#tha last trial

[alcafrach]

#арт #sketch #art #скетч #последнее испытание #Такхизис #tha last trial #my art

[good-beanswrites]

LCSYS ask again(undercover asker here hiiiiiaufhghghgn)thank you for responding!!!! ilovfe seeing your ideas theyre such good fuel in between trials❤️❤️

i was wondering how th prisoners would react to es’ usage of violence, like some of the younger prisoners complaining about it while the older are concerned because Hello Where did that stem from???? you cant tell me es’ “phew, i feel so much better” after hitting shidou didn’t send his mind racing a million miles per minute

ALSO curious about YONAH………… similar to how red’s violence towards es was scripted, was kotoko’s monologue about es being imperfect Also scripted, or was it on her own? yonah is probably my favourite voice drama of all time and I’m curious about how it would be interpreted in this au 🫶

Ah hello again! Thank you so much for reaching out -- every time I think I've covered everything you guys hit me with a new insane detail that makes my brain go brrrrr >:3

Because OMG I spent so much time thinking of the faked violence, I don't know why I never put as much attention on the flipside! I love the idea of Jackalope assuring them, "there will be no physical punishments. We'll talk about restraints but that's all fake. We'll make up injuries between trials but that's all fake. You don't have to worry about any real pain." And then this 15yo strolls up, interrogation one, ready to smack someone😅😅😅

Seriously though, I think it would come as a pretty big surprise to the group. They knew it was a possibility, but didn't think Es was that likely to attack, since they've made a few comments about being against violent punishments. Haruka comes back to mention the slap, and Yuno follows their instructions and says she also suffered violence, and the group is Shocked. I think it would just kill Fuuta that he wasn't allowed to hit back and avenge the others. He probably has the most complaints about the situation (and is insanely relieved that he get by in his own interrogation.) In a feeble attempt to get back at Es and make them feel bad, he encourages Muu to cry and make a big show about being afraid of them. Muu is frightened enough that it doesn't take much persuasion... I think Kotoko and unfortunately Amane wouldn't mind the threat, they both have lives in which authority showing power isn't out of place (and maybe Haruka?). Mahiru, too, thinks it's just the way a prison guard can run their prison if they want, though she's determined her charm will keep things running pleasantly.

Kazui reaches out asap* to question the legality of the experiment, since they're allowing children to get hit, even if by other children. There's a tangle of signatures and consent from everyone involved so it's okay, but the whole thing still rubs him the wrong way. He knew the experiment was a bit shady, but he(Though, this does make his first vd kind of funny -- instead of actually talking through his theories on the prison, now it feels like he's just egging Es on to see if they'll actually hit him...)

And I really like that idea that Shidou's dad instincts kick in (or maybe it's doctor instincts)! He'd understand if it was a child trying to play the role of an intimidating adult, but the way Es is doing things, the things they're saying, it all points to something deeper going on in Es' head. I can see him sitting down with the others and Jackalope to discuss. Of course Milgram gives him very little to work with, but this still kickstarts everyone's efforts to make sure Es is also taken care of post-Milgram.

*I just realized I'm still a bit fuzzy on communication during the trials. Jackalope can definitely get information to the prisoners (most commonly the 'voices' they're supposed to be hearing based on Es' notes, but also in case of emergency changes or things). I was picturing the prisoners unable to communicate outward until the trial ends, as it builds up the feeling of isolation and imprisonment. The issue is, I feel like Jackalope would want to keep that line open in case the prisoners had questions/issues with the experiment that affected their acting. So idk if the prisoners voice these concerns about Es mid-trial or they're forced to wait. I'll get back to you on that, hm

And Yonah!!

I wasn't avoiding spoilers, I actively looked for snippets here and there, but it was this ask that finally motivated me to sit down and watch it through -- and I'm SO GLAD I DID 👀 It's really well-written and wonderfully acted!! I'm floored with the whole thing omg

I really like the idea that the Milgram team instructed Kotoko to mention Es' imperfection to rattle them a bit, but left the specifics to her. Jackalope thought she'd just make some quick comment, and does a double take when he listens in on the interrogation and realizes she has a lot to say on Es and the way Milgram is run.

Jacklope told her to be harsh with Es, and she thought that was no problem at all. She felt those opinions strongly and wasn't going to go easy on the criticism just because they were a kid. She goes into the interrogation ready to stay completely put-together... and then surprises everyone and herself when Es' distress moves her to pull them into a tight hug and tell them everything's going to be alright ;---;

#milgram #es #ill have to peek back through the material but i definitely remember es saying they dont have to worry about violence #and also openly condemning kotoko and other violent reactions #so the sudden switch would get their gears turning 👀 #operation 'save es from whatever crap is going on' begins as early as t1 #more in line with canon than the au but capri had a thorough post about es' attacks and stuff with physical touch -- maybe i go peek at tha #i think theres more angst if the prisoners cant communicate with Anyone during the trials -- theyre completely sealed off #but i feel like it may cause more problems than its worth... but if its just a story i can just write those logistic problems away lol... #thank you for the ask!! i also need fuel between such long breaks of content so it makes me so happy to chat about this :D #and i appreciate the little nudge to watch yonah -- i can def see why its your favorite omg #that last moment i mentioned is SO important to me -- it reveals a huge part of kotoko that i think even she doesnt fully realize ;-; #tw child abuse #yonah spoilers #lights camera sing your sins

[doppelnatur]

.

#When we helped with that stupid fucking trial Dante said something like #At least in Saudi Arabia the law is the law. Yes they wanted us dead but they also said so. Here everyone pretends that it's not racist tha #It's just I'm unlucky that it's just incompetence. Here it is plastered on every wall that the first law is #the dignity of a human is untouchable. Yet I've never felt so naked and touched and violated before i came here and seeked asylum #I think Elliott said something like he was a person before he came here and now there's nothing left of him. #I know that's not true he's fucking incredible and so so motivated and lovely. But it's fucking horrid that he feels that way #I'm just. Ugh. Can't stop thinking about it. #And I just. Keep hearing so much racist garbage about the people white working with refugees and I'm so. I just want my friends to be safe #I did that speech about Ella Nik Bayan last year at TDOR and it's just this endless. Fled but never found a place to be safe. #I #Racism #Anyways #It's too hot I can't sleep so now I'm just crying over this i guess #Sorry this is fully incoherent I just

[thecousinsdangereux]

if i'm falling wrong [1/1]

notes: over on Twitter, moonyriot has been working on a multi-part journal from Ava's POV covering her time in Switzerland and beyond. She asked me if I wanted to join in on the fun and write a short one-shot to cover some of the events in part 6. (If you haven't seen any of her posts, here's the first one. They are incredible so definitely check them out.)

—

“The integrity of the upright guides them,” Ava reads, taking care to enunciate each word, “but the crookedness of the treacherous destroys them. That’s Proverbs 11:3, Beatrice.” 

Beatrice definitely knows, which is — Ava thinks — what makes it so funny. Or. Funny to her, at least. Maybe not so much for Beatrice, whose lips have flattened into a thin line that hides almost all of their pretty pink hue (a color Ava has taken a liking to in a way that definitely relates to how often she finds herself staring at Beatrice’s mouth). 

“It is better to promise nothing than to promise something and not be able to do it,” Ava continues, because she’s never been any good at knowing when to stop. “That’s Ecclesiastes. And — ooh, this is a good one — A person who promises a gift but doesn’t give it is like clouds and wind that bring no rain. That’s — ”

“Proverbs again, yes, thank you, Bible.com.” 

“It’s actually Biblereasons.com.” She shows off the screen of her phone, the one that she’s definitely supposed to be using sparingly (and never does). “But sure, I can go to your bible website of choice. Whatever you want. Pretty sure I’m still going to find the same answer, though. Honestly, I would’ve thought a nun would know that lying is bad. Not to brag, or anything, but I learned that one when I was like five, or something.” 

For reasons unknown, this pries Beatrice’s lips wide, dragging them out into a full smile, pink mouth and small indent at the corner appearing just as quickly as Ava’s pulse picks up, heart slamming up against the poor, battered walls of her chest. 

“How odd,” Beatrice begins, in a low drawl that means Ava’s in trouble (in so many ways). “Because I seem to recall you telling Hans, just yesterday morning, that you were allergic to apples. As a result, he traded pastries with you, leaving you with the chocolate eclair you’d been all but salivating over since you first noticed it in the break room. Given that I know that you were perfectly able to consume a slice of apple pie that the neighbors brought up last week, I am forced to conclude that — ”

“Okay, okay! Jesus. Pump the brakes, Miss Marple. I’m allowed to lie; I’m a dirty sinner or whatever. But you hold yourself to a higher standard, right?” (Unfortunately, Ava adds, but only mentally, because yeah.) “So when you said ‘Ava, if you’re able to best me in a mighty trial of combat, I will bequeath to you a single portrait wherein my lips are upturned in joyous felicitations’ or whatever, I took that as an oath, Bea. A serious, serious oath.” 

