#Godless Killing Hand

[chewytongue]

The most insufferable bisexual men you’d ever meet

#cult leader Francis and his first right hand Vaughn <3 they’re the worst I’m obsessed w them hdgs #this is their first kiss after Francis killed the original cult leader #and then he’d proceed to act like the kiss didn’t happen/didn’t mean anything #digital art #blood #cw #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd art #dnd npcs #godless campaign

[useragarfield]

frank griffin you're an absolute fucker

#im watching godless #and somehow it was him killing all my people in blackdom that tilted my hand to compelte hatred #BITCH YOU CAME INTO THEIR HOME NO QUARREL WITH YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP #god bless you whitey you said i am saving my girl #jesus fuck #i speak #frank griffin #godless

[celesterayel]

goodbyes & waiting | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

request: happy holidays! could you write a luke x aphrodite reader? (maybe with angst?) <3

IN WHICH — there are the moments you shared and the sadness that came after.

"trust that you betrayed, confusing that still lingers. you took everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers" - o.r.

w.c. 1k

warning(s) : lots and lots of angst ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note this act hurt me so much in the feelings. I've never written something so angst, hope you enjoy it tho, love :)

your heart didn’t hurt, it burned.

you wished you could tear the wretched thing out and never feel anything again but it remained there, silently killing you from the inside out. in your palm lay a small pendant, not the prettiest thing by any means and resembling more like something you’d find at a second-hand store. the chain was thin and dull but at the center lay a small heart of twine and charms. your finger brushed over it, as if attempting to soothe your own heart, a manifestation of your pain literally.

god, you wanted to burn it to the ground. you wanted to scream so loudly and raw that you’d scream your vocal cords out of your throat. you wanted to scream at the gods–fuck them and fuck the fates–and most of all, at him.

had it meant nothing to him? this…whatever it was between you two? how could he have left you so brutally? without a second thought.

the pendant burned in your hand but you’d sooner kill yourself than part with it. it was the last thing you had of luke castellan. the boy who had loved you at your lowest, who once would have rather burned the world than let it hurt you. but he had hurt you and with the blow of godliness that ran in his blood.

you never did see it coming.

✩ ‧₊˚

you had first arrived at camp a year before percy jackson appeared. no sooner than you did, were you claimed by your mother, the goddess aphrodite. and unlike how the poets and half bloods describe it, children of aphrodite were not all inherently blessed with grand beauty. rather you were made to be beautiful in the way extraordinary things are: ingrained into the brain like a itch in a way so profound.

something about you entranced others, maybe the way you spoke or how you approached everyone like they were someone you had known since forever, you were just always a shining light for others to flock too. something so incredibly enchanting, gentle like the breeze of the camp waters. 

luke was the first person to approach you after being claimed, the same boyish smile you’d later fall in love with on his face. 

“the names luke castellan. yours?” he breathed out, something about the way he looked at you like you were every enchanting thing in the form of a person made your heart sing. 

you knew that your heart would belong to him every moment after. 

something in the way he looked at you like you were his forever after made you feel complete. like you weren’t so alone in this world made of monsters and man, godless beings of hunger and pain. and it seemed like he knew it too because there was a knowing in his eyes, a connection between you too that would hurt for every lifetime and the next. 

you and luke only grew closer after and where you went he followed. where he strayed, you wandered. secrets moments shared beneath candlelights with his hands on your waist and yours bunched in his hair. 

“your my forever, you know that right?” he’d whisper against your lips, trying to breathe you in like you’d disappear from his arms. 

you’d just kiss him harder like his words could burn themselves to your lips. like he could burn himself into your very being and never leave you. one day you’d tell him he’d already had.

moments by the lakes where he’d hold you against him and you’d rest on his shoulder like it was the only place you’d ever need. trinkets you’d find when you’d go exploring with the littlest campers that you gifted to him and he kept like they were the grandest of treasures. times when he’d cry into your shoulder and you’d just hold him all the more closer like you could take the pain. the pendant he had spent months and late nights learning to craft from hand to give you. you planned out your future together late, late into the night when you couldn’t sleep: maybe someday he’d whisk you away to visit paris or to see the great big apple–only later you’d go without him. 

holding you so tightly, he’d ask, “where would you want to go if we ever leave here?”

“anywhere you go.” the late nights near the lakes always made it seem like your cocoon, a safe haven from everything else. nights like these only made you fall in love with him more. 

“yes, but if you could pick anywhere, where would you want me to take you, “ he huffed out, chuckling. 

you grab his hands and press a kiss to his lips, tasting freedom and fire all in one breath. kissing luke was always electric, every want and lightning burn in one breath, one touch. 

you leaned back, before contemplatingly saying, “i’ve always wanted to go to see the city lights in the big apple.”

“i’ll take you one day.” it was a promise. a future for you both. 

“i’ll hold you to that.”

✩ ‧₊˚

but it never did happen.

✩ ‧₊˚

you remember the scream you felt bottled in your throat when you found out what had happened. the looks the others had given you when percy told you what luke had done. why he wasn't here with you guys. why he wasn’t here with you.

the betrayal hurt more than anything you had ever felt. parts of the pieces of the future you had made crumbling as quickly as you both had made it. the trinkets you had given him were gone just as he was.

as the months passed, here you stayed as the others left. hoping that by some miracle, your golden boy would return to you. that'd he'd come back ready to make good on his promise. he’d return to the lake where you had once built your future but he never did and the scream in your throat never left.

you promised me, luke.

footsteps approached you and there at the bottom of the hermes cabin stood percy jackson, “y/n, it’s time to go.” 

he looked at the pendant in your hands before giving you a sad smile. he knew your history and your pain–once upon a time, luke had been his first real friend.

you wiped the tears that had fallen down your cheeks and slipped the necklace back onto your neck. you couldn’t bear to part with it, not even after all this time, after all these moments. 

you looked behind you to the cabin one last time—breathing in the old memories and letting them go one last time—before you turned back around. 

“let’s go.” 

in the end, your golden boy had been far too much like his father and you were the one to be left waiting.

#luke x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson show #pjo x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #angst #too much angst #god damn #this act hurt me so bad

[siriusblack-the-third]

The one word that best fits Percy, Annabeth thinks, is Gentle. And it is entirely by design.

Percy grew up hated by his stepfather, hated by his schoolmates and teachers and tutors. He grew up with the words "delinquent", "stupid", "troublemaker" thrown at him, stinging his heart at first and then sliding ineffectually off his back over the years. Annabeth has seen him at his worst, and she knows that it is not in Percy's nature to be gentle. He's a hurricane.

It's in everything he does.

His eyes shift and change with the tides, with his emotions, from happy to angry to sad to exhausted to smug all within moments of each other. Sometimes, she catches a glimpse of something Other, something that makes him look cruel and heartless in the worst yet most beautiful of ways. The first time she had seen that look was when he had packed up the head of Medusa to send it to the Gods.

(It had scared her, then. Now any reminder of it makes her laugh.)

He holds himself in a way that says fuck around and find out, in a way that says he's the most dangerous person on this planet and he knows it, in a way that makes you stop and look and then stamp down the urge to take a few steps back. His back is always straight and his shoulders are always pulled back, but he always looks relaxed. His head is always a little low, reminiscent of the way a bull lowers its head when it's going to charge. His hands are always in his pockets, fiddling with a pen that has been with him since he was twelve. People scatter out of his way like getting within ten feet of him would get them killed.

(They're not wrong.)

Annabeth can only describe his fighting as chaotic. He is a literal whirlwind, movements fluid and unpredictable, sword slashing through the air with such speed that it's almost invisible. He's terrifying and beautiful and mesmerizing when he wages war, all sharp edges and ruthless strikes placed right where it would take his opponent down the fastest. Sometimes when he feels particularly violent, his hits are non lethal yet painful, making his opponent cry and scream, making him grin with teeth too sharp and eyes too bright.

And yet.

Gentle is the best word Annabeth can think of to describe Percy.

Percy, who cradles her face oh so carefully when he kisses her softly and slowly, just the way she likes when a nightmare wakes her up. Percy, who curls up into a ball next to her and buried his head into her stomach to hide from the terrors in his own dreams. Percy, who looks at his sister with the most adoring look Annabeth has ever seen on his face, who smiles at his mother with that spark of awe in his eyes like he still can't believe he got such a wonderful mother, who is patient and caring with every camper that asks him to help.

