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dragon-kazansky · 2 months

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Symphony of dreams

Morpheus x Female Reader

Morpheus has had time to adjust to life after his imprisonment. Reunited with his friend, and of course his wife, he focused on his kingdom. However, a new element comes into play. A Vortex. Rose may just be what he needs to find his missing residents.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Angst.

Chapter Nine - Dreams

☆☆☆

"My lord, can I help?" Lucienne asks, walking down the aisle of books in the library. You were sat at one of the tables, writing something down. Morpheus was going through some books beside you.

"Is this everything we have on Rose Walker?"

"And Jed Walker. But I shouldn't think there's anything in those you don't ready know," Lucienne says. She glances at you as she comes to stop between you and Morpheus. "Except perhaps-"

"Except perhaps why she was able to wander into my throne room," Morpheus says. "What do you think? Why did Gault target her brother and not her?"

"Did you read about Unity Kincaid?" Lucienne asks. "The day you were imprisoned, there were people all over the world who fell asleep and could not wake up."

Morpheus looks at you. You drop your gaze. He still feels guilty for that, even though it wasn't his fault.

"Unity Kincaid is the sole survivor of what they called the 'sleepy sickness.' The day you returned, she woke up."

You knew Lucienne meant the only mortal who survived. There would be no record of you among them.

"Rose Walker is her great-dranddaughter."

"Which would seem to suggest that my absence caused the birth of a vortex." Morpheus says.

"Is that not a possibility?"

"Vortexes are naturally occurring phenomena," he tells her. "No one knows why they happen. Not even I know. But I do know they are not caused or created. They simply happen."

You glance up at Dream.

"Then this is all a coincidence? And not an imminent threat?" Lucienne asks.

"My instinct says no, but tonight when Rkse Walker sleeps, I shall see it more clearly. May I?" He asks, taking a book with him.

He doesn't even glance at you as he leaves. You sigh and continue writing. Lucienne looks at you. She wants to say something, but doesn't. She leaves you be.

☆☆☆

You're sitting on the steps of the throne room, you book in your hands. You've finished bringing it up to date. You read over the last entry.

Morpheus had requested you write down your dreams. He wanted them recorded so he may use them if need be. You're not sure what he could do with them. Residents of the Dreaming did not dream themselves. They are the dreams of others.

Tonight, Morpheus would be going to Rose in her dreams to help her locate her brother. He wasn't going to take you with him.

For the first time since you woke, Morpheus was not going to let you come with him to help. He wanted you to simply wait for him.

Footsteps sound down the hall. You look up to find your husband crossing the room toward you.

"I wondered where you had gone."

"I'm here," you reply softly, closing the book.

"Are you done?"

"For now." You hold it out. Morpheus reaches for the book and takes it. He tucks it under his arm, not even glancing at it. His blue eyes do not leave you.

"Will you wait here for me?" He asks.

"That's the idea..."

"You do not sound pleased. Have I done something wrong?"

"No..."

He stares at you. You can see the minor changes in his expression. His brows twitch together slightly. His lips press harder against one another.

"You haven't," you assured him. "Is there nothing I can do to help?"

"I told you-"

"Yes, I know." You cut him off. "I'm helping mkre than I know. It just doesn't feel like it."

A moment of silence passes. Morpheus then sighs softly. "I am sorry I have no other role for you right now. All I ask is that you wait for me."

"Yes... I know."

Nothing else can be said. Morpheus closes the distance between you both and holds his hand out. You reach out and take it, feeling his hand close around yours. He pulls you up to you feet and then brings you closer.

"I love you so much. Do not doubt that."

"I do not."

He looks at you. You can see the want in his eyes. You lean forward and kiss him softly.

"I shall read your dreams when I return."

"Okay..."

Morpheus leans forward and kisses your forehead. He then lets go of you and walks away. You know he is a job to do, but it doesn't make you feel any better.

You still feel hopeless.

☆☆☆

Morpheus goes with Rose through the dreams of her friends. She needs to search for Jed. Normally, he would want you with him, but he couldn't help feeling like you needed rest. Your sudden ability to dream had him worried.

They arrive on a street. A street familiar to Rose. This is where she once lived with her brother, before they were separated.

This is where they found him.

Gault was with him. She had manipulated his dreams to give him good ones. In these dreams, he was The Sandman, a superhero who went out to protect and help.

Morpheus found this amusing.

Rose had managed to get information out of him. The couple who took him in. The rest she would have to figure out on her own. Gault went back to the Dreaming, and Jed woke up.

This was better than nothing. Rose at least had something to go on.

Morpheus just wanted to return to you now and see how you were. He wanted to read about your dreams.

☆☆☆

While Morpheus was gone, you had gone to the Waking. You did not tell Lucienne. She would assume you were resting or working you only intended to be gone for a short while, just while Morpheus was travelling the Dremaing with Rose.

Hob waited for you. He smiled when he saw you approach. He was excited to hear from you, but when he heard how desperate you were to talk to someone, he was eager to help. He knew what you needed.

"Talk to me."

You look at him and think for a moment. You knew Morpheus would be upset if he discovered you and snuck off on your own. You knew how much he worried about you.

"I'm afraid, Hob."

Robert says nothing as he watches you. He sits up a little straighter.

"I've been having dreams. Dreams of things that so far have happened. I fear I've seen something in the future that I cannot change."

"Ahat do you mean?" He asks softly.

You look at him.

"I fear someone is going to get hurt, and it will ruin someone's life. There's this girl who has a gift, and I fear it will result in something terrible happening. I fear my future."

Hob doesn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry I called on you."

"Don't be sorry." He sighs softly. "Have you told him?"

"Not everything..."

Hob frowns. "You need to be honest and lay down all your fears on the table. It's the only way you can move forward. Especially with him. He adores you, you know? I've seen it in the way he looks at you, the way he holds you, and the way he talks to you. Don't shut him out."

"I know..."

"You're always welcome to come talk to me," Hob assures you. "We're friends."

You smile softly. You sense that Morpheus has returned to the palace. You stand. "I must go."

"Remember, be honest." Hob tells you.

You nod and bid him farewell. You return home.

☆☆☆

Morpheus sits on the throne reading your book. He is reading about your dreams. He brows knit together as he absorbs the words. Something feels like it's missing. Like you're not being honest in some ways.

But why would you ever lie to him?

He hears you enter the room and looks up. His eyes meet yours.

"Your dreams... something is missing."

"I know." You tell him. "I've come to be honest. Did you find Jed?"

"We found his dream."

"Good. I... I have more dreams to tell you."

Morpheus closes the book and beckons you closer. He wants to hold you. You do not move. He frowns.

"Tell me."

You sigh and look up.

"Are you going to hurt someone?" You ask him.

He stares at you.

"Where is Gault?"

"Behind you," he says firmly. You turn and see the nightmare looking at you. You swallow nervously.

"Why did you ask me that?"Morpheus asks.

"I-"

Lucienne enters.

"Do you have any idea what his life is like in the waking world?" Gault asks.

That shiver runs down your spine.

"Humans cannot live in dreams. As long as je stayed there, the child had no life nor the chance for one."

"The boy is abused."

You look up at Gault. The horror of the situation deep in your eyes.

"He's suffering," she tells Morpheus.

"You abused that suffering to build a Dreaming you could rule."

"I had no wish to rule," she states. "I merely wished to be a Dream and not a Nightmare. To inspire rather then to frighten."

"The choice is not yours to make. Qe not choose to be created," Morpheus says. "Nor do we choose how we are made."

"That is true. But we can change."

"No. We are, each of us, born with responsibilities. Even I am not free to choose to be other than I am. Nor is anyone."

You find yourself looking down at the floor.

"If that were true, why did all the other Dreams and Nightmares choose to leave this place when you had gone away?" Gault asks.

"Not all of us chose to leave and nearly all have returned," Lucienne tells her.

"Do you think they came back out of love?" Gault asks her. "Or because they were afraid of what you would do to them if they did not?" Gault looks at Morpheus. "Because I'm not afraid."

"You should be," Dream tells her.

You find it almost hard to breathe as you look at him. Your darling Morpheus wasn't anywhere to be seen. This was the man he was before he ever met you.

Your dreams are coming true.

"A Nightmare's purpose is to reveal a dreamer's fears, that they may face them." Morpheus shadow began to the descend the stairs.

You forced yourself not to look.

"Perhaps a few thousand years in the darkness will reveal your fears."

Gault began to disintegrate into the darkness slowly. "Better that than to make other afraid," she says to him. "Even a Nightmare can dream, my lord."

She goes completely.

You sharply intake a deep breath. Your vision is turning blurry. You move to wipe your eyes quickly.

"You feel her punishment was unjust?" He asks, but you're not sure if he is asking you or Lucienne. Lucienne answers regardless.

"I used to be something else. Before you made me your librarian. We all change, sir. Even you, perhaps. One day."

"Lucienne, I realise that in my absence, you were compelled to make decisions in my stead, and I am grateful to you. But I am back now. You may return to the library."

Lucienne leaves.

You stand there quietly as she goes. You can feel his eyes on you. Neither of you speak until Lucienne is gone completely.

"You asked me if I was going to hurt someone. Is this what you meant?" He asks.

You shake your head.

"Tell me. What did you mean?"

You take a deep breath and look up at him. Your tears were falling. "I think it's me you hurt..."

He looks at you with concern. "You?"

You sniffle softly. "Gault was trying to protect the boy."

"By having him live his best life in a dream. That's not living."

"She was protecting him from his realty."

Morpheus looks at you. "You left the Dreaming while I was gone. Why?"

"How did you...?"

"Why?" He asks again.

"To see Hob."

"Hob? What for?"

You look back at him. "I'm afraid."

He frowns. He doesn't like that. You have no reason to be afraid because he will always look after you.

"Talk to me," he pleads.

"I dreamt you were going to hurt someone, and it came true. I just didn't think it would be me you hurt."

"I do not understand."

You cry softly. Morpheus steps down from the stairs and comes to stand before you. He reaches out to hold you. You let him. He pulls you into his chest and simply holds you against his body.

"I hurt you?"

"You defied Gault her dream."

"She is what I made her to be."

"People change."

"We don't," he says.

"I have. You certainly have."

He goes quiet. You breathe softly in his ear.

"How can I fix your pain?" He asks softly.

You remain quiet for a while and then look up at him. You meet his eyes and hold his gaze firmly.

"You can't."

His expression falls. You free yourself from his grasp and slowly walk away, though it pains you to do so. You need time to think, to figure things out. You needed to make sense of your dreams.

☆☆☆

You walk into the library and pick up some books. You sit down at one of the tables and start sorting through them. Lucienne watches you from where she sits nearby. She watches you open a book and skim through its pages, seemingly searching for something.

Matthew returns from the waking world with news. He perches near Lucienne, but sees you reading hard.

"What's up with her?"

"I don't know," Lucienne replies.

"Anyway, I don't know how she did it, but Rose just got Lyta pregnant."

You look up from your book and stare at the raven.

"What?" Lucienne puts down her quill.

"Apparently, it happened in her dream, and when Lyta woke up-"

"She was still pregnant."

"Very much so."

You look at Lucienne. "Then it's starting?" You ask. She nods at you.

"Rose is weakening the walls between the realms."

"You gonna tell the boss?" Matthew asks.

"No."

"No?"

"It's none of my business." Lucienne adds.

You look down at the book in front of you. You were trying to find answers to your dreams, but you wonder if Rose is simply the answer to them. Now, all you can think about is Morpheus. You feel guilty for walking away like you did.

"Uh, since when?" Matthew asks, bringing your attention back to the conversation.

"Since Lord Morpheus reminded me that I'm merely a librarian and should concern myself with my books from now on."

You look at her. She looks at you.

"He said that?" Matthew asks. "What is wrong with him?"

"Nothing is wrong with him," you say. "He's always been like that. Deep down."

"But he's so sweet with you."

"He's determined to deal with the vortex and the missing Arcana by himself," you say. "Without anyone's help. Not even mine."

Lucienne and Matthew look at you.

"Any news must be reported directly and exclusively to him," Lucienne says after a moment.

"Okay. But can I keep you in the loop?" Matthew asks.

"You'd better not. In his majesty's current mood, he could banish us to the Darkness. As he did, Gault."

"I won't let him," you say, looking at her. Lucienne smiles slightly at you.

"All right, fine. I'll go back to spying on Rose. But you should both make up with him."

"I should make up with him?" Lucienne asks.

"Yes. Now is not the time to be fighting. That goes for you too, my lady," Matthew says, looking at you.

You sigh as you look down again.

"Please?" Matthew begs.

"I'll... talk to him."

"What did he do to you anyway?" The raven asks.

"It's what he's going to do..."

Both Matthew and Lucienne look at you and then at each other. You sigh softly again.

You don't tell them any more.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @mischievousvillainy - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @emarich7 - @lollipopsandlandmines - @mouth-whore -

#symphony of dreams #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

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railingsofsorrow · 10 months

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RAILINGSOFSORROW'S FICS RECS (0.1)

here's the 1st part of a recs list of my favourite fics! (had to split in two because tumblr was being a nightmare) have it mind that they can either be on tumblr or ao3.

the (+) means it has a smut masterlists: [0.1] [0.2]

↯

━━ CRIMINAL MINDS

↬flight risk by @brywrites (s.reid x reader) (series)

I didn't know I could feel so safe reading about a pilot and a profiler, given their jobs, but I did and this fic is so magical. I loved the analogies the angst everything plz read it.

↬the sleep chronicles by @stickseasn (s.reid x reader)

↬a moment of weakness by @writer-in-theory (s.reid x reader) (series)

↬lepus the hare by @↑ (s.reid x reader)

↬(in)visible by @foxy-eva (s.reid x reader)

I felt like the words were being said to me *crying*

↬sundays by @definitelynotkatesblog (s.reid x reader)

↬ if you'll have me by @reidscanehand (s.reid x reader)

↬mister spencer by @imagining-in-the-margins (s.reid x singlemom!reader)

↬fall apart by @spencersimp (s.reid x reader)

↬bluebell by stillmarauding (ao3)

this one is really good, 90 chapters so far and still updating.

