to press her for an answer so early into the debate. Well, early… We’d been debating this for an eon and a half —at least half an hour—. 

I thought perhaps it had to do with her former lover. Hades must have had some tricks when it came to transportation. After all, his little son couldn’t take a plane or go on a ship, Zeus or Poseidon would destroy him, and somehow they’d made it from here to the US. 

While I had yet to confess to Maria that I knew her son —or, at least, that I was aware of his existence, because the truth was I had never spoken to him—, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of him.

It had been ages since I’d stopped lying to myself about these things. I didn’t like my father. He was an irresponsible, patronising asshole. But despite those very strong feelings, I had yet to shed that childish need for his attention. 

Too bad it had only been given once I was dead. Hades, in a very kind effort to help me settle into my undead life, had commented that Hermes had been devastated by my departure from the life of the living.

At least somebody had been sad, I suppose.

At any rate, for all that Hades had wanted to disturb me, perhaps out of sadistic entertainment, it appeared that he’d been a much better father to his son than mine had been to me. Or if not good, then at least present. 

I wasn’t sure there had been another case of a godly parent joining the war on the suggestion of one of his demigod children.

I still couldn’t overlap the image of a caring father to the one I had of the Lord of the Dead. 

Gods were, by definition, not human, ergo, they didn’t follow our mentalities. They were so contradictory. It was impossible to get a grip on how they’d react, what they’d do, how they would behave.

Hades: present father, murderous uncle, just judge of the dead.

If you asked me, the most bizarre of them all was that a woman like Maria di Angelo could have gotten involved with him.

Fair enough, I didn’t know her for long, but she looked way too cool for a god who spent his days moping alone, envying his brothers, and sending armies of monsters to assassin his nieces and nephews.

Seeing Maria’s eyes on me, I realised I’d been lost in thought for a bit.

“Right, yeah,” I said. “I know that there’s the Atlantic Ocean between our location and destination. But you see, the Lord of the Sky and Lord of the Ocean aren’t exactly my biggest fans right now.”

I hadn’t really told her that yet. I mean, I’d made it look like it was her who should avoid those spheres of power, but never quite admitted I had just as much to fear.

To my surprise, her face turned sour at the mention of Zeus.

“I’m not the biggest fan of the Lord of the Sky,” she stated acidly. “Un stronzo risentito.”

I guessed that meant resented. I could relate to her distaste towards the big man, but I couldn’t see how trash-talking him would bring us closer to him tolerating our presence in his domain.

“Your colourful statement sounds very personal,” I commented, slouching back in the armchair I’d been using the past couple of days.

“He’s the reason I died,” she explained. Her face was impassive, but I could see the pain in her eyes. “It’s thanks to him that my children were left alone.”

Damn, Zeus had really had it in for his brother’s flame, huh?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told her sincerely. Having nothing to lose, I added: “He’s my best friend’s father. Or former best friend, I suppose.”

Maria raised an eyebrow, and for a second, sitting straight in her own chair, she looked as regal as a queen.

Realising it sounded as if I was on Zeus’ side I said, “No, no! My friend hated him. She was about to die, and instead of saving his own daughter, he turned her into a tree.”

“He didn’t save her?” She asked, apparently surprised at Zeus’ selfishness. 

“The Olympians have a stupid rule about keeping their distance from their mortal children,” I said. “Unless we’re useful to them for a specific situation, of course.”

“But—” Maria hesitated. “Was it always this way?”

“As far as I know,” I replied. “Chiron, the centaur in charge of training us, he’s always been very insistent about that.”

She didn’t look convinced, which made me wonder how involved Hades had been. She’d had more than one child with him, too. She’d mentioned the dead girl, and there was the boy with the zombie army. 

“Forgive me for asking such a personal question,” she said carefully. “But aren’t gods around with their children at all? Even when they’re little?”

I scoffed. “Around?” I stood up and stood behind my armchair, gripping its back with my hands. “I met Hermes when I was fourteen. He left me to rot in a house with a mad woman, and then brave the streets after fifth grade.”

“How peculiar.” Was all she said after my little outburst.

Peculiar. 

I wanted to find my father and punch the fucker on his godly face. Here was this woman implying the cruel and cold Lord of the fucking Dead had… what? Been around changing his children’s diapers? While all my father had done was leave me in charge of a tiny cabin overrun by dozens of his, and other people’s, unwanted kids.

“It’s not peculiar,” I rectified. “It’s stupid. And unfair.”

“Not the gods being terrible parents,” she corrected me. “Bastards aren’t uncommon, and have never been.” 

It surprised me that she’d say it in so many words. She looked too fancy to be openly talking about illegitimate children and whatnot. 

Then again, she’d had two of them, so I guessed she had the right to paraphrase it whichever way she wanted. Besides, rich people used to have tons of illegitimate children around, didn’t they?

“No,” she said softly. “What I find peculiar is that we’ve been trying to find a way to get to New York for an hour, and only now it is you mention your father is the god of travellers.”

I felt as if she had slapped me.

The implication that I’d ask my deadbeat father for help felt like a strong heartburn. I had to sit down again to process her request.

“Not a chance,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “I wouldn’t ask him for a single favour, much less a massive thing like this.”

“I don’t see why not,” she argued. “If he’s such a terrible and unpresent father, surely he owes you this and more.”

“I’m telling you, that’s not how they work!” I snapped. “I don’t know why your children’s father was around so much that you think gods play like common parents, but that’s not the usual.”

“Hades loved them,” Maria said confidently. “He saved them from Zeus.”

I was shocked that she was bold enough to use their names. The first I could understand, smiting your ex over something so silly would’ve made even Hades look bad, but the Lord of the Sky was iffy about using his name in vain. I half expected a million gigawatts of lightning to roast us immediately, but nothing happened. Not even distant thunder. 

“Did he?” I scorned. “He’s sure changed in the past century, because he was the one who tried to kill Thalia!”

Maria’s face paled. 

“Yes,” I continued. “You see what I mean now, don’t you? They’re only useful, and kind, and protective when it suits them, not when we need them.”

“Non ha senso,” Maria muttered. In a louder voice she added: “Hades is not a cruel entity. He wouldn’t murder a child for the sake of it.”

“I’ve no idea why.” I sighed. “Maybe he was having a slow day, or maybe he wanted a chance to manipulate the prophecy to his favour, maybe he was mad about some stupid thing that his brother had—” Then it clicked. “Gods…” Could it really be? That Hades had kept that hate inside for so long? “It was retaliation, wasn’t it?” It did make sense. I looked at Maria. “Because his brother had tried to kill his children, and had managed to kill their mother.”

Maria frowned. “Are you blaming me for what happened?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m blaming the gods’ ability to keep resentment alive.”

“Only second to your ability to do the same, I expect,” Maria remarked.

I felt at a loss for words. 

I wasn’t resentful. I mean, yeah, sure, perhaps a little bit towards my father, but I didn’t think I could hold a grudge for a million years! I didn’t— And it wasn’t like— She just didn’t—

I took my glass of Pepsi from the coffee table between us to gain some time.

After a bit of mental spluttering and a sip of soda I said: “It’s not the same.” 

“My son is resentful too,” Maria told me. “Or he was, at least. It filled him with venom, but revenge never seemed to make him as happy as he thought it would. I suppose I have enough evidence to blame it on his father now. Yet his murder attempt didn’t bring me back, did it? Meeting violence with violence solves nothing.”

I was still trying to find my balance, so her casual scolding made me feel more embarrassed than I’d have wanted. 

“My father won’t help me,” I stated. “Even if I asked for it. I’ve messed up big time, it wouldn’t be logical for him to help me now.”

“To sum it up,” Maria concluded, waving her hand then picking up her cup of coffee. “You’ve misbehaved somehow, and now you’re reluctant to ask the god who controls what we need for help because you’re afraid he’ll reject you.”

I was starting to understand why Hades would be interested in this woman. She was calculating, and not afraid to hurt other people’s feelings if she thought it would help them see reason.

Still, was it really necessary for her to suggest I’d ‘misbehaved’, as if I was a rebellious fifteen year old who she’d caught smoking pot in her garage?

“It was bad,” I clarified. “What I did… It was really bad. I put lots of people in danger.”

“As you’ve so energetically voiced,” she said. “The gods put people in danger, too. Surely that can be used as an argument if your father is disinclined to help.”

“They’re not supposed to know we’re back,” I claimed. “Us being alive, it goes against every natural law. Not even your ex can excuse it.”

“You leave him to me,” she assured me. “I’m sure your father won’t tell on us.”

She had a lot more faith in him than I did. 

“What do we need to call his attention?” She asked. 

“What?” I said. “Right now?”

“I don’t mean to sound like I’m not extending my hospitality further.” She shrugged. “But I would like to see Nico as soon as possible.”

“I—” I sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to get my father to speak with me. It’s not as if I managed much better while I was still alive, I saw the guy three times in total.”

One in my childhood home, back on the run. One for my quest, when he gave me his useless flying shoes. One after I’d left Camp Half-Blood, where Hermes had asked me to reconsider.

They had all ended with me yelling and my father looking defeated. Had he known what would happen to me? Had he known the whole time I’d betray him and his dysfunctional family?

“An offering,” Maria suggested. “We can make a little bonfire out in the servant’s garden, in the back.”