She can only think of gentle.

Gentle, because Percy likes to be reminded of the good things in the world. Gentle, because Percy works towards being so despite it not being a natural part of him. Gentle, because after years of war and bloodshed and battle and violence, they have made it to peace. Peace, where they can afford to make the choice to be gentle.

Percy is a Hurricane. Percy is Gentle.

Annabeth loves all of him.

.

Tag list:

@narcissa-black-supermacy @the-chaosbringer @in-flvx @padfootastic @gracelesslady23 @mycupofrum @just-another-godless-god @fiendishfyre @ad1thi @prongsfoot-wolfstar @siriuslystarbucks @xxmysticrose18 @ghostie-06 @pan-diasaster @h-m-i-a-n @constant-diablerie @strwbi-laces @shanti-ashant-hai @remen-nyoodles

#percy jackson #percy pjo #pjo series #heroes of olympus #percy and annabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson meta #meta #pjo meta #annabeth chase #percabeth #percy x annabeth #amrut writes

[starlyght]

✻ the way of feeling

٭

[first time writing on here so please go easy on me! + english isn’t my first language so I’m sorry for any possible mistakes. feel free to imagine any of your favs! much love ❦ ]

"He thought some nights while watching the dark sky that you must have fell from there. That the other stars must have pushed you out for being too bright. Your light hiding theirs. He swore to fight them in revenge for you."

˚✧₊⁎ ↓ click read more ↓ ⁺˳✧༚

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

The way you made him feel was terrible. He hated you, so badly. He hated your smile, your gentleness, your soft voice and what he despised the most was the way you got him to smile at you, to greet you and laugh with you. He was never the one to show such softness to someone. Yet here he was, smiling gently at you, softly holding your gaze, fondness in his usual cold eyes.

He was the harsh, punishing winter wind while you were the soft sea breeze. He was the strongest, most feared and rough man of them all, yet in your presence he felt like the most delicate and precious thing in the world. Despite his cold exterior you still got him weak with nothing else than your heart and mind. Why would you treat him like that ? How could you ? How could you stop the aching in his heart so easily ?

Really, he hated that he couldn’t hate you, that he couldn’t stop wanting you. You were home to a homeless man, you were a flag to a nationless man. You were a saint to godless man. You were the universe to him, holding every being, planet, galaxy and possibility in the palm of your hand.

He thought some nights while watching the dark sky that you must have fell from there. That the other stars must have pushed you out for being too bright. Your light hiding theirs. He swore to fight them in revenge for you.

Although, on some other occasions he confided in them, telling them about his affection in hope that maybe your sisters would whisper to you about him. He wanted to spill all of his secrets in your listening and comforting soul. He wanted so badly to succumb and indulge in you, your touch, your heart, your mind, all in hope to find his peace. He wished wholeheartedly to do so, and he hated that. He hated the way you made him feel.

His hands were tainted, he couldn’t feel you without dimming your brightness. A caress would burn you, a kiss would drown you. Yet he couldn’t live without you, he knew it was wrong, so selfish of him to want it, to want you. He knew that if he asked you to stay by his side you wouldn’t refuse. He shouldn’t ask but, oh god, he wanted to, hell, he was going to.

He hated that the cat you were killed the lion he was, that the water of the smallest puddle took down the biggest fire, that the softest breeze made his steel prison crumble and fall to the ground like some mere card castle. He hated that you took down all of his defensive, he was like a knight without his shining armor. The weaker he got, the more powerful you became. He hated the way you made him need you. But now he breathes in you like oxygen and finds himself always craving more. And he loved this feeling.

Now that he has found his saving grace there was no coming back. He loved the way you made him shine with hope. He loved this way of feeling.

Ah, he really did love you.

#anakin x reader #vergil x reader #chrollo x reader #cloud x reader #indra x reader #snv hades #snv poseidon #morpheus x reader #dmc #hxh #op mihawk #zoro x reader #all your favs ♡ #law x reader

[jouste]

Hornwinder! It's the grimmest of the godless goat-men, Hornwinder! Able to heave heaps of hellfire onto his harassers, he can also contort his keratin into complicated killing contraptions! He is hands down the horniest, hell-born, demon-goat hero ever spawned!

#jouste #drawbarian #original character #character design #oc #character sheet #ocs #character art #characterdesign #fantasy character #goat

[yourheart-inmyhands]

I’m here to add onto the idea/request of a previous fic with the archons with a reader who is a fallen god/archon. So instead of reader being banished or overthrown like how the archons may think.. turns out reader/old text books were keeping something from them. Reader faked their death (like another certain archon *cough* *cough* zhongli) and when pressed into why they faked their death. All that reader says is ‘I fell in love with a human centuries ago yada yada and gave up some of my powers and status’ yeah turns out they’ve been human for a couple hundred years and still held onto their god like powers and life span😭. So reader is all like ‘I can be an archon if I do desire again. BUT I grew used to living as a human and I’ve gotten used to you 🫶’ (totally not because they don’t want to resume their duties and explain to their citizens why they were “dead” for a couple centuries) 

hi i only did venti and zhongli for this because i'm trying to cut back to 2-3 characters per post so if you want to see the other two feel free to requests them! i'll be sure to attend to it quickly since i technically shorted you on this one, which i apologize for, i hope you still enjoy it :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, mentions of implied violence, mentions of nations being destroyed, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti feels jealous at first, you had loved someone else? But he quickly gets over it, focusing on the fact that you were in fact, technically an Archon. He couldn’t guess which one you were, so you’d have to tell him, but he’d be fascinated to hear about the stories of who your people used to be. It’s pretty clear that wherever you used to is no longer an existing place, the Archon war having wiped out any nation and their God that could not hold themself up against the powerful beings. Venti feels a sick satisfaction at the idea that he may have been responsible for destroying your previous region, he thinks it’s funny.

Venti listens as you tell of your previous home, your people and their land, your first love. He doesn’t care to think of who your first love was, praising the fact that they were dead right now and he was alive and here with you. He tries to remember back to the Archon War, trying to think of who had been responsible for wiping out your nation. It was a long time ago and with many smaller gods culled so that the strongest seven could remain in control. Venti hopes it was him who had the pleasure of destroying your lands, he thinks it would be a cute little coincidence that he had destroyed your people whilst you pretended to be mortal and ran around with a human man. He tells you that you don’t need to return to Archon status, that no one was waiting for you, and if you weren’t careful one of the others might step out of line and execute you. He would never let it happen, but he uses it as a scare tactic, wanting to keep you weaker and more human, below him.

Yandere!Zhongli would find it curious, his extensive memory bringing back the exact playthrough of what had happened back then. He remembers hearing of a lesser god passing, he remembers smiling, taking advantage of your ‘passing’ back then to overtake your land. He doesn’t bring it up to you, not wanting to tarnish his perfect image of himself in your mind. 

It was kind of sickening, that Zhongli could remember way back, back when he still went by Morax, back when killing off weaker gods was something more commonplace. You had passed mysteriously, leaving behind a godless nation with no one to protect it. And Morax was all for having the upper hand. He didn’t bring it up as you reminisced about your days in power, contemplating about returning. “Who left is there to return to? In this day and age you couldn’t gather a following without it being seen as a declaration of war to one of the currently throned seven, me included.” It’s a subtle way of putting it but Zhongli made it clear that it was best you continued to lay low, lest physical action need be taken, Zhongli included. The man much preferred that you say weaker and below him on the food chain, in your place, where he could easily assert his control over you.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #venti x reader #venti x male reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #yandere venti #yandere zhongli #yandere genshin

[bonebabbles]

i truly hate the whole "atheism means morally corrupt" thang this arc especially has pushed, especially since i think itd be hella interesting for splashtail to be *very* spiritual, him thinking hes entitled to his nine lives, but him being an 'ends justify the means' guy so he thinks that hes allowed to get away with horrible shit bc hes doing it in the name of starclan

i need someone on the erin team to not think with their buttcheeks im begging on my hands and knees bc this plot was SO GOOD. until they threw this at us

For a brief moment, I thought something cool could come out of him not being particularly spiritual. The idea that he's unwilling to be a hypocrite, that he hated StarClan and thus was making a vow to not take the extra lives was interesting. Not in the sense that being a Godless Bloodlusting Heathen makes him a scarier villain, but that he had principles he cared about!