↬lost at sea by @five-bi-five-mind (j.jareau x reader)

literally everything written by this account is amazing.

↬breakfast by @↑ (j.jareau x reader)

↬ spontaneous phenomena by @luveline (a.hotchner x reader)

彡

━━ HARRY POTTER

1. [marauders era]

↬interrupted by @cosmal (rubgy!james x f!reader)

↬chocolate orange by @↑ (r.lupin x reader)

↬crooked ties by @cupids-crystals (j.potter x reader)

↬mary macdonald by @↑ (r.lupin x sister!reader)

↬first class let down by @starstruckwillows (adhd!j.potter x reader)

↬oh bloody hell by @gtgbabie0 (j.potter x reader)

↬championship cups by @perpetuallydaydreaming (j.potter x reader)

↬bun in the oven by @letterstotheflre (r.lupin x f!reader)

↬never be another by @cryonme (r.lupin x reader)

↬he loves you by @↑ (r.black x reader)

↬cursed by @pregnant-piggy (s.black x reader) (series)

all of their fics are great.

↬off days by @messers-moony (s.black × daughter!reader)

I love everything they write + wolfstar dads<;33

↬she's a fighter by @stylesparker (r.black x reader)

↬little king by @acosmis-t (r.black x reader)

↬cocoa by @earlgreydream (r.black x reader)

from time to time I come back to reread it. it's a comfort blurb <3

↬ours by @janesociety (l.evans x f!reader)

why are there barely any lily evans fics??? let's change that.

↬loving is easy by rxgulus (jegulus; background wolfstar)

I've gushed about this fic on here. I love everything about it, remus being a tease, james being a simp, sirius being a drama queen and regulus being regulus. there's also baby harry at some point. it is my favourite one for a reason go read it.

↬step into the daylight and let it go by serendipitysirius (jegulus; background wolfstar) (currently being updated)

I have at least five quotes from this fic glued on my bedroom walls. it is that special to me.

↬drugs and surgical scrubs by anauro (jegulus; background wolfstar; rosekiller) (currently being updated)

one of the best piece of work I've ever read, worth every tear.

↬absent mindedly making me want you by calamitoustide (jegulus; background wolfstar) (completed)

my FAVORITE fic of all time, I love the way james and reg are portrayed in this, it's so raw and innocent and special.

↬papa mia! by chasingthestar (jegulus; background wolfstar & marylily) (currently being updated)

the angst kills me but the fluff is worth it.

↬a doorstep of affection by @marauders-venting (wolfstar)

↬unlovable by @masivechaos (dads!wolfstar x reader)

↬panic by @sp1rit-realm (platonic/poly! marauders x reader)

all of their fics are amazing.

↬boyfriend swap by @v1oletvenus (s.black x reader; platonic!j.potter x reader)

↬mouth of september by @luveline (platonic!marauders x reader)

one of my favourites.

1. [golden trio era]

↬ just the medicine by @vanillann (d.malfoy x reader)

↬evergreen by @starlitsilvereyes (drarry)

↬say the words then stay around by teatrolley (drarry)

it's an orphan account but it's still available and it's so so good.

↬ all wounds heal by @willowbleedsonpaper (t. nott x reader; d.malfoy x reader)

funfact: theo nott fics was what got me into the marauders wormhole plus this is a work of art.

↬ twinkle by @sapphicwhxre (h.granger x reader)

↬not like any other by @hadesrise (h.potter x slytherin!male!reader)

↬harry calls you after a breakdown by @igncrantbliss (h.potter x reader)

#criminal minds fic recs #harry potter fic recs #marauders fic rec #railingsofsorrowficrecs

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 11 days

Text

Insurgency: The Uprising

Summary: A totalitarian regime reigns over a South American country in which the virus is being distributed to its citizens at the pretense of a “cure.” Leon was sent to retrieve a sample of the virus mutation when he stumbled upon a group of anti-government activists whose main goal is to overthrow their government. Will Leon help the cause or will he fall down with the government as well?

Warning: Mentions of mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Slow burn. Age gap (Leon is 38 and reader is 21+). Reader is female.

Word count: 4,750

A/N: this is an idea I had for a book I wanted to write. I love dystopian books and movies so I really wanted to write something like this. This will be a series lol.

[part one][part two][part three][part four][part five][part six][part seven][part eight][bonus]

“The relief of giving in to destruction.” - Franz Kafka, Diaries.

“This is an urgent message from the president. This is an urgent message from the president. This is an ur-“

“Hello citizens of Pruye,” the TV warning got interrupted by the screening of a middle aged woman sitting down on a desk. Her suit was black as a flag stood behind her. The colors blue and green with a crest on the far left corner- a serpent. The woman had a brown bob with a few grey hairs. Her eyes were deep brown as her lips remained a bright pink. Her rosy cheeks puffed out the look of exhaustion as she embodied the feeling of a confident and strong leader,

“Today is an important day that all must remember. Tonight, we will launch the cure of all illnesses. The immunity to life. We shall bring peace and harmony all throughout the globe. A change never seen in history… until now.”

“Membario will become the new pharmaceutical phenomena. Our people worked hard for this cure and we shall be the first ones to prove to the world that we, too, can make history. Tonight, you all will be receiving a sample of this cure. Tonight, we will boast in the celebrations of what it feels to be victors! We are proud Pruyanians!”

The TV got turned off by someone, your coworker, “What a bunch of mierda,” Your coworker was an old man, a veteran who served in the war and now worked at where you worked. A canteen right in the middle of downtown Pruye. The streets were made of cement but had plot holes from previous battles.

The Pruyanian government, right before the current president won the election, was peaceful and harmonious in which it allowed citizens to have a voice. After President Mendez took charge, she changed everything.

Streets were patrolled by the Pruyanian soldiers who proved their loyalty to the country. Laws were changed and made to accommodate the president’s demands.

“I just don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, it’s just a drug like opium or morphine,” he continued with a grumpy voice.

“C’mon, Franco. Don’t be a buzzkill. Imagine how rich we can be if we were to sell it to other countries?” Another coworker said, a young woman in her early twenties with dyed hair. Red fiery hair covering what was a previous black raven shade.

Franco snorted as he stared at the TV and then back at the young woman, “Don’t tell me you actually believe her words? She’s manipulating us!”

You sighed and went to clean up a few tables, “You two fight like politicians.”

“Look- I’m just saying is that there are better ways to make a living. I don’t want to work here for the rest of my life,” the young woman replied as she too helped you clean around the canteen.

“Too bad, Esme,” Franco replied as he opened a newspaper and began to read, “Life’s a bitch and you can’t do anything about it.”

Esme raised her brow and looked at you for a brief moment, “He gets old but not his spirit, eh?” She nudged you with her elbow gently.

You stifled a chuckle and shook your head as you went back to the kitchen to clean the used dishes.

It’s always been you three working here. Esme, Franco and you were like family. After President Mendez delivered the order to kill all those who opposed her, your family became a target.

Your brother, around 16 years old, died right before a ceasefire was called. He was with his friends when a group of Pruyanian soldiers appeared and shot him. The cause for the shooting? He defied a soldier and showed insubordination.

Since then you’ve grown resentment to the government- specifically President Mendez.

The ground shook as you were cleaning the dishes. You slowly approached the open door entry along with Franco and Esme, watching as battle tanks drove through the city.

“Coño… what are they doing over here?” Esme asked faintly as she watched the tanks and army pass by. Their uniform blue with the serpent crest embedded on their arm. The red serpent you’ve seen all throughout the city.

“Must be presidential orders,” Franco pointed to a big screen on a tall tower. The tower stood right in the center of the city layout. Its purpose was to guide those who are lost- or maybe it was to show who the powerful ones really were.

You and Esme turned your attention to the big screen, watching as a countdown took place. They were about to distribute the cure to the citizens in 6 hours.

Esme huffed in annoyance and went back to stare at the soldiers pass by. Their boots echoing through the humid streets of Pruye as they held their weapons with a firm grip.

“They’re securing the area…” you whispered as you furrowed your brows. You turned back to look at the screen and listen to what the president had to say, “We will be patrolling the following areas- Pucalara, Miguén, San Jolonia, and San Bandero. Do not be alarmed, this is standard protocol.”

Currently, you were in San Bandero. The heart of Pruye. The soldiers all surrounded the city and held their rifles close to themselves. You watched as the tanks all moved inward, closer to the tower.

“They’re locking us in…” you spoke faintly as you quickly walked back inside the canteen. Esme and Franco exchanged a look as they followed behind you, seemingly confused.

“This isn’t protection like she claims- no. She’s locking us inside the city-“ you frantically said as you got your bag and jacket.

“Y/n, slow down. How do you even know that?” Franco put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

You shook your head as you swung your jacket around your shoulders, “I don’t. But knowing her… she’s hiding something and I don’t want to be here for that.”

You walked out of the canteen and walked down the sidewalk towards where the soldiers were blocking an exit. As you neared them, a soldier held out his rifle and aimed at you as he spoke through his helmet, “Turn back around. You cannot leave the area.”

You raised your hands in the air and took a step forward, resulting in the other soldiers pointing their guns at you, “I said- turn back around! Now!”

With a glare you slowly took steps back as you walked away from them. They weren’t letting people out which meant that they were also not letting people in.

As you walked back to the canteen, you noticed how people began to get out of their houses and grow confused at the soldiers. Why were they blocking the exits and entries of the city?

Right as you were about to walk inside the canteen, shots were fired. You crouched down to the floor and covered your head with your arms as you looked over your shoulder and saw soldiers shooting the civilians with weapons launching at them.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the people with machetes and guns fight each other. The sound of bodies falling down to the floor as well as the blood seeping through their lifeless bodies, staining the cement under them.

Rain began to pour down, making it hard for the soldiers to see through their helmets. You watched as a person stabbed a soldier from behind with their knife but then fall to the ground dead as the soldier behind them shot them in the head.

This was war.

Leon was called to the main office of the organization he was currently working at. Which was for the government. He found himself inside the White House again for some reason.

As he waited inside a room, he couldn’t help but notice how bright and sunny the weather had been lately. Which was a contrast to what he felt. Drained and exhausted.

The door opened gently and two men dressed in expensive suits stepped inside with a file in their hands. They approached where Leon had been sitting and sat on the couch across from him.

“Good news, your request for a getaway vacation has been approved,” one of the men, balding and tired, said as he laid the file on the coffee table between them. Leon leaned forward to pick it up and go through it.

“And the bad news?” Leon asked without glancing at them.

The other cleared his throat before speaking, “You’re being sent to another virus mission.”

Leon looked up from the file to stare at the two men. Another mission about the virus, when will it ever end?

He sighed as he closed the file and leaned back against the couch, “So another zombie apocalypse. Great, just what I fucking needed…” he whispered as he put the file back on the coffee table, “No.”

“No? What do you mean no? This is important, people’s lives are at risk and we can’t-“ Leon quickly interrupted the balding man.

“You can’t save everyone when it comes to this. I’ve seen it many times, why don’t you all just do what you did back in Raccoon City, huh? Bomb them until there’s no trace of the virus,” Leon got up and began to walk towards the door.

“This is different,” the other man said, causing Leon to stop in his tracks. “This isn’t like the virus you’ve seen before… this is much more dangerous.”

Leon turned around to look at the two of them before walking back to sit on the couch. “Go on.”

“Ahem-“ the man continued, “South America. The branch wants you to go over there and retrieve a sample of the virus. That’s all you have to do. Once you give us the sample, we’ll proceed from there and you’ll get your vacation.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at him, growing suspicious of how easy the mission sounds, “You aren’t telling me everything, are you?”

The balding man laughed nervously and readjusted his black tie, “Not per se-“

“There’s a revolution going on in the country of Pruye where you’re being sent to. They mutated the virus’s genetic code into something more dangerous and they’re using it as medicine- I believe you know where this is going,” the other man said.

Leon nodded and kept quiet as the man talked, “The government is planning on distributing this ‘medicine’ to other countries but we cannot let them. Your mission is not only to retrieve a sample but to also stop the spread and destroy the evidence of the virus ever existing. You will be given a team- both air and land to help you complete your mission. Your task is not let others know the real reason why you’re there. You are acting as a soldier proving aid to the government. Once you have retrieved the virus sample, we will pull you out of the country and bring you back.”

“This time I’m actually getting help. Nice,” Leon replied sarcastically. It was obvious that Leon wasn’t all too excited about this. He’s been used as a killing machine ever since Raccoon City. He’s been tossed around the globe with expectations of solving everyone’s issues. And he’s tired. He’s 38, he should be worrying about other things other than war and death.

His hands rested on his thighs as he began to stand up from the couch, “When do I leave?”

“First thing in the morning, you’ll be on a private plane provided by the government,” the balding man answered.

Leon nodded before finally walking towards the door and exiting the room. As he walked down the halls of the White House, he wondered what life would be like for him. Is this all he’s ever going to do? Was his life purpose about fighting and killing? He couldn’t wait to retire.

Smoke covered the entire block. Rain poured down harshly against your skin, causing your hair to stick to you like glue. The smell was of gunpowder and metallic blood infiltrated your nose. A vision full of haze as you stood up from being crouched down on the floor.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

They brought tanks and a helicopter. “¡Al suelo!” Someone yelled.

You got down on the floor as an incoming tank shot a building, causing it to crumble down just a few feet away from the canteen. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.

People screamed- from pain and from the fight. You got up and ran to try and find Franco and Esme. You needed to get them out of here now.

You staggered as you ran towards the canteen. The debris that had fallen over from the building covering the road. You jumped and ducked as soldiers hid behind them and shot at anyone who they deemed a threat.

Panting through the bloodied streets, you had reached the canteen. You heard groaning and some yelling more up ahead.

You didn’t know what took over you but you found yourself running towards that sound. As you approached the yelling, you saw that Esme had been hit by a piece of debris from the collapsed building. Her leg had been squished and she desperately tried to pry the piece off of her. You kneeled down beside her and pushed the debris aside, watching in horror what had happened to her leg.