“One, I don’t sound like that. Two, no English person alive sounds like that. Why do you default to the Regency era when you’re trying to mock my accent?” 

By now, Beatrice’s smile has really started to crack open, showing off the slightest sliver of white behind those lips. It’d be unfair to say that this (the moment where Beatrice’s eyes crinkle with a laughter she most likely won’t release) is always Ava’s goal in any conversation she has with Beatrice, but maybe it is always an intended stop along the way, whatever the actual destination might be. 

(Other pitstops of note include: the cute scrunch of her nose whenever she’s focused on Ava alone, the half-tilt of her head whenever she’s considering something Ava’s said, the almost absentminded brush of her fingers along Ava’s forearm whenever she wants her to pay especially close attention. There’s a common theme here, but Ava’s well-aware of her own preoccupation, so it’s fine. Probably.)  

“Uh, because I’m paying you a huge compliment? Ungrateful much? Mr. Darcy is like… the hottest the British have ever been. Not that that’s hard because otherwise they kind of really suck, but I’m trying here, Bea, and you’re giving me nothing but attitude. And lies.”

Beatrice sighs. It’s cute enough that Ava nearly sighs too, longing bubbling up behind her lips.

“I told you I would smile for one of your pictures if you pinned me during training. It was implied you would do so without cheating.” 

With a tsk that doesn’t sound anything like the one Beatrice sometimes uses (a low sound from the back of her throat that always did very little to help Ava concentrate), Ava takes a half-step closer so that she might properly waggle a finger in Beatrice’s face. 

“I’m only doing what you taught me, Bea I thought I was supposed to use all the resources at my disposal?” 

Beatrice promptly bats the finger away. But that’s sort of the point. (Sometimes, it’s a little pathetic, the lengths Ava will go to make sure Beatrice is touching her at literally every possible opportunity, but Ava’s never really minded being a little pathetic for a good cause. And Beatrice is honestly never hard to bait, at least in this particular way.) 

“Ava, you bit me.” 

“Which was using all the resources at my disposal! Come on! If I’d been in a real fight, you would’ve called that innovative!” 

“Perhaps if you hadn’t used your — ” Delightfully, Beatrice takes a small, steadying breath before her next word, which, to Ava (who’s spent months studying Beatrice with the rigor of a staunch academic) is as much of a giveaway as one of her cute little blushes. “ — tongue.”

“I think the element of surprise would still work just fine,” she insists, but then Beatrice gives her a look, one that she knows won’t allow for any debate over the merits of licking her enemies, and she gives in nearly instantly. (Ava’s really only interested in using any part of her mouth on one person alone, anyway.) “But fine. Okay. Good note, teach.”

Winter has begun to fade from the air and, as they walk back towards their apartment in the meandering pace that has become their custom, Ava is pleased by this for two reasons. One: their neighbors — who bake enough that Ava’s convinced they’re working up to competing on one of those bafflingly polite baking shows — now leave their windows open, filling the air with the most delicious smells, noticeable even a block away from their home. And Two: Beatrice has taken to wearing short-sleeves again, which means that when she nudges Ava now (with a charmed little roll of her eyes), it’s bare skin against bare skin. 

In training, this is both a pleasure and a problem, because then it’s Beatrice’s shorts and Ava’s shirt being pushed up as Ava gets pinned to the ground and it’s the skin of Beatrice’s inner thigh against the skin of Ava’s hip and that’s a lot more than the casual brushes she’s gotten used to. Ava had long ago realized that any and all logical thought flies out the fucking window when faced with a muscular thigh, so really, it hadn’t been all that much of a surprise when it’d resulted in Ava doing something completely insane. 

Like taking Beatrice’s thumb into her mouth. And biting it. And maybe sucking a little. Honestly, it’s all a bit of a haze, because Beatrice had then made a noise that would most certainly be featured in Ava’s dreams for the next week or month or year, in the most mortifying (and sexy) way possible. 

And to be fair, it had worked in getting Ava out of the chokehold she otherwise would’ve probably happily died in. 

So there’s that.

“Something with chocolate today,” Beatrice comments, and Ava short-circuits for a second, thinking about chocolate and fingers and skin and the really incredible potential combination of the three, before she remembers the neighbors and the smell and the baking and feels her cheeks burn.

“Uh — yeah. Maybe they’ll have extra to share.” The windows on the first floor apartment are (of course) open as they approach, and Ava raises her voice just enough for it to carry through. She catches the intertwined laughter of the neighbors that results, and shoots Beatrice a wink that dispels some of the heat building within her, an emergency vent that she’s learned to rely on. 

“You’re shameless,” Beatrice says, in the exact way she always does whenever she doesn’t mean it (lips quirking at the corners). 

“And you’re welcome, when we end up getting brownies, or whatever they’re making.” 

The door to their building never unlocks easily, but it’s gotten worse as the temperatures have started to rise; Beatrice shoulders it open, muscles bunching in her back, and Ava does absolutely nothing to help, watching the flex of her shoulder blades under the tight, gray fabric. 

“You know me,” Beatrice says lightly, knocking the side of her sneakers against the bottom of the stairs before heading up (and Ava does know her, enough to wait patiently for her to complete this small ritual). “I’m always craving sweets.” 

“You are sometimes! Whenever you come home from a night shift, you break into my stash! And since you have a lot of those coming up, on account of you losing our bet…” 

Beatrice laughs, a soft huff that turns into an adorable little squeak when Ava shoves past her on the staircase and snatches the keys from her fingers, bursting through their apartment door with far less effort than Beatrice had needed below. 

“You’re not letting this one go, are you?” 

It’s probably response enough when she snatches her camera off of the kitchen table and points it at Beatrice as soon as she steps across the threshold, but even this (pretty impressive!) sneak attack fails. Beatrice is quick enough to throw a hand up before the snap, lowering it only when Ava does the same with the camera. She continues to eye her warily as she bends down to untie her shoes, only abating to cast a significant look in Ava’s direction, which persists until Ava kicks hers off far less elegantly.

“It’s one photo, Bea!” she grumbles, watching as Beatrice arranges their sneakers in a perfect little line. “Just… one smile. Let’s just get it out of the way, you know? Look up and … ”

Beatrice does look up. 

Ava has to give her that.

It’s the only warning she gets before Beatrice is standing and her fingers are wrapping around Ava’s wrist and she’s pressed flush against Ava’s front and well. Sure. That’s one way to get Ava to shut up. Probably the only way. Ava knows this about herself, but really can’t find any regret when it’s led her right here. 

“You cheated,” Beatrice murmurs lowly. “Why would I reward that?” 

Ava has a lot of thoughts around the concept of Beatrice rewarding her, and absolutely none of them are good. (Or, rather, they’re all extremely good. Very good. Far too good for her to be able to say out loud, those curling, irreverent thoughts that stick her tongue to the roof of her mouth and keep her up at night.) So it’s really out of mercy that she phases then — slipping out of Beatrice’s grip the only way she knows how that doesn’t involve cheap tricks — stepping back and lifting her camera again. 

What follows transpires a bit too quickly for Ava to track. 

She’s seen Beatrice fight in all sorts of situations — at full speed in back alley brawls and at half-tempo when leading her through a new form — but Ava’s pretty sure she’ll never see enough to lose the surprise that comes from being on the end of one of Beatrice’s first strikes. She’s in front of Ava and then she’s not; it’s really as simple (and terrifying) (and hot) as that. One moment, Ava has her camera ready, and then she’s facing a different direction entirely, her hand twisted behind her back, her camera falling from her grasp. Beatrice is fast here too, swooping down to catch it before it hits the floor, but this allows Ava to throw an elbow backwards, a hit that surely would have broken something in Beatrice’s face had it landed (but which Ava knows by now never will). 

“Double or nothing?” Ava pants, stumbling forward and twisting back around to face Beatrice, who’s gently placed the camera on the floor, carefully out of the way. 

“Two photos if you win and you take my night shifts for two weeks when you lose?” 

“Wait, I don’t like the if/when placement in that senten — ”

She barely ducks out of Beatrice’s grapple, cutting herself off mid-word to manage it, a little breathless already. It occurs to her that she’s definitely made a mistake here, looking up and finding Beatrice serious and focused, strands of her hair slipping out of the low bun that’s already started to loosen. Even in the warm light filtering through their apartment windows, Beatrice’s eyes look dark, and Ava spends a second too long suppressing a shiver at the sight. Which means, of course, she’s unable to avoid the next hit: a full tackle to the floor. Either Beatrice really doesn’t want Ava to take this photo or she really wants to get out of her night shifts, because she’s not going about this in the calm, measured way Ava is used to. (There’s a third option and it’s one Ava likes best; maybe Beatrice just really wants to pin Ava to the floor, to feel Ava underneath her, to feel Ava squirm against her front, fighting to get out of the hold. This is the option Ava relates to best and maybe it’s the one driving her now, putting her at a disadvantage just as significant as all the other ones.) 