It would have made it more interesting to see him start to break down. That he could have started off with values-- "Curlfeather made me kill Reedwhisker; but I will only kill those who threaten my Clan. StarClan never helped me before; so they will not guide me now. I say that a leader only needs one life; so I will lead with only the one I was born with." and then break every single one as he clings to his power.

At first he doesn't want StarClan to guide them; until it's convenient for justifying his legitimacy. He doesn't want to kill needlessly; until someone is able to undermine his authority. He only needs the one life; until he's on the verge of death.

but no. Godless Heathen Bloodlust. we cant let a villain be interesting or anything

#asc spoilers #splashtail #splashstar #god i hate this turn of events

[therealslimshady]

I was about to make a joke post about how deranged Belos' thought process is, but actually now that I'm thinking about it, his path to evil is all very logical and very, very interesting.

Imagine your this Puriatin orphan boy. Your only family (and probably your only friend) is your older brother, and one day he disappears, stolen by a witch.

You follow after him of course, doing everything in your power to track him down, but by the time you finally find him he doesn't care about you anymore. He's replaced you. With the witch. And now he's got all these new thoughts in his mind and he acts different then he used to. He acts wrong. You know what must be the witch's fault, no matter how much your brother protests, because he was fine before. He was normal, before.

And well, you're a witch hunter. You've been taught your whole life that witches are vile, evil things. That they ruin everything they touch. That it's best for everyone if they're killed. That it's your responsibility to kill them. And this witch has your brother.

So of course you start the holy work. And everything starts out wonderfully. The witch will die and you'll have your brother back. But then-

But then he tries to stop you. He tries to stop you! Your brother, who you love more than anything - who you are doing everything for!! - tries to stop you. Begins attacking you.

You fight back. What else can you do? He won't listen to reason, he won't back down. His eyes are alight with an emotion you have never seen before in them. He's been bewitched. He doesn't know what's good for him. You just need to get him to stop fighting back. You didn't mean for it to happen. You didn't mean to-

...

When the dust settles, the witch is gone and your brother is dead.

Killed by your own hand.

No.

Killed by the hand of that infernal witch who stole him away and twisted his mind. He would be alive, if it weren't for her.

He would be.

And he will be, you swear to yourself, crying over his cooling body. This is a land of witchcraft. Of black magic. And though you loathe to touch such blasphemous works, you know god would not think to weigh this against your soul. Not when your brothers life ended so abruptly, so soon. Not when it was the witches that took him away.

So you bring your brother back to life. You bring him back, and it's almost perfect. It's almost like he never left. But even with the same smile and the same clothes and the same hair, it's not him. He's different. He doesn't remember you. He laughs at different jokes. So you try again. And again and again and again and again and again-

And as the pile of bodies grows, so does your hatred for the witches. Because this is their fault. This is all their doing. Every death, every mistake. You wouldn't be stuck in this cycle if it wasn't for them. You wouldn't have to kill your brother over and over if it not for these godless witches and their unholy world.

You hate them all, hate every single one. They are wicked and unrepentant. They fear no god, they have no god, and they do not even wish to know one. They cannot even comprehend the simple, pure love you hold for your brother. They do not have the capacity.

The lord demands you bring his righteous hand against them, and who are you to deny the word of the god?

You are willing to pay any price to enact this holy revenge.

And you will.

But you will have your revenge.

#Now keep in mind that he's still bonkers he's just a logical bonkers #Puts him in a jar and shakes it: I just think he's neat :] #The owl house spoilers #Toh spoilers #phillip wittebane #emperor belos #toh belos #caleb wittebane #toh caleb #toh evelyn #The owl house #Toh

[messy-gemini1]

His No Life Queen

Alucard x reader

I'm bored and been back on my hellsing shit :)

In every life he's ever lived, she was there. When he was the count; she was his countess, regal and full of life.

When he turned and slaughtered his army, he thought he had lost her for good. He had assumed she would turn and run for the hills, but she had only cupped his jaw and smiled at him.

"you've soiled your clothing my love" she had spoken to him with full devotion. He realized then that she would be his no life queen, that she would stand by his side throughout time without a second thought.

When he turned her, he hated the whimpering cries as the curse took effect on her body. When she finally awoke. ruby eyes staring into his own. He never fell harder for her, letting her drink from his own nectar.

He made love to her that night, their immortal growls howling through the ruins of their kingdom.

When he was captured by the hellsing organization, he forced her to flee and to never look back. In his dudgeon he slept, his mind was plagued with the thought of her, her beauty, her integrity and her devotion to a godless man such as himself.

When he was freed from his slumber by Sir Integra, he wanted nothing more than to search the globe for his missing queen. It would be years before he found her.

He found her when searching for a rouge vampire, only to find it had been slaughtered by his own queen. The grin never left his face even when she didn't recognize him at first, glowing amber eyes glaring into his form before his scent hit her and her guard was lowered/

He wrapped his arms around her form, spinning her around in the night sky, her laugh filtering the night like a never-ending party.

his hands never left her body, even when introducing her to his master. Intergra was very surprised by the Vampirine. His queen was respectable bowing to the human master and laying her hands out, to be bound to his own master just to be closer to him.

Alucard made love to her once more in the deep dungeon, where their growls and screams could not be heard, and they could let their desires run free.

Even in the darkness she shined like the moonlight, (s/c) skin shining in the candlelight. He worshipped her like a goddess and worshipped the ground she walked on.

When he found and turned Young Seras his queen was jealous at first before becoming like a mother to the young half-ling. Alucard watched as she babied Seras and often berated him for being so harsh on her. Integra enjoying the banter between them.

When she killed, she was like an animal; and Alucard reveled in it. he loved the way her skin smelled of blood and death after a mission or how she would smell his clothes that reeked of gunpowder residue.

When the war on London happened and he was stuck on the boat, he could feel her fury as she slaughtered those who dared attack the hellsing manor.

He regretted allowing her to see him vanish, tears streaming down her face as she begged him to stay, begged him not to leave her once more. He smiled, just as the sun began to rise and case a grey glow to the destruction across the country.

He apologized and pulled her into one last kiss, begging for forgiveness as he faded away, letting her drop to her knees and scream into the empty space, punching the concrete until her knuckles bled.

30 years later; when he returned to his master and mate, he hadn't expected her to forgive him. He watched as she cried once more, hitting his chest with all her might only making him grin.

"Tu conta prost! (You stupid count!)" She screamed at him, even with tears streaming down her cheeks and anger in her eyes she still looked so beautiful and so full of life, even without a heartbeat.

Alucard allowed her to pull him into their shared room in the basement where he worshipped her once again, showing her how sorry he was for the last 30 years and how he would make it up to her, never allowing her to rest until he felt he should be forgiven, even when she begged for him to stop, over stimulation and sobs racking through her form he continued his movements.

He praised her once he was done, their wounds healing on their own as they laid in the makeshift nest she had created, their coffins leaning against the wall just a few feet away.

She forgave him, stroking his hair and pulling him into a kiss. "My bwautiful no life king" she spoke, a small grin appearing on her face as he kissed along her neck, marking her once more.

"My no life queen" he purred, allowing her to pull him into her bosom for rest as morning came, lulling them into slumber

#hellsing #hellsing x reader #Alucard x reader #Hellsing Alucard #hellsing ultimate

[nyxnephilim]

Time for a bit of FFXIV speculation :

I realize that a bulk of FFXIV players have already completed the whole of the story arc ( probably more than one time ) so please don't hold it against this 🌱 while I think-out-loud about my feelings towards the story so far even if I'm still experiencing ARR.

( also pls no spoilers, but I appreciate encouragement and assurance my questions will get answered. Lol )

Somethings have been picking at my brain since I encountered them. One of which is when the Amal'Jaa are surprised we do not fall to tempering stating our "soul must belong to another" and then Ifrit himself says that while he can see we do not already serve a primal that the paragons warned the Primals about the godless-blessed one's aborrent existence. Does that mean that while we may or may not be tempered by a primal we are controlled/ guided by some 'other' thing outside the paragons or the 12. If we are being Guided/controlled by what we don't quite understand but is big enough or strong enough for the paragons & primals to worry about —- should we be worried about its overall motive & can it truly be benevolent and omniscient with that much power? Does it seek to follow through with its own agenda regardless of the plight of others.