Her bone broke and penetrated her skin. Snapped in half like a twig. There was blood pooling down her leg. You froze, you didn’t know what to do. You weren’t a medic but you also weren’t heartless enough to leave her.

You took off your jacket and applied it to her wound, hoping you could at least stop the bleeding. She gripped your arm as she let out a bloody scream in pain.

“Estoy aquí- respira. Todo va estar bien-“ you tried to calm her down but she let out another yell, “y/n it hurts- grragh”

Of course it hurt, her bone was poking out of her skin.

“Where’s Franco?” You asked as you tried to get her distracted from the pain.

She didn’t respond and instead pointed to a mountain of rubble. Metal rods and pieces of cement fell down on top of people. You could see limb pieces- arm, legs. But you couldn’t recognize all of them.

Your eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the gore display.

“He’s under there…” she replied weakly and let out another pained scream.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as your heart rate quickened. Slowly standing up, you walked over to the mountain of rubble. “Franco?” You called out in a panicked tone.

Silence.

You hurriedly kneeled in front of the mountain and hastily moved the rubble away. Taking piece by piece as you denied the thoughts scurrying through your head.

Almost immediately, your heart dropped down to your stomach as you recognize the veteran necklace. With shaky hands, you reached for the necklace and took it.

Franco was dead.

Your vision blurred as you held the necklace on your chest. You let out a blood curdling scream as you trembled in horror.

The ground shook as more bombs blew off. Troops stampeded through the streets, their weapons aimed at the citizens of San Bandero.

You went back to Esme and tried to pick her up, “Come on,” you grunted as she leaned her weight on you.

Dragging her alongside you, you managed to walk further away from the city and towards the exit. The soldiers bordering the entry/exit road had been killed and now laid there lifeless. Their uniforms stained with the red tint of what could be assumed was their blood. Maybe it was also someone else’s.

As you managed to get her out of the city, you walked through the dense forest and laid her down on the ground as she leaned against a tree.

“I’m going to get help- stay here and don’t make a single sound-“

“Leave me,” Esme interrupted you. Her gaze defeated and weak as she looked up at you. “I’m only going to slow you down. You need to get out here…”

Your eyes softened at her, “I can’t leave you, Esme. You’re coming with me-“

“For fuck’s sake y/n! Just go!” She cut you off again. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Just go…”

You stared at her in silence, your feet frozen in place.

“Esme…”

“Just go. I’m not going to live, you saw what they were doing to us… please, Y/n… just go…” she rolled her head back against the tree and grunted softly in pain.

You stared at her in silence as you contemplated your next actions.

“Y/n, go to La Séten mountain…” she heaved as she tried to breathe, “There’s- there’s a group of people who can help you, give them this.”

She weakly handed you a piece of paper with writing on it. You took it and put it in your pocket as you nodded shortly.

“I will…” you whispered as you looked into her amber eyes, “I’m sorry, Esme…”

Esme gave you a weak and faint smile, “Don’t be sorry… promise you’ll live… for me…”

You nodded and held her hand as your eyes welled up in tears, “I will.”

You leaned closer to her and gave her forehead a gentle kiss. She closed her eyes and exhaled for the last time in her life.

You stifled a sob as you let go of her hand. You’ve lost Franco and now Esme too.

You walked through the forest, making your way to the mountain Esme mentioned.

“Madam President, the city states have been seized and are under troop surveillance.”

“Wonderful, let the Chief in Command proceed with the plan. We mustn’t delay the delivery.”

“Yes, Madam President,” the female assistant walked out of the President’s office, the same one when the announcement was first made. President Mendez let out a soft hum and stared down at the files in her hands.

“Tonight, we will change lives Doctor Ramirez,” she spoke as Doctor Ramirez walked closer to her desk.

“Yes, we will Madam President and it’s all thanks to your help. Without your sponsorship, we couldn’t have progressed so quickly with our research,” Doctor Ramirez was a tall and lanky man with glasses. His hair was neatly parted at the side and his white coat shielded the suit he was wearing underneath. He exuded wealth and power, much like the President herself.

President Mendez laughed and clapped her hands slowly, “Oh.. Doctor Ramirez, you are too humble.”

“Not all Madam President… not at all,” he replied with a quiet tone. His eyes unreadable.

The path to La Sénte Mountain was a rough one. It’s one of the biggest mountains in San Bandero that has been classified as unreachable. There was an abandoned trail that originally was used for horse riding but ever since the country got ruled over by President Mendez, everything turned industrial.

Trees aligned the rail as the tall grass reached up your shins. It had gotten dark by the time the bombs and the shootings all faded in the background. As you took a step up, you turned back to look at the city that was once your home become occupied by soldiers. The helicopter flashed its light in search for citizens. There was smoke and fire coming out of the city from where you stood.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. With a sigh, you continued your trail up the mountain. Unknown to you that you were being watched by eyes hidden in the grass, trees, and bushes.

Hours passed and it was now some time past midnight. You took a break to catch your breath. Sitting down on a rock, you took out the piece of paper Esme gave you.

It was a small map with the word ‘Insurgents’ on it. The map was a layout of Pruye, it contained information about where each government and army building was located around the coast as well as the center of the country.

You tucked it back into your pocket not before hearing a twig snap. Anxiety quickly coursed through your veins and you got up to leave. Whatever was out there was probably not friendly given the current uprising in the country.

With a force against your feet, you kept climbing up the mountain. Climbing for what felt hours until you saw an orange light emitting from a cave.

Fire. Someone had lit up a camp inside a cave in the mountain.

You gripped the edge of the cave and pulled your body up. As you entered, you were immediately met with guns pointed at you. There were about four men pointing their rifles at you as you climbed up. A woman came up to you and dragged you up by your arm, helping you stand on your feet.

There was a table right in the center of the cave with a lantern. And behind that table stood a woman with a scar across her face. Her eye a different color as the scar ran right through it.

“Hold your weapons,” she raised her hand to stop the men from shooting you. The men took two steps back and slowly lowered their weapons. The woman who helped you up left your side and walked back to where the other woman was standing.

“I assume you were told about us,” she began as she went around the table and walked to stand in front of you. She was taller than you by at least two inches. Her hair was short and black. Her skin tanned and full of freckles.

You nodded and took out the note Esme gave you, “A friend of mine told me to come here.”

The woman took the note and inspected it before giving it to the woman who helped you up.

“Another recruit, Esme was really good at recruiting more people,” she said casually. Your eyes widened, she knew Esme?

“I don’t suppose you know what we do or who we are?” She walked back to the table and motioned for you to follow behind her.

As you neared the table, there were papers scattered around messily. Maps and files with important information. The woman turned to you and took out her hand for a handshake, “Name’s Yanira. Welcome to Insurgents.”

You took her hand and shook it with a firm grip, “Insurgents? What are you guys?”

She let go of your hand and focused back down on the table, “We are an organization looking to overthrow President Mendez from her position. She and her minions have been controlling our land far too long. It’s time we claim back what’s ours.”

An anti-government group. And they’re fighting the Pruyanian government for freedom. You furrowed your brows and stared down at the table as well as Yarina kept speaking, “We need as many people as possible if we want to make this happen. You’ve seen how they treat people back in the city states. Why don’t you join us?”

You looked at her with wide eyes, “What? Why would you want me to join? I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

Yarina chuckled softly, “You’ll learn. We’ve got plenty of people who can teach you different things,” she leaned closer to you, “We’ve been preparing for this moment. All we need is more help. And you- I have a feeling you can help us big time,” she whispered and then leaned away.

She focused back on the table and continued discussing whatever it was that she was talking to the other people.

Join them? You can help them? Up until now you were just a girl working in a canteen living paycheck to paycheck. And now everything turned upside down. The army has taken control of four city states and you’ve lost more people.

It was no lie that a war was coming but to actually partake in it was terrifying, at least to you. But witnessing how everyone seemed to have the spirit and the faith that everything will work out in their favor is beginning to persuade you.

What more do you have to lose? You’ve lost your family and now your friends. It’s time to fight back for what was once yours.

“Okay,” you nodded slowly and looked at Yarina.

“I’ll join you.”

Yarina smiled brightly and hung an arm around your shoulders, celebrating with the other insurgents.

It all felt so overwhelming yet so real. This was happening and there was no turning back.

“Okay, here’s everything you need to know so far,” Yarina pointed to the map.

“The coast has been guarded up by the navy army of Pruye. President Mendez sent out an order to not let anyone in or out of the country. The ports have been closed and the soldiers are patrolling the beach.”

She then pointed to the center of Pruye, right on San Bandero, “San Bandero has become the military center of the country and is where most of the soldiers have been patrolling. This is where their control comes from. If we can target and destroy their center from this point then we have a chance at liberating the other city states.”

You furrowed your brows, “It’s not easy. I’ve seen what they brought. Tanks and helicopters. Are you sure you want to target them first? What about the civilians?”

Yarina let out a soft exhale, “We can perform an underground evacuation- some of our soldiers will go in the sewers and take people out of the city towards the forest. Once the people have been evacuated, we will proceed and attack the main tower.” She then pointed to a tall building colored in red right in the middle of the map.

“This is where most of the military controls the country. If we can hijack and steal their data, then we can convince the rest of the country to join us. And we can also delay the soldiers from terrorizing other city states.”

She already had a plan for everything. No wonder Esme knew about this. If this group was this good then that means that there’s hope for liberation.

“Okay…” you began slowly, “What do you need me to do?”

“You, my friend, have a special mission,” she slid a piece of paper your way.

“The United States will send some troops over here to aid President Mendez. I want you to go back to San Bandero with a few of my people and infiltrate their meeting location,” her finger pointed to another building on the map, “This place is called La Fundación de Membario. It is heavily guarded by soldiers. The place is where President Mendez is currently staying at. She’s going to personally welcome the Americans and give them a run down of what Pruye has been up to. She’ll most likely tell them about us and knowing her-“ her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she stared at you.

“She’ll want the Americans to target us.”

You pinched your brows together and looked back down at the files of the American soldiers that were expected to come, “But why is the U.S. sending their military over here?”

“Because President Mendez sent an emergency alert to their President. She declared her country was threatened by us and needed backup. So, the U.S. playing God in all wars- decided to send their people over here to control us.”

You looked up at her from the files as she spoke again, “But you know what I think? I think they don’t stand a chance against us. We know the country better than anyone. They’ll die right before they can touch land,” she replied quietly.

She sounded like she wasn’t lying. It was a promise to herself and to the people of Pruye.

“When do I start?” You asked after putting the files back down on the table.

“Tomorrow morning. You can stay at our camp and we’ll teach you the basics. For now, you should rest. We’ve a long day tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder and walked deeper into the cave. The other insurgents gave you a look and some gave you a firm nod as they followed their leader.

You exhaled shakily as you looked out the cave. From now on, you were a soldier. No longer the girl working in a canteen. That life was long gone.

You were now part of the Revolution.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon #di leon

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11queensupreme11 · 4 months

Note

In the last chapter we saw that Hera will be forced to recover Percy because she is the only one who will allow (force) Percy to follow his destiny This made me think of the following possibility:

What if by chance it was pjo Poseidon who got Percy back? Let's imagine that during the conversation a small animal like a fly or butterfly (a lesser God in disguise) heard the conversation and, aiming to get a better position on Olympus for itself, ran to tell Poseidon the news.

He is furious, but he stops for a moment and analyzes the information and decides to manipulate the situation in his favor, he pretends not to know and waits for the right moment to set a trap for Hera so he can recover his baby himself.

He rescues Percy (thus defying fate) and takes her to Atlantica with Sally, after all the pain of his baby's disappearance, everyone can say that the Poseidon that was softened by time is gone

Now in a younger form with a crueler temperament he is defending his daughter tooth and nail, no one can go near the sea anymore, no more human fishing and no more pollution, no more dangerous missions, no more cruel fates

Although he has not revealed himself to humans as of now, fueled by protective fury, he is using his powers to protect his oceans from everyone and everything, now that Percy lives with him at sea any attempt at fishing or pollution is shredded by earthquakes and tsunamis

Human environmentalists are trying to explain and correlate why these phenomena are happening, everything is in chaos because now that fishing is impossible, countries that depended almost exclusively on fishing for food are going hungry (if they haven't already been wiped out of the map by tsunamis)

He is also getting a little help from other gods to hide Percy, humans now think these environmental disasters are a result of global warming and other factors such as rampant pollution It has been centuries since the tides have been so clean and orderly and the animals have been so safe.

How would Poseidon react to all this?

"He is also getting a little help from other gods to hide" IMAGINE THAT THE OTHER GODS WERE HERMES, DIONYSUS, AND HADES???? JASHEFBVASJDFJASHB after all the angsty shit i wrote about them in chapter 14, i can totally see them aiding poseidon in hiding percy from everyone

and then i see a couple other olympians joining poseidon's side. apollo would find out first, being the god of truth, then he'd pull artemis along to help out. she'd definitely help out 10000% because of what happened in the titan's curse. aphrodite would probs help out too. they'd probably be hellbent on making sure zeus, hera, ares, demeter, and hephaestus DONT find out about percy (especially the first three), as well as the fates

poseidon's change in demeanor would greatly disappoint percy. she misses her chiller and kinder dad, especially since she already had a terrifying one back in ror verse. she'd try to plea for him to show mercy, but this poor dude's already snapped tbh 💀💀

(im gonna assume your question was asking about ror!poseidon) as for ror!poseidon, his opinion on his counterpart wouldn't change. if he learned about this, he'd probably roll his eyes and go "oh NOW you care about your belongings, hmm? oh well, I'm still going to take it all from you" 💀

i love dark poseidon tho.... he's just so much chiller and nicer in the books, so i enjoy reading fics that explore his much darker, more canon to the myths side... 😍

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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rosewaterandivy · 8 months

Text

i. keep the embers blowing

summary: family lore and a new resident to your small seaside town.

pairing: s.h. x witch!reader

w.c.: 2.4k

warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; vague allusions to magic and the like, carpenter & flannel-wearing Steve, and a meet-cute

a/n: she finishes one series only to begin another! Oy vey. Hope you like, and if you do - let me know!