Ava hits the ground hard, enough to knock air out of her lungs, but she’s saved, partially, by starting on a twist mid-air, mindful of how dangerous it’ll be if Beatrice gets her flat on her back. Not that Ava is opposed to this idea. Not on a normal day. Not even today, if only Beatrice would — 

“Good,” Beatrice says, breaking through Ava’s thoughts, though not in a way that is helpful at all. Beatrice most certainly notices the jerk of Ava’s hips the single word causes, but almost equally as certainly dismisses it as part of Ava’s attempts to break free. “But you over-rotated. Just slightly. See how I can use that to put you on your stomach?”

Always the instructor, Beatrice explains precisely how she’s going to best Ava before she actually does it; if Ava were better at this (if Beatrice were worse) this might actually be of some help in countering Beatrice’s efforts. Sadly, she’s not, so it isn’t. 

“Fuck,” Ava grunts, face pressed directly into the carpet of their bedroom. It’s honestly painful, the way Beatrice’s knee presses into the center of her back, but it’s a sort of pain that Ava’s come to find — over their months together — that she doesn’t especially mind or maybe even likes and maybe gets a fair amount of pleasure from and maybe thinks about it from time to time whenever she gets a moment alone and — yeah. Fuck is really the only word for it. 

“What now, Ava?” Finally, there’s a hint of the breathlessness in Beatrice’s voice: when she locks one of Ava’s arms behind her back, and Ava attempts to land some kind of backwards headbutt, pushing herself up off the floor with her free hand. “What’s your best option?” 

Beg you to have your way with me, doesn’t really seem like the response Beatrice is looking for, but Christ a girl can only take so much. And right about then, Ava knows she’s going to cheat (because it’s either cheat or blurt out something that will inevitably be extremely horny) but is it really cheating if there hadn’t been any rules put forth in the first place? 

She’s gotten better about controlling the Halo, so it barely gives off any light before she lifts onto one knee and throws herself backwards, phasing neatly through Beatrice’s front. The effort Beatrice had been using to hold her down works against her now, effectively swapping their positions as she falls forward, and Ava’s quick to use that momentum, reaching around to grab the front of Beatrice’s shirt so she’s flipped with the motion. Another (gentle) Halo blast lands Beatrice on her back, Ava straddling her hips and pinning both of her hands on either side of her head. 

“You didn’t say no Halo,” Ava says in a rush, as though the victory will be taken away instantly, as though she cares at all about some stupid bet instead of being on top of Beatrice whose eyes are wide and lovely, whose lips are parted and pink, whose chest is — not something Ava is looking at, thank you very much. Because she’s respectful, she can be respectful, she has to try to be respectful. 

“I didn’t,” Beatrice says finally and then fucking licks her lips, like God Himself has decided that Ava needs to be punched directly in the face with attractiveness or whatever and holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

“Then I — that means — uh — ” She releases one of Beatrice’s wrists like it’s burning, very much aware of the intensity of the gaze resting on her, and blindly roots around on the floor behind her until she finds the camera, resting just where Beatrice had left it. “I get to do this.” 

Her fumbling with the camera is hardly graceful, but honestly, the fact that she’s able to produce words at all is nothing short of a miracle, so she’ll take it. Her right hand is still wrapped around Beatrice’s left, fingers circling her wrist as she pins it to the floor, and she takes a picture of this first, holding her breath all the while. 

“For — uh — proof?” she offers, a little weakly, and Beatrice’s stare finally breaks, intensity replaced by something much softer, something that seeps into the corner of her eyes and mouth in equal measure. Ava’s struck by the sight as much as she is by anything else, and her grip relaxes enough that Beatrice can slip out of the hold, both hands drifting down until they come to rest just alongside either one of Ava’s knees. 

“Proof for who?” 

“What do you — proof for literally everyone, Bea; Hans, Camila, Lilith, Mother Superion, Jillian, the regulars at the bar, our neighbors, the lady who runs the bakery down the street, any random person I walk past for the next month. Hell, I might take out an ad in The Guardian, or something, are you kidding?” 

Beatrice laughs and it’s like a crack in the universe, or something equally and unequivocally earth-shattering. Lungs empty, air knocked fully out, Ava lifts her camera almost instinctively, only to find her view devastatingly obstructed, Beatrice’s arms flung over her face (the grin, still wide with laughter, barely peeking out from underneath). 

“Beatrice,” she groans (or maybe pouts).

“I’m sorry!” And she sounds it too, even through the smile, the half-giggles now petering out. “Truly. I’m not used to being photographed. I can’t think of a time it happened before you took up this hobby, not outside of unpleasant family photoshoots and the like.”

Ava’s heart flips painfully in her chest, but Beatrice is quick to soothe, fingers falling back down to brush against the outside of Ava’s leg, as though Ava’s the one in need of comfort.

“I’m not protesting, Ava. Just tell me what to do.” 

Photographs are meant to reproduce moments, memories, emotions, but Ava’s not sure the best photographer in the world, with hundreds of thousands of euros in equipment, would ever be able to fully capture Beatrice as she is now, fondness bleeding from the tips of her fingers, affection lighting the brown of her eyes, and love — or something an awful lot like it — bending her mouth, a bow pulled taut with an arrow that might be Ava herself, as inconceivable as the notion is. 

“Pretend the camera isn’t here,” Ava rasps, her breath hot (heated by all the things boiling inside of her now). “Just look at me.” 

Beatrice looks at her. 

Ava stops breathing. 

She takes the picture. The camera lowers. And Ava forgets about it entirely, object permanence completely obliterated by a force far stronger than something as trivial as human development.

Underneath her, seemingly content to be straddled, Beatrice looks calm, which isn’t unusual, because she almost always looks calm, so maybe it’s that she feels calm too. Like all the things Ava can always sense running through her at speeds only known to light have slowed down or disappeared entirely. The mission, her duties, her vows, her expectations, these things have washed away (temporarily but completely) until it’s only Beatrice left, staring at her lips. And Ava had thought she’d experienced wanting Beatrice in every way, but this one is new.

(She wants Beatrice like this: exactly herself, without anything else getting in the way.)

“Beatrice,” she says, a hitch in her voice breaking the name into three, distinct syllables. “I’m — ”

Cursed. Saved. Ruined. Blessed. Fucked. 

Ava’s not sure which word applies when the smoke alarm goes off downstairs.

It is not especially loud, or piercing, but it goes off and all of the easy calm flees from Beatrice’s eyes as she jerks upwards, back lifting off the floor until she’s close, closer than before, so close and it’s too much, maybe, or maybe Ava’s instincts are working against her (or for her?) because she falls back as soon as Beatrice completes the motion, balance disastrously (helpfully?) disrupted. 

Oh well, Ava thinks, as she lets herself fall back. Maybe a bit of brain damage would do her some good. 

Except that, of course, Beatrice catches her, a simple slip of her hand around Ava’s back, palm pressing to the middle of the Halo, shocks spreading out from the point of impact. 

“You’re what?” Beatrice asks, terribly quiet, as though she feels the air rearranging around them, molecules shifting back and forth between possibilities and outcomes. 

And if Beatrice were still calm, if everything else were still pushed away, if Beatrice was just Beatrice in that moment — just as she’d been so briefly before — it would not be a choice, what Ava did next. And maybe it isn’t one now either, but it’s in the opposite direction: pulling away rather than pushing forward (creating space rather than closing it). 

“I’m — just — I’m done. With the photos.” Decision made, breath returning, she shrugs, a little bashful now, the steady beep of the alarm and the laughter of their neighbors drifting up from below. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Beatrice’s head tilts, a small crease forming in between her eyebrows. Some people want money or power or peace or the answers to the universe, but Ava thinks she would be content, if only she could know what Beatrice is thinking right now.

“No,” she murmurs. “Not so bad at all.”

#avatrice #warrior nun #ava silva lives on #Ava's Journals #moonyriot #happy new year! #writing

[sadlynojellybeans]

So I am re-reading TOA and i have decided to write some things i noticed now that I know what is going to happen next.

THE HIDDEN ORACLE

Meg was about do develop a crush on Percy, and Apollo noticed. It was immediatly curbed by Percy mentioning his girlfriend. He did not even notice XD

Apollo actually got out of the three legged death race unscathed O.o Scared to death but unharmed

Lester is being surprisingly not pathetic??? I mean, he can't remember shit and has the constutution of a limp noodle, but he has not fainted in several chapters!!! Maybe it's because Camp Half Blood is a relatively safe space for them...