The reason I say this is because of another encounter that seems to stick in my mind. A point in which Y'stola chastises Merlwyb for breaking the treaty with the Kolbolds. She basically says and has a solid point (that I had already thought of before this scene) when she tells Merlwyb that this constant war with the Kobolds was of her own doing in letting Lominsans break the treaty. The kolbolds are just defending themselves. Or course there is an a back and forth that ensues but the point being both Merlwyb and the Kobolds are doing what they believe to be right for justice sake and for the sake & safety of their people.

I extrapolated this further. What makes us, the scions, so sure that what WE are doing is right? Because a giant crystal says so? We kill gods/primals and move against another society that perhaps (outside of their military) could possibly be wanting freedom and peace like those of Eorzea do. What of the Garlemald society? They can't be all military. Its not hard to believe that there are some suffering at our hands because of what their military decided to do, not them. I guess essentially what I'm saying is, how are we so certain we are not falsely lead to believe what we do is just and right when what we do is kill gods/primals, murder tribes on sight because of who they are and pushing our agenda on them. There is point where there is a kobold says that those of their community at war with us do not represent the whole of their society. … and I hear that the crafting questline with the different tribes show us that not all of the their race want to fight. So is it hard to reason that perhaps not all Ishgardians hate dragons? That not all dragons hate the elezen. That not all Garleans follow their military and that perhaps what we perceive as right may only be a perspective of one cosmologic being with enough power to have us believe in what they want?

on top of the fact that the Ascians say ' if we knew more, that we wouldn't be fighting with them.... that we would basically understand’ ... leaves me feeling 🤯

What the hell is going on? I know mother crystal is our main guide... but tbh I'm feeling pretty sus about things and honestly the motives of Hydaelyn. I realize they are presenting her as a mothering ‘goddess’ but I’ve always been the type of kid to ask “why”

The answer of ‘just because’ … ‘because I said so’….. ‘because this is how it’s always been done’ ….. ‘because I’m the boss’…..

Has NEVER sat well with me. As a kid or now. With my parents, with teachers, with management or upper level bosses. I need to know the why, the motives, the implications or consequences, the benefits. I need this information because the end does not always justify the means. Especially if on a core level I disagree with it and feel there is an alternate route.

That probably says more about me then I intended but yeah… lol

... anyhow.... thank you for letting me just babble on about the beginning of this ( I'm sure to be ) wild ride we all know and love called FFXIV.

:::: Newbie rant over ::::

#ffxiv #🌱sprout #a realm reborn #ff14 ffxiv #newgamer #lore speculation #ARR #New to FFXIV #🌱 #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #first time FFXIV #ffxiv new player #new to gaming #new to MMOs

[intjgodcomplex]

The hunting of Beyond birthday

~Mello's point of vue~

The sun was supposed to start rising anytime now, but i couldn't tell if it did because of the grim location of our so called apartment. Not that it would've changed anything if the sunlight falled inside the room, having spent my childhood in the grimly orphanage, Wammy's house, cold and godless nights live in my bones.

I stretched my arms above my head, the bright white light of the old computer illuminating the dark room. I had finished writing it, turning one of my rare conversation with L into a novel. It felt good to know that my existence left a trace, even if it will just be a file on a computer that was on the verge of falling apart. Well, perhaps not the only trace if you could count the ashes of all the essays and exams i had burned because of always lacking one mark to achieve perfection. But life found it's way to remain unfair, all while dangling perfection at fingertips out of my reach.

I couldn't hear the usual beeping sound of matt's gameboy, he was asleep on the couch behind me. He was wearing his usual red sweater and jeans, neither of us bothering to change from our rather uncomfortable clothes.

I sighted and got up, walking through the corridor illuminated by a couple strands of light from the computer. I intuitionaly stopped mid way, goosebumps breaking out of my skin when i felt a presence behind me. When i was sure from the emptiness of the corridor, i went into the bathroom and turned the bright while light on, dust particles could be seen around the lamp.

When i looked into the mirror, my tired reflection stared back at me. For a brief second, i saw younger me in the mirror. We shared the same tiredness of staying up late to achieve the perfect essay, perfect novel, perfect genius, perfect misfortunate orphan...

Then all of a sudden, as i went to turn on the faucet, my usual brown eyes went red as if they were made from glass and you could see the blood underneath.

I stumbled back against the counter, accidentally slashing my hand on the razor, the blood escaping my veins onto the white floor. A loud bang came from my and Matt's room, grabbing the cut to stop the bleeding, i ran back to the room to check on Matt but he wasn't on the couch sleeping like he was. The sound of cabinets slapping came from the small kitchen attached to the living room.

Feeling my fear go away and get replaced by anger, i went to the living room, turning on the tacky white light.

"Matt what the-" As i was going to start my angry rant, something felt off.

Matt didn't turn to look at me. He stopped opening and slamming the cabinets, he was just staring in front of him.

"Hello mello" It wasn't Matt's voice that came out of Matt's mouth. It sounded sinisterly entertained.

I stumbled slightly backwards, my eyes widening when Matt turned. He looked like it wasn't him who was moving his own limbs, like a puppet on a string without a mind of it's own. It was just his eyes that were different, they were... red.

"...Matt?" I grabbed onto the counter.

"That's a nice little book you wrote about me," The unsual voice said while Matt was standing right in front of me.

It took a few seconds for me to find my voice, "Beyond- that's impossible!" The dots connected in my heads, i felt the need to vomit.

"You should be quite familiar with the impossible by now," Beyond's voice jumped between the walls of the house and the walls of my brain. "Notebooks that kills, gods of deaths... I mean how impossible is it for someone to work so hard yet still die like a nobody."

I gritted my teeth, "Leave Matt alone!" I wanted to grab a weapon, but i knew that it would just result in hurting Matt.

"You know it won't make much of a difference if i killed him now," Matt's body grabbed a knife like a puppet on strings. "You both don't have a lot of time left."

I felt my heart sink to my stomach at his words. Beyond must have noticed that, even though i had mastered controlling my facial expressions, and his sinister laugh echoed through the walls.

"That really surprised you" He said between his laughter, "You failed everything in your life, did you really think you're going to win this time, that life will be merciful and let you taste victory one time before you rot?"

I couldn't find anything to say. I knew he was right. This my curse, i will always fail. I will get up and try again, and i will still fail. If i'm good i'm not great, and if i'm great i'm not perfect.

This will just be my last time failing.

I took a few steps back when Matt's body approached, not afraid of him hurting me, but rather of me hurting him by trying to defend myself.

But he didn't attack me, instead, he dipped his finger into the drops of blood on the counter that dripped from my wound.

I watched in horror as he started to trace number by number, i knew what those numbers were and i wanted to look away and not read them but it was too late to look away.

It's my date of death, my final day alive, the 27th January, two weeks from now.

"A little present from me." Beyond's entertained voice said, "You too should make the most of it till then, before you die like dogs, like nobodies."

The house went silent and so did my head as a feeling of dread washed over me.

Matt's body fell on the floor, and before i jumped to help him, i wiped the date away, not wanting him to see it.

The fear never left me as i carried Matt's passed out body to our room. I felt an unexplainable guilt as i placed him on the bed, the thought that i dragged him with me to our deaths.

"I'm sorry Matt."

#angst #death note #light yagami #l lawliet #nate river #near #mihael keehl #misa amane #mello #aesthetic #l #fanfictions #death note shitpost #death note fandom #mello and matt #mail jeevas #damage #beyond birthday #bb #beyond birthday is a little shit #and quirky #death note headcanons #character death

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Lockerbie

The BBC and Netflix have announced casting for Lockerbie, the forthcoming factual drama made by World Productions.

The six-part series is based on the real events surrounding the 1988 Lockerbie bombing and the joint Scots-US investigation which sought to bring the perpetrators to justice. Lockerbie. The flight disaster of Pan Am Flight 103 was the deadliest terrorist attack in the history of the United Kingdom.

Pan Am Flight 103 was a flight of a passenger airliner operated by Pan American World Airways (Pan Am) that exploded over Lockerbie, Scotland, on December 21, 1988, after a bomb was detonated. All 259 people on board were killed, and 11 individuals on the ground also died. All were killed, along with 11 residents of Lockerbie, Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

What seemed at first like a horrific accident was soon proven to be the result of a terrorist bomb planted in a radio cassette recorder inside a suitcase in the forward cargo hold.