I took a deep breath, giving myself time to exhale slowly. It was me who was getting resigned by now. The thought brought me a stab of pain, but Maria’s insistence reminded me a little bit of Annabeth, when she’d been young and had pestered Chiron for a quest for years. I didn’t have the centaur’s patience, that much was clear. 

I nodded. “Okay, whatever. What do we have to lose?”

#maria di angelo #luke castellan #pjo #hoo #riordanverse #pjo fic #mis fics #tagthescullion #undead diary

[dballzposting]

I think I'm too tired to properly spin this yarn but

Well Chichi is a heterosexual woman.

She is a woman who wants very much to live traditionally and love loyally. Her satisfaction from life stems from having a stable lifelong partner and from being the matriarch of her own family.

She is also, perhaps predictably, a very romantic person. Shes predisposed to it, jumping on it when it enters her worldview, and as a kid, she becomes committed to Son Goku.

She was very upset when he didnt play the romance game with her, and continues to be upset when he isnt the present family man that she needs him to be.

So. Becasue of all of this, you would not consider her a candidate for a romantic triste (that may be the wrong word but I mean, like, an affair). And yeah, true! She just wants to be loyal, and for her mate to be worthwhile, god damnit! It's the taurus in her!

But listen. She is a very traditional and high-strung woman. And theres this phenomenon where people who follow very strict rules may break strange ones, becasue everyone breaks them every once in a while, and if everything is a big deal to you, then you lose sight of what REALLY shouldnt be broken.

And Chichi, yknow, we all know her, yknow? Shes romantic. Shes strong and forceful. Shes a consummate lover, man, I feel like she just really needs that emotional and physcial satisfaction, yknow? Of course it all happens in the privacy of the home of the married couple because THATS PROPER ! And that's how she wants it to be.

But listen, man, ms Chichi? She's a little off her rocker, yknow?

Hey, listen. I do believe that Ms Chichi is heterosexual. But in a lifestyle that does little to develop base pursuits, sexuality means nothing. Who cares what you feel about whom. All that matters is that you find yourself in the family structure that you need to have, with a partner who can help make it happen. Those feelings of physcial attraction - while are nice to feel and to have satisfied - arent a prerequisite to the stability and fulfillment she would get by a life partner whom she likes well enough otherwise to make her happy and fill her needs. My point is that it's like 1950s USA all up in her shit and sex is an underdeveloped reality, unexplored and underappreciated for its versatility and nuance. Therefore, it holds almost no bearing over her practical mind.

But make no mistake - our Venus-in-Taurus Chichi is a strong and physical woman who does need some lovings from time to time.

LISTEN, OKAY? You may feel that what I am about to say is contradictory but hear me out.

If Ms Chichi got hit on by a woman she would not tolerate it to start. She would have her fists on her hips and she'd be glaring and she'd be like "Uh huh. Okay. I've heard of this. Every now and then you get a woman who thinks it's her place to talk to another woman that way. To speak in such a manner - it degrades the whole sex, doesnt it? Better than having the men hear you speak like that, I suppose - but I for one wont disrespect myself by standing here listening to it."

See Chichi wouldnt snap at a woman in her current age the way she would always snap at a man becasue, well, her women are her fellows. She'll hear them out. She knows theyre smart.

But listen. Man. Goku's been fucked off training with Oob for forever. Piccolo wont visit since Goten got older and no longer needs the extra parental guidance (and Goten has frankly become intolerable company and we all know that thats why Piccolo wont visit but that's beside the point). What's a woman like Chichi supposed to do?

Shes ran a tight ship and a good home. She controls her own life. No one even cares what she does anymore. No one has looked at her in a long time.

She has strong beliefs and she reaps self-esteem from playing by them, romantic loyalty is a huge deal to her. But loyalty to whom? What about loyalty to herself?

Hey, this other woman may have spoken to her that way, but she was a sharp-eyed and witty woman, and good company is hard to find these days!

Chichi is not so prideful that she cant see eye to eye with her fellows. It's been a while since she delighted in fresh feminine connection. Women get it, you know?

It's been even longer since shes had physcial satisfaction. She used to be a martial artist, but she hasnt maintained it enough to keep her joints from aching, and with her husband gone, her life is just void of all physicality. Maybe she just wants to be GRABBED, yknow ?

Shes her own woman. Goddamn.

What I'm trying to say is that if she was hit on by a woman, she would assertively disagree and respectfully hold her volume, and she'd leave.

And then later she'd circle back.

She'd come back with her fists on her hips, still glaring at you strongly from under her titled forehead, and be like "Oye. You got seven minutes." Meaning that you've got 7 minutes to impress her and make this worth her time.

If you dont impress her than she would be set in her conviction and leave with full confidence and zero regret or curiosity.

But with that reality looming, she'll stick around for 7 minutes to see what you have to say. She'll give a fellow woman a chance. And if you impress her, maybe you'll get more than just 7 minutes of conversation out of her.

Becasue Ms Chichi is fearless, becasue again, when everything is vulgur, nothing is. Henceforth she'll refer to you as a "close friend" to others and humour you in raunchy conversation. Or depending on your personality or on what you did together, she'd prefer you to be a bittersweet midnight lover, never to return again ...

Ms Chichi everyone

#dballz posting #didnt have time to make this post. Made it anyway

[theonewhowalksthroughfire-blog]

The Inbetweens of Roses, a Trout, and Stag (Elden Ring/Asoiaf): Chapter 1

Loras I

It was rather pathetic when his sister was the only one who truly cheered at his show of skill. Not one man of the Rainbow guard he watched over cheered. Why was there no desire in his people's eye, desire to be as skilled as he? He deserved glory for this joust. Which he did not receive, and he was in a particularly sour mood about it. If he was as dull as many thought him to be he might invoke the seven for revenge.

Why was Catelyn Stark here? Well, that was an answer he already knew. She was here as an avenue for Renly to become king. As he explained to him last night, it did not mean he liked it. He had no issues with the alliance, it was after all Renly and his sister's wish. The issue was the memories the women brought back to his head.

How do the starks fare now, no father, one child dead, one crippled, another a gilded cage. A gilded cage… hmm for the briefest of moments he felt a pang of longing, a longing to go straight to Renly. And do exactly what he did to him last night. In front of the whole of his company. If the queen can commit high treason, fuck her brother and get away with it. Why not the future king, and head of House Tyrell.

When this thought occurred he realized he definitely needed to talk with his sister. He was shocked when his sister found out all those years ago, she didn't care and simply went with it. It just became a new secret we shared. Became a part of her plan to become Queen. The one question she asked him still sticks in his mind though.

At the time he said Renly was just fun, he believed it. Perhaps at the time, it was the truth. Though each and every night that changed. The bed chamber and the stag's increasing capabilities were certainly a factor though beyond that there was something more something indescribable a warmth he felt. A warmth like no other when he was by his side.

They had their moments of conflict, their hot-headedness, and stupidity, but that's what made things so great. They were equaled not in status but in personality. They had such a deep understanding of each other that even when it came to things the other wasn't familiar with they still could comfort one another. Renly has never been one for combat, and he lacked an understanding of political strategy. Yet they still were able to tend to each other's wounds. Renly was more than his king. He was his best friend.

The thought brought him solace. Imagining Renly's arms weighing heavy on his side, in a deep embrace. Calming his thoughts, no more rage at the lack of glory he received. Perfect timing as he reached his sister's tent. Though he paused at the entrance.

Did he truly need her for this moment? A Rose is held stronger by another but a rose should be able to survive on its own. This was his fight, not his sisters. Yet despite this, he proceeded closer to her tent. But was stopped again, not by his thoughts but by something in the corner of his eye. He swore he saw the darkest of silhouettes in the distance, head in the direction of Renly's tent. His body shot with unease. Consumed with only one thought.

The thought of death, it was as if at that moment he was so certain Renly was going to die. He could envision the decay and creatures eating away at his flesh. A vile thought that almost caused him illness. But, a thought of certain clarity. Why he did not know but in his heart and mind he felt so certain.

Certain he would perish and there was nothing he could do. So he resorted to something he never thought he would, praying. Not to the seven never but he prayed to whatever could be out there. "Please gods whoever may hear, if he will die tonight let it not be so."

Not a moment later night turned to day. He was struck pale by the occurrence.

A choir of screams arose amongst the camp. Bringing him out of his state, the air felt different, much different from just a moment earlier. The sky did not just change, their entire surroundings were different, now on inclined ground surrounded by a completely foreign landscape.

Ranni I

Glancing at the hill once again she was growing impatient. She paid attention to the tarnished. Not for a time. Though the past few months she heard tales from Blaidd that the tarnished as of late have been of greater stock. So she resumed her astral post at the Church of Elleh, not far from the place many tarnished began their journey. . Intending to give them the whistle of the steed she no longer had use for. Steeds do not take kindly to moving dolls as it seems. Torrent was a keepsake of childhood; she no longer needed another part of her that needed to be cast away.

Childishness is treated unkindly in this world. A fact she thought she knew, death always surrounded them in the lands, funny how that happens in a land where death was gone. Brothers gone to madness, but it happened far from her eyes. Her mind young, she never truly learned the unkindness of such things until the day he left. Seeing mother on the floor distraught… Later, Her own students went against her.

Yet she could not afford to save her, even the protection placed on her was a risk, of the greater will deciding to trap her just as it did Marika, her mother. Even her father's choice was simply an extension of that. The Academy is the safest place for her until all can be properly upended.