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated! Reposting, however, is not. Enjoy! 💜

Series Masterlist | Playlist | Currently spinning:

For nearly three hundred years, the Callahan women were blamed for everything that went wrong in town. A summer drought and a ruined harvest, a mare and colt lost while she was in foal, a long winter, an outbreak of chicken pox— it didn’t matter if such phenomena could be explained by science or logic, it all ended up with the Callahans as personae non gratae.

Inside the white, two-storey house at the end of the Willow Lane lived an orphaned girl grown into a woman under her aunt’s guiding hands; Kelly and Moira never had children of their own, and when you turned up on their doorstep that fateful day, they welcomed you with open arms and never even batted an eye. In time, they would tell you of the curse that took your father from you and left your mother to die of a broken heart.

Childhood, for you, was filled with a series of small slights and mortifications. No one would touch a pencil or crayon if it was held by you. No one sat with you in the lunchroom. Teachers and parents regarded you with a silent derision and did nothing to temper the taunts of the other children. Boys looked at you like something to be conquered and girls feared you, not that it stymied any of their mean girl behavior.

“Fuck ‘em all,” Kelly would say, throwing more cayenne into the vegetarian chili on the stove. “You’re better off without them, sweets.”

A mantra that sustained you from that day forward.

Sailing through high school to graduate at the top of your class, you fully intended to attend a prestigious university on a full-ride scholarship. The aunts encouraged you to fly the nest and chase your dreams— but then Moira fell sick. You deferred your enrollment for a year, which turned into two and eventually the scholarship was awarded to someone else. Moira’s care fell to you and Kelly, tag-teaming on chauffeur duty and going to doctor’s appointments.

You worked odd jobs around town, entirely dependent on the few townsfolk that would hire you— an abjectly miserable situation. Save for the twist of fate that brought Tracy your way. One day, Moira and Kelly sat you down in front of a large, dusty tome. Sputtering a cough, you batted at the dust motes floating in front of you.

“This,” Kelly said, sliding the book toward you, “Is the family grimoire.”

“It’s well past time you were told, dear heart,” Moira added, with a kind smile.

Tentatively, you brushed a finger against the worn cover of the grimoire tracing the looping ‘C’ of your last name, the gold embossing as bright as if it was newly pressed. They regaled you with the tales of your ancestors, Mary who built this house and worked the curse out of heartbreak and desperation, Sybil who worked the people of the town into an uneasy truce— supplying women with love spells and fertility potions, all the way up to your mother, who fell in love despite knowing the dangers and brought you into the world.

It wasn’t as if they had kept magic from you, far from it, in fact. Kelly and Moira kept up Sybil’s business, as the generations of Callahans before them had. Some years, business was better than others— but the aunts were crafty and seemingly always had something saved for a rainy day. Aside from one small spell in your childhood, you’d simply never expressed an interest in learning the craft. Not wanting to push you, they’d never pressed the issue and assumed you would come to them when, and if, you pleased.

“You were spellbound when you came to us,” Moira says sadly, “Your mother’s handiwork.”

“A bitch and a half to undo,” Kelly adds, taking a long sip from her wine. “You’re free as a bird now though.”

“You showed great promise when you were younger,” Moira smiles, “And I hope we’re not too remiss in beginning your education now.”

She pushes a creased piece of paper your way. You unfold it carefully, the overwhelming scent of cotton blossom and denim invading your nostrils. Reading over your tween-age loopy script in gel pen, a smile blooms on your face.

He will hear my call miles away. He’ll whistle my favorite tune. He always checks his blind spot. He can flip pancakes in the air. He’ll be marvellously kind. He’ll let me map constellations on his skin. His eyes will be as warm as honey and glinting like emeralds.

“What is this?”

Kelly smiles knowingly, “Your half-assed attempt at Amas Veritas.” She plucks the paper from your lax grasp, “If I remember correctly, you were under the impression that if you dreamed up a guy who couldn’t possibly exist, then you wouldn’t be hurt.”

“That the curse would end with me.” Your voice is hushed, recalling how naively you hoped all those years ago. “So, why now?”

It was Moira who answered you with a mischievous grin, “Well, my dear, why not?”

That was a decade ago. In that time, Moira had recovered from her illness, and together with Kelly, they had molded you into quite the talented witch. And after putting yourself through college, you’d opened a shop downtown— Bell, Book, & Candle. Your clientele ranged from tourists to townies and even your childhood tormentors. In time, the Callahan curse had faded from a vindictive tool used by school-yard bullies or "good families" with something to prove, to merely a piece of local lore— In a bind? See the Callahan girl at her shop or take the bluestone path to the back of the old white house on Willow Lane and knock twice on the whitewashed backdoor.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Tracy called from the tea shelves where she perched on a rolling ladder on the wall. “But we’re completely out of the Assam tea for Mrs. Collins’ Irish Breakfast blend and she’s already called twice about it.” She unceremoniously shoves the empty container back on the shelf and propels herself down to the register.

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you sigh and search for a pencil in your haphazard topknot. “I’ve called our supplier and he swears it was sent in the current replen.” Finding a pencil, you make a note in the fliofax as your hair cascades down past your shoulders. With another sigh, you finished jotting down necessities. “I trust Frank when he says it was shipped, but we normally don’t have these delays before the first snow of the year.” You glance up to see Tracy shrug. “I’ll make a trip down there sometime this week,” you conclude as the front door chimes.

Several customers poured in as Tracy greeted them, “Welcome in! What can we help you with today?” You went back to the paperwork as the customers dispersed across the store. You could hear Tracy in her conversation with someone about the latest town gossip. (“Are you sure it was the Blakely house? Holy hell!”) You shook your head and smiled, that will spread across town like wildfire in no time, you muse. Busying yourself with tidying the cash wrap, you notice a customer ready to check out.

“I don’t know how you do it!” The newly married Mrs. Smith gushed, “I always walk in here thinking I won’t need anything and I come out with a treasure every time.” You smile politely and ring up her purchases. Pushing the memory of her shouting at you, as you cowered behind Kelly, She started it!

“Well, you’re walking away with some of my favorites,” you say. “I found these scarves when I was in Milan, aren’t they lovely?” Carefully wrapping the scarves, candles, and salve, you continue with the small talk. “With the salve,” you say seriously, “Use it on your lower abdominal area, no more than twice a day.”

Mrs. Smith nodded, mentally making a note. “I can always call you if I have questions, right?”

You nod, “Of course, that’s what I’m here for! Your total comes to 45 dollars today.”

Mrs. Smith paid for her purchases and thanked you and Tracy as she left the store. Tracy eyes you warily, “Was that the salve I think it was?”

Rolling your eyes and stepping out from behind the counter, you laugh, “I think you know the answer to that.”

Tracy scoffs, “God! The last thing this town needs is more kids, damn it Callahan.”

A wind blew softly through the trees, resplendent in their golden yellow hues. A black lab padded among the pine needles while a steady crack sounded down the street. Further up the lane, a young man was bent over to split firewood. His maul slung over his shoulder as he stood to wipe his brow. The weather hadn’t yet turned its frosty shoulder as it was still early in the season, but, nevertheless, preparations must be made.

Turning back to his task, he set a block of wood down on a stump and took a step back. As he was about to begin again, he noticed a car turning toward the Callahan house. Brows furrowed, he placed his maul down and let out a clear whistle, “Lucy!” Ears perked, the dog bounded up from the glen to his side. With a smile, he gave her a nice head scritch and watched as a Subaru ambled up the drive to the white house at the end of the lane.

Later, after a motor-mouth blonde and lean brunet had arrived, the town’s newest resident stepped out for a stroll. Throwing on a flannel to combat the early evening’s chill, he poked his head into the kitchen.

“Lucy’s been fed and walked Rob,” he says to the woman at the stovetop. “Don’t let her fool you.”

She turns with a bemused smile, “I know Steve, s’not like I was born yesterday.”

“Same goes for Eds,” he concludes with a nod before slipping out the door.

Just as you and Tracy were making closing preparations, the bell on the door chimed and a pink-cheeked brunet man walked in. Tracy, eyeing the stranger up and down, let out a low wolf whistle as you jabbed her in the side.

“Hi, welcome in!” You greeted, giving Tracy the eye while she petulantly rubbed at her side. “Is there anything, in particular, I can help you with today?”

The stranger made eye contact with you, his eyes a lovely shade of hazel, and smiled. “Actually, I think I’m looking for you.” He took a step toward her, “Callahan, right?” Tracy snorted and turned to busy herself with something.

You hesitated, never having seen this man in your life, “Um, yes?” You held out your hand to shake, “And you are?” His hand met yours, igniting a tingle at the base of your spine— a firm shake of the hand, his skin surprisingly warm.

“Steve, Steve Harrington. I just bought the property down the way from yours.” His hands were rough, he probably worked with them a lot. He smelled of freshly split wood, towing in a cloud of a pleasant, sappy aroma— warm and inviting.

You dropped hands and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “Oh, I think I heard something about that. Well, congratulations! It’s a lovely property.”

He nodded in agreement and surveyed the store and its proprietor. You were casual in blue jeans and brown leather boots, paired with a light sweater. Hair slightly wavy and a lovely shade. Soft and feminine features, but your energy radiated strength.

“Yeah, well,” Steve cleared his throat, “I’m really excited to have a place by the water now.”

You smiled, “No place I’d rather be.” Steve, huh? You tried to place him, he seemed so familiar, and yet…

He definitely wasn’t a beach bum, he lacked the sloping posture. Maybe he was one of those rich summer vacationers? “Well, if you need anything please, don’t hesitate to ask!” Glancing around, you hoped to find Tracy, but she had made herself scarce. Damn.

Steve mused a minute before speaking, “Thanks, think I’ll just browse around for now.”

Robin had sent him out with strict instructions and a list— myrtle, myrrh, a tea of some kind, and then, of course, Eddie had chocked in his items as well: devil’s nettle, a very specific type of coffee bean, along with a few other odds and ends.

Luckily, he could find most of the items with practiced ease and sauntered back to the counter. Making idle chit-chat, you rang up the purchase and recommended a few local cafes and stores for his consideration.

“So, what brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“Oh, me?” He smiles as you bag up the purchases, “I’m just some guy with a carpentry business.” Passing the bag to him along with a receipt he thanks you and turns to leave, but not before sliding a card on the counter that reads: ‘H & M Design and Construction: REMODELS, DRYWALL, CARPENTRY, PAINTING, INSTALLATION, ELECTRICAL, REPAIR - WE FIX THINGS.’

Before the bell can chime to signal his leave, he glances to the built-in bookshelves gracing one wall of the store, ladder docked near the register where Tracy left it.

“Your teak could do with a good oiling,” he nods to the built-ins in questions, “Think about it.” And stepped out of the store with a wave, into the indigo night.

Tracy, seemingly coming from nowhere, wore the contented grin of a cat who caught the canary. “Babe,” she said sweetly, “Do you have any idea who that was?”

Distracted by reorganizing the front of the store, you shrugged, “Said his name was Steve, just bought the old Blakely property.”

Tracy hummed and busied herself with tallying up the till eyes falling to the cream-colored business card. She pocketed it, making a mental note to call for an estimate for the store later that week.

In the early morning, a cool breeze swept through the open second-floor window of the Callahan house. Quilts half on the floor, you shiver slightly and roll on to your side throwing an arm over your eyes. All was silent. The moonlight illuminated the photo of your late mother. The woman appeared to smile graciously at the photographer, her husband and your father. A slight breeze too swept through the photograph; the older woman laughed warmly.

This breeze continued down the to the old Blakely house. A picture window was opened slightly for the wind to slip through. Steve, dozing on the couch with a blanket half covering his torso, sighed in his sleep. The sea air was doing him some good. The breeze tousled his hair before it gracefully dissipated.

Unbeknownst to the two residents in the realm of dreams, a change was carried on that breeze. Slow and gradual, but still a change. It was coming swiftly and with intent. Just as a mother once promised her daughter it would.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fan fiction #fic: tiofky #Spotify

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stagkingswife · 1 month

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Around the holidays I had the unique joy of meeting up with @windvexer in person while they were visiting my beloved New York City. Over sushi, dessert, and then just hanging out in their hotel lobby we had a wide ranging conversation about our practices, UPGs, etc. The conversation eventually drifted to comparing our spirit lead initiations. Chicken’s story is theirs to share, or not, as they choose. But I’ve been thinking a lot since that conversation about my own initiation and how it parallels another important story in my life.

When I was 15 I was a dancer and I was good, like competing at a national level. I was cast as Odette in my ballet school’s adaptation of Swan Lake. I practiced, and rehearsed, and trained all year long for the role. Then a month before recital weekend my family and I went on a weekend trip to Gettysburg. I also love history, and my dad and I had just read a book about the battle of Gettysburg together, so we clambered all over the battlefield. I tore a calf muscle doing this. I saw my usual doctor for injuries and wore a cast for three weeks, walked through rehearsals, took it easy. Once the cast was off a week before the recital I ramped up slowly, warmed up more than usual, stretched carefully, everything. But come recital weekend I danced my heart out and left everything on the stage. 3 weeks later I was diagnosed with CRPS in the leg I had injured. What does any of this have to do with my initiation? Everything, just bare with me.

My childhood mentor had been initiated by the spirits of her tradition, and she had spoken to me about the effect this had had on her. I had written an academic paper on initiatory spiritual traditions and the phenomena of initiation sickness. I knew, long before Oisin ever broached the topic with me, that a spirit lead initiation could wreck your life, that it would be trying in ways that were specifically designed to change you on a fundamental to suit the spirit's needs, and that undertaking one would have consequences I couldn’t even begin to image. I also knew that dancing Swan Lake one week out of a cast could have disastrous results for my dance career. But I loved the music and choreography. I loved how I felt while I was dancing. So I danced. I was already in love with Oisin when he presented me with this trial. I loved learning from him, and working with him, and if there was something hard, even something impossible, that he needed me to do so that I could keep learning and working with him - it was no question.