Following a three-year joint investigation by Dumfries and Galloway Constabulary and the US Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), arrest warrants were issued for two Libyan nationals in November 1991. In 1999, Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi handed over the two men for trial at Camp Zeist, the Netherlands, after protracted negotiations and UN sanctions.

In the year 2001, Abdelbaset al-Megrahi, a Libyan intelligence officer, was jailed for life after being found guilty of 270 counts of murder in direct connection with the bombing.

Megrahi was found guilty of playing a central role in the bombing

In August 2009, he was released by the Scottish government on compassionate grounds after being diagnosed with prostate cancer. He died in May 2012 as the only person to be convicted for the attack.

‘Lockerbie’: Lead Cast Of BBC & Netflix Series Patrick J. Adams, star of Suits — is returning to Netflix. He will star opposite Connor Swindells of SAS and Netflix’s Sex Education, Merritt Wever, two-time Emmy winner, for Netflix’s Godless and Showtime’s Nurse Jackie, the leads in the BBC and Netflix six-part limited series.

The cast also includes Ozark alum Peter Mullan, Tony Curran (Mary & George), Downton Abbey‘s Phyllis Logan, Eddie Marsan (The Pact), Lauren Lyle (Vigil), Andrew Rothney (The Undeclared War), Parker Sawyers ( P-Valley), James Harkness (The Sixth Commandment), Khalid Laith (Vigil), and Amanda Drew (Wolf).

Congratulations to Tony Curran and Lauren Lyle for Lockerbie a new drama series alongside the Oscar winner best actor Colin Firth’s competition.😊 Both of you are in good company.

Posted 6th March 2024

#Lockerbie #TheLockerbieBombing #BBC #Netflix #truestory #bombing #Scotland #PanAmflight103 #DumfriesandGalloway #disaster #filming #newdrama #series #plane #Libyanterrorists #terrorism #airdisasterinUK

@castlemaine123 Wait until you see “Lockerbie” with Colin Firth which began filming last February in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

@castlemaine123 Yep! ! The actors are in interesting projects. The wait for Outlander 7.2 and season 8 is losing interest. BOMB's new actors will surprise, showing that SH is not the only Scottish actor in Scotland as his fans think. He may continue to make profits in his new career as a door-to-door alcohol salesman and posing as a barman.

[good-beanswrites]

I’m thinking about the angst of the restraints headcanon again. There’s the two with the least physically violent crimes, and they rank relatively low in strength. There’s the child who was violent but had to be really crafty about it; she’s the weakest of all of them. And the most dangerous of the guilty prisoners cannot be restrained.

This makes me so emotional!!! All three are the smallest of their circles. Two of them are extremely ordinary people who have never experienced/expressed physical violence before. One hadn't even fathomed the idea of someone dying until they actually did. And yet, they're subjected to the type of restraints you'd expect to see on someone who is uncontrollably violent. The fact that prisoners who committed very gruesome murders can walk free (including Mikoto) just adds insult to injury. I still couldn't everything into words, but here's a Mahiru-centric drabble featuring the same thoughts. It takes place after T1 closes but before the attacks.

“Where are our rights?”

Fuuta’s shout caused Mahiru to wince. She perched on her bedding, watching the two prisoners she’d invited to her cell. It hadn’t been the fun kind of invitation, though. Back in school, she always wanted to have parties and dates back at her place. Moving to the city, she imagined what it would be like to make university friends and take them back home with her to talk, eat, and have fun. 

Sitting in her dim gray cell with Fuuta and Amane, all of them held fast by complex sets of restraints, was not what she’d had in mind.

Amane knelt in the corner. Her arms were crossed, as if pouting, though the opposite was true. A moment ago her eyes had lowered in prayer, but it was difficult to find any peace of mind now. Fuuta snapped and shouted as he paced the length of the cell bars. They were unlocked, but like the others, he didn’t feel like being out in front of everyone. He’d give his uniform a violent jerk every now and then, but it didn’t do any good. Between his strides and growls, he made Mahiru think of those poor wild animals they keep at the circus.

“Take it easy, Fuuta.” She mustered up a smile. “Come rest with us.”

“I can’t believe you two. You’re just gonna sit here and take it? I didn’t do a fucking thing! They’re acting like I’m some big danger to society,” he yanked his arms again, to no avail. “All I did was type some things onto a screen. I’m not gonna go around stabbing anyone or anything. And you, you didn’t hurt anyone either!”

He nodded his head to Mahiru. If her arms weren’t already folded over her chest, she would have hugged herself anyway. 

“Well… I did hurt him in the end… I broke his heart badly enough that… I mean, he…”

Fuuta made a disgusted sound. “That’s all stupid romance stuff. I’m saying, you never stabbed him. Never strangled him. Never poisoned his food, or –”

“Oh god, no! How horrible…”

“Exactly! From what we’ve heard, it sounds like Haruka killed someone with his bare hands. I think Muu had a knife or something. Shidou had a whole arsenal of grisly doctor tools. Kotoko has openly talked about how she beat that guy to death. Why are they allowed to walk free while we’re tied down like wild animals?”

Mahiru was glad she hadn’t mentioned the circus.

“And Amane! It’s not like she did anything violent, and here she is!”

“That is not true.”

Both paused as Amane spoke up for the first time. 

“Eh?”

“While I disagree with my verdict, the restraints make sense.” The others still stared blankly. As matter-of-fact as always, she continued. “I killed with my own hands. I used the amount of force I was instructed to. Just as the sinner fears the wrath of heaven, I can understand how the godless warden would fear my justice.”

Fuuta’s passion wavered, but Mahiru could feel her heart ache for the girl. “Oh Amane… I had no idea. To be pushed to the point of violence at your age…”

“I am not to be pitied. As I said, I am dangerous, and proud to be. I am doing god’s work. All heroes must be dangerous.”

Fuuta grunted, but said nothing. Mahiru gave her a gentle smile. “It’s not pity. Even if you were dangerous, it’s horrible to restrain someone like you. You’ve already had to brave so much, as the smallest of the bunch.”

She looked between the two. A sad laugh escaped her. “Now that I think of it, I guess we’re all the smallest here, hm? Aside from maybe Muu, we don’t have much height or strength on the others…”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Fuuta cried. “The fuck do they think we’re going to do?” Mahiru was just glad he’d focused on that rather than the fact she’d just called him weak. 

Voices raised in conversation down the hallway. Mikoto’s laugh echoed faintly into the cell.  

It warmed Mahiru to hear. Things had been so hard on him here. Though it had been frightening to hear him shouting at the restraints til his voice was raw – well, it wasn’t him shouting – it had been a relief when he appeared free and relaxed the following day. He seemed sheepish that he wasn’t able to help the others, having no memory of his escape. Mahiru just kept telling him how happy she was for him.

Fuuta didn’t share in the sentiment. “Meanwhile, Mikoto gets to stroll around free, and he beat the shit out of Es! He could snap and kill any one of us here, and they don’t even give a damn. But ooohhh, god forbid the guy who’s never been violent a day in his life is allowed to use his own two hands!”

The harshness of his voice wasn’t doing his argument many favors. Still, his words were beginning to get through to Mahiru. 

She’d worked so hard to be a model citizen. She was supposed to have a perfect life. She could cook, clean, sew, and take care of children. She did herself up every day; she was never a slob or a slut. She was generous to everyone she met. She showered the world around her in love. Wasn’t it unfair that her hands were tied like some common criminal? What was all that effort for – being patient when people upset her, being kind even when she disagreed with someone, all of that – if she was going to end up in the same place as someone who had stabbed another out of sheer malice?

Amane didn’t seem to be whirling with the same doubts. She closed her eyes once more. “It is simply a trial from heaven. We may be small, but all of us have an internal strength that will carry us through the ordeal.”

“I don’t think it’s any sort of religious thing, but you’re right,” Fuuta puffed his chest out. “Trials like this only make people stronger!” 

“Do you think so?” Mahiru wasn’t sure if she was asking either of them or just musing to herself. It was a nice thought. This was all part of destiny, something meant to be that would make her stronger in the end. 

But she wasn’t so sure she believed in destiny anymore. It hadn’t quite worked out the first time. 