New Tarnished though affected by the greater will. Have the highest capacity of change after all. Perhaps whatever Tarnished was intelligent and kind enough to talk to me would benefit from the steed. Whatever may happen after that was up to them.

Though the world cruel perhaps kindness will beget kindness.

She glanced up at the hill again, the white-faced servant still there. She knew very well who he was. Who he served. So her spot to assist the tarnished also served as a spot to gleam information, on the supposed lord of blood. Who she suspected lived in the lands below after Blaidds latest discovery.

*Bwong*

Her arrival ward. Blaidd seeks audience.

He must have more information on Nokron. She began the process of letting her form fade, but she could not and that which faded returned. She tried again… She closed her eyes and imagined her form leaving here and appearing in her doll. Nothing. She tried again… she could not. What is the meaning of this her magic never failed her like this? For a fleeting moment she grew scared, She knew of only one force that could suddenly stop movement.

Suddenly something flashed before her, she heard screams and talking, she let her eyes adjust, looking around she at first saw a tent not more than 30 paces front of her. How peculiar? , then looking back up the hill she was astonished to see at least 10 tents of different sizes along with numerous torches. in what was once mostly bare nature now infested by cloth and fire.

Eying deeper she saw many beings scrambling, not tarnished, but human? Different energy than any being she came across in her travels. She spied numerous armaments on wooden carts, arrows, spears, and swords. Peeking out from under their tarps. A good chunk of the beings held armaments of their own. A temporary stronghold for nomadic people of some type. She wagered. What did they desire to get from the Lands Between?

Is this the will's doing as well?

She saw the tent in front of her burst with movement and a women with an older-looking face came out looking around mouth agape. Upon glancing around. her hair shined a sort of reddish-brown in the light, a far cry from the red hair she was familiar with, but a reminder nonetheless. Cursing her father under her breath. The women still stood seemingly dumbstruck.

After her a man came out, younger in face, darker of hair than the women, and unusually uncorrupted by disease and battle scars for a human. A noble? Ranni guessed. This made the women's dumbstuckedness much more sensible.

Finally out came, a knightess clad in gold armor and a cloak darker in blue than herself. The Knightess looked around seemingly also struck dumb but only for a moment. The Knightess looked toward the man.

"King Renly, how do you fare?"

"I…" The man took a labored breath seemingly shook, "In truth, I do not know Brienne, but we must remain strong in the face of our people." she caught whiff of something else with the man, The lingering darkness not within him, but A dark magic, one she could not recognize. Was cast on him. A Unique Magic she did not even know rumors of… what exactly was going on?

The effects of whatever was cast in relation to the man were fading fast even as she gained a sense of it seconds earlier. Whatever was once there likely would be gone but it intrigued Ranni even more so. Never in her time alive has she heard or seen an event such as a new large group suddenly appearing. Out of nowhere, perhaps this is what the stars had in store for her.

She heard heavy hooves quickly trotting in the distance, a noise she grew familiar, with the patrol of the local Tree Sentinel. Monitoring it from time to time, it never changed its patrol. Even if it saw you it never attacked. Unless attacked first or gotten close to. The heavy trot it had now indicated it viewed something as a threat though… Seems the nomads may not be faring so well destiny unkind to such.

Suddenly a large gold-plated horse, with the sentinel atop it tore through the tent the trio just left. Aiming its Halberd at the man.

The Knightess rose to action at that moment. Shifting into a combat stance.

"Halt, You have committed treason against King Renly Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

It was laughable to Ranni as if that would do anything, the sentinel continued its assault towards the man. But at each swing of his halberd is blocked by the knightess frail sword. After a single hit it is chipped away, The sentinel tries a thrust towards the man's head and is blocked not by her sword but by the Knightess herself.

Wincing heard, despite this she perseveres continuing to guard the man, with labored breath, thrust his halberd downwards she stands in the way again, her shoulder plate crushed, skin broken. The sentinel readies for another attack.

Despite the pain, and damage to her mobility she persevered. A courageous effort, one that would result in her demise and that of which she guarded. Ranni could appreciate true courage, her projection still refused to fade from this place, but her magic still worked, She did not desire for one this courageous and duty-driven to die here so she used Crystal Barrage directed at the Tree sentinel.

A.N. This Fic is up to chapter 7 on fanfic platforms below.

#fanfic #fanfiction #asoiaf #elden ring #renly x loras #renly baratheon #loras tyrell #margaery tyrell #catelyn stark #ranni the witch #elden ring ranni #lunar princess ranni #fanfic promo #prologue #chapter 1 #fantasy #crossover #lovecraft #lovecrafian #magical realism #witch

[girlwithwolftatoo]

The devil and the flower -chapter 8

Violets have no thorns

Warning: torture, death

Words: 3346

Suddenly, the town was abuzz with gossip as the local newspaper revived its former glory, some were sympathetic, lamenting the misfortune that seemed to befall that shattered family, others were discussing theories each one more insane, and when they least expected it, they were already pointing the finger of blame, the victim herself included among some who boasted of being reasonable.

And in the midst of that chaos, a little girl who had suffered the two most important losses at an early age, dreamed of the strange man with the black balloons, who reached out his hand and took the hand of a person who walked, their face covered with a thick red veil, beside him down the street.

Gwen Blake was sure that the Grabber had made a mistake, or perhaps, since his last hit, he had changed his tactics to mislead. After all, what other motive would a monster like that have for disappearing a young girl?

She, of course, didn't discuss her doubts with anyone, and on the other hand, she heard a lot of rumors wherever she went. It wasn't that the town cared about the safety of one girl more than that of its children, it was because it was young Gilles, the daughter of the murderess.

"Maybe she's gone" opined a man in line at the mini supermarket "I wouldn't put up with living in a town where everyone's talking about me."

"You think so? She couldn't have left alone, for God's sake... maybe a friend helped her".

"Yeah, sure, they say she spent her afternoons with boys..."

"What would you expect from that poor girl?"

Things escalated from one day to the next, an anonymous source (Rutheford, the only one who had shown concern from the start) told the police how, on the night she disappeared, Violet was being harassed by a boy named Edward Preston. 

Edward received a visit from the police, and later, Mrs. Betsy received a call.

"We have a possible suspect in your granddaughter's disappearance," the detective explained.

"Don't say, and do you need me to identify him?"

"No, that won't be necessary, he's being questioned right now -"

"Then carry on, and please don't call me unless it's for something really important, good afternoon."

At the police station they weren't sure what to think of the boy, he had no record in town but he did have a couple of brawls in California, and what was more, he was proven to have consumed more than alcohol the night Violet Gilles disappeared; but on the other hand, Edward insisted on his innocence.

"I told you I didn't do anything to that bitch!" he bellowed after being locked up for over two hours "Hey you can't do this to me, I had nothing to do with that girl, I don't even know her!"

"We have witnesses that you chased her, that you harassed her" replied the detective.

"No!" but Edward's voice betrayed guilt, and he finally agreed, when on another side of town, Violet was being returned to the basement with the threat of whipping.

Edward Preston was not prosecuted at the time, but doubt was sown and by Thursday morning, everyone was talking about him being a suspect.

"I'm sick of this shit!" shouted the boy near the soda fountain "I've been explaining a thousand times to those assholes that I only hit her, and that was enough for them to let me have a warrant for my arrest if I try to leave here."

"Why do they care so much?" commented a friend of his, who was drinking a can of beer camouflaged by a paper bag "I hear her grandmother is still doing her thing without mentioning anything about her"

"Has it crossed your minds that the Grabber might have taken her?" hinted another "I mean, maybe he mistook her for a boy, with that hair and that face..."

"Well I wish he had" Edward spat "I wish he took her and tore her to pieces, I'm not going to have my life ruined by some stupid bitch."

The three continued with less sinister chatter as, in the establishment next door, the door was slowly closed by the hand of a worker.

In other circumstances, Edward would have taken advantage of the weekend to have some fun, go out and play a little basketball and let the girls admire him, but with so many fingers pointing at his back he preferred to retire early, when it was just starting to get dark. He hadn't gone past two or three blocks when a black pickup truck pulled up next to him, making him jump.

"What the fuck...?"

A man stretched outside the window, grinning at him.

"I'm sorry, did I scare you? I didn't mean to" Edward however looked at him suspiciously "Hey..." the man's smile faltered, he seemed suddenly unsure "You look kind of worried."

"And what's it to you?" the boy jumped.

"Well, if that's the case I think you should..." the man stretched out a hand, showing him something he held in his palm. Edward couldn't contain his curiosity and walked over, in a tiny plastic bag were five or six pills "relax".

A sudden offer, but tempting, certainly the boy had not slept well.

"What do you intend?" he asked, glaring at the van driver.

"A deal. If you're interested I can sell you one for...ten bucks, how about it?"

"Is that all?"

"I have... other stuff, but not here, I can't carry that many products, it would be weird" the man laughed "Anyway, if you don't want it's okay -" he had already started to reach in when Edward approached him.

"Wait..." he reached into his pocket, he found only six dollars "What can you give me for this?"

"Oops..." the man clicked his tongue, as if disappointed "A little weed, maybe half an ounce, the problem is I don't have it here... unless" he quickly added "you don't mind joining me, I have everything in a house next to the dam, no one ever goes by there and so I don't have to worry if the police come to my house." 