THE FORESHADOWING IN CHAPTER 26 IS DEVASTATING - he gets confirmation it is the emperors behind everything and he thinks "i would have rather tangled with Tartarus or Ouranos or Primordial Chaos" APOLLO PLEASE

Speaking of foreshadowing, Rhea?!??!? "Find your center. Enlightenment has to come from within" HELLO??!?!??

Apollo mentioning he caused an earthquake that wiped out most of Sparta and that he never liked the Spartans much??? What about HYACINTHUS???????

"I busted out some footwork the Nine Muses and I had been working on" please I want so bad to see Apollo dance. Especially Apollo as Lester

Apollo being absolutely convinced that he will never have a proper partner is tragic. "It was not in my destiny" bro

The Germani appear and the absolute first thing Apollo does is move in front of Meg. "Instinctively". This is the same guy that at the beginning of the book was evaluating which demigods would be best to keep on hand to throw at quests. I can't. Just how much exactly did he repress his protective instincts through the years and centuries?

I find so fascinating that Apollo wants to strike Nero down immediately after meeting him. Like, yes. Apollo is a god. And he would not allow anyone to threaten what he cares about. Even after his trials, he might be kinder and more attentive to demigods, but I think that anybody who crosses him (really crosses him) will have to start praying for mercy.

If there is one thing I can say about TOA is that it is certainly expanding my musical horizons, with all the songs I have to check out on youtube just to have an idea of what Apollo is singing about.

He did not suck during the confrontation with Nero?! Burst of godly strength saved the day and his dignity

"Just because she had lied about being my friend did not mean I wasn't hers. She was in danger. I was not going to leave her" man. He cares so fucking much. No wonder he never let anybody get close to him in the last years.

Didn't they say a sonnet was worse than a limerick in the next book?

"BLESS HIS CONNIVING LITTLE HEART". "Children of Hermes cannot rap". "[Cecil] was demoted to dancer" skjsjskansnkzbsnsmmsnzm

It's kind of ... sad? How happy Apollo is when flying on the giant ants. He is used to being a god who can fly whenever he wants, and a part of him is usually in the sky every day as he drives the sun chariot. And instead he has been stranded on earth, away from what is both his duty and something he greatly enjoys. "It felt so good to fly again. [...] For two or three seconds I was exhilarated".

AND THE ARROW OF DODONA IS FINALLY HERE AND TALKING FRIENDS!!!!

I cannot believe I am so happy because of a talking arrow

The arrow QUIVERED kjsnsksjsnsnzjxndnsk i love them so much

Not Apollo asking where Jason Grace is 💀

I genuinely cannot understand if this is foreshadowing or really lucky wording on Riordan's part. Rachel asks about Meg and Apollo thinks "She might as well have plunged the Arrow of Dodona into my chest". RICK. RICK DID YOU KNOW? HAD YOU ALREADY THOUGTH ABOUT THAT SCENE IN TBM OR WAS IT PURE CHANCE????

WE WERE ROBBED. I have been wondering for a few days if in TOA we ever see Apollo sing for fun (not to confuse enemies, not to open doors, not for any practical purpose. Just for the fun of it). The depressing answer seems to be no, although I might have forgotten. At the end of THO it is implied that Apollo, Leo and Calypso join the sing-along at CHB, but the fact that the books end before we actually see him sing is a travesty.

#trials of apollo #toa #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #meg mccaffrey #the hidden oracle

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

Someone wanted to suffer some more so OMG I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS! THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE BLURB, DO NOT PANIC!!!

A sequel to the stranger.

rites (’terms of endearment’ au)

Daemon says goodbye.

Triggers: death in childbirth, angst.

The pyre is prepared.

He is tired. When was the last time he had slept? He cannot recall. Most evenings, he sits and watches his son in the cradle, the last vestige of you that remains to him now. He counts every breath, every shift, watches every sign of life, jealously guarding his treasure from a world treacherous enough to steal mothers from babes fresh out of the womb. It’s unhealthy, he knows, but he cannot help it. Little Vaelor is all he has left.

They are waiting for him; Rhaenyra and Laenor, Daeron and Helaena, the Hightower lot. His brother. He cannot bring himself to speak the word. Athfiezar stands upon the rock, mute and subdued, a far cry from the mighty beast he is known to be. He can commiserate, for the dragon is not the only being unmanned by…

By. He cannot say it. If he does not say it, it isn’t real.

There are moments where he feels he is going mad, that his mind is breaking like a wave upon the shore. He sees you in the corner of his eye, flitting behind a pillar, following him in shadows and silence. He feels your breath upon his skin, smells the rose oil in the air, tastes the honey-wine flavour of your lips. You haunt him, and he wants desperately to hope that it is you beyond the veil, keeping him company in the lonely hours of the night, his sweet, devoted girl. He cannot decide if it is better or worse to be plagued by the memory of you, whether these reminders are a salve upon the wound or if it would be better to let you go. For now, he clutches these flashes of you close, these illusions and phantoms that keep the thought of you alive where you now lay still.

His brother had had to tear him bodily from the bed that night. He doesn’t recall it well, but he knows he had held you to him for a time, had felt the warmth fading with each wet pulse of blood upon the sheets. He had laid there with your head tucked beneath his chin and your body in his arms, and you could have been asleep if not for the chill that had crept into you. He’d had the thought that perhaps the fire in his veins could revive you, that perhaps he could press his life force through your flesh and restart the beating of your heart. He had laid there while your family had wept, while the Maesters and midwives had tidied the room, while faces had wandered to and from the room, his pretty bride with your son nestled between you.

Viserys had coaxed him to part from you, so gentle it was as though he was a boy of four once more, being soothed after the loss of his mother. Like the child he had been, he’d folded into his brother’s embrace easily, entrusting himself to the man that had given you life. Had given you life, and he had taken it away. How ironic. He has always destroyed everything he touches.

He cannot sleep, cannot eat, cannot think. He is a wraith, a soulless creature that exists for one thing only. Each day is a trial by combat, steel to the heart that he wishes would lance him open and leave him to bleed so that he may join you. You would need him, even in the beyond; but your child needs him, too. He will make you proud.

The pyre is prepared. You are shrouded from view upon the surface, and he wonders if that makes it easier or harder. No one speaks, and there is no sound save for the breeze upon the grass and Vaelor’s squalling in his brother’s arm. The boy must be here to say goodbye to you.

He looks up at Athfiezar, your first true friend and confidant. The dragon had tormented the city with his screams for days, only falling silent when he’d brought your son to him. It is amusing to him that the creature who had barely tolerated him then is receptive to him now, though it is perhaps more likely that the scent of you upon the boy is what had quieted him. His eyes burn. It is fitting that the beast would be the one to convey you to your end. He clears his throat, reviving the voice he has used little of since you left. Since you died.

Goodbye, my love.

“Dracarys.”

Don’t worry, this WILL NOT HAPPEN in the main series - but I am happy to add these little blurbs to the Alternate Universe train! Thanks for reading!

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x you #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfiction #team black #daemon #matt smith #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #game of thrones #targaryen #terms of endearment blurbs

[misskingshit]

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 summary: The love that the two of you have for each other is immense, but the problems exceed it in size. note: I watched the two seasons of OBX and the truth is that I love it, I'm a little worried about the fact that instead of sending Rafe to therapy they want to put a love interest on him, I hope they don't ruin it. I know that Rafe was not at the scene of John B's trial where he is sentenced and all, but let's pretend that he was. xoxo

"Is this a joke? Like, are we in hell or...?" Kiara started to say.

"I shouldn’t have come home," Sarah continues.

You were just silent, your best friend since childhood convicted of something he didn't do, quite the contrary, he is the victim.

But the worst part, without a doubt...

The boy you love being the culprit, the one who gets away with it, a murderer. Seeing him there, at Peterkin's funeral and now at the trial as if nothing had happened, serious, staring at you.

All of this just didn't make sense.

"They're going to kill him, guys. I know."

"JJ shut up" you looked at him, your dark circles revealing the fact that you hadn't slept well in weeks, your voice raspy and broken, the fact that you weren't well at all "please shut up".

"Could you please shut up" Kie begins to attack a group of men who came with Ward and... Rafe.

"Kie let's just go" you tried to convince her.

"No, of course you think that justice worked because it was made to protect you and people like you..."

She continued to shoot (truths) at Ward and even though you loved her for it, you wished with all your might that she would shut up and get out of there, you didn't want to have him in front of you right now.

"The pogue got what he deserved" you heard his voice for the first time all day, that beautiful voice that one day was your safe place, but now it's the place you feared the most.

"How can you say that?" it came out, you couldn't control it, your voice cuts off at a moment when you couldn't believe it "how? I don't understand it" you looked into his eyes, watery like yours. He couldn't resist seeing you like this, having you away.

"Babe, come home, we'll talk about this, we..." Rafe got closer and closer to you, but when he was about to reach you, a blonde hair stood between you two "stay away from her, dude" Jj blurted out hard.