“Hell yeah!” Fuuta must have assumed she was in fact asking him. He gave a wide, toothy grin. “It’s not like we can get any weaker, right? The warden better watch out next trial – they’ve got a big storm coming!”

#milgram #mahiru shiina #fuuta kajiyama #amane momose #and then we had a big storm coming 😔 #thank you for the ask pal!!! im not sure if the drabble is what you had in mind but it was really fun to write lol #mahiru canonically being really tiny and trying to be the model nonconfrontational woman... #fuuta being so small and specifically saying hes never been violent toward anyone and never wanted anyone to get physically hurt... #(and something about fuuta being the closest to the average milgram fan) #amane being very small and weak and only killed a specific person for a very predictable reason... #and theyre all treated like wild animals that could snap at any time :(( #meanwhile the actually unpredictable one who Did lash out and hurt someone just strolls around free #not that its anyones fault hes free -- it wasnt on purpose -- but still it makes the situation that much more painful #it makes me crazy!! i thought putting it into action would help communicate my ideas but idk #drabbles

[spunkykirby]

As noted yesterday, I compiled a list of Morax's sins. The following are all of his unforgivable sins according to the fandom, the inexcusable blood on his leger, the utterly indefensible actions of Morax that call him to the stand:

1. Participant in the Archon War.

Zhongli participated in the war for the stolen Authorities. No, we don't know if all Archons knew the seats held the Dragon Authorities, we just knew they knew Celestia was choosing 7 gods to rule the land and exiling the others. All that matters is he participated in it, doesn't matter if he didn't know the reason, didn't start it, or was forced! Dragon authorities are up there and that's all that matters!

...wait, we do have one reason.

"I wish not for dominion, yet I cannot let the common folk suffer." [Zhongli's Character trailer].

So it's confirmed he participated to stop innocents around him from unnecessarily suffering, he never actually wanted the leadership role. His Adepti also refer to him (and themselves) participating for the sake of "bringing prosperity back to the people" [Xianyun Story 3].

However, there is no prosperity in participating in war PERIOD, silly gooses!! How dare you act in the only way possible to lessen the violence for the innocents caught in the crossfire?? The arrogance. War criminals!! You shouldn't have participated in the first place! What happens to all the other innocents you've directly witnessed caught in the crossfire is up to them and their misfortune to bear. Not. You!

(now that I think about it, calling all of them war criminals for participating in the archon war (with majority of their moves being made in self defense) would more than likely be equivalent to calling Wriothesley a willing accomplice in the child tr4ff1cking ring he was victim to or Childe 100% guilty for everything that happened in Fontaine). But anyways.

2. He killed Chenyu Vale's god, and became the new ruler over the now godless and defenseless (because the Archon War was not over after her death) people.

Fu Jin states Chenyu was peaceful under that god's rule until the Archon War was called. She didn't know if her god chose to "go mad" over survival or "seeking the position of a god who may rule this world". Either way, she instigated a war against Morax and, frustrated in not being able to get the upper hand, decided to flood Bishui river in a last ditch attempt (which was also set to kill not only her people but the people Morax was assigned to look after. Queue his contract with his people triggering into effect).

It's not explicitly stated she died but she more than likely did. I mean, it's a war, and she wasn't going to stop murking all the innocents until she took the Archon spot.

Also...I...actually don't know if I could call it unrightfully stolen land (and before y'all bring up the whole "Archons don't belong they're on stolen land b/c usurpers" thing, so are all of the humans and beings created by the PO on this planet. Everyone who isn't a Vishap should be blamed). In order for a land to be stolen, it needs an owner still claiming ownership over it, and there was no owner holding ownership over it anymore.

The battle was also not instigated by Morax in an attempt to steal Chenyu Vale, it was first and foremost a battle out of self defense that later changed to a land naturally "changing hands" (leaders. For example you wouldn't say Focalors "stole" Fontaine after Egeria died, Ei "stole" Inazuma after Makoto or Venti "stole" all of Mondstat after the first leader's death). It would also constitute as unrightfully stolen if the native habitants fought against Morax now leading them, but they accepted his rulership over them with no underlying contempt/force. A natural and consenting change of hands.

But! Either way! Rightful self defense or not, he m6rdered! Which is bad!!!! He deserves to be punished for it and it's added onto his list of crimes!!!

3. He murked Osial, whose "d3ath"bed was the foundation of Guyun Forest.

Morax was noted to have murked Osial because Osial "wrought chaos upon his domain". Another piece suggests this was also an act of self defense, for Osial's power (whether it be out of hatred for Morax (which seems to be the more likely case because Zhongli says they were long grudging rivals) or just his general existence is unknown) extended over a large range, reaching Liyue's citizens and terrorizing them. Morax's intervention/confrontation of Osial was only noted after Osial's power reached and terrorized his citizens. There are no pieces insinuating nor confirming the opposite. [Diary of Roald the Adventurer, Vol. 6]. [Monolith Fragment].

...soooo the crime is once again murking in self defense. But violence is violence!! Punishable by law!! If Morax didn't want to be charged for this, he should've stood aside and let the waves terrorize and kill his people for many millennia to come (though wouldn't that also be breaking the contract/rules of being an archon, which is to act in the health/benefit of their citizens first and foremost?). Zhongli is damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. But who cares! Whatever he does or doesn't do in this instance is punishable by law and *true* justice!!!

4. He murked the Chi/Qingce.

It is noted the Mountainplace the Chi "ravaged" long stood before it decided to make its living place there (dispelling the myth that its corpse formed the land). People also lived there before it started to cause havoc too. It is unknown why it was driven to cause chaos, but the fact of the matter is, it caused chaos to Liyue's people specifically, and as per Morax's duty as an Archon, he stepped in to slay(?) it. It's not completely dead, just separated into pieces. Morax could not permanently kill it.

...violence is violence though! What he did is punishable by law!! Though, technically doing anything else in this instance is also punishable by law (doing nothing and allowing the monster to ravage his people is against the ideals of an archon but forcing them to move is also punishable by causing liyueans emotional duress via forcibly moving them due to outside forces they can't control but he can. Doing this each time a monster appears onto the land they've dwelt on before its existence is also unfair). [The Stars Inscribe the Year].

5. Marchosius and other Adepti participated and sacrificed themselves as a result of the war neither them nor Morax started!

...so you could say it's all technically due to Morax they're forced under these conditions (even though he didn't start the war, force the war to happen, nor force them into a contract)! Punishable!!

The Adepti, who were not forced into following Morax [Xianyun Story 3], established a contract with him to protect Liyue and his citizens. There were risks that came along with this job they decided to commit to, but they still did so dutifully. The circumstances they agreed to led to many of their deaths, including Xiao's karma, of which there isn't an insta-relief potion to. Zhongli can only slightly offset the effects.

Basically they're literally a walking: "Well if it isn't the consequences of my own actions."

6. Liyue AQ.

Morax inadvertently went through with a plan to unleash a sealed god beneath the sea, as a test (more specifically for the people who signed up knowing their job's risks. Nonetheless, they are risks he was somewhat responsible for this time around).

Despite the test naturally having risks (as any test in existence does, it's not a proper test without risk), it was a battle partially planned by his own hand. Even if he didn't directly throw the chaos at them, he was still behind the scenes, therefore shared some responsibility for it and the consequences.

The game does go out of its way to confirm nobody was ever in any real danger (3 characters confirming this, Signora doing most of the talking in the scene) and the battle wasn't even at Liyue Harbor (Keqing stating it wasn't) however Osial is still a crazy god and if anyone got injured Zhongli would share some responsibility (he could've stopped it).

This (excluding Khaenriah, we don't know what happened there) is pretty much the only "stain" on his career, in terms of judging him for being guilty of not handling the Authority healthily or whatever. He could arguably be declared guilty because he set up a risk-less divine test that came out the wazoo or he could be declared as not guilty by being argued as responsible enough (as an Archon) to properly ensure everything is prepared for his stepping down (alongside there being confirmed no actual danger). His multi millennium experience with these things is further reassurance for this claim.

7. Azhdaha.

This is...this is pretty self explanatory. There is absolutely no defense to Azhdaha's actions nor a reasonable excuse for Zhongli to not confront him (especially when Azhdaha is more than likely the Geo Sovereign. There are literally no other contenders in Liyue to stop a crazed sovereign hellbent on decimating all humans on his continent).