The boy's mind was swift and cruel, he could take him up on his offer, yes, accompany him, see exactly where the house was and... then ransack it. Served him right for being naive enough to say that to a stranger.

"Okay... hey" he added quickly "I don't want any tricks."

"Too bad, they're my specialty" the man pointed to the sliding door of the van, there was a printout there that read "Abracadabra, magic supplements". Edward let out a sarcastic snort, and agreed to climb in as co-pilot; his stupid dealer was a middle-aged man, he wore a polo shirt that read something from a hardware store, and generally looked a bit silly. On the dashboard he carried some delicate flowers wrapped in crepe paper, the boy raised an eyebrow, apparently the loser had a wife.

"What's your name, kid?" the driver asked as they pulled into the long street that led to the dam bridge.

"Everett" he lied, hoping he wouldn't recognize him.

"Nice to meet you, Everett" replied the man with a faint smile "What awful days these have been, haven't they? I feel like it's getting colder every year in the fall, and the rain last night... ugh!"

"It's a shitty town." 

"Yes...a shitty town...they let their most beautiful flowers wilt before their time..." his fingers brushed the petals of one of the roses in the little gift "Have you noticed, Everett? Roses and violets are the most given flowers in the whole world, but only roses have thorns, and florists must pluck them so they won't hurt."

The van stopped near the bridge, and the man pointed to an old house that had in its front yard all kinds of weeds that had even eaten away the "For Sale" sign.

"Is this it, do you mind waiting outside?" he asked Edward as they both got out of the car.

"I really wouldn't want to be in sight for too long" replied the boy.

"Yes, yes, I understand...I won't be long, I promise."

"How about if I walk you at least as far as the garden?"

The dealer agreed, resigned, visibly interested in not losing his sale. The two walked to the gate, and the man put his hands on the timbers before laughing.

"Wow! This is something new!" 

"What's the matter?" spat Edward, nervously.

"Look at that!" the man pointed to something among the weeds "It's...I'm not sure, a possum, I think...it's giving birth!" and laughed again. 

Edward moved closer, not because he was interested in the possum or whatever, but to demand that his fastidious companion give him what he promised, however, a second later he fell dazed to the ground when something hit him on the right side of the face with all its might, a huge body jumped on him and wrapped an arm around his neck, rendering him helpless in a matter of seconds, and then Edward Preston collapsed and lay limp on the pavement.

The supposed dealer hurried him into the back of his van, and drove over the bridge, looking longingly at the wooden railing that protected cars and pedestrians from falling over the edge; he drove and drove into the grove of trees surrounding the dam, until the lights of the town could no longer reach him. He yanked Edward, who was navigating between lucidity and unconsciousness, and threw him face down next to a tree and immediately tied his hands behind his back. 

"Hey..." heard the boy in that gloom that was only fought by a flashlight "Are you awake? That's good... One thing I can't stand is lies, they... put me in a bad mood, do you understand, Edward Preston?"

The voice sounded somewhat hollow, but the boy almost returned to normal when he heard his name. The figure above him squinted, and he could see that he was wearing some sort of mask.

"Who... who are you?" he stammered.

"Violets don't have thorns, Edward, they can't defend themselves, when the florist sees them, he just cuts them off, zap!" something glowed next to the boy's face as the masked man waved his hand sharply in front of him "Poor things, it's unfair, don't you think? But fortunately..." he leaned in, now Edward could make out the mask, a horned face with a cruelly twisted mouth "I'm here to protect them"

The piercing scream was lost in the forest as a knife plunged into his crotch. The weapon went in and out several times, into his arms and legs, as if its intention was not to kill him but to wound him, to torture him until he bled to death. 

"I should cut off your hands for what you did" growled the masked man angrily "and leave you here for the vermin to eat your remains, but I think it will be better if..." and he turned him face down again, sitting over his kidneys. Strong hands took hold of one of his fingers and squeezed it hard, twisting it, until it snapped.

"Stop it!" Edward pleaded as he felt his torturer take another finger "Stop it, please, I beg you!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and a second finger snapped off under the man's iron strength. The pleasure was indescribable, insane, almost as delicious as it was to slit the throats of his precious toys after leaving them crawling on the floor, weeping, weak... it was all their fault, it was Edward's fault, he had been more than a naughty boy.

Violet felt the brush of a large, crooked finger on her cheek and woke up, startled. Albert was right next to the mattress, and retracted his hand as the young woman snuggled against the wall.

"What do you want?" she asked sharply. That annoyed him a little, and he showed her what he had brought with him: a blanket and pillow, which Violet took slowly, looking into his eyes "Thank you, I was freezing to death."

It was true, he thought, the basement was freezing as soon as autumn started, and besides the dress didn't look very warm, he could tell by the bulge the hardened nipples made under the garment.

"Violet, if I were to let you out of the cellar for a while..." murmured Albert, and the young woman's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Get out?" she repeated "What for?"

"It's just an idea I had. But I don't want you...to think you can leave whenever you want, I was thinking more like...you were up there...with me..."

Considering all he was and could do, it was surprising how eager he sounded with those words, Violet almost thought she saw a slight blush behind the smiling half mask. 

"What do you intend?" she asked "Have you decided what you're going to do with me yet?" 

The last thing she expected was a straight answer, but the man's eyes bore into her face and then, he mumbled:

"Yes."

Violet's hands latched onto the blanket.

"And... will you tell me?" she kept her voice as serene as she could. Albert narrowed his eyes.

"You told me you never saw your mother again" he said suddenly "You were left alone as a child. I... well, I was left very soon without my mother too, and my father..." he shrugged "I think the best thing he ever did for me was to die. That loneliness suited me much better... for a while."

"And... didn't you have any other family? Uncles, perhaps?" ventured Violet. Albert shook his head and suddenly stood up.

"Tomorrow I'll come for you and you'll get out of the cellar, but if you scream, or try to escape or try anything, I'll cut your ankles off." 

After that warning, Albert left the cellar, and Violet huddled between the blankets, nervous. 

The next morning the Prestons were shouting angrily to the police, demanding to know the whereabouts of their son, and Gwen Blake woke up after a horrendous nightmare of a man in a top hat chopping something to pieces in the middle of the woods, but for Albert it was the perfect day, the sun was warming the gloomy autumnal atmosphere a little, he didn't have to go to the hardware store, and he shopped with a huge smile, accompanied by Sampson who waited outside, tied up and muzzled to the horror of passers-by. When he returned, he listened to the radio as he dusted off a recipe book and entertained himself with great pleasure as he chopped and cooked the ingredients.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

The cellar door opened at dusk; Violet, curled up on the mattress, sat up with a start, still in disbelief. Albert was wearing the top half of the mask again, and looked a little more dressed up than usual, with a satiny black shirt and underneath, a curious deep red turtleneck. 

"You didn't think I'd come, did you?" he asked, tilting his head. Violet didn't answer, sitting up. With a sigh, the man approached, holding out a hand "You needn't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you, as long as you behave as you should."

No shouting, no running away, these were simple rules and ones she was willing to follow even though she was still wary that something bad was going to happen. But she let herself be led, like cattle to the slaughter, up the stairs she had climbed only once.

"How's your ankle still doing?" she heard him ask her. Violet looked down at her feet, not paying much attention to its condition lately, perhaps more concerned with the wounds inflicted by her captor.

"Better, I think."

They entered the kitchen, which was already familiar to her, accompanied by someone's crooning on an old record player. In the middle of the kitchen, a square folding table had been set up, and on it, there were two plates of food and two glasses with water. Violet looked now at Albert, now at the table, if it was a trap, he had gone to a lot of trouble to make it.

"Sit down" he instructed, leading her to one of the chairs. The plate was overflowing with pasta with ground beef and cheese, and Violet couldn't help but notice that, unlike Albert, she had a plastic fork. 

Albert sat down across from her and cleared his throat to get her attention.

"I hope you like it..." he murmured, poking at his own food "I haven't made Italian pasta since... well..." 

Violet stirred the pasta with her ridiculous fork, and looked sideways at him.

"What's in it?" she asked.

"Well... pasta, tomato sauce, mozzarella..."

"Anything else?"

Albert set his fork down on the plate, again looking at her squarely and his voice deepened.

"If you think it has drugs or poison in it, you're very wrong. I don't need that to keep you here, in fact..." he lifted his fork, the tomato sauce on the prongs was very evocative "I think you're not stupid enough to try to elope."

Albert kept looking at her, she suspected he wouldn't stop until she took at least one bite and, resigned, she did. She chewed slowly, the flavors mingling in her mouth were quite delicious, the first proper meal she'd had in, what, five days? 

"It's tasty" she confirmed, and took another bite. Whether it had poison in it or not, her stomach was begging for food, and she found herself hurriedly dispatching her dinner.

Albert reached a hand behind his back, toward the dishwasher, then held out something wrapped in crepe paper. The girl found herself with a sprig that must have had no more than seven or eight flowers in all, some roses but mostly vivid blue blossoms that she recognized at once.

Violets.

 The hand holding the bouquet trembled slightly, Albert didn't seem to know which way to look and his lips were pressed together in a rictus of tension.

"They're... for you" he stammered "It's for... well... things haven't turned out the way they should..."