"She won't come to your house murderer, because that's what you are, a murderer!" Kie did not hold back "It's not a coincidence that your sister and your girlfriend are sitting with us" your friend said for the last time.

The officers separated them and finally each group went their own way, but not before noticing Rafe's look on you, somewhat hurt and hateful on the blonde.

———

You didn't really know what to do, you just closed the cafeteria where you work, the sign clearly said closed and being the only one inside with most of the lights off, it was very strange for you to hear the doorbell ring at the entrance. Seeing him, you just wanted to run away.

"It's closed" you said looking down, intending to continue cleaning the table.

"I know" silence "I just..."

"You should go" you said emphatically.

"No, we should talk about this" you quickly turned your head towards him.

"Talk? What exactly do you want to talk about? Huh? How you ki..." Shit you couldn't even say it out loud. He was a murderer.

"I love you, nothing else matters, I love you and I want to have you with me, by my side, forever" little by little he came closer to you, for each step he took forward you took one back.

"Rafe, I'm scared" you started to cry "I'm scared of you, you... you killed Peterkin and you don't even seem to feel guilty about it" you cried even more "you tried to kill John B and something tells me that Sarah will be next" .

Rafe's face was suffering, he could kill without remorse...but that you are afraid of him, no, that broke his heart.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, I would never do anything to you, never, I couldn't" he whispered "I love you so much and I'm not willing to lose you" his voice breaks.

He approaches and this time you don't walk away "I love you too, Rafe, I love you with all that I am, but I can't, I can't, I shouldn't" his hands rest on your face wiping away your tears "this is not fair Rafe, why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to us?"

Silence, that's all you received from him.

"I love you Rafe, I probably always will, but I can't go through with this" you said with what little voice you had left.

You kissed him, one last kiss...

Or so you thought.

———

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, sooo i’m sorry in advance for any mistakes.

#rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe fluff #rafe angst #rafe x y/n #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx fic #obx3 #obx cast #rafe cameron x reader #pogues x reader #obx pogues

[anisrightarm]

Then there was shawn

Warnings: a dead body??

This is based off of s5 ep.17 of boy meets world, you’re the stand in for Angela (I love her)

Corey and Shawn were at their lockers getting stuff for Feenys class, Shawn looks at Corey and says “I’ll give you a million dollars if you and Topanga get back together.”

Corey raises his eyebrows and closes his locker, turning to Shawn with crossed arms “You don’t have a million dollars.” Shawn peirces his lips while him and Corey start to walk to mr Feenys class.

“If I have the money is none of your concern, answer the question, if I give you a million dollars will you patch things up with Topanga.” Shawn says to the Brillo haired boy next to him.

Corey sighs ‘this is harder on Shawn then me and Topanga.’ Corey thought. “I’m not the one who needs selling, talk to them Shawn.” Corey states

“I already talked to Topanga, she said two million!” Shawn counters, Corey turns to him with shock on his face.

“Why does she get two million?! And you talk to her but not Y/n?” Corey says the last part lightly but Shawn heard him.

“Because Topanga isn’t my ex, and besides what difference does it make I don’t even have lunch money!” Shawn sighs as the friends pass the janitor Freddie on the way to Mr. Feenys class.

“Look Shawn, I know me and Topanga not being together upsets you, if upsets me! It’s not exactly a party for me either, but you have to leave it alone. Yes I know you’re bummed about Y/n breaking up with you but you have to focus on more pleasant things, Like the space program!” Corey tells Shawn as he rolls his eyes and throws his hands up slightly.

“You don’t get it Cor, you, me, Y/n, and Topanga we’re the only consistent things in my life, besides I’m not gonna go up to y/n and apologize, you’re crazy!” Shawn exaggerated

“You’re giving me a headache Shawn.” Corey says

“My bleeding intestines mean nothing to you?” Shawn states as he bumps into the janitor, Shawn didn’t know when he got by them. “Sorry, didn’t see you there”

The janitor whips his head back to glare at Shawn and continues to push his creepy waste bin. “It looks could kill, I’d be dead-“ “what are you doing in my seat?” Shawn is confused normally he sits in the back now Corey’s making him sit in between him and Topanga.

“I’ll spend a week in the creepy janitors basement if you and Topanga get back together.”

“I’ll spend a month down there if you and Y/n get back together, Turn around Feenys gonna know we’re talking!”

¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•¥•

With Topanga and Y/n

Shawn’s obsessed with you and Cor, you know that?” Y/n says to Topanga as they open their notebooks, Topanga places her pencils on her desk as she spoke.

“I think it’s kinda sweet, Corey loves you and Shawn, you know that?” Topanga says as she flips through her notebook to a blank page. “It’s kind of annoying”

Y/ns eyebrows furrowed, why would Topanga say that?

“What’s going on with you panga?”

“Nothing, I’m kinda glad you and Shawn are broken up, you guys are madly in love, me and Corey couldn’t live up to you guys.” Topanga sighs.

“Who asked you guys too?”

“That’s why he broke up with me.”

“What, it’s my fault now?!”

Topanga cringes realizing how that sounded “I didn’t mean it like tha-“ she starts but gets interrupted by Kenny asking to borrow her pencil, Topanga went to give it to him when Shawn jumped in

“A pencil, you’re using the ‘borrow a pencil’ line? That’s older than Feeny! Their not divorced, it’s just a trial separation man! No one has borrowed more pencils than Shawn hunter, No one.” Shawn says as Corey pulls him back in his seat.

“Easy does it buddy”

“Did you see that?!”

“Yeah, it was ugly!”

“He was just asking for a pencil!” Y/n says

Shawn turns to her “I know what he was asking for, and if he asks for it again, I’ll shove that pencil right through his heart, you hear me Kenny?!”

Feeny turns around with a roll of his eyes “we’ll return to the young and restless right after a quick vocal lesson, here it is, shut up!” He tells the class annoyance laced in his voice.

“Mr. Feeny, I’m sure you recall the pain of being stabbed in the back by a girlfriend.” Shawn says

“I didn’t stab him! He stabbed me!”

“Oh come on! I’d stab myself before I ever stab you Topanga.” Corey says

Y/n rolls her eyes “Yeah, right sure you will Corey.”

Corey turns to Kenny “Give me that pencil Kenny.”

“I don’t have a pencil!”

“Alright that’s it! This class will not be more interested in the romantic going-ons of it’s students than whatever the hell I’m teaching!” Feeny slams his scissors on the desk the noise makes Shawn jump.

He tells Corey and Topanga to move to opposite sides of the class room, separating them farther much to Shawns annoyance.

“Mr. Feeny, I don’t think you grasp the importance of ours and their separations!” Shawn says as Feeny rolls his eyes

“No but I can grasp the fact the five of you spend more time bickering then listening to me teach! I’m sick of it! Now anymore outlandish distractions and all five of you get detention! Now sit down and pay attention!” He says as he turns to continue writing Shakespeare on the chalkboard.

Kenny turns to Y/n “Do you have an extra pencil Y/n?” he asks. 

“NO!” Shawn glares at Kenny, suddenly the classroom door bangs open and the janitor empties the trash and points to all of them before leaving. 

“THAT’S IT!”

“I didn’t think seniors still got detention.” Corey says as he slides into a desk Y/n nodding along in agreement.

“They do when they act like two year olds.” Feeny says with is hands clasped in front of him.

“They do when they act like two years old” Y/n mocked Feenys words, Feeny lifts a brow

“Miss Y/L/N I suggest you wait to mock someone until they are not standing right BEHIND you.” Feeny says

Y/n lowers her head “Sorry I’m not in my normal seat.”

Feeny walks to the door

“Where are you going?” Shawn asks

“Well, unlike you I’m not in detention, I have to call your parents but don’t think for a second my absents from this room doesn’t mean you’re not being watched.” With that he leaves the teens alone.

“All I wanted was a pencil.” Kenny says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh shut up Kenny, You’re lucky to even be here!” Corey bites back

“Really because I don’t see it as luck Corey.”

Y/n gets up and Shawn subconsciously follows her movements to the door.

“Where are you guys going?” Topanga asks Y/n

“Well if we’re going to be stuck here I’m going to my locker to grab my Walk-man and a book.” “And I’m getting my cheese products.” 

Shawn goes to twist the knob but it doesn’t turn, he tries again and turns to his friends

“Feeny locked us in here! Can you believe it?!” Shawn throws his hands up in the air.

“Move, Let me try Shawn”

“Ugh! What the hell?”

“Told you.”

She rolls her eyes. “He can’t do that it’s against the Jeniva Detention Convention!” Corey says

Y/n taps Shawn and they run to their desks a few seconds later the janitor appears at the door.

“Hey Jingles! Do you have the key?” Shawn makes a key turning motion with is hands, The janitor holds up a ring of keys.

“Awesome! Can you let us out?” Y/n asks but he walks away.