I had no way of knowing when I was teenager waiting in the wings in my white leotard and feathered wig that I was about to dance my last ballet. That in less than a year I would start using a cane, or that I would one day swap the cane for a wheelchair, or any of the changes and accommodations that I’ve had to make in my life for my disability. I only knew the love. When I said yes to Oisin I couldn’t have predicted how much it would break me when he killed my soul, dismembered it, and scattered the innumerable shreds across the Otherworlds. I could have imagined the amazing and terrifying things I saw and experienced on my journey to find those fragments and assemble myself - or what it was like to live without a complete soul in the meantime. And nothing could have prepared me for the permanent changes the whole process had wrought on my life: on my physical health, my mental health, the very fact that my spiritual oaths and promises must always come first for me. I only knew the love.

17 years after my diagnosis, and 13 after my initiation started, I look back at the choices that led to both and would make them both again, even knowing the consequences. These two choices, more than almost anything else in my life, have shaped who I am as an adult and I like that person. These choices came from the right place, both times. Not from ambition, greed, guilt, or fear, but love. And I can’t ever regret what I did for love.

#witchcraft #pagan #the returning #spirit work #initiation #spirit lead initiation

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

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The Stranger. Yan Childe x F Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 3k.

Soulmate AU.

Growing up, your mother always told you to be wary around strangers.

You can’t blame her for instilling this value in you. That was when your small family was located in Fontaine — a place where the cities were crowded with steam and people in equal amounts. Con artists flaunting their latest ‘world-changing’ inventions that coughed up suspicious amounts of steam and vendors promising their snake oil solutions that would cure any ailment could be found in abundance. Your mother would hurry you along, urging you not to pay these people the time of day, and you obeyed without question.

It wasn’t until you fled to Mondstadt in your later years that you challenged this notion.

The people here lived in leisure. Most were content with their lot, so long as they had warm food to fill their belly and a pint of ale to wash it down. Your mother still locked the doors before turning in for the night, she claimed it was to stop your father from finding you. No one else did the same, for generational bonds ran deep here. Everyone knew each other since they were in diapers, as did their parents, and their parent’s parents. The idyllic way of life was contagious — it wasn’t long before you caught the bug too. Once your mom passed, and could no longer remind you to lock the door, the ritual faded into obscurity.

Mondstadt’s citizens have always been good to my brother and I, you’d think. I have no reason to distrust them.

And so you didn’t.

There was only a single tradition that your mother passed down that you dutifully fulfilled. That would be your habit of wearing gloves long enough to obscure the name that’s been on your wrist since you were born. The word ‘soulmate’ was the popular adage to describe the phenomena, but your mother warned against taking the description at face value. For every joy in this world, there must be an equal amount of despair, lest things fall into disarray.

“They love us enough to make up for the love we don’t hold for them, ten times over,” she’d tell you, always pulling the glove down enough to cover what everyone else your age would brag about and joyfully show off. You didn’t understand at the time, but you felt her fanaticism through her jerky movements and clipped speech. It bled through like dye when white and dark laundry is mixed. That stain was enough to leave a lasting impression, whereas others faded away into obscurity.

The person currently standing beneath your doorway makes you wonder if your mother was truly right in everything she enforced.

She’d gladly tell you so, had she still been around. But she wasn’t. You were the adult in charge of the house now, the person who called the shots. Your younger brother knows this, which is why he pleads the stranger’s case on his behalf, quite ardently at that.

“You said I’d get a cold if I went in the rain!” The little boy, Elias, implores. Children always have a knack for remembering your words at the worst of times. “What if mister gets a cold, and no one is there to help him? A-And he really needs help?”

A flash of lightning illuminates the towering figure’s silhouette outside. His strange array of gray clothes sticks to his body, water droplets gathering at the apex of the crimson mask sitting on the side of his head, then falling to form a puddle on the floor. Your eyes meet his in an unspoken struggle that wasn’t meant for a child’s ears. Though the height he has over you might be imposing, his face itself is far from it. He has an almost sheepish smile, rosy cheeks, and shoulders pinched together in a way that reminds you of a teenage boy ready to stumble over a love confession.

“I really would hate to impose,” he says, and it sounds like he means it too. “Would it be alright if I just stayed beneath your porch until the worst of it lets up?”

Both you and Elias look at the poor excuse of a ‘porch’ that he speaks of. The wooden overhang has enough holes that you can safely compare it to swiss cheese, taking a few steps back and withstanding the full brunt of the storm wouldn’t be much different than if you were to beneath it. He must be cognizant of the detail, you reason, as the humble suggestion all but puts Elias into a fit of hysterics.

He’s always been such a sweet and gentle child — if one of his stuffed animals ever tore, he’d kiss it better, the same way you would for him when he got a bruise or cut. He’d then hold onto the little paw while you fixed the tear with your needle and thread, reassuring them that ‘they’d be better soon, once Doctor [First] was finished.’

If that was the heart he had for an inanimate object, what more care would he have for a living, breathing human in supposed need?

“If mister has to stay outside, I’ll stay outside too,” Elias declares. He leaves your side and goes to join the stranger in protest. You gape, much like a fish, uncertain if you should feel proud of Elias’ compassion or horrified by the problem developing. The pendulum swung back and forth between the two, more so toward the latter than the former.

The stranger kneels down, allowing himself to be at eye level with Elias. “While I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, it’s important to always listen to your big sister first, okay? She’s just looking out for you.”

You observe the interaction with a twitching eye and hands balled into fists.

“But… but…” Elias’ lower lip trembles. He takes a moment to regain himself, his voice soft. “Mister was nice and gave me and my friends lots of toys. I don’t want you to get a cold.”

“While it’s true kids shouldn’t go out in the rain because they might get a cold, I’m an adult. I should be okay even if I do get one. What matters most is making sure you don’t upset your sister. That is something you should never do, ever ever. After all, there’s nothing that matters more than family, is there?”

Elias considers his words then sighs, his cheeks puffed out from having failed to achieve his goal. “... No. Not even sweets.”

The stranger laughs at that. “Not even sweets. Good, good.”

He stands back to his full height and you’re reminded of just how outclassed you are.

“You have my sincerest apologies for disrupting your evening like this,” he places a hand over his heart and smiles, almost sadly. “I’ll be on my way now. Take care, Elias. It was nice meeting you. Be a good friend to Mr. Cyclops.”

The most this earns is a weak “I will,” spoken in between sniffles. You place your hand on Elias’ shoulder and urge him inside, while the stranger at the doorstep prepares to leave, true to his word. It could be your imagination, but you swear his pupils flit downward to your wrist for the briefest instant. His lip twitches. Before you can think much else of it, he turns around, preparing to head off.

Elias presses his head into your skirt to hide his tears, his heart burdened with the weight of another’s plight. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your palms. How would this impact Elias in the future? Would he be afraid to bring his friends to you if they needed help?

How do you explain to him that this particular stranger is one to be wary of, without casting suspicion over everyone else he doesn’t know yet? Briefly, the face of your frantic mother flashes through your mind. She’d know what to do. You only wish she lived long enough to teach you that herself.

“... You can stay,” you rush the words out like air from a blacksmith’s bellow. The retreating figure stills yet doesn’t turn, urging you to elaborate on your invitation to his back. “We have some old clothes you should be able to fit into. In the meantime, would you mind waiting outside a while longer? The wood in this house is old and prone to growing mold.”

You wonder what sort of expression adorns his face while you’re unable to see it.

There’s a pause, and then he pivots, returning to his former spot without needing to walk more than a few paces. That was all the time you needed for guilt to outweigh the other factors on your mind. Elias lets out a victorious cheer, wiping his glassy eyes with his too-long sleeves that you require hemming.

To buy yourself a few minutes alone, you assign Elias a quest that should keep him occupied.

“Eli, you know the trunk where mommy kept her things? There are some of dad’s old clothes in there. Could you grab some for me?”

Elias nods his head, determination strong on his otherwise soft face. He promises the stranger that he’ll be right back, then takes off, only slowing down when you remind him not to run inside the house. Once you ensure he’s out of earshot, you give your full attention to the man standing at the doorway. Your countenance shifts from careful neutrality to suspicion that, if he notices, he chooses not to comment on.

“You’re a real lifesaver, I thought I might drown out there,” he begins. When the mood fails to lighten at his jest, he tries another angle. “Ah, I can’t believe I haven’t introduced myself. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” you cut off sharply. He blinks, seemingly unbothered by your hostility. He then gives what you think might be the most genuine smile of the night. “You’re one of those Fatui that go around causing trouble for anyone and everyone. Well, I won’t be having that under my roof. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, trying to manipulate my brother like that. I don’t know what your game is here — nor do I care to find out. So just take the change of clothes and leave when the rain settles. Got it?”

That wiped the smile off his face. Unfortunately, it’s replaced by something infinitely worse; a smirk that you’d love to get rid of just as fast.

He whistles. “Wow, and I thought my homeland was cold. That must be the closest I’ve ever come to actually developing hypothermia. On my honor — hey, don’t roll your eyes — I swear I’m not up to anything nefarious here.”

“You just make a habit out of waltzing into people’s homes, then?”

“Well, in my defense, I didn’t realize this was a home,” he puts his hands up. You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit out of my element in this nation. This quaint little house is a ways off from any other civilization and there weren’t any lights visible from the outside.”

Your cheeks warm at this and your haughtiness melts like the wax you couldn’t afford. What didn’t count as a necessity, you tried to do without. Having candles lit around the home didn’t put food on the table — the money you saved from forgoing their purchase did. A few bruises from bumbling around in the dark weren’t enough to sway you.

For the first time since you started conversing with him, he looks elsewhere. Notably, at the unused hearth behind your person. You follow his gaze and sigh.

“Our firewood isn't the best,” you admit. “I don’t bother getting the good stuff when it isn’t winter.”

“Heh. Your definition of winter is cute.”

He mutters a few unconvincing apologies after you give him a pointed look.

“I could always give it a try, with your permission, naturally. I feel the frostbite you inflicted upon me growing stronger by the second. I might just keel over on your porch if it isn’t treated promptly.”

“You think you can start a fire when you’re sopping wet?”

“I know I can. I’m a man of many talents.”

“... Right,” you drag the word out. You suppose he would need to come in eventually to get changed, so there’s no way around cleaning up the dripping mess that would inevitably make. Might as well let him in before his clothes collect even more water. You step to the side and he accepts the silent invitation to come in. He at least has the decorum to remove his muddy boots by the entrance.

This time, when you shut the door behind him, you lock it. Too little too late.

He immediately sets to work. You stand off to the side, your arms crossed over your chest, as you scrutinize his every movement. He removes his wet gloves and sets them aside. Next is rearranging the wood in a peculiar manner — it reminds you of what those Adventurers' Guild campsites look like — then he splits off a smaller piece of wood from the main logs as if it were butter. The casual demonstration of inhuman strength makes you frown.

He rubs the thinner piece in between his palms with enough fervor that, soon enough, smoke rises to reward his efforts. Then a spark. He fans the flames just enough to encourage it, and true to his word, a humble fire comes into existence.

“You don’t have to stand so far away. I might just take it personally if you do,” he accentuates his point by jutting his head in his direction. “There’s plenty of room over here.”

That’s an exaggeration and you both know it, the area wasn’t meant to occupy more than one person. Still, you can’t deny the hypnotizing quality that fire boasts, so you join him without protest, leaving as much space as you can. You overhear Elias through the thin walls shuffling through piles of old belongings you could never bring yourself to part with.

The fire crackles and shifts in a dance of its own design.

“You can look, y’know,” he suddenly speaks up, disrupting the temporary harmony. “I know you want to.”

“Pardon?”

He doesn’t turn to face you, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “At my wrist. I noticed you have a habit of avoiding the area with your eyes. I don’t know what your customs here are, but where I’m from, there’s no shame in taking a peek. I’m not the type to be easily offended.”

There was a certain playful lilt in his voice before that no longer exists. His words themselves are lighthearted, but the grave tone adds a dissonant effect that’s painful to the ears. You’ve always tried to push the frivolous thoughts about soulmates down someplace where they’d never resurface. The thought of falling hopelessly in love, while appealing to some, never did much for you. You think it would’ve been this way even without your mother’s influence. What if you lost a part of yourself when joining another?

You have Elias to take care of, and this dilapidated yet nostalgic home to maintain. They’re all you have in this world and all that you could possibly want. Some stranger that happens to have the same letters as your name on their wrist might endanger that, and the possibility alone gives you enough reason to avoid it.

It’s with this that you have the conviction to say: “I don’t need to look.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Well, I guess I don’t either, to be fair.”

Considering his former pushiness, you found it strange he decided to drop the topic just like that. He struck you as the type to persist until he got his way. The wording struck you as slightly odd too — was he intending to ask to see yours, only to decide against it? Whatever the reason behind the change was, you decide not to question it. You’ve already been through the humdrum explanation a thousand times with friends and prying strangers alike. They never seemed to understand why you didn’t share their enthusiasm for soulmates.

“Found it!” Elias exclaims from the other room. Quick footsteps come shuffling back in your direction not long after, the little host likely feeling bad for taking so long. He really was a sibling you could be proud of.

“Ah, I never did get to formally introduce myself, did I?” he muses, extending his arm, anticipating what you assume to be a handshake. “Most people call me Childe these days. Oh, there’s no need for you to tell me your name, I’m well aware. I’ve been familiar with it my entire life, actually.”

Before you can think to look away, he holds his wrist up tall and proud, his pale skin illuminated by the roaring fire’s warm glow.

The delicate letters of your name are inscribed on his wrist, faintly reminding you of a tombstone.

Your reaction is immediate. You stand to your feet, almost stumbling back while you do so, forgetting about a floorboard that’s slightly uneven compared to the rest. Elias enters the room not long after — and for once, you barely recognize his presence. You feel that it is you that’s been submerged with ice cold water from the mighty heaven’s above outpour, not this man. This man who you willingly let into your house despite all the warnings advising you against doing otherwise.

“Childe isn’t my actual name, though. It’s Ajax. Sound familiar?”

“How did you… when did you…?”

“Those of us with Visions have something called elemental sight,” he taps beside his right eye. “The name gives off the slightest elemental energy. How useful is that?”

There’s nothing warm about the room anymore. Winter has come, and he brought it.

“I got the clothes!” Elias informs, ambling over to Childe with excitement in each step. Childe accepts the outfit, thanks the starstruck boy, and ruffles his hair. You once again catch the makings of your name in a confirmation you could’ve done without. Never has a word brought you so much profound dread.

“So, how long are you gonna stay with us, mister?” Elias asks.

Childe makes sure to maintain eye contact with you when he gives his answer.

“For as long as your sister will have me.”

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere ajax x reader #ajax x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #commissions #my stuff

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neewtmas · 1 year

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Maybe You’re The Idiot

A/N: if I’m honest, I’m not really sure if I like this. it kind of feels all over the place, and I realised again that I’m not the best at writing enemies to lovers or kissing scenes lol if there are any typos, it’s bc it’s 5 am. @ the anon who requested, thank you so much, I hope you enjoy!

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.4k

request: I love everything you’ve written, I often go back to reread and I can’t get enough! So thank you for your works <3 if you can and are willing I have this in mind: George karim x fem!reader who’s joined l&co for a bit but George still hasn’t warmed up to her and she’s trying to prove herself to them to the point of recklessness. Lockwood Lucy who have been playing mediators and peacemaker are fed up with their arguing, claiming they would get along very well if they actually tried. They set them up so they can resolve their rivalry (prob forced proximity with them having to team up for a small mission) but first time is a disaster and from that you’re free to ddo whatever you like - by anon

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @thedonutdeliverygirl (if you wanna be added/removed, just send me an ask :))

masterlist

The house was silent. It was a heavy silence, definitely supernatural. The sun had gone down a few hours ago, and ever since then, darkness had crept stealthily into every room. In stark contrast to the eery atmosphere in the rest of the residence, the kitchen was like a small island of warmth and comfort amidst a sea of dark unknowns. In the centre of the kitchen table stood an oil lamp, its yellowy flame flickering. Any conversation had long since died down, and now it was just a waiting game. Y/N was tapping her fingers on the wooden surface in irregular patterns, glancing at her watch every few seconds. She was nervous about what the night would bring.

“Could you stop!” George snapped, glaring at her and she jumped, immediately taking her hands off the table. “God, you drive me crazy”, he muttered. Y/N straightened up. “What is your problem?”, she asked, exasperated. George had yet to say a single nice word to her, even after several weeks of them working together. If he wasn’t ignoring her entirely, it was all sarcastic remarks or snide comments about her abilities as an agent. She hated how he could make her feel so small and stupid by just looking at her. She got along just fine with Lockwood and Lucy and just wished that George would finally accept her. “I don’t have a problem”, George shot back, crossing his arms and looking at her provocatively. "But maybe you do." She was just about to throw some snarky comment back at him when Lockwood interrupted. "That's enough", he said sharply. "It's nearing midnight and we need to stay alert. Can't have you two squabbling in the background."

Y/N stayed close to Lucy as they left the kitchen a few minutes later, rapiers hanging from their belts, tool kits slung over their torsos. The old lady that hired them tonight had described how her grandchildren had started avoiding the living room, and how the youngest, still a toddler, had cried incessantly whenever anyone would bring him near. She hadn’t noticed anything, but that wasn’t unusual at her age. They had checked the entire house, but as expected, the living room was the only spot with any abnormal phenomena. Lucy had reported some distant whispering, and all of them had felt the heavy atmosphere.

George set down the duffle bag with the chains and went back to the kitchen. Y/N started unfurling the metal and laying it out in the space between in a circle.

“Why don’t you bang them around a bit louder, Y/N? I don’t think the neighbours three houses down heard you yet.”

She turned around swiftly at the sound of George’s mocking voice. “Why don’t you do it yourself then? If you know everything better?” She dropped the end of the chain she was holding and the sound echoed through the room. Lucy rolled her eyes. “Just leave her alone for once, George.”

The temperature had dropped significantly, and miasma was creeping up on everyone. Lucy handed out some chewing gum, and then they stood inside the iron circle, waiting for the apparition to manifest.

Just a few minutes after the old grandfather clock in the hallway had chimed midnight, Lucy reported an increase in the whispering and all four of them watched the corner she had located it in. Y/N had the best sight out of all of them, and so she was the first to make out the shape of a young man. "He's here", she whispered as the ghost drew nearer, feet submerged in the carpet, his outline getting clearer the closer he came.

"He appeared right next to the cabinet. I bet the source is somewhere in there." "What does he look like?" Lockwood asked, sunglasses perched on his nose. "His death glow is suddenly really bright."

Y/N studied the face of the ghost, a cold shiver running down her spine as she gazed into the black abyss that was once his eyes. "Early thirties maybe. He's wearing a suit, but no tie."

"I don't get much from him", Lucy chimed in. "Just that he is angry."

"I'll run over to the cabinet and secure the source", Y/N said and was about to step over the chains on the ground, when George grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her back so that she stumbled against him. "Have you lost your mind?", he hissed. "You have no idea if the source is even there!" She tried to shake off his arm and snapped at him. "Oh shut up, George. Do you have any better ideas?" "No, but that doesn't mean I just run out of a secured area without any preparation and precaution like an idiot -"

That was the last straw. Y/N yanked her arm out of his grip and leapt over the chains, rushing towards the cabinet. The ghost lurched in her direction and she made a few quick motions with her rapier, causing it to draw back. She sprinted over to the cabinet, dropped to her knees in front of it, and started tearing open the compartments. Behind her, a vase got picked up by the supernatural wind that surged through the room, crashed to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.

Someone was yelling her name, and suddenly George was next to her, wildly swinging his rapier over her head. The last drawer was stuck and she pulled on it with every bit of strength she could muster, until suddenly it came loose, sending her flying back and right into George. He cursed loudly as he fell over. They were now sprawled on the ground, tangled together in a pile of limbs unable to move and suddenly the ghost of the young man was above them. His face was pulled into a horrific, grotesque display of pure wrath as he plummeted down on them. Y/N screamed and tried to pull out her rapier from underneath her in a last desperate attempt when from one moment to another, the ghost disappeared.

The screaming wind died down immediately and all that stayed was a violent ringing in her ears as George untangled himself from her and stood up, dusting himself off. He did not offer her his hand, he didn't even give her so much as a single glance before he stomped out of the room. Lucy kneeled next to her, a crumpled-up silver net in her hand. "Are you okay, Y/N?" she asked, taking her hand and helping her up. Y/N nodded weakly. That could have gone terribly wrong.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The taxi ride home was awkward, to say the least. No one was saying a word, Lockwood looked out the window with his lips pressed together in a thin line the entire time, Y/N had her gaze lowered to her hands in her lap. She could tell Lockwood was angry. She looked over to George once, but when she found him already looking at her with an undefinable expression on his face, she quickly averted her eyes. The last thing she needed was another comment from George.

Back in 35 Portland Row, Lockwood was pacing up and down in front of them in the kitchen, lips still pressed together, wringing his hands. The atmosphere was tense, no one dared to say a word in fear he would explode at even the slightest disturbance. Finally, he turned to George and Y/N, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I’ve had more than enough of your stupid, childish antics. You’re disrupting our work as a team and -”

“It wasn't my -” George quipped up, but Lockwood silenced him with a motion of his hand. “No! I don’t care! I don’t care whose fault it was or was not, I don’t care!” His voice got louder towards the end, clearly more than fed up. George seemed like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

Lockwood continued, trying hard to keep his voice calm. “We are a team. And we need to be able to rely on each other, or else we all could end up dead. Do you understand that?”

Both George and Y/N nodded reluctantly, carefully avoiding even looking in each other's direction.

“Tonight was a disaster, and as much as I'd like to right now, I won’t fire either of you. You have two options: You learn to get along or you both quit. End of discussion.” Without another word, he left the kitchen, Lucy following him close behind.

Y/N and George sat on their respective chairs like two school children that just got scolded, Lockwood’s anger and what he had said still hanging heavy in the air.

George exhaled and broke the silence. “He’s right, you know? Maybe if you hadn’t been so stupid -” Y/N immediately jumped up, balling her fists. “Stupid? Me?” George also rose from his seat, making a few quick steps toward her and jabbing his finger into her chest. His eyes behind his glasses were narrowed as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes, stupid. You almost got yourself killed back there, Y/N. Killed. Do you understand what that means?”

For a moment she was overwhelmed by how close he was, but then she pushed him back by his shoulders and he stumbled. “Guess what George? I do! But it’s not like you’d care anyways, so why does it matter to you?”

She didn’t give him a chance to reply and stormed out of the kitchen. He stood there, hand raised and her name on his lips, but she was already gone.

The next morning, Y/N entered the kitchen and was surprised to see everyone already sitting at the table. Lockwood's expression was unreadable, Lucy was smiling in a way that made Y/N worried for what was to come, and George sat slouched on his chair and looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. "Sit down, Y/N", Lockwood said and pointed to the last empty chair right next to George. He huffed as Y/N dragged it over the floor to sit as far away from him as possible. "This is an intervention", Lockwood began as soon as she sat. Oh no. "This -" he gestured towards the space between George and Y/N, "can't go on. Tonight, you two go on a case. Together. Just the two of you."

Y/N stared at him in disbelief, then buried her face in her hands with a sigh. He couldn't be serious.

"Great idea Lockwood. She's probably gonna get us both killed", George scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back. "I don't care. If you gave each other a chance, I think you would get along just fine."

Lucy leaned forward, a sly smile on her lips. "Actually, I think you'd get along very, very well."

George scoffed louder, furrowing his brows. "I hope you're not implying what I think you're implying, Lucy." She smirked at him and shrugged. "That's for you to decide, George. Maybe you have some time to think about it tonight."

Y/N looked back and forth between them, and she could feel heat creep up her cheeks. What were they on about? What was Lucy implying?

After dinner, which was spent in tense silence, Lockwood and Lucy set off to their case of the night, leaving Y/n and George behind. This was the first time since Y/n had started working at Lockwood & Co that they were alone. They left the house and climbed into the cab that was waiting at the corner. LISA stared out of the window and watched the rows of houses pass by in the dusk. Many had brightly lit windows and she caught some glimpses of the people that lived there - someone cooking dinner, another person dancing through their living room - and she felt a sense of profound sadness wash over her. When she stepped into 35 Portland Row for the first time, she felt at home immediately. After some rather unpleasant experiences in other smaller agencies, she had been apprehensive about even applying, but it was her last viable option. Lucy and Lockwood had made her feel welcome immediately, and George... well George, after ignoring her for a while, became less welcoming by the day. Lucy had warned her that he could be somewhat stand-offish, but that he would warm up to her quickly, even reassuring her that he'd been the same with her. But he hadn't warmed up at all. She had no idea what she did to make him feel that way, but by now it was glaringly obvious that he could not stand her.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

When they arrived at their destination, a somewhat run-down apartment building, George grabbed their bag, jumped out of the cab and sped-walked to the entrance, not looking behind him to check if Y/N was following him. For a second she contemplated just telling the cabdriver to take her back to Portland Row, but then she decided against it. No reason to make George hate her even more.

They entered the elevator, which had seen better days, and stood silently as it made its way up. Y/N stared at her ectoplasm-stained boots in the blotchy mirror, and when she raised her head, she caught George looking at her through the reflection, but he quickly looked away. That was something he did a lot. He never talked to her except with snide comments when she did something he deemed stupid, but she lost count of how often she had caught him looking at her. It made her feel self-conscious in the worst way.

The elevator dinged and they stepped out onto a dimly lit hallway, the few lamps on the ceiling flickering ominously. "Apartment 386", George said curtly and turned to the left. Y/N stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket and threw a glance at the hallway behind her before she quickly followed him. He maybe wasn't very pleasant company, but at least she felt safer than if she were alone.

He didn't wait for her to catch up before he knocked at the door of apartment 386. Just when she came to a halt next to him, the door opened and revealed a small, elderly woman. She smiled brightly as she saw their rapiers and the bag George was carrying. "You must be Lockwood & Co" she exclaimed and opened the door wider. "Come in! I prepared some tea." Y/N looked over to George, who glanced at her and then followed the woman into her apartment.

It was decorated exactly in the way one would imagine an old lady decorating her living space. Lots of floral patterns, old furniture, and everything looking somewhat dated. On a dresser in the living room stood several picture frames that showed the woman with what was either her son or her daughter, their spouse and two small children that smiled happily into the camera.

On the dark wooden table in the kitchen, the woman had prepared a steaming kettle of tea, several cups and a heaping plate of biscuits. She gestured to the chairs and scurried back into the kitchen. "Please sit down", she called and when she came back, she was holding a little porcelain box that she put down on the table. "I'm Violet", she introduced herself, smiling. She seemed elated at the thought of Y/N and George keeping her company.

"So you're Lockwood?" she asked George after he reluctantly sat down on one of the chairs, the pink rose pattern of the upholstery clashing horribly with the orange of his jacket. He opened his mouth but had no chance to get even a single word in because Violet just kept talking.

"And the delightful young lady?" She set a cup of steaming tea in front of Y/N. "Is that your girlfriend? That's just lovely. You know, I find it horrible that you young folks have to risk your lives every day, it's nice to see that you make the best of it. My grandson is part of an agency as well. Not as small as yours, but also not one of the big ones. Sometimes I don't know what to think of that, but -"

Violet kept talking as she gave George his cup of tea, but Y/N wasn't listening anymore. She was still hung up on what she said about her. George's girlfriend? How did she come to that conclusion? And why did the idea of that not seem that bad? Suddenly she felt hot. She shook her head, trying to fight off these thoughts and get back to the issue at hand.

When Violet finally stopped talking to take a sip from her tea, George asked quickly: "So, why did you call our agency? What is the problem?"

"Didn't I already tell you over the telephone?" Violet asked, confused.

"No, that was Lockwood, our employer." Y/N couldn't help but notice that George corrected her on her assumption that he was Lockwood, but not on the one where she called her his girlfriend.