Her mother had always told her that, as a little girl, she dressed her in all the blues she could get her hands on, little light blue dresses to palliate the summer heat, blue striped overalls though her father thought they were too masculine, an indigo hat decorated with a fake blade of wheat. She really was Violet-as-the-flowers... and she thought of the boy who had named her that, and horror settled in her breast again.

"Why am I here?" she asked, pressing herself against the back of the chair, as if she could thus keep a safe distance from the man "What do you want from me?"

Slowly, Albert set the bouquet down on the table, his fists were clenched nervously, and Violet began to regret asking him that question. 

"It's hard to explain" he finally blurted out "If I could tell you..."

He brought both hands to his head, tugging at his hair. It was so disconcerting to see it break so easily, those cruel hands that tortured and murdered innocents now doing the same to their owner, and Violet noticed that he seemed to want to dig his nails into his scalp.

Suddenly, he sat up so abruptly that Violet jumped, startled. Albert took her by the arm and, without another word to her, led her back to the basement without her having finished dinner, until he pushed her against the mattress. 

"Why?" exclaimed Albert to the girl's bewilderment "Why did I have to...find you...?" 

He turned and walked out of the basement, whimpering as he continued to pull his hair. The thud of the door closing drowned out his crying after he returned to the kitchen, where he sat still, caressing the flowers and humming along to the music on the record player.

#the black phone #the black phone fanfiction #the grabber #albert shaw #the grabber x oc #albert shaw x reader #the grabber fanfiction #ethan hawke #blumhouse

[valpogossip]

VALPOGOSSIP TEACAP: FEBRUARY 2024

You lot sure have be busy the last few months. If I was of lesser mind or simply someone with something better to do, I would have resigned myself to my silence and let you all carry on. But business pays. And unfortunately for you, it's yours that pays me, and you're all not going to believe this.

Resident weirdo Drew Crane up and abandons his life in New York to follow everyone's sleep paralysis demon Luna Dominguez-Herrera after she ( rightfully ? ) dumped him. He claims it was because he was tricked by the leader of the unemployed, Rafael Cisneros. But Rafa couldn't talk himself out of charges, I doubt he's convincing anyone of anything. But don't worry Drew, you're not the only one who came to Chile in the pursuits of love but you do seem to be the only one who was successful. Congrats ( ? ) on winning ( ? ) Wednesday back even if you got kicked out of the apartment in the process !

The same can't be said for Nikhil Hari. Rumor has it he was catfished? I'm not buying it. Just like Drew, I think it's a fabricated story he put together to get our resident it girl, Carmen Hernandez, to not be weirded out by his showing up in her new city. Though, when it comes to girls who look like Carmen, who can fault him for being willing to cross seas, mountains, and rivers to be with her. Then, of course, maybe there's someone else who may be seeing this as well.

Omar Osei seemingly leaves his apartment for the first time in his life I guess ? This sighting was pretty week, but considering the man never has any sightings because he's a hermit who doesn't stop outside his apartment, ever, we think there's some merit in the dancing showcase him and Carmen shared. Thank god too, there had to be something beyond that DND group.

Moving on, Omar isn't the only hermit finally making his way out of the house. Gabriel Naisanga is also making his rounds ( and we do me around and around ) with Kala Kannan. The two of them fight more than Lin Wickwar only there are no winners here. And no. Not even me. It seems all Gabriel has to do is breathe oddly and Kala is ready to start a fight. I guess we can't entirely blame the girl, how long does one need to get over a wife ? We all want love don't we ? However, we do find it interesting that while Gabriel is currently only romantically ( ? ) involved with Kala ( a shame, sharing is caring ); he's not the only one she's romantically ( ? ) involved with ( good for her ! ).

Rumor wheel has it that she and Leon Amos hooked up rather quickly ( no shame ) upon his arrival. According to Leon, it doesn't take long at all to get over a wife ? fiance ? What does it matter, he learned the cardinal rule the fastest way to get over one person is to get under someone else ! And we support him on this journey. Though, maybe the journey can conclude its side quests of giving Drew weed brownies ? Just a thought. Perhaps these two were just a one and done, only time will tell. But I've heard reports the Kala has her eye set on another ( and no, it's not Gabriel ).

Adem Kartal, our beloved father. While Kala seems to be shooting heart eyes to him, sources say he's shooting heart eyes at Sariyah Carter. Guess you can claim not to be best friends as much as you want, but the similarities will always remain. Though, I guess if you ask Sariyah, she doesn't think Kala ever thought of her as a friend. Guess Sariyah can hold a grudge. They always said nothing hurts like a best friend break up, but everyone needs their best friend.

Luna and Carmen would know best, as Carmen came to swift conclusion that Jelena Lucas was after their boyfriend ( ? ) The more delusional the friends the more powerful the friendship.

Suppose Arlo Hwang would know a little bit about that as well. Using the time while his roommate, Alba Ocha, was out drooling and/or moping about their ex, Milani Lennox, he snuck Jamie Sokolov in to live with the two of them. Talk about Threes A Company.

That's all I have for now. It's not enough for me personally, so I'm advocating for you all to do even more ! Don't think you're safe just because you weren't mentioned. To Kaia, Manu, Marisa, Charlie, Aviva, Nora, Ravneer, Victor, Askel, Minnie, Itzel, Matty, Esteban, Aivryn, Leia, and Sofia; we're all still watching.

#valpoteacap

[tfw-no-tennis]

one piece live blog hrmmmmm

why hello its me LJ starting another liveblog. yayyyyyyy i love liveblogging lol. so ive been wanting to do this one for ages - the one piece manga! im starting at zou bc i wanna catch up, then i plan to go back and read from thriller bark on. lets hope I get there!

I have read most of this already (I was last caught up to the end of act 1 of wano) so there will probably be spoilers scatter through, for now...

So i started w/chapter 803. here goes!

robin thinking the dragon drawing is cute awww

revolutionaries wwwwwwwwwwwwwww

dragon asking about robin awww <3

DRAGON NOT ASKING ABT LUFFY BHVJDSKFBJSKHDFBJKH

dragon: luffy who???

still thinking abt the person on reddit who posited that blackbeard is actually 3 guys in a coat and thats why he can have multiple devil fruits and also thats why his flag has 3 skulls. mans might be onto st

uh ohhhh the revolutionaries have been busted 😬

BUGGY OH MY GOD

buggy having like. a pirate temp agency. hhhhhhhhhakjdhsfsjkjdfjkjl

ok but buggy failing upwards is always so funnyyyyy pleaseeee

I admire buggy for sticking to the clown theme. can't quit the bit

also him pretending to be Large is hilarious

luffy usopp law and zoro all being like NINJA???? 👀 I love it

okaaaaaaay onto 804:

AUGHHHHH not the ASL bros playing baseball cover 😭😭😭 mannnn I wasn't ready 😭

the coordinated strawhat dodge lmao

hvbahdjkfbsjhdf kanjuro and kin'emon fucking around back there and getting knocked off lmfaoooooo

robin with the morbidity hvbhjadfjbaksjf love her sm

them being like ehhhh should we get those guys or just leave them? they're fine lets just go. hvaikdfbjksdf

oh my goddd everyone getting so invested in the dragon's struggle. plssss

LMFAO NOOOO HE DIED ??!?!

zoro and law being lame hvabdjkfbsjdkf

I love sm that luffy and usopp are always wow'd by everything new and cool that they see and that they always share that awwww

godddddddddddd I forgot the official scans call him zolo. SOOOO cursed

in my head zolo is just the OC ruth and I made up; zoro's twin brother on wano who is heterosexual, doesn't really care about swords, and has a great sense of direction. we're so funny

oh shitttt is that carrot???

usopp being so stressed all the time makes sense if u think about one piece's crazy condensed timeline...like they Really were getting into a new insane fight every single week with no pause

CARROT JUKES

still mad that she got sidelined back to zou later in the manga :| I'll talk abt that more later I'm sure lol

ooomg wanda showing up w/nami's clothes on. hello. not kidding when I say that nami is a lesbian w/the most game ever she legit has a gf on every island

usopp being like 'a talking animal!?' how long have u known chopper my dude

omg at this point in time naruto had just ended 😳 crazy for one piece zou was a while ago at this point but naruto has been over...one piece rlly won that huh

oda saying 'kishimoto has escaped the hell of weekly serialization' bruh somebody needs to unionize these mangaka. fr.

okayyyyy 805!

usopp being worried for nami awwh

robin 'perhaps they eat people.' hbvhajdfbjksdfbhksja love her

oh my god so many implications that the other straw hats are dead lmao

lmao god law just casually being like 'yea I never expected to see my crew again' bc he was planning to die in dressrosa...

bepo oooobh show me bepo

THER HE ISSSS BEPO MOMENT

luffy immediately getting into a fight lmao

oooobh I love carrot she's so cute why did she have to get booted from the story :( boo hiss

of course luffy actually remembers bepo bc he's a talking bear and that's COOL

law's crew missed him sm awwwwwwwww that makes it extra sad that he was planning to die yeesh

oh shitttt they all missed some drama

806!!

omgggg the cover story w luffys village awwwhhhh dadan and makino and her shanks babyyyyy also is she wearing a wedding ring?? are she and shanks married????

kin'emon and kanjuro shenanigans lmao are they ever gonna make it up the elephant

bruh that's so cool how the elephant spraying water on itself sustains the minks on zou ooooooooommh I love the creative ways that the one piece world works

carrot just randomly biting luffy...mood

aight WHO was getting crucified.

yall gave zoro directions to somewhere???? is anyone seeing the problem here lmao

'chambres' lmfao the translations...french ass sounding law

usopp hiding behind zoro and puppeteering his arm hhhhhh I love them

NAMIIIII my fav

omg I forgot abt the pineapple houses. SO cool

reunion!!!! :D

ohhhh my god the sanji cliffhanger. yessss so juicy fuck yeah

honestly I am soooo pumped to read whole cake again lol that was the first one piece arc I read since that's what was coming out when I got into one piece in 2018 and it slapssssss. also I'm really excited to read the rest of wano, especially now that it's over, and to catch up and hopefully read weekly like I do w/CSM. yayyyy

#LJ reads one piece #new liveblog who's shocked not me

[digiludus]

3/7/23

I am thirty years old, things are different yet somehow not nearly as different as I look back on the previous post.