“Oh come on man!” “This is weird Y/n.” “You think?!”

Just then the map covering the chalkboard snaps up Y/n points to the board in horror

“THE BOARD!” 

Written in blood ‘YOU’LL NEVER GET OUT ALIVE!’

Everyone looks on in horror.

“It’s OK. It’s OK.” Corey tries to calm Topanga down, He turns to Shawn with wide eyes and whispers ‘Help me!’ Shawn smirks

“What did you say to him?” Topanga asks

“You didn’t hear me?” 

“Obviously not or she wouldn’t have asked”

“Alright!” Corey says delighted 

“What’s going on!” Topanga asks

Y/n and Shawn turn to eachother nodding “It’s Feeny!”

“It’s not me!” Topanga says not hearing her friend

“No, She means it’s Fenny behind all this!” Shawn says as Y/n nods in agreement.

“How are you guys so calm? How are you guys not freaking out right now?” Kenny asks bewildered at the two.

 “Oh trust I am, I’ve seen too many horror movies to know not to let it cloud my judgment, it’s how you die.” Y/n responds 

“THERE’S BLOOD ON THE BLACKBOARD SHAWN, I don’t think it’s because Feeny ran outta chalk!” Topanga points 

“It’s fake Panga-” “It’s all fake! Feeny’s pulling some elaborate hoax.” Shawn finished for Y/n as she nods

“And why does Feeny do anything? To teach us a lesson. I just haven’t figured out this lesson though.” Y/n says in deep thought.

“You’re nuts! This is NUTS Y/n/n! It makes no sense” Topanga says holing on to Corey who had a smug look on his face.

“It does when you’ve seen as many horror movies as me and Shawn, It’s all classic; The blood, the locked doors, the spooky janitor, and our soon to be first victim.” Y/n and Shawn motion to Kenny who was on the other side of the room

“Huh? Why me?!”

“Come on it’s certainly not gonna be one of us.” Corey says the rest of the group laughing in agreement.

Just then they heard a beat in the hallway, Y/n froze and clung to Shawn as he smirked and looked down at her.

“Alright horror experts, WHAT’S THAT?” Topanga screeched pointing to the door.

“That’s the sound of our beating hearts, it signifies our heightened senses and the fact something horrible is about to walk through that door!” Everyone tenses waiting for the horrible sight.

The door swings to reavel Eric Matthews and Jack Hunter, both Y/n and Shawns jaw dropped to the floor. 

“HIDY, HO everybody!” Eric waves with a stupid smile

“How’d you open the door?”

The question fell upon deaf ears as Jack noticed the blackboard “Echhh, There’s blood on the board.”

“We’ve noticed Jack thank you.” Y/n snaps as she lets go of Shawns arm much to his dismay.

“What are you guys doing here?” Shawn asks his brother.

“Well, Jack and I had a hankering for some hoops, I missed that old John Addams locker room y’know.” Eric explains.

“Diddya see Feeny out there?” Corey asks 

“No not a soul, It was actually kinda creepy.” Jack shudders

“Creepy? Why creepy? Why’s it creepy?!” Topanga frantically asks 

“Uhhhh, I think it has something to do with that weird old janitor.” “We knew it!” 

“Anyways we finished hooping and went to the locker room to change and he was in there pushing his weird squeaky waste basket.”

“That’s not bad!”

“Ohhh, blood came out of the showers.” Eric says as Topanga gasps facing you.

“How was the pressure?”

“Oh really good!”

“This is exactly like that classic me and Y/n saw ‘Blood in the showers’.” Shawn says and Y/n agrees remembering the movie they watched on their 5th date.

“This isn’t the janitor! It’s the work of an evil mastermind!”

“Feeny”

“Absolutely Feeny” Y/n and Shawn high-five

“Therefore Kenny has to be our first victim!” Y/n points out Kenny to Eric and Jack who both nod in agreement

“I really wish you’d stop saying that Y/n”

Jack gets up “So what is he trying to do? Feeny always teaches us lessons.” He asks the group.

“He knows detention doesn’t scare us like it used to when we were kids, so he turned the school into a chamber of horrors!” Corey concludes

“Feenys house of horrors” Y/n laughs getting a glare from Topanga

“That doesn’t scare me! Nothing scares me! And Topanga and Y/n don’t belong to you or your best bud Cor anymore. So if i want a pencil I’ll ask for a pencil!” Kenny shoves his finger into shawns chest.

Suddenly the lights turn off and Y/n screams moving closer to Shawn, Then just as fast they’re back on Eric in Jacks arms, Topanga screams and covers her mouth.

“No, No, No, You scream when the lights go off not on, it takes from the first scare.” Shawn says putting a hand on Topangas arm.

She screams again and points, You all follow her arm and see Kenny with the giant pencil in his forehead, his body suddenly slumps to the floor leaving a trail of graphite.

Corey walks up “We’ll always remember he was this tall.” And everyone screams and runs out of the classroom.

PT 2????

#shawn hunter x reader #boy meets world #boy meets world x reader #topanga matthews #x reader #shawn hunter #shawn hunter x you

[cucuxumusu]

Persian Prince 👑x Alien Cryptid 👽

Bruce Wayne, adopted son of Ra's al Ghul, was nearing the end of his training. Years spend under the careful tutelage of his mentor, had served him to master everything he will need to take the position he was meant to, and rule over the land. Everything was planed. He will marry Talia, he will ascend to the throne, and rule the league of assassins as many men before him had done.

He just needed one last step to reach that future: The trial of the green temple.

Many rumors were told about the place. It was a place older than humanity, cursed and sacred on equal terms. It had magic that could bring back the dead, it had monster of red eyes hiding in the corners ready to steal your reason. Only the worthy to rule managed to survive a night in the place.

If Bruce wanted to prove his worth, if he wanted to shut up those who doubted his foreign origins and prove his value as king, he needed to survive it.

And so, with the blessing of his mentor and the farewell of his future wife, Bruce departed into the wildness of the dessert. The trip was also meant to be part of the trial, his instructions had been a riddle, the destination unknown, but Bruce's mind was sharp, and he quickly deciphered the old riddle and finally found the ruins of an old construction in the middle of the vastness of sand and wind.

His trial consisted in staying in the place for a night. Then pick one of the strange blue flowers that grew on it's more intern parts, and return. Simple and quick. Bruce quickly set to it.

He entered the dark place that felt way to cold for a construction built in the center of a desert. The architecture didn't resemble any other civilization he had known, the angles were too perfect, the spaces too big. There were paintings on the walls, languages unknown, flying monster that fell from the sky wrecking havoc.

The whole place seemed eerie and unnatural. Bruce's trained instincts screamed at him. Too silent. Too cold. It felt as if he had entered another dimension, and above it all, there was that strange green glow coming from the center of it.

He still kept on walking. Forward and forward, stubborn in fulfilling his destiny and his mission, until he finally found the center of temple.

The blue flowers grew everywhere. Over the black windows, over tables full of buttons, and the metallic floor. And right in the center of it all, there was the cristal. Pure green, illuminating the room, the flowers and the temple, like the putrid heart of a monster. Green liquid poured from it, pooling in little ponds on the floors, like the ones in the legends that could bring back the dead.

Bruce stared at it, stepped closer, and then, he saw him.

There was someone inside the cristal.

It was wearing a strange outfit of blues and reds as he foated suspended in the green material, preserved for eternity. A bright golden simbol was engraved on his chest, a long silky cape flowed from his shoulders in ripples behind him.

He was the most handsome man Bruce has ever seen. Strong psyche, raven hair, and pale skin. His features were perfection, as if an artist had spend years just arranging them to please the eye. The texture of his skin, the softness of his hair, or the deep blue of his eyes, everything in him felt almost like a siren song trapping him in a spell.

Bruce stepped as close as he could to the glass so he could look at this piece of art better. The man was gorgeous, but he also looked sick. There was dark shadows under those eyes, there were dark veins under the pale skin, a grimace of hurt in his lips.

Bruce frowned, changed positions, and this time, as he moved, the blue eyes of the man followed him.

Bruce gasped and stepped back almost falling into one of the green ponds. The man was alive. It had not been and ilusion, the man's eyes had followed him and we're still following his moves.

Horror drowned on Bruce. Trapped. For eternity. Legends told that this cursed temple had been older than humanity, and during that time this man had been trapped here.

This was wrong. This was sick. Maybe this was part of the trial too.

Bruce should do what he had been told. He should pick the flower and only the flower. He should avoid everything else, the pools that promised eternal life, the man in the middle of it. It was probably a trap, another trick to kill the unworthy ones.

Bruce picked the stupid flower. He turned away to leave. Yet he found couldn't move away. It had been the blue eyes. The resignation in them.

Before he could second guess what he was doing, Bruce turned away, unsheathed his saber, and started to bang the cristal with it.