This...this shouldn't need any arguments. It was literally Morax confronting him or the end of Liyue (this is the same dragon frog who caused immense earthquakes when turning around in a nap. Now imagine him up and raging about!).

PS: There is no confirmation anywhere whatsoever he directly took part in decimating the Sovereigns alongside the Shades. And if this were so, it would make zero sense for Azhdaha to automatically submit and wish to become BFFs with Morax after Morax tried to lay waste to him and his brethren some years prior.

PPS: We don't know if he was directly at Khaenriah. Despite all Archons being called there, quite a few didn't actually make it to Khaenriah (Venti, Rukka, Egeria, and we have some pieces stating Morax personally directed the troops to deal with the Abyss breaking through in the Chasm during the Cataclysm).

PPPS: Zhongli does not owe Neuvillette alone anything. Neuvillette is, above all, a judge. Of Fontaine. Do you see judges of the US rushing over to Cnada to subjugate over others in accordance to their own personal laws of their land? No? It also wouldn't make sense for Ei to go over to Fontaine to wreck havoc over Fontainians not following her personal Inazuma law(s) either right? Alright same applies here (with some game logic).

#genshin impact #zhongli #morax #lore #theory #do note i use heavy sarcasm whenever it comes to the quotes in red lol #but they do sum up 90% of what the fandom dubs as inexcusable sins that #Neuvillette NEEDS to punish and k1ll zhongli for lol #some of them say zhongli has a lot to answer for and has inexcusable bl0od on his hands #but then refuse to elaborate on what or why that could possibly be...what events are they referring to... #wonder why they can never elaborate with sourcing back to in game content #...

[anonymousewrites]

A Good Day for Death (Book 1) Chapter Nine

Wednesday Addams x Reaper! Reader

Chapter Nine: A Good Day for Statues

Summary: Wednesday has a vision and causes mayhem, (Y/N) realizes they like Wednesday, and Wednesday's feelings start to crack the surface of her emotionless mask.

            Wednesday watched as the girl, who she now knew was Goody Addams, was pushed around by the pilgrims and Joseph Crackstone. She followed them into the meeting house as Goody was shoved inside, and her eyes widened as she saw outcasts chained up around the meeting house. Goody was thrown to the floor.

“You are abominations in the Devil’s grip!” he declared. “I will not stop till I have expunged this New World of every outcast.” He sneered at them. “Godless creatures!” he cried, slamming the door of the meeting house closed as his men piled wood in front so no one could escape. “Set it ablaze!” ordered Crackstone from outside.

            The captive outcasts cried out and crowded closer together as flames began to eat away at the building around them.

            “Mother,” breathed Goody in horror. She hurried to try to pull at her mother’s chains.

            “Goody, you have to go,” said her mother. “We’re chained to the floor. You must save yourself.”

            “I shan’t leave without you,” said Goody.

            “Go. Avenge us,” urged her mother. “Now run,” ordered Goody’s mother. “Run as fast as you can. You are our only hope, Goody.”

            As Goody ran to a broken board in the side of the meeting house and escape as smoke rose in the meeting house. Wednesday ran after her, but as smoke flew across her sight, the vision changed.

            She stood in the misty woods as Goody ran towards her until the moonlight. “He won’t stop until he’s killed us all!” she said urgently. She looked in horror over Wednesday’s shoulder. “He’s here.”

            Wednesday’s eyes widened as she looked behind her and saw Crackstone approaching with murder in his eyes.

            “There will be no escape for you.”

            Wednesday gasped and fell backwards as she tried to run.

            "Wednesday!" called a voice, and she whipped around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. "Wednesday, wake up!"

            Crackstone was approaching so quickly now, and Wednesday braced herself for an attack. Before he hurt her, though, she felt a hand, warm and secure, holding her. "Wednesday!"

l

            Wednesday gasped, and her eyes snapped open as she sat up to find herself faced with (Y/N)’s worried expression. With one hand, they were holding their jacket above their heads to keep the rain from getting them too much. With the other, they were tightly holding Wednesday's hand to ground her as she returned to reality.

            “Wednesday? Are you alright? That vision was much longer than your previous ones, and you seemed unnerved, like it was a nightmare,” rambled (Y/N), concern lacing their voice. "I tried to wake you up, but you...you couldn't hear me."

            “I saw her,” breathed Wednesday. “The girl from my visions. Her name is Goody Addams, and I believe she’s my ancestor from four hundred years ago.”

            Normally, (Y/N) would react to that knowledge, but they just looked at Wednesday worriedly. “Wednesday, are you sure you’re—”

            A twig snapped in the woods, and both teens fell silent. They exchanged looks and got up, creeping towards the gate of the meeting house. Wednesday peered out between the broken boards. She saw nothing.

            “It must have been the old man from before,” she said. Still, she was not as steady as before due to her disturbing vision and the residual nerves. (Y/N)'s hand still rested in hers, but Wednesday didn't push it away. It felt...nice.

            “Yeah…” agreed (Y/N) hesitantly. No sooner had they spoken, though, that a giant eye appeared between the boards. “Shit!” cried (Y/N), recognizing it as the monster. It growled before running off into the woods.

            “Come on! Come on!” shouted Wednesday, running out of the ruins with (Y/N) hard on her heels. Their hands were no longer intertwined, but they were perfectly in step as they ran. They needed to figure out where the monster was going, where it was hiding, maybe even who it was if it was some sort of transformative creature.

            As they ran, the rain beat down on them, blurring their vision and playing tricks on their eyes. They were soaked to the bone by the time they slowed and realized the monster had escape.

            “Any tracks left will be washed away soon,” murmured (Y/N), shivering against the cold rain seeping into their skin.

            “But there are a few left,” said Wednesday, crouching down to observed where the monster tracks became human footprints.

            “Someone’s turning into the monster,” breathed (Y/N) in realization.

            “What are you two doing?” questioned a new voice.

            (Y/N) turned, and Wednesday stood to find Xavier, with an umbrella, looking at them in confusion.

            There he goes, following Wednesday, thought (Y/N). I really don’t think she’s interested in anything other than her investigation, but good luck to him. “We were following the monster.”

            “You saw it?” asked Xavier incredulously. “It’s here? Do you have a death wish or something?”

            Wednesday looked at him appraisingly. “What are you doing here?”

            “I overheard you saying you were checking out the old meeting house,” said Xavier. “It’s lucky I showed up when I did.”

            “We did learn one thing,” said Wednesday. “The monster is human.”

            (Y/N) nodded emphatically. “Yeah, the tracks turned from monster to human.”

            “Show me,” said Xavier.

            (Y/N) made a face. “The rain has washed them away by now.”

            Xavier scoffed, clearly not believing either of them.

            “We know what we saw,” said Wednesday sharply.

            Xavier raised a hand in defense. “I’m keeping an open mind.”

            “How big of you,” said Wednesday sarcastically as she began to walk back towards town with (Y/N).

            Xavier kept paced with them, lifting the umbrella over all their heads. “I do think you might be right about Rowan.”

            “You’d think more people would listen to be as a little child of the god of death,” commented (Y/N) under their breath.

            Wednesday glanced at him suspiciously. “Why the sudden change in heart?”

            “I texted him again today. I said maybe we could meet over spring break and go snowboarding like we did last year,” said Xavier. “This time he texted right back, said he wouldn’t be able to make it.”

            “Let me guess, you never went snowboarding last year,” said (Y/N).

            Xavier nodded grimly. “Part of me wanted to blame his recent weirdness. I didn’t want to think something bad had happened.”

            “The coverup is always worse than the crime,” remarked Wednesday.

            Xavier stopped, and to avoid getting wet, so did Wednesday and (Y/N). “Now I need you to be honest with me.” (He was looking more at Wednesday than (Y/N), but they expected that and didn’t mind) “Why’d you come out to the old meeting house in the first place?”

            Wednesday spoke frankly, as usual. She didn’t quite care whether he believed her or not. “I was trying to learn more about Crackstone. Figure out how he’s connected to this.”

            “Yeah, you were trying to use your psychic abilities, right?” said Xavier, smirking.

            Wednesday stared at him distrustfully. “What makes you think I have any?”