I had completely forgotten about this blog. I've been playing with AI image generation lately, trying to smash images into the most obscene, grotesque creations possible. Something about the use of artificial intelligence and prompting it with images of video game monsters and graphics to create otherworldly creatures (almost demonic in nature) feels appropriate. I've thought about why I started doing this in the first place, the inclination to create these abominations. Maybe the idea of an amalgam of collected images via AI, the presence, this entity, and fusing it with my subconscious through careful curation makes me feel connected to something outside of the realm of reality.

Technically speaking, Midjourney, my AI of choice, can be explained rationally, can be broken down to its parts (maybe unlike God), but the way I interface with it is so abstracted, so digital. The motions feel so ritualistic, almost like casting spells.

I started seeing a wonderful girl. She's so kind and gentle yet has this scrappy attitude about her. The more I hang out with her, the more I see myself falling into this idea that I...

I was closely examining her today as she spoke, after she helped me with my approaching panic attack. We talked about a fear of mine (a concern we both had) and the way she sat there with her thoughts, carefully choosing her words confirmed why I chose to tell her that I liked her in the first place.

For months I had wrestled with the idea of asking her if she wanted to date me. I meditated on it, i dreamt about her. The moments we found ourselves alone, able to share thoughts I caught glimpses of who she was and I so much wanted to have the opportunity to continue talking to her.

But I noticed there were times when she seemed to ignore me, I sensed that she didn't want to be as close to me as maybe how she was others... I don't know what propelled me to eventually still share my feelings.

Things didn't work out initially, it was a roller coaster of emotions. She was faced with her experiences and she had to be very careful with how she wanted to continue after the day I told her... It's a long story and one I've been documenting in a digital journal.

The wait, that journey in our respective heads, however difficult and tumultuous it was for the both of us... I would go through it all over again for her. I mean that.

I realized how beautiful it is to wait, to be gentle to yourself, be kind and caring about the other person without the expectation of reciprocation, without the idea of an idealized outcome. It makes it so much more astounding to watch her think, glance out the window, hold her hands pondering in thought on how to answer during a difficult conversation. It made me realize how beautiful it is to be transparent with another human. I feel a bit numb, or is it because I have so much clarity on how I view her? Is this a feeling of peace ? No longer a storm within me? How would I know? It's new to me, the feelings of rushing things aren't there (maybe only to tell her how much I deeply feel about her), I just cherish this moment.

The dream I had of her... it was almost unbelievable now that I look back on it. I remember embracing her, this embrace so warm. I woke up and laid there looking at the ceiling and I knew that I truly could handle whatever was about to happen because I cared about her.

She shared something she saw (a vision?) when she was high and listening to a song. Thinking about it, in the moment I was incredulous but knowing more about her now, how amazing.

She explained that she entered a room, perhaps a ballroom and there she saw tons of people that had been there throughout her life watching her, smiling. But standing there, more prominent than the others was me, smiling back at her. She said this happened before she realized that I had feelings for her, that she had feelings for me.

How did this happen? How did this connection, this subconscious attraction to be together happen. *I was about to write something but no, I wholeheartedly accept what is happening. I want to accept something beautiful in my life.*

God is still important in my life. I've gotten close to a couple, both wonderful friends who as of writing this are, along with myself, participating in Lent.

I gave up alcohol last year as well as this year. But I also have been trying to give up cigarettes and burning myself. I failed once on last two already but what's wonderful, I'm not giving up. I can see myself grow, I am witnessing myself mature, witnessing myself grow old but also witnessing myself become a person I wish to become. I want to be there for H, I want to be there for my friends, I want to be there for my mom. I am happy, despite what's going on right now with work, for once in my life, I feel a sense of happiness, I feel some semblance of peace.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

[jollyroz]

Jjba reader insert pt2

Sorry english is not my first laungage

Pt 1 https://at.tumblr.com/jollyroz/jjba-reader-insert-pt1/enriskqnioot

Meanwhile

Dios POV

“You two weaklings got knocked out by a girl!?! Who only punched you once!?!” There pathetic but i suppose thats why they follow me i,dio! I am superior too them after all “ w-were sorry dio but she uhm..also…also“ “ALSO WHAT!?! BEAT YOU TWO AGAIN WITH ONE PUNCH!?” Seriously, are they that weak? Because no way a girl can be that strong! “n-no dio! She said she wanted too talk too you..for some reason..” she wants too meet me? Ah! Of course she would why of course! She was trying too prove her worth too me i, dio brando! “ and were is this lady exactly?..” “WHAT-? Dont tell me your actually gonna meet her? Thats a bad idea dont do it dio!” *glare* “are you telling me what too do?” “W-wha- no dio! I would never, im just suggesting that you shoudnt!” *PUNCH* “same thing” now, time too go meet this ‘yn’ 

                   Back to yn’s pov

Oh my god how long is this gonna take??!

Hes ligit taking forever!! “Hm?” I here footsteps i think hes coming well, time too put on a smug personality “oh? Your finally here? I thought the great dio chickened out” i could tell me saying hes a chicken pissed him off a little, nice, “i,dio would never “chicken out” how dare you say that about me! If you made me come all this way just to insult me then ill make sure u don’t make it out of this without any scars or bruises..”  yo this dude gotta chill i mean i guess Dio IS short tempered..kinds funny, but i think i should apologize so i can meet Jonathan. “ im sorry its just..” oh god why am i gonna say this… “your so cool i didn’t know how to make conversation,  i really wanted to meet you but didnt know what too say..im sorry” that sounded so unbelievable he’ll probably suspect something is up. Great going y/n!  “Oh? Is that so? Well i suppose i do fluster all the lady’s… thought i have not ever seen your face here….are you new here?”  “Yes i am! However…”  uhhh what should i say? Oh! I know   “I ran away from home so i am homeless at the moment.”  

Dios pov: 

This…girl ran away from home? But why i wonder, im intrigued  “why did you run away from your home?” She looked a bit unsure, did she not want to tell me?  “Well, my family was quite abusive so i decided to run away, sometimes physical, sometimes verbal, but overall just very neglectful…i took care of myself all the time so i thought it would make no diffence if i ran away.”  So She is just like me…perhaps i could take her in too the Joestars manor, they do pity us peasants alot- DIO WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? YOU ARE GOING SOFT, ITS THIS GIRLS FAULT SHES HOMELESS SHES THE ONE WHO RAN AWAY…. Though its not a bad idea… she would owe me something… i could use that against her…Yes! I Dio! Am a genius! But i have too act like i care about her… what a bother  “well, i could bring you too the Joestar’s manor and..you could live there with..me?” Suddenly the strange girl’s eye lit up, good job Dio! Now i have acquired another pawn onto my chest board. “R-really? Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” 

Sorry this is terrible

#jjba #fanfic #readerinsert #jojoesbizzaradventure #nonbinary

[crazybigredlove]

17th July 2013

Dear Pete, 

My Friend! How are things? However they are, reasonably confident they have to be better than they are here. 

It's happening again. 

The feeling of wanting to eat constantly, to hide from the world in baggy jeans and with unkempt hair, passing through my days in a despondent haze; that feeling is back again in all its glory. Right now my senses are telling me to run screaming when men get that look in their eyes. You've seen me do this before. It's not pretty. It's the reason for the serious weight gain of 2008 that we have both vowed to never talk about again. So many potatoes... Each one more delicious than the last... 

But I digress. 

The problem is that dating is such hard work. When a relationship ends, whether it be after a few months or a few years or even decades, there is always that crap that you have to sift through. 

Packing boxes. Returning stuff. Tears to be cried. Letting go of baggage and moving on. Such. Hard. Work. Not to mention stressful and exhausting. 

You know what is infinitely harder? No. Not that. Mind out of the gutter, Pete. Ahem. To even have the privilege of feeling all that crap, to ever be lucky enough to drown in the fallout of a relationship that has ended, you have to sift through a whole lot of ill-fitting waste just to get to a point where a relationship lasts long enough that it can end. All that struggle just to find someone you care enough about that you are sad when they go. 

And there are so many judgements on that journey... 

We can't all be crazy. We can't all be insane. High-maintenance. Too laid back. Ambitious. Difficult. Uninterested. Demanding. Clingy. Aloof. Lazy. Lacking in drive. 

The problem - I have rather wisely discovered and am now sharing with you - is that what is a perfect fit for one person is someone else's worst nightmare. When I think back to that photo (you know, the middle finger salute one), I realise that some girls would think that was the funniest thing ever. The stupid thing is that had I been in a different mood even I might've laughed... 