"Well, for quite some time I've been hearing scratching in my walls. And sometimes this horrible screaming." She shivered, clearly distraught at the thought. "Wait, you've been hearing it?", Y/N asked. That was impossible. Violet nodded eagerly. "Yes! Almost every night. I've lost so much sleep over this, you wouldn't believe it."

George took off his glasses, polished them on his sweater and put them back on. "Violet... does any of your neighbours have a cat? Or maybe a ferret? Or anything of the sort?" She looked at him, confused. "I think Ms. Fernsby two apartments down has a cat. Why is that important?"

George pinched his nose and took a deep breath, and Y/N could tell that he was trying to hold himself together. "Because whatever you are hearing at night, I can tell you with absolute certainty it's not a ghost. If I were you, I'd call animal control. I believe you've got a cat in your walls."

It took quite some time to convince Violet that the scratching she heard was indeed no malevolent ghost, but probably just the neighbour's cat and to get her to stop trying to offer them one cup of tea after the other.

When they finally stood in front of the apartment building again, the street was deserted and dark. George had called a cab to bring them back home, and now they waited, leaning against the building wall. Every few minutes, the ghost lamps turned on, bathing their surroundings in cold, green light.

It was a clear night, no clouds obscuring the stars. Y/N leaned her head back, watching the dark sky. She had her jacket pulled tightly around her body, trying to protect herself from the chilly air. In her peripheral, she could see George fiddle with the zipper of his jacket, glancing over at her every now and then. She wanted to say something, anything, but it felt like her throat constricted every time she opened her mouth. Just then, the cab pulled up and George jumped, grabbing the bag and rushing towards it.

Twenty minutes later, they stood in front of 35 Portland Row, the backlights of the cab disappearing down the street. George pushed open the wonky gate and climbed up the stairs, setting down the duffel bag with a heavy thud. He started rummaging through his pockets. Y/N watched him check every pocket twice before he turned to her. "Do you have a key?" he asked, and she shook her head. "I thought you had one."

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Of course you did."

She stood straighter, crossing her arms in front of her. Anger was bubbling up inside of her chest and she had to use every ounce of self-control she had to not scream at him.

"What is your problem, George? It's not like you brought one! Why do you have to criticise every single thing I do? Why the hell do you act like I'm the stupidest person on earth?"

George threw his hands up, exasperated. "Because you are, Y/N! You are reckless, you have no regard for your safety, and I -"

Before he could end his sentence, the door in front of them got ripped open and Lockwood stood in the frame, raising his eyebrows. "I can't believe it. I send you on a case in hopes you finally get along and what happens? You start fighting right in front of my house!"

George scowled, picking up the bag and walking into the hallway, pushing past Lockwood. "The case was a joke. What did this woman tell you on the telephone? Something about screaming in her wall maybe? Because guess what, that's not a ghost, that's just a bloody cat. And thanks to that I just had to waste an entire evening with her."

He dropped the bag next to the kitchen entrance and stomped up the stairs. Seconds later, the sound of a door slamming echoed through the house and Lockwood chuckled. "Oh, he's in a bad mood."

The next few days, George ignored Y/N. Whenever she entered a room he was in, it wouldn't take long for him to leave. If he came into the kitchen and saw her sitting at the table, he would turn around on his heels and leave. At meal times, he acted as if she wasn't even there. And even though Y/N didn't want to admit it, it was starting to eat away at her.

Three days after the disaster that was their solo case, she came downstairs from her room to get herself a cup of tea. She was about to push open the door, but when she heard the voices of Lucy and George in the kitchen, her hand stopped in mid-air, hovering over the handle.

"She is driving me crazy!" That was George. He sounded exasperated, and she could exactly imagine how he looked right now, hands thrown in the air, eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

"But why? She's not doing anything. You're just being unfair to her at this point."

"She's just so reckless! She doesn't care for herself and her safety! She's just another Lockwood!" It was silent for a while. "Are you sure that you're not just... worried about her?", Lucy asked softly. "Because you actually do care?"

Y/N leaned closer to the door, her heartbeat quickening. What would George say? "What are you doing there?" Lockwood's voice sounded from behind her and she yelped, losing her balance and pushing the door open. Lucy whipped around and both she and George stared at Y/N, wide-eyed. "I - I didn't mean to -" She was searching for words desperately, her face hot with embarrassment.

Lucy rose from her seat. "I think you two need to talk", she said, slipping past Y/N and pushing her further into the kitchen. Before she closed the door, she stuck her head in and looked back and forth between them. "You are not leaving until you have talked this out, got it?"

After the door closed, Y/N stood there, nervously shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She was entirely overwhelmed by the situation.

George was looking everywhere but at her. "What did you hear?", he finally asked. "Not much. Just that I drive you crazy."

"Yeah, you do! Of course you do. It's annoying enough to have one reckless person in the team, but two is just -", he was searching for words. "I can't be the only one with common sense here!"

Y/N huffed. "How would you know if I have common sense or not? Until now, you've either ignored or insulted me!"

George jumped up, his chair scraping over the floor. "Someone with common sense doesn't throw themselves in front of every single visitor they come across! Without any thought!"

Y/N made a step forward, that familiar anger stirring inside her.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to do this if you didn't take every single chance you get to paint me as an incompetent agent! Maybe I wouldn't have to do this if you just accepted me as part of the team like you did with Lucy! What is different about me, huh? Am I really that horrible that you want to bully me out of here? What did I ever do to you?!"

Y/N had talked herself into a rage, so much so that she was yelling in George's face by the end of it. She hadn't even noticed that she had moved closer to him during her tirade until he gripped her shoulders, making her stop in her tracks.

"Look at me. You drive me crazy, okay?!" His voice was low, and under the sudden intensity of his gaze, all of Y/N's anger melted away and got quickly replaced by a fluster. "I don't know how to handle this, I don't know how to handle you. You just turn up on our doorstep one day, and suddenly, I don't know what to do with myself anymore. Suddenly, I start behaving like an absolute idiot whenever you are around. And then you start throwing yourself in life-threatening situations like an idiot -"

Without thinking, Y/N reached forward, cupped his face with her hands and pulled him in for a kiss. The moment their lips met, he went rigid, and she almost pulled away, the horrible fear of having misread the situation entirely washing over her. But then he seemed to realise what was happening. His hands slid down her arms until they gripped her waist and he pulled her closer to him. Without breaking the kiss, he walked her back a few steps until she collided with the counter. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere, roaming over her back, down to her hips, back to her waist. He was kissing her with such fervour, but at the same time with such gentleness that it was making her feel dizzy. She buried her hands in his curls, eliciting a small gasp from him. She pulled back with a smile, and he looked at her, eyes glazed over, lips puffy from her kisses.

"Maybe you are the idiot, George."

thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated :)

wanna request something?

#george karim #george karim x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood & co x reader

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leohtttbriar · 3 months

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one day i'll make a whole obnoxious powerpoint (with the checkerboard transition effects obvs) that's a thematic comparison/contrast-ion between jadzia dax and odo and what they mean but for now i'm thinking again about "children of time" and the way odo and dax were framed as like the only possible actors in a impossible-to-act situation. it was odo or dax, who would let the potential closed-loop lives of a colony of people be rendered materially forgotten. and the more i think about it the more convinced i am that, actually, dax wouldn't have ever chosen differently. it had to be odo.

they're refracted versions of the other---defined by a multiplicity, which they understand and handle in different ways. where dax (who has been accused of frivolity the whole season by her upright buddy worf) can't see beyond the agony of her own selfishness, odo just does. he does what he thinks he is obligated to do based on his own individually-mandated moral rectitude. he is solipsistic in the way all of the changelings are for they can be anything and are also all each other and that is certain. but he loves kira, who is similar but solipsistically fastened to the world, thru a faith in fate, so he can just...selfishly act in a way she couldn't. and tbh the morality of the selfishness is up for grabs, too, bc kira "selflessly" choosing to die is also a condemnation for everyone else so like. odo's lawful/strict-desire sure does help them out of jam. and dax isn't about to step on anyone even if perhaps there should be some stepping. she is "conviction-less." but.

in a way. the show argues, while not really making the argument, that: dax's mistake is sourced in its own obligations. what's the point of anything if you're not going to risk it for sweet victory-biscuit? to risk something to get the details on some (potentially smart) maybe-fungus? to take a magic-carpet ride? to extract the dino-dna from the amber? to be curious? is that not also a carefully considered rectitude? is that not a justice--that, if one has the power to witness what exists, however weird, however potentially useless, then they possess a simple fealty, sworn to lord universe, as vassals made up of sensory powers, to continue witnessing? like "this planet is here and is therefore interesting and i seek glory thru it yay" and now she is presented with lives upon lives who absolutely need her--who existentially need her perpetual attention. as her curiosity dooms, her own version of personal law chooses for her too: odo and kira are sure of their own minds. dax is sure of everything else outside herself (or within herself but within a worm--the boundaries are fuzzy) and swears to it, quite a lot.

so like. where odo and dax agree about the value of a proto-universe, they disagree here. odo is like: "thou shall not kill. it is written." so he can just. unwrite a reality that is utterly dependent upon those that are not children of time, but freely moving amongst it. citizens, for instance, of the real. he breaks nothing bc the kira-dying reality is what is broken to begin with. also he's like. super in love. and dax is like: "phenomena! there it is! things that exist! in my hands and my choices, phenomena! you can't make me be god about it :(" and then her future self which is still technically her tries to be god about it and then ultimately doesn't. so.

what's really funny about all this is later when odo is fully on board with kira just throwing herself off a cliff bc of "fate," dax is in the background with miles coming up with scientific eviction papers for super-dimensional aliens. odo just accepts a law in contradiction to his own (he is large!) and dax is like "what even do we have to do with this" and "i think living is a lot more attractive." bc. the point is. they are foils.

#ds9 #jadzia dax #odo #i do love when otherwise strict characters just cut the gordian knot #like winn with the aforementioned “gods” and odo in this episode #like. enough star trek moralizing and hand-wringing. let's resolve this plot.

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 22 days

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I Watched a Beatles Tribute Band Live on a M*crodose

So I may or may not have taken a mushr**m m*crodose before a Beatles Tribute concert. And while it was only a t*nth of a gr*m I may or may not have consumed, it made it much easier during the show to convince myself that what I was seeing was real: the actual Beatles playing as opposed to impersonator musicians.

I know this is literally what impersonator musicians are meant to do, try to convince you for an hour or two that they're the real band, but I never imagined how accurate they were going to be with everything.

Their sound (instruments AND voices), their costumes, their playing, their hair, their faces/facial expressions, and right down to their mannerisms (Ringo's head movement, Paul's "y'know"s during dialogue) these guys didn't miss. With the first note that struck out through the venue, I just knew the next two hours were going to be the best experience of my life. And I was absolutely right about that.

My mother raised me with the Beatles playing every Sunday morning as we did family chores in the house, the 2006 album "LOVE" on constant repeat from the CD player in the background. It was my favourite day of the week for years. I don't remember when we fell out of that routine. I miss it.

But tonight, these four men gave me back a sense of happiness I haven't experienced since my childhood.

They made me completely fall in love with the Beatles all over again. Not only with their music, but I've come to gain a much deeper appreciation for each individual member of the band for the roles they played to make themselves the huge phenomena they were.

I'm still under the effects of the m*cro, and being on here and seeing photos of John, Paul, George, and Ringo together, and even on their own, after experiencing the show I just had, breaks my heart, yet it's being simultaneously mended back together with reminders of the love, and the dedication I saw in the performers' souls tonight.

They made it all feel so damn real, and I feel like the child within me, the little girl in the living room singing away to Eleanor Rigby with her mother, would have been elated to know that she was one day going to experience such a remarkable spectacle of art that fuelled her joy of music, then and many, many more years to come.

This band is so tremendously important to me, and I was reminded tonight in the most beautiful, transforming way possible.💙

#paul mccartney #george harrison #john lennon #ringo starr #the beatles #magical mystery tour

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youremyheaven · 26 days

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Do you think those influencers who dramatically switch from very left wing Marxist alternative etc to very trad Christians (specifically in homophobic/transphobic way) have ketu influence?

You were talking about ketuvians and their struggle to find a sense of self and it made me think of these types of people. I know someone with ketu 1H and magha moon who did this to an extent. She used to identify as non binary and was constantly shifting through different names and pronouns but then one day she just kind of stopped and started saying how she thinks pride is pointless and a waste of time or whatever😭 it wasn’t *that* extreme but I still thought it was a significant shift in belief in such a short time.

I think a lot of people have this dramatic shifts not only out of a need to identify with something due to a lack of sense of self, but also because they like going back to what their parents believe for comfort. I guess those two are interlinked but it’s interesting how my friend is a magha moon and magha is associated with ancestors and whatnot.

I guess mula is somewhat similar as “the root”? Idk about ashwini though

Sorry I haven’t actually had the chance to look into examples since it’s hard to find birth data for influencers and I don’t know that many examples irl 😶‍🌫️ so this is me just going on a tangent and hoping you get what I’m trying to say LMAO

I’m also not sure if anyone else is familiar with this phenomena or if I’m just too engrossed in niche internet drama.

In terms of influencers I guess a somewhat prominent example is Freckle Zelda on tiktok? I never followed her but she went from making cutesy safe space liberal type content in like 2021 and now she’s a Christian and is using it be to super controversial. But like I said I’ve never followed her so idk if this is dramatic enough of a switch to count as what I’m saying.

I also feel like this a rahu trait to switch between extremes🤔 idk lmk what you think

I feel like the capitalist commodification of identity has most adversely affected Nodal people.

If you think about it, spirituality's aim is to transcend the "self" entirely, you stop identifying with labels and attaching yourself to this or that thing. I'm not saying you cease to be a person but you stop trying to "accumulate" identities to hold on to.