The green material was hard, resistant, but it was still a crystal. After his blade chipped a piece, the whole thing cracked and exploded.

The green light went out, even the pond's light on the floor dimmed as rubbish and dust settled around Bruce in the little temple.

Then, among the growing darkness, a figure rose. It was red and blue. It was naturally gorgeous. It stared at Bruce down as he rose into the air with his eyes glowing a deep murderous red.

#what if Clark landed millenia ago? #what if Bruce acepted Ras' teachings? #what if he found that lost alien? #superbat #superman #clark x bruce #batman #bruce wayne #my fic

[willtheweaver]

Find the Word tag

Shoutout to @winterandwords for the open tag

(Rules: post a snippet from your WIP(s) that contains one of the words given to you to find)

The words I was to search for are: more, less, all, nothing

From WIP A feather in the Forest

More

———————————————————————

“What will you do?” Sora asked.

“I’m going after my friends.” Fen replied.

“How? You won’t last long as it is. Aves you may be, but one who is more ground than sky. There is much you don’t know.”

———————————————————————

Less

———————————————————————

All the youngsters took the assessment seriously. Even when they had no chance at passing certain trials, they did not let it show. They tried and tried, less they lose face with their peers.

———————————————————————

All

———————————————————————

“Still, she [Playa] did not put two and two together until Opal made some remarks about how one of us was not what they seemed.” Ivy continued. “Being the granddaughter of the Tha means you find out all of the village secrets eventually. She came to us and revealed the truth. She made us promise to keep the secret amongst ourselves. It was clear from her voice that she was deathly serious. We all agreed.”

———————————————————————

Nothing

———————————————————————

The Warning Stone was so overgrown that little of its surface could be seen. However, there was enough clean rock for Fen to make out several glyphs. These were close enough to the ancient fox script that he could translate it. The words inscribed sent a shiver down Fen’s spine.

Nothing valued is here.

This message is a warning about danger.

———————————————————————

Tagging @indecentpause @prophetic-writer @bunnymermaidwrites , plus open tag for anyone else interested. No pressure. Do your best.

Your words are: dream, ambition, hope, fail(ure)

#tag game #open tag #writing #creative writing #writer #writers #writers and poets #writing community #writer on tumblr #writeblr

[imtooscaredforthis]

Antagonist

Chapter Nineteen: Redemption

Mentions of: References to Drug Use, Blood, Fighting, Frank being a baby (hes my pookie), The Cannibal, etc.

A/N: I love stinky Frank so much guys I’m sorry I can’t help it 😭😭

Tags: @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @prettycutebunny @moonshineinasippycup

“Asshole.” You hissed through gritted teeth, searing pain moving through your body. Chris released you with a grin on his face. “What? You’re the one who wanted me to go all out.”

It was true. For a while, you’ve been searching for the papers in trials, finding clues piece by piece, and you managed to figure it out.

Vigo was sent to some sort of void after The Entity figured out what he had been planning, but he managed to escape using Putrid Serum. The was only one way you could get the serum, and that was going to the killer’s realms, specifically The Blight’s.

Unfortunately, there was no map for the killer’s realm, and you couldn’t rely on Frank anymore, since the whole fight and everything. So, that meant you were going to have to blindly wander through the other realms to find The Blight’s.

Not wanting to be murdered, tortured, or kidnapped by any of these killers, you knew you were going to have to defend yourself, despite how they could overpower you. So you’ve been training.

Apparently, Loen and Chris had been agents of some super police force, along with a few other survivors around here. If anyone knew how to defend themselves, it was them. You trained with both of them, but you preferred Leon. He was much more gentle.

“Now, give me all you’ve got.” Chris told you. You threw some punches, which he blocked with ease. “Is that it? C’mon, you’ve gotta do better than tha-”

While he was mid sentence, you punched him, right in the nose. He stumbled backward in surprise, grabbing at his face. There was blood now pouring from his nose, and you realized what you had done.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” You reached over to him, but he waved you off with one hand, holding his nose in the other. “You’re good, don’t worry. I was asking for it anyway.”

“Are you sure?” You asked. He wiped away the blood with a grin. “Yeah. Let’s call it for now. But hey, you throw one hell of a punch.”

“Thanks.”

–

When you heard a knock at your door, the last person you expected it to be was Frank. You thought it might’ve been Leon, or Chris, ready for another training session, or Bill coming by to smoke and tell you one of his war stories, or Kate to fill you in on the latest survivor gossip, or maybe even Susie to hang out and get high with you. But you never expected it to be Frank, especially considering how you beat his girlfriend’s ass, and the argument you had after that.

“Hey, can we talk?” He asked. You frowned. “What is there to talk about, Frank?”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking around at the other cabins. “C’mon, just let me in. You know the other survivors will freak out if they see us.”

“Are you worried about the survivors seeing you? Or just your girlfriend? Does she even know you’re here?” You shot back.

He clenched his fist, gritting his teeth. You were really going to make him say it, weren’t you? He took a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m here to apologize.”

God damn it. You reluctantly let him in, unable to take his puppy eyes anymore. This better be good.

“I fucked up. I shouldn’t have made you stay, and I shouldn’t have let Julie do all that..shit. I especially shouldn’t have let her attack you. I know this isn’t an excuse, but I can’t control her and she can be so…crazy sometimes, you know? And I know you were just defending yourself, and I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. I- I was wrong. But I’ve had fun doing this investigation thing with you, and I don’t want to give it up..I want us to be friends. So, what do you say?”

He raised his hand to you, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Holy shit. Was that an actual genuine apology from Frank Morrison? I think I’m going to pass out. This can’t be real.”

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while you still can.” He rolled his eyes, a smirk crossing his lips. You reached over, shaking his hand. “It’s a deal. Now, I do need your help with one thing…”

–

“Seriously? You don’t know where his realm is?” You asked. “Not all Killers know each other, _______. But if I had to guess, I would say he’s in No Man’s Land.”

“No Man’s Land?” You repeated curiously. “Yeah, it’s where all the monster-like killers live. The more dangerous and irritable ones, even towards other killers. No one goes to their realms.”

“Ok so, how do we get there?”

After smoking a bit of weed to calm your nerves, (Frank needed it more than you did) you set out to No Man’s Land.

First, you had to cut through the more domestic killers, such as The Shape. Luckily for you, he wasn’t around, and if he was, you were sure you’d be able to outrun him. Then, you reached The Cannibal’s realm, which was just outside of No Man’s Land.

Now, you and Frank were both much more nervous. The Cannibal was terrifying..and fast, and was always painful to go against in trials. The man was a maniac and completely unpredictable.

As the two of you made your way through the field, Frank fidgeted with his knife, breathing a little heavily. “Can you not breathe so loud? It’s freaking me out.”

“What do you expect me to do? I’m nervous.” He shot back. “We should’ve smoked more. I’m so on edge from this shit.”

“Smoking would’ve only made us slower. We need to be on our toes. And now you know what it’s like to be a survivor.” You remarked, as the two of you neared the farmhouse. “Well, it’s not exactly easy to be a killer either.”

“Seriously? You want to do this right now?” Your voice was hushed but firm, and the two of you started bickering, completely losing the plot.

But you remembered where you were and what you were doing when Leatherface appeared behind Frank. Making you freeze in place. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He kept on going, before realizing it wasn’t him you were afraid of.

Just as he turned around, he got smacked in the back of the head with a Sledge Hammer, knocked out cold. You grabbed his unconscious body, trying to drag him away as quickly as you could, but he was so heavy. “Wake up, Frank!!“

The sound of The Cannibal’s chainsaw roaring to life managed to wake him, and he got to his feet, running away. For some reason, The Cannibal kept on chasing after Frank, instead of going after you.

Eventually, he had Frank cornered, raising his chainsaw and preparing for the kill. Your body was moving before you could even realize and the next thing you knew, you had jumped onto his back, wrapping your arms around his head and making him screech. He flailed his chainsaw around, screaming, and trying to get you off him. “Leave him alone, you sick fucker!”

Frank stared in awe, not moving until you screamed at him to run. Eventually, Leatherface managed to knock you off of him, making you fall to the ground. Frank pulled you to your feet, and the two of you took off, leaving his realm.

This was going to be much more difficult than you had thought.

#dead by deadlight #dbd killer #dbd x reader #killer x reader #dbd legion #dbd #legion frank #legion dbd #frank legion #dbd frank #frank dbd #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison #legion x reader #julie legion #legion julie #susie legion #legion susie #legion dead by daylight #chris redfield #resident evil leon #leon dbd #dbd leon s kennedy #killer x you #survivor x reader #dbd survivor

[scotianostra]

October 4th 1570 marked the hanging of the East Lothian preacher Rev John Kello for murdering his wife.

Kello was a man of humble origins but considerable theological learning, of high moral values, described as a fine preacher. Kello had married Margaret Thomson, a woman of the people, which, considering the vents that followed, basically means that she was a commoner, anyway, they had three children named Bartilmo, Barbara and Bessie.

They all settled down at the manse and lived reasonably happily for a while, but the Rev Mr Kello felt ashamed of his wife and grew to hate her, hoping to better himself by marrying the daughter of the laird.

He tried to make money by speculating in property, initially with some success, but his affairs grew complicated, which added to his frustrations.

On Sunday, September 24, 1570, the Rev Mr Kello went into his wife’s chamber at the manse, as she was kneeling in prayer.

He then strangled her to death with a towel, before suspending the body from a hook in the ceiling to make it seem she had hanged herself, before cunningly leaving the key on the inside when he locked the front door of the manse, and went out by the back.

At the kirk, he delivered a more than usually eloquent sermon, before inviting some neighbours back to the manse to cheer up his wife, who had long seemed depressed and unwell, he said.

He feigned surprise at finding the front door locked from the inside.

He made use of another entrance, leaving the neighbours outside, as he said he would go and fetch his ailing wife.

Next, the Rev Mr Kello appeared at the window, calling out: “My wife, my wife, my beloved wife is gone!”

This account shows us that the Rev Mr Kello was a cool customer, able to persuade the neighbours that his wife had done away with herself.

He might well have been able to remarry and live at Spott manse in comfort and security, happily ever after.

But his colleague the Rev Andrew Simpson, the first minister of Dunbar after the Reformation, had heard suspicions that all was not natural about the death of Margaret Kello.

He confronted her husband, who broke down and confessed to murdering her.

The Rev Mr Kello was taken to prison in Edinburgh, stood trial and was found guilty of murder, and at the Tolbooth on this day 1570 he gave his last sermon - this one from the scaffold;

Measoure not the treuth of Godis word altogether be the lyvis of sic as are apointed pastouris ower you, for thei beir the self same fleshe of corruptioune that ye doe, and the moir godlie the charge is whairunto thai are called, the readier the Enemie to draw thame bak from Godis obedience..

A rare ‘Confessioun of Maister Iohn Kello, Minister of Spot’ as seen among the pics, probably ‘ghosted’ by some enterprising cleric, was printed by Robert Lekprewik in Edinburgh shortly after the execution, blaming Satan for corrupting the Spott parson’s mind.

They sorry story is one of Twelve Scots Trials by William Roughead, also featured in the collection is the more famous story of Major Weir, “ Wizard” of The West Bow

#scotland #scottish #history #murder #execution #edinburgh

[lavender-at-heart]

Can I request ahsoka x reader with severe angst but happy ending??? If not it’s absolutely fine, don’t worry. hope you have a good day 😊

✵ᗩT ᒪᗩՏT✵

Pairing: Ahsoka Tano x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, death, minor(as in opposite of major, not underage person) violence, crying, fainting.

Notes: ok tysm for the request!!! I've never written angst so this might be rlly cringey and bad. Also it's pretty short and im sorry if this was not angsty enough. Feedback is welcome and appreciated, requests are open and thank you for reading!

~ with love, cc♡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sorry [nickname]...but I'm not coming back"

I stand still staring back at her, mouth slightly agape. I'm not sure what to say, jedi training has never taught me how to handle a situation like this before. I try and think of what master Obi-wan would do, but nothing comes. I try and say anything, some touching words of parting, some fleeting phrase of condolence- yet nothing seems good enough to say.

"Ahsoka..." that's all I manage to spit out, I can feel tears briming my eyes and I tell myself that this is the one time I'll ever allow them to fall.

"Goodbye [____]. You'll make a great jedi knight."

Her sorrowful face turns away from me and towards the setting sun. The Padawan braid I used to pull on is missing. Her walk is missing the brightness it usually has as she walks away. She, Ahsoha, my Ahsoka walks away from me, never to return. Will anything ever be the same?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I passed my trials, I became a jedi knight, just like she said I would. And to everyone else life went on, but I still felt stuck in that moment, unable to let go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blaster shots seem to be coming from every direction, I don't understand what's happening and for a seccond time in my life, I am left unable to think. This isn't supposed to be happening, where is everyone? Where is Anakin, is he making sure padme is safe? Is Obi-wan OK? Is this happening to all the clones? Is there a reason to this? Or have I just been targeted by all my closest friends for no reason?

Even though I can't think my body can still move, I run and run faster than I'd ever dream I'd be able of. My lugs burn, my eyes sting and my ears ring. There is a blaster shot on my arm but I keep running. My vision becomes hazier but I keep running. I can hear something screaming, are those younglings? Turn back, something tells me. But I can't I know I must keep runing. Another shot- my abdomen this time.

I make it out of the temple, how? I don't know. I see a street sign, it's the one that leads to the undercity, I follow it. There's still shouting behind me but it's less jaring than before. But is the shouting fading because there's less people chasing me or is my hearing going? Come to think of it my vision is starting to blur. My breaths become shallow and the world around me seems to spin uncontrollably. I try and reach for something to hold onto but my balance gives out and I fall to the ground. On my hands and knees my life flashes before my eyes- or rather in my haze I manage to conjure up Ahsokas beautiful face so that I might see her one last time before I die.

I fade in. I fade out. I fade in. I fade out.

In, out, in, out, in, out. Out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I waken, I know I'm not at the temple. I have a feeling I'm supposed to be dead but can't place why. I'm nowhere I should be and I can't seem to recognize my surroundings. The panels on the ceilings tell me I'm on a ship and the blinding lights make me close my eyes again. There's shuffling from behind me but the pain in me is too strong to get me to turn. A warm cloth is placed on my head. Suddenly I realize the events that put me in this situation. The screaming, the fighting, the death. It all comes rushing back and my mind starts to sink.

Tears are falling down my face, they sting my eyes. My head starts pounding even more than before. I feel a searing hot pain in my chest and my heart feels like it has been drowned in a ocean of screams. Through the force I can feel them, all of them crying for help, lost souls with their purpose being ripped from them. I let out a small whimper and pray for all of it to end. Free me of my suffering I scream in my mind.

"Lie still, it will be ok." Her voice like honey, pulling me out of my dark ocean of thoughts, Ahsoka, my Ahsoka has returned to me, at last. My tears go on flowing but from a sweet sense of relief and serendipity instead of hate and anguish. My smile knows no bounds as her gentle kiss on my forehead seems to dull any pain remaining in my body. She places another couple kisses on my face to dry my tears. My thoughts seem to flow endlessly so many things I mean to tell her: apologies, gentle phrases, and words of praise, but nothing seems good enough to say.

"Ahsoka..." is all I manage to spill out, and I finally allow myself to just let go; our thoughts becoming one as we both start to cry.

#ahsoka x reader #star wars #i love ahsoka #clone wars ahsoka #ahsoka tano #ahsoka tano x reader #ahsoka x gn!reader

[tomboyjessie13]

Hotel Room - Luxor, Egypt 6:00 AM in the morning

Jotaro and Polnareff are sharing a hotel room together, sleeping in two separate beds, but something crazy happened that morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Polnareff: Zzzzzzzz....... *Waking up* Hm?....*Sees the lump next to him* .....Ugh, dammit, Iggy, trying to jump me while I'm sleeping huh? Well, that isn't going to work, ya litt- *Removes the covers to reveal a sleeping Medea*

Medea: Zzzzzzzzz.......

Polnareff: *Blushes in shock and embarrassment* O///O......

Medea: *Wakes up from the cold* Mmmm...Huh? *Sees Polnareff*

Medea and Polnareff:......... *Screams in panic and confusion* AHHHHHH!

Jotaro: *Wakes up, confused and tired* Huh what!? *Taking out [Star Platinum]* Is there an enemy!?

Polnareff: *Falls off his bed* OW!

Medea: *Covers herself with a blanket* What are you doing here!?

Polnareff: What am I doing here!? What are YOU doing here!?

Medea: But this is my room!

Polnareff: No it's not! It's my room! *Points at his and Jotaro's stuff in the corner of the room*

Medea: What am I doing here then!? Did you carry me!?

Jotaro: *Annoyed* SHUT THE FUCK UP! IT'S TOO EARLY FOR THIS!!!

Medea and Polnareff: *Silenced out of fear* ...................

~A few minutes later, in Joseph's room~

Joseph: *Summons [Hermit Purple], unaware of the bottle caps on his back* Alright, let's see what really happened last night.

Medea: Good, because I wanna prove to these bastards that they're perverts.

Polnareff: I'm not a pervert! I've been in my room asleep the whole time! >///<*

Jotaro: It's probably just sleepwalking, or an enemy Stand making us look like idiots.

Joseph: *Uses his Stand to hook up to the TV*

TV: *Shows some grainy footage of Medea's room and Jotaro's and Polnareff's room from their TV's POV, split into two and colored green via night vision. The three Stand users are very much asleep