Does this mean that my entire dating history is potentially the result of some bad decisions on days when my mood was more sombre than others? That the men I should've dated never got the joy of receiving my phone number because I was too hung- over, or hadn't slept enough, or was angry with low blood sugar levels at that exact moment in time that our trajectories crossed? Perhaps my mother was right to be fearful that my crap decision- making would one day ruin my life??? 

Oh God. In theory that would mean that potentially I'm a failure at life because I don't sleep enough, I eat too many high sugar foods, and I partied too much during my youth. As such I have spent my entire adult life being moody with potential dates, one of which was probably the man I was supposed to marry half a decade ago. 

Fuck. 

Do you remember that trainer friend of PT Patrick's? Caleb? He was married. Still is actually. He sent me some messages in the last few days. At my lovely, boring, kill-me-now office desk, the phone started vibrating like crazy and one after another they came through. At first I thought they were just sweet and innocent. 'How are you?' and 'You're very pretty'. Thinking to myself that maybe he'd heard about my latest relationship debacle and wanted to make me feel better I warmly accepted the compliments and responded politely. When the text came through including a picture of his penis, well, that was when I figured he'd probably gotten the wrong idea. Or someone told him about the road trip of 2004. 

Dear God, I really hope he just got the wrong impression... 

More exciting is that Miranda was standing right behind me when the picture came through and she, being the snooty-nosed, controlling cow that she is, was of course staring down at my phone hoping to catch me out doing something wrong. That ended in a counselling session with her and, for added pleasure, her boss, and we all sat around discussing what is and isn't appropriate use of work time. Double fun is that it was the work mobile that he sent the messages to. Even more amazing was that she apparently needed a copy for my HR personnel file... 

The thing is though, if I were a man, and if I had a penis, and if it were that size... Hesitation would definitely occur on my part before I decided to share that with the world. Or at the very least there would be some serious Photoshop applied prior to spreading photos of that nature throughout the population of single women in this town. 

This letter is a little scattered because I'm 97% certain that I've have lost my mind and it's no longer my own. There is a very real point that I am attempting to make, but at the present time I'm probably being a little inarticulate... 

What I think I'm trying to say is that this idea you had about me throwing myself into the dating world? I'm just not sure it was your best idea. Nutella brownie sundaes the night before you left? Those were an excellent idea. Road tripping up and down the coast during the Post-Lawyer Lucas slump? World's best remedy. This? Well, this all seems a little too much like hard work right now. While the payoff would absolutely be worth it if Mr Right managed to find his way into my life (again, how are things going with the Prince Harry hunt? Secured him for me yet?), the battle of looking is the bit that is tripping me up. Honestly, there are only so many penis pictures you can see before you completely lose interest in pursuing anything with anyone who has one of those appendages. 

(To clarify, I'm not saying I'm all about the hooha now, I'm just saying that men are wearing me out with their strange mating rituals). 

So. Have asked the married man to leave me alone for a while but indefinitely would be better. Asked Tea Boy again to stop messaging me. Women Shouldn't Work Guy was told to lose my number. 

Carpal tunnel risk: Extreme. 

Pete, are you absolutely certain that this is what you want me to do with my time while you're away? Dating? Really? And without supervision! 

Oh it doesn't matter anyway. After tonight The Czech and I will finally realise that our perfectly mediocre friendship is the stuff that dreams are made of and when we failed so spectacularly at dating last year it was because we were aiming for that Hollywood script ending, when in reality, perfectly mediocre friendship is what lasting relationships are built on. Whilst they aren't going to write Nora Ephron-type movies based on that plot line, perhaps they could write Olivia Spencer movies. Or rather, I could. I am Olivia Spencer! What is the point in having a degree in creative writing with completely average results if you're not going to use it? 

Was meant as a joke, but now that I think about it I am going to go download a book on writing screenplays. 

Will give it more thought and keep you updated. 

Liv x 

[araekniarchive]

hello! going thru ur web tag and i love this so much (trying to find fanfic inspo and it's lead me here), anyways, i was wondering if i could request a web weave around the idea of "at some point, the word 'husband' became his face"? being so in love/devoted that no one else could compare, could even hope to come close? thank you!

Pablo Neruda, I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

Sense and Sensibility (1995) dir. Ang Lee

Jeffrey McDaniel, The Archipelago of Kisses

Elyse Fitzpatrick, Idols of the Heart

William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Joey Comeau, A Softer World (#1000)

When Harry Met Sally (1989) dir. Rob Reiner

Amy Shark, Adore

The Great Gatsby (2013) dir. Baz Luhrmann

Rupi Kaur, The Sun and Her Flowers

Rebecca Solnit, Cinderella Liberator

#webs #web weaving #theme: love #theme: desire #requests #mine #pablo neruda #sense and sensibility (1995) #(i was today years old when i found out that that wasn't actually an austen line; it was added for the film only) #jeffrey mcdaniel #elyse fitzpatrick #(is she talking about god?? perhaps. do i care?? no. its about another person now bc i said so) #william shakespeare #joey comeau #when harry met sally (1989) #amy shark #the great gatsby (2013) #f. scott fitzgerald #rupi kaur #(i know i'm as upset as you are about including her on a web truly i am. but it fits) #rebecca solnit

[vilithshaven]

How the harbingers react to the 'Imposter' /// Il Dottore, La Signora

Warnings: Mild descriptions of gore, angst, implied death (of the Creator/Reader)

Synopsis: This is how I think those two harbingers would react to finding out that the 'Imposter' is in truth the Creator before anyone else.

A little A/N: Big thanks to @nicebonescomrade for being a big inspiration. Honestly, I may be looking at your blog way more than I should, haha.

- Lilith

Il Dottore

Dottore starts looking for the Imposter after hearing his fellow harbingers talk of them. Truth be told, he doesn't care about the Creator or the way all the Archons, including his own, crave their attention and light. He isn't even bothered by the fact that there is an Imposter walking around. All he wants to know is how someone managed to carve their face and body into that of the One. Was it Khemia? Alchemy? Or were they simply born that way, to make a mockery of the God? He would find out.

Finding the Imposter turns out to be a lot easier he expected. They had been fleeing from Liyue's adepti last, citizens talking about how they saw them run across the border into Sumerian territory. A death wish for those who have no knowledge about the local insects and animals surrounding the main city.

He finds the Imposter lying flat on the ground, sweat coating their skin and a sickly colour to their skin. They look just like the statues had depicted them. But to his surprise and utmost glee, their blood isn't red. No, it's a striking golden that pools below their dying body.

Dottore finds it amusing that noone apparently noticed it before. The golden ichor is a stark contrast to the dirty and ripped clothes. But perhaps they had been in too much of a hazey rage, all their focus being on their one wish: get rid of the person daring to impersonate their Creator. Childe had been just one of many prime examples of the acolytes' animalistic wrath.

Dottore runs a hand through their knotted hair, a crazed smile growing on his half-hidden face. "Guess I'll be the only one to ever know the truth, (Name). Just my luck, isn't it? I'll heal you right up and then we can start."

Dottore takes the Creator to the nearest hidden laboratory of his, chaining them down to the table. He doubts that they were strong enough to take him on, but he rather wants to stay on the safer side. Although they appear to be completely human, he doesn't want to take any risks. At least he doesn't have to worry about anyone looking for them.

And so the torture begins.

(Name) is barely lucid half of the time. Pain is all they start to know, they can't even remember how they got to be where they were now, chained and treated as nothing more than an experiment. They were lucky enough whenever the Doctor deemed it necessary to feed them and keep them tethered to this world just this longer.

The Doctor is the name he told them to call him. (Name) knows that it isn't his real name. Distant memories hid in the back of their mind, just out of reach. Bringing them forth is too painful. They eventually stop trying.

The experiment Dottore puts the Creator through are diverse. He starts simple: taking blood and finding out its components, checking their bond to the elements of the world.

Slowly they get worse. Does this organ function as it should? Is that an extra organ he sees? What does it do? What happens if he was to force cryo into her body, or any element at that. How do they react to a Delusion?

By the time he is satisfied, (Name) is broken. He would have discarded them if it hadn't been for a thought that struck him just as he was leaning above them, hand glowing with his element.

Why end the fun now? When instead he could make the Creator another toy of his.

He has more than enough time to play around more. After all...he is the only one who knows the truth, isn't he?

La Signora

La Signora, too, doesn't care too much about the Creator and their Imposter at first. In fact, she hates the Creator. If they were truly the loving, compassionate being everyone makes them out to be, why have they forsaken her so? What has she ever done to deserve her afte? All she had wanted was to love and be loved, while studying in Sumeru. Even as she forgot her painful past over time, the hatred never ceased.

She hadn't planned on looking for the Imposter despite the Tsaritsa's order to kill them on sight. Yet she still found herself wondering off just before her meeting with Inazuma's resident Archon, letting her feet carry her to one of this region's many crevices. Which is where she's standing now, looking down at what she assumes is the Imposter. Or should be.

Golden ichor flows out of their many wounds and pools on the ground below them. One hand bends to a weird angle. Their eyes slowly move up from the ground they'd been focused on until they meet Signora's visible one. And the Harbinger finds herself freezing to her spot.