9/10 times the reason we identify with something is to feel a sense of belonging but searching outwards for it will only lead to disappointment, when we search within and feel at home within ourselves, we lose the need to externally confined ourselves to rigid "identities"

Yk how people dye their hair, get piercings/tattoos etc to mark a new chapter or the end of an old one or whatever??? It is an attempt to claim something as "yourself" and "solidify yourself". Everything changes all the time, everybody changes yet there are many people who will never dye their hair or change their name or join a cult or whatever (not that all these things are the same) its just that if you're at peace with yourself and truly grounded, you will no longer be shopping for different identities or things to associate with.

Yk those people who have IG bios that read like "Mother, Pluviophile, ESFJ, Petrolhead, UJC'22, Missourian, Ancient Spirit, 1/4th Cherokee, Bitcoin Enthusiast, EDM Lover"

like what do any of those terms say about them?? how on earth is any of this central to your identity? all of these are external ??? is loving rain and being a petrolhead central to your sense of self?? im not trying to demean anybody's interests, im only trying to point out that what we choose to make the focal point of ourselves is up to us and its possible to not be defined by anything?? i think a truly ugly consequence of capitalism is how people try to define themselves by things outside them (their interests, hobbies, job, income level, marital status etc etc) because there is more to a person than all that.

when we retreat within, we base our sense of self on our qualities like kindness, compassion, creativity (this becomes the essence of who we are) so we don't feel the need to claim 87373 other things to describe ourselves

some people overly identify with others like their partners, friends or even strangers and kind of become them. this is also the root of stan culture, by being obsessed with someone to that extent and giving them all your time and energy, you are losing your own qi and harming your Sun (the same way criticizing the appearance of others ruins your Venus)

Rahu is prone to taking things to extremes and Ketu is prone to trying on different identities and losing interest in all of them one after the other. so your observations are right.

i dont really use social media so i dont know any influencers that i can quote as examples ;-; but im thinking of certain celebrities who have had drastic style changes in the past and all of them have nodal influence lol

in the 2000s, the Olsen twins were known for their boho chic hippie style and over the last decade or so they have become known for their "quiet luxury" style. They are Magha Moon

Julia Fox is Ardra Rising and she went from basic to avant garde

Jared Leto, Mula Sun, Ashwini Moon & Rising , he's also the leader of a cult allegedly so👀i guess it all adds up

Adele, Mula Moon & Ardra Rising

im not just talking about her weight loss, just her overall change in style. she got married young and had a baby and in a couple of years she got a divorce and revamped her look to that of an ig baddie

Kylie Jenner, Swati Moon she's changed her style/demeanour every other year since the early 2010s lol

Taylor Swift, Ardra Moon has also had many diff lewkzz throughout the years

before anybody says dont celebs change their styles often?? no they dont, not everybody for sure. look at Jennifer Lopez or Sarah Jessica Parker, theyve been dressing the same since the 90s. constantly evolving style/looks/personality is a Nodal thing. its also a big part of the reason why Nodal people succeed in the entertainment industry and in the material realm (a lot of rich people including Bezos have Nodal placements) because entertainment = illusion, pretending to be someone you're not and for Nodal people, this is pretty much second nature.

im sorry that my response is kind of all over the place. your question provoked some thoughts within me lol and i just had to shareee

i cant think of celebs who have drastically changed their life paths like the example u cited ;-; EXCEPT Bridget Mendler who is an actor, singer, and entrepreneur, has a PhD and went to Harvard Law and now runs a satellite company?? she also adopted a kid during all this? She has Mula Sun

anywayyys thats it for now

tysm for sending this ask!!! its a very thought provoking and interesting question<33hope u have a good day<33

#rahu #ketu #nodal #jyotish

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bitter69uk · 3 months

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“Etta James is one of those curious show business phenomena – a virtual unknown who’s a “legend in her own time.” To hardcore soul music buffs, she stands for everything that was once fresh and irrepressible about the R&B sound and yet most kids today have never even heard her name. That’s not really so surprising – her official return to the public arena in 1978 marked the end of what had been a twenty-year absence. She never really went the rock revival route, or sold out to Vegas or TV, but then she probably couldn’t have if she’d wanted to. After all, a three-hundred-pound woman whose act includes getting personal with the microphone and stripper squats isn’t exactly family viewing fare. Had it not been for a large gay following that supported her loyally throughout the sixties and seventies when she performed at heavy leather bars like The Stud in San Francisco, Etta might not have survived at all. The fact is she’s been underground for so long that many people are surprised to hear she’s still around. The good news is that Etta James is very much around, but that’s not to say that her life hasn’t had its ups and downs …”

Penny Stallings’ account of the hard times and desperate living of rhythm and blues bad girl Etta James in the 1984 book Rock’n’Roll Confidential. I love the image of wilderness years James performing to an audience of mustachioed leather daddies at The Stud! The tempestuous soul diva (née Jamesetta Hawkins, 25 January 1938 - 20 January 2012) was born on this day 86 years ago. I particularly love James’ outrageous 1960s look of platinum blonde bouffant wigs and Cleopatra eyeliner, when she looked like an escapee from a John Waters movie.

#etta james #rhythm and blues #soul music #soul diva #bad girl #platinum blonde #liquid eyeliner #lobotomy room #kween #fierce #grit #rocknroll confidential #penny stallings #kitsch

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waterloggedsoliloquy · 6 months

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Carousel Waltz: A Primer

Since I talk incessantly about them and that frequency is only going to increase it's probably for the best that I give a bit of a rundown for my little OC verse!

Carousel Waltz is a psychological thriller young adult magical girl comic in the making. Its primary influences are Revolutionary Girl Utena, Twin Peaks, and Over The Garden Wall.

It's 1993. The town of Potter's Fields, Washington is the last bastion of civilization and has been for the past 25 years, for around the town and as far as anyone can walk in any direction grows a magical apocalyptic wilderness called the Garden of Sorrow, which threatens evermore to encroach upon the town in a war of attrition. With the population of the town dwindling and time standing still in the Garden's embrace, de facto town leader Midas Schiller, with the help of the town's only psychiatrist Thomas Hythloday, have reverse-engineered some of the Garden's very own magic to use against it. Somewhere within the Garden of Sorrow lies the source of its power, the Primordial Heart-- and if mortals can find it and destroy it, they can free the town from its clutches and find out if truthfully there is anyone out there.

Midas cannot use the Garden's magic himself, due to its vendetta against him, so he has scoured the town for proxy agents-- people who can rise to the occasion and fight back against the Garden of Sorrow and the monsters it spawns from its coiling depths. Magic requires harmony and accord to be employed most effectively, and so these magic wielders must fight in pairs. So they have come to be known as Dancers, armed with magical weapons and conditional immortality.

note: When referring to the genre/role as a whole, I use magical girl as conjecture-- referring to these characters as magical boy/enby/man/woman is for on an individual basis. it's just easier than saying "magical mixed gender group of varying ages" and remains true to the genre conventions i'm working under.

Sicely Tecuani - (they/them) The Protagonist. A jaded and socially awkward cowboy, they hide their shyness behind a wall of prickly fatigue. Sicely easily notices the strange and unusual, as well as the faults and foolishness of others. They’re of a practical mindset and enjoy things that work the first time without the bells and whistles. They're dependable and protective, savvy and eloquent, but they're desperate for guidance, yet habitually pushes others away. They're easily impassioned! ... But also easily impassioned into fits of self-loathing. Sicely is transmasculine agender and a closeted lesbian. Their weapon is a pair of bear-paw gauntlets, and their flower is the red spider lily.

Anthea Patel - (she/her) The Other Protagonist. A prodigious young girl, Anthea seems to excel at just about everything she tries her hand at. She's pleasant and romantically-inclined, and sees the world through rosy eyes. She carries a deep well of love and strength within her to meet problems, and she's always trying to cheer others up, but she tends to assume she knows what's best for others while avoiding communicating her own needs-- a girl who thinks she can do everything except admitting she's wrong. And like her namesake, she carries a deep wrath. Anthea is a trans girl and a lesbian. Her weapon is a pair of flintlock dueling pistols, and her flower is the calla lily.

Ariadne "Ari" Astra - (she/her) Ari is a mover and a shaker, and a top-class seer. She wants to know it all, uncover the secrets of the universe, and wield magic to the best of her discretion. She adores unexplained phenomena like cryptids and UFOs. Chipper, observant, and witty, Ari doesn't suffer fools willingly. She is, however, willing to suffer most anything for a mystery. Her infatuation with mathematically proving the afterlife, to reconnect with her dead sister, borders on obsession. She’s deeply lonely, and feels like she lost the only person who could possibly understand her, which has alienated her best friend, Lucerne. Ari is bisexual and would probably ID with the term gendervoid if she knew it. Her weapon is an armillary sphere, and her flower is sunflower.

Lucerne Lowe - (they/he) Lucerne is seemingly difficult to rattle and nonchalant, offering advice where possible and deflecting with a blunt affect away from themself. He enjoys a running commentary, as long as he's not in the middle of things. Lucerne dislikes being the center of attention, and keeps things to themself more often than not. He'd be a great friend to tell your secrets to if you need a listening ear or infodump about that niche interest of yours that no one else has the patience for, but you'd be hard-pressed to get him to tell you something back. Not after what they saw. While the advice they give is usually good, Lucerne is more likely to meddle in your own business than walk the walk. They are unlabeled. His weapon is a polearm, and his flower is rhododendron.

Opal Schiller - (he/him) Rare holographic dipshit. Next.

...

OKAY FINE. Opal is the morally ambiguous pale-haired tragic anime boy archetype. He believes he is being charming and friendly, but in fact his social skills leave something to be desired, often acting on strange impulses or operating on assumptions and rules beyond typical understanding. This makes him presumptuous, pushy, and ill-equipped for when things don't align with expectations. He's very flamboyant and self assured, as long as he feels in control. As soon as his power over a situation is questioned, or he behaves like a dorkass teenager, he immediately begins to flounder, and goes to extreme lengths to regain that sense of security. He’s really, really bad at not getting his way, a problem exacerbated by his father. He is bisexual but enjoys the rewards of heterosexuality too much to consider guys an option. His weapon is a scythe, and his flower is larkspur.

Jiro Kohaku - (he/him) If you asked what Jiro wants in life, he'd shrug his shoulders and say things are pretty good right now. He likes video games and tv and comic books and especially likes hanging out with Opal, because Opal gets to do whatever he wants. Despite his seemingly flippant attitude, he's easily excited and enjoys the spectacle of things, getting caught up in adrenaline rushes. He seems cosmically cursed to be forever in second place, which drives a deep frustration to his core that manifests as him wanting to impress and impose on his peers. Look at him, not Opal, not his older sister, just this once, look at him. Jiro is probably gay but covets girls anyways because of his problems and issues. His flower is nasturtium, and his weapon is a wakizashi.

Who else is there? Oh right, the grownups.

Araceli Levin - (she/her) is a Dancer that has betrayed Midas, gone rogue, and aligned herself with the Garden of Sorrow. She should be considered armed and dangerous. She killed her last dance partner to steal his power, and should not be engaged alone.

...So Midas says.

Araceli is a renegade Dancer. She is dangerous-- she’s had her powers for thirty years longer than anyone in the cast. But she didn’t kill her partner, she isn't aligned with the Garden of Sorrow, and she's not the betrayer here. She's a miserable old wretch of a woman whose social skills have deteriorated from the insanity of grief and the self-exile she's placed on herself. Before she was a Dancer, before the Garden of Sorrow closed off her entire world and Midas ruined what was left of it, she was a marine biologist and a cetacean specialist. Now she has no ocean, no husband, and no way out. Her only friend is a talking Canada Jay named Whiskey. Her weapon is a spear, and her flower is hellebore.

Jorges Beaufoy - (he/him) Araceli's late husband and fellow biologist, and Midas' best friend in life. He died a few years back. The immortality afforded to Dancers does not extend to adults. His hair used to be light blonde before magic turned it pink. His weapon was a sword, and his flower was star of bethlehem.

Thomas Hythloday - (he/him) An anodyne, denial-ridden scientist who works as mission control for the Dancers and is also their only psychological health monitor, which is great except for the part where I mentioned denial up there. He's a bit morally bankrupt, and willing to go too far sometimes, but he very rarely holds any true malice. He's polite in an off-putting way that holds little, if any, kindness to it. Politeness is easier because it's a social script that makes the other person more pliable and agreeable. It's pragmatism. After his twin sister Leda died, he threw his life into his work studying magic full-time to avoid the pain of existing. He was Midas' brother in law, but now they're lovers behind closed doors. Thomas is gay and gnc. He has no weapon, but his flower is hydrangea.

Midas Schiller - (he/him) The de facto leader of Potter's Fields due to a power vacuum and a dwindling population. Opal's father. Midas Schiller is fastidious and charismatic. He’s one of very few adult role models in Potter's Field, and thus a lot of children look to him for guidance. He genuinely believes he is a force for good in the town and is the only thing keeping it from falling to ruin. He’s terrified of what might happen if he’s no longer there to keep things going, and the safety of his flock. Naturally, this means he feels justified to do whatever it takes to his flock, even endangering them, if he thinks it will keep himself in power and therefore ascertain the safety of the whole. Midas believes that he's entitled to the Golden Life that (cis, white) men are supposed to be given and feels cheated that he has not been guaranteed it and thus is taking it into his own hands to build that illusion of comforting paradise. everything in its place. whatever he includes in his sphere must make him happy, must comfort him, must entertain him. anything that does not contribute 2 his identity of Nuclear Family Man Patriarch With A Good Satisfied Life And The Years Ahead Of Him must be trimmed away. He’s obsessed with Thomas Hythloday, due to looking extremely similar to his late wife Leda, and despite being in denial of being attracted to men Midas exploits Thomas’ crush on him and solicits him for sex to keep himself in Thomas’ life. While it wasn't the only reason the relationship deteriorated, Midas attempted to pressure Araceli into having an affair with him. He tried to get her to change careers and stay on dry land. After it was made evident that she could not be controlled, and that he could not guarantee her compliance as a Dancer, he attempted to have her and Jorges killed. Unfortunately, he only got the one, and made a lifelong enemy out of the other. His weapon is fire, and his flower is poppy.

#carousel waltz #I THINK THATS EVERYBODY #cecil drawls

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