            (Y/N) shrugged. “You’re lucky most people haven’t realized. Quite a few people saw your attack at the Harvest Festival.” Wednesday had to admit that was a fair point.

            “When did they start?” asked Xavier.

            “About a year ago,” said Wednesday, starting to walk again.

            “Do they always happen when you touch something?” questioned (Y/N).

            Wednesday nodded. “It is like touching a live wire. I usually enjoy that sensation.”

            “So it’s the whole ‘lack of control’ that freaks you out,” said (Y/N). Seeing Wednesday’s glare, they raised their hands defensively. “Hey, I won’t use it against you. Reaper’s honor.” Wednesday stopped glaring at them, a sign that she had accepted the promise (and would get (Y/N) back if they didn’t uphold it).

            “My dad’s a psychic,” added Xavier. “Vincent Thorpe.”

            Wednesday nodded. “My brother’s his Number One fan. Watched his Vegas special so many times I’m surprised it’s not imprinted on his eyeballs.”

            “So I’ve lived with a self-described master. The first thing he’ll tell you is that visions can’t be trusted,” said Xavier.

            (Y/N) nodded energetically. “Yeah, even Apollo’s visions can be vague and misconstrued because of it, and since he’s literally the god of prophecy, that says something. You just have to be careful about whether you’re getting ‘scenes’ or ‘symbols.’ That’s the key, apparently.”

            “I saw Joseph Crackstone in front of me as clearly as I’m seeing you now,” said Wednesday. “He gathered all the outcasts in the meeting house and burned them alive.”

            (Y/N) considered. “That does read as more scene than symbol.”

            “Yeah, but it was four hundred years ago. It doesn’t have anything to do with now,” scoffed Xavier.

            “But what if it does?” challenged Wednesday. “You saw Rowan’s drawing. Crackstone was standing in the quad.”

            “You’re creating a story in your head and using visions to back it up,” said Xavier.

            “I don’t think so. Nothing can be this coincidental,” said (Y/N). “I don’t think we can always take visions at face value, but there is something going on here.”

            “They’re just telling her what she wants to see,” said Xavier, glaring at (Y/N).

            “Are you mansplaining my power?” questioned Wednesday.

            Xavier backstepped and chuckled. “All I’m saying is my dad, the expert, would warn you that psychic ability isn’t rooted in logic. It’s triggered by emotions. And let’s be honest, emotion isn’t your strong suit.”

            Wednesday turned away from him. “I believe Rowan was right. Something bad is going to happen, and we need to stop it. Starting with that monster.” This time, she and (Y/N) walked off at a pace that left Xavier behind.

l

            Dry and freshened up, Wednesday and (Y/N) slipped back into the Nevermore students waiting for the statue dedication to begin. Wednesday set up with her cello as Principal Weems instructed, but (Y/N) had a sneaking suspicion Wednesday had something up her sleeve. She seemed just a tad bit too happy to perform.

            Oh, and (Y/N) had seen her talking to Thing, who had scampered off before anyone could see him. That probably meant something was happening.

            Anything to escape this boredom, thought (Y/N).

            “It is my honor to celebrate our town’s history and Jericho’s noble forefather, Joseph Crackstone,” began Mayor Walker.

            Noble my ass. He literally burnt people like me alive.

            “Now, he believed that with a happy heart and an open ear, there was nothing our town couldn’t achieve,” continued the mayor.

            Like killing residents who they thought weren’t “normal.”

            “So together as one, our community and our friends at Nevemore Academy, we’ve built a monument to celebrate his memory. Now, may the spirit of Joseph Crackstone be memorialized for eternity.” Mayor Walker smiled widely as the marching band and a too-peppy Wednesday began playing “Don’t Stop” by Fleetwood Mac. He pressed down on the button to start the fountain running, and the crowd cheered and clapped.

            Boom!

            Flames roared up from the statue as the fountain lit on fire. People screamed and fled, and as pandemonium ensued, Wednesday, wearing a devilish smirk, began to play Vivaldi’s “Winter,” a dramatic piece that accompanied chaos oh so well. (Y/N) was too focused on the performance to run and leaned on her elbow with a smile as they watched Wednesday enjoy herself.

            Weird, it felt kind of peaceful like that, even if there was chaos. Oh, well. (Y/N) had never been normal.

l

            “That was a disaster!” cried Weems, glaring at Wednesday. “The mayor is furious! I’ve lost count of the angry phone calls, emails, and people in the town, alumni, and parents! They want answers and so do I!”

            Wednesday was unfazed. “I would lead the inquisition, but I left my thumbscrews and rack at home.”

            “Miss Addams…” said Weems dangerously. “You’re already on thin ice. Wafer-thin ice.”

            “I swear on my late scorpion’s soul, my hands are clean,” said Wednesday. This was true, Thing had handled it all. She had just had the idea.

            Weems narrowed her eyes. “I may not have hard evidence, but I see you. You’re a trouble magnet.”

            Wednesday stood from her chair. “If trouble means standing up to lies, decades of discrimination, centuries of treating outcasts like second-class citizens or worse…”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Jericho. Why does this town even have an Outreach Day? Don’t you know its real history with outcasts? The actual story of Joseph Crackstone?” questioned Wednesday.

            Weems took a deep breath. “I do. To an extent.”

            “Then why be complicit in its coverup?” asked Wednesday sharply. “Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.”

            “That’s where you and I differ,” said Weems. “Where you see doom, I see opportunity. Maybe this is a chance to rewrite the wrongs, to start a new chapter in the normie-outcast relations.”

            “Nothing has changed since Crackstone. They still hate us,” pointed out Wednesday. “Only now they sugarcoat it with platitudes and smiles. If you’re unwilling to fight for the truth—”

            Weems took a step towards Wednesday. “You don’t think I want the truth? Of course I do. But the world isn’t always black and white. There are shades of grey.”

            “Maybe for you. But it’s either they write our story or we do,” said Wednesday. “You can’t have it both ways.”

            “You’re exhausting,” said Weems, her lip curling in disgust. “At every step, you defy me and get into trouble. And the worst part is that you drag others into your nonsense! (Y/N) (L/N) was a perfectly good student until you came along, and now they’re gallivanting around causing trouble with you!”

            “You mean that (Y/N) kept to themself because you don’t know how to deal with them being a reaper,” retorted Wednesday.

            “And you think that by making them into an outcast among outcasts like yourself is the solution?” questioned Weems.

            “It’s better than trying to ignore what they are,” said Wednesday sharply.

            Weems sucked in a breath to control herself. “I’ve had enough of you. Goodnight, Miss Addams.”

l

            (Y/N) sighed and lay their journal to the side. They were trying to work through their emotions through poetry, but finally, they had to face the facts.

            They liked Wednesday.

            It was a small crush, but it was there. (Y/N) wished it wasn’t true, but alas, it was. They knew Wednesday didn’t like people and barely tolerated them. They just couldn’t help it. Wednesday was intelligent, strong, capable, and pretty. More importantly, however, Wednesday had kind moments, like helping Eugene, and she was one of the only people to treat (Y/N) like a regular person instead of someone who needed to be avoided just because of their abilities. True, Wednesday version of treating someone normally was harsh at times, but to (Y/N), that was still nice.

            They had a crush on her.

            (Y/N) groaned and buried their head in their hands. I’m screwed.

l

            Wednesday finished her hour of novel writing and put the pages away carefully. She had gotten a little less work done than usual since she was a tad distracted by some of Professor Weems’s words.

            Was she causing trouble for (Y/N)?

            She frowned and closed the drawer of her rougher than usual. Why should she care? (Y/N) was the one bothering her and tagging along. True, because they were involved in Rowan’s mother’s vision as well, but they were actively involving themselves. So it wasn’t Wednesday’s fault. If anything, she agreed with Weems that (Y/N) shouldn’t be hanging around.

            Well…that was a slight lie.

            Wednesday didn’t think (Y/N) should leave. She found them…tolerable. They weren’t terrible, and they didn’t seem to mind her personality. They didn’t ask her to change anything about herself just to get along with her. The poem they had made was even slightly...enjoyable.

            Wednesday didn’t mind them sticking around. In fact, she preferred their company over others’. She grimaced. She didn’t enjoy the strangeness of the feelings she had. They were to vulnerable, too distant from the cold aloofness she had maintained so far.

            But they were there. And they weren’t going away.

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