Long-forgotten feelings bloom passed the pain, reminding her of what she used to be. An outsider, a monster, a traitor. Just like the human creator in front of her, she also had been called those words and worse. Perhaps the Creator hadn't forsaken her. Perhaps they had put her through that trial in preparation for their own descent to Teyvat, to have one person understand. For surely they must have known what would happen if they were to come into this world without warning and as a human no less.

Even as the Creator reaches out a tentative hand covered in golden blood, Signora continues to stand frozen in her spot. "Can I...ask for one thing before you end it all?", they choke through the coughs raking their body, more blood splattering onto their tattered clothes. "Can you...call me by my name? It's...it's (Name). Please...it's been so long...it's all I ask for."

This breaks the Harbinger out of her rigor. She squats down in front of the Creator, a smirk playing on her lips. She moves to caress their cheek, looking at them with fake sympathy. "Poor thing...it must have been awful to have each and every single person hate you."

"It's a shame, isn't it? That noone ever realized the truth", she mused, taking their chin in a tight grip. "You truly are the Creator."

A pitiful whine escaped their cracked lips. "I...am not. I'm only...(Name). Not...a god or...whatever you think me..."

Signora doesn't listen to their words, feeling the red hot spikes of anger engulfing her heart. In response to that, her hand's temperature increased until it becomes too much. The Creator tries to pull away, face scrunching up in pain.

"I hate you. I truly do. You put me through so much pain, and for what? To have someone sympathize for you in the future? Help you? Well, guess what. I'm not going to. I'm not even giving you the pleasure of saying your name. Oh no. You'll die here, by my hands, as the imposter you've been dubbed."

Signora laughs in pure, unbridled glee. "It's what you deserve! You're no god of mine. You're simply the reason for all my suffering."

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin impact au #golden blood au #headcanon #genshin impact hc #il dottore #dottore x reader #signora x reader #la signora #fatui harbingers #tw implied death #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #genshin impact imagines

[merakiui]

A Leaf Swept up in an Autumnal Breeze

yandere!kaedehara kazuha x (gender neutral) reader art credit - Tourou_7 on twt cw: yandere, unhealthy/obsessive behaviors, slight nsfw implications/thoughts, alcohol consumption, intoxication, spoilers for kazuha’s character story + inazuma lore note - i decided to write something short for kazuha as i analyze what we know so far of his character. hopefully the characterization isn’t too off! please enjoy nonetheless! orz

The moonlight casts its thin rays upon the calm, motionless sea. In the distance, fish surface and their movements are captured in the ripples that expand in the water, a minor blip in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the dark night. As if a god has taken a brush to the sky, utilizing its inky vastness as a canvas, the stars have been drawn in small specks—winking down at those who sleep underneath a blanket of natural light.

And you are caught up in the glorious shimmer, grinning widely as Beidou wraps her arm around you, pulling you against her as if the two of you have known each other for years. In reality, it’s only been a few months since you were discovered on her ship: a hidden stowaway with your Vision clutched in your hands and raw resolve etched into your body in the form of bruises and old scars. You’re a fighter and yet you also ran from something. Kazuha can’t quite tell what it is you’ve escaped. Whether it’s another person, a group of people, or even an entire nation, he’s certain it’s worthy of the risks that come with fleeing.

Your Vision shines brightly, a stark contrast to the dark color scheme of your clothes. He tries to place a nation to your outfit and comes up empty, his thoughts returning to Inazuma as though it’s the only place he can think of. And he supposes that’s true. The situation in Inazuma has clouded his mind with its strange fog, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of his brain. Though he can dwell upon the past and the mistakes that led up to the downfall of a precious friend, he knows there is no use for such somber reflections during a happy celebration. Life moves on, as the common saying goes, and he cannot allow himself to remain trapped in the past.

During moments such as these, where he relives the horrible memory in vivid detail, you are a sweet balm that soothes the sting of loss. Even when you’re struggling to stand, face hot from the intoxication of good drinks in even better company, you’re a wondrous presence who chases away his doubts and worries.

Unknowingly, you cast a temporary shroud over those matters and he’s put at ease the minute you extend your arm in his direction.

“Kazuha! Come over here. Let’s dance!”

A hiccup interrupts your jovial giggle and Beidou chuckles before throwing her head back to drink what’s left in her flask. The aura of her ship is beyond lively. Men and women alike celebrate another successful week with drinks, harrowing tales of past heroes, and broken ballads sang in drunken tones. He can’t help the smile that sprouts on his lips. You’re such an outgoing person, always wanting to include him in your daily activities. And though he politely declines whenever you offer him alcohol, he has wondered what the appeal could possibly be.

Perhaps it’s the idea of losing your sensibility for one night, ignoring all reason for the sake of spending pleasurable moments in the confines of a warm bed, wrapped snugly in a lover’s embrace. Such instances are lost to intoxicating pleasure—buried under a hazy recollection come morning. But you haven’t done that sort of thing. Kazuha would know. He listens in while you’re relaxing—while you’re bathing and going about life on the ship without a care in the world—and his head runs wild with all sorts of fantasies. Fantasies he never would have imagined had he not met you.

To think you were just a mere stowaway, a trespasser who had snuck onto the ship and hid in the darkest corner, obscured by crates and chests. And he had pulled those crates aside in search of a few ingredients and his eyes met yours and you held your finger to your lips—a silent urge to keep quiet—and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a special meeting between two, which will remain locked away in his heart for all of eternity. A memory he regards with warm fondness. After much negotiation and a disarming conversation, you were soon welcomed with open arms as Beidou practically offered you to join her crew. You had nowhere else to go—no one else to see or protect—and so you agreed. And Kazuha felt a relief he hasn’t felt in a while, the sort of emotion that stems from almost losing something important.

The pure relief that comes and goes once he realizes you’re a missing piece in the puzzle of his life.

“You’ll trip,” he warns, pushing off from the side of the ship and walking over to you and Beidou. “It wouldn’t be wise to dance in your inebriated state. Surely you’re aware of this, no?”

“I can hold my alcohol.” Your wavering glare doesn’t reach him. “Don’t... Don’t think otherwise or else I’ll—ah!”

The majority of Beidou’s weight burdens your shoulders and you nearly almost crumble.

“You—“ she searches for a means to steady herself— “worry too much,” the captain adds, nodding in agreement to an unspoken statement. “It’ll be okay! Live a little while you’re still young.”

Kazuha sighs and easily slips between the two of you, hooking his arm around Beidou’s waist as he guides her to a barrel. The scent of alcohol kisses the air, clinging to your clothes and breath like an oversaturated perfume. Once she’s sat down, now fully determined to get the last few drops from out of the flask, the rōnin turns to you. He’s caught by surprise when your hands grasp his, your eager expression stabbing his heart with a dozen pins. He’s rooted to the floorboards, unable to look away when your face is dangerously close to his.

“You heard the captain,” you tease in a slurred voice. “Live a little.”

And he does. Or he thinks he does. Having traveled with Beidou, this is the current life he’s come to know and appreciate. But is it truly living if he feels unfulfilled in the process? To find a means for bringing back the familiar glow in a lonely Vision. To secure peace of mind and put his rowdy thoughts to rest. To one day return to the nation he was forced to flee, with you in tow. Are all of these things necessary in order to fill the gaping void in his damaged heart? Kazuha wonders if you also came from Inazuma. Perhaps you wouldn’t be so surprised to see the scenery if he were to take you there. Not now, of course. Sometime in the future, if such a future holds a changed Inazuma.

“I’m going to warn you now,” he mumbles, his fingers ghosting over your waist, “I’m not what one would call a dancer of skillful grace.”

“I don’t think that’s true, dear Kazuha.”

He blinks once and then releases a short laugh at the endearing term. “If you say so.”

“Enough talk.” You huff and pull him into your chest and he feels as though he could stay locked in this position for millennia. “Dance with me before...” A stilted pause as you nearly forget your sentence. “Before I turn in for the night. That’s it.”

Or before you get sick, he thinks, not so cheerful about the inevitable mess. But he’ll tolerate it because you’ve tolerated him. You never pry into his past, nor do you force him to answer personal questions regarding Inazuma and the Raiden Shogun. If you ever notice the way he lingers near your quarters, you don’t say a word. And if you hear his subdued moans as his hand moves in time with a picturesque fantasy of your nude form pressed against his, you keep your mouth shut. You are everything he could ever want and like the very ideal the Raiden Shogun wishes to uphold he wants to pursue an eternity with you.

Your movements are far from the precision you normally have when moving about the ship and it’s a very odd dance. Yet you spin him and he follows your unusual lead like an animal with tunnel vision. For a taut moment, the background noise melts away into obscurity and the two of you are the only people in existence. He stares at your face the entire time, ignoring the way your sandals crush his feet or the instances where he unintentionally returns the gesture. It’s certainly an awkward sort of waltz, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And in this moment where no one else matters, he sees your radiance in the glow of the moon. You truly are worthy of the sun and the stars beyond and should you verbalize an outlandish wish of that nature he has no choice but to follow through.

Like a leaf swept up in an autumnal breeze, reminiscent of a ronin who lacks a place in the world, Kazuha allows himself to be carried on by the winds that rustle the sails and tangle through your hair, painting you in a backdrop that’s heaven handcrafted by the pickiest god. And where you have your wits, a lively Vision, and your confidence, he only has his blade, a dull Vision, and an inkling of hope. But that’s really all he requires.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere kazuha x reader #yandere kazuha #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere kaedehara kazuha #yandere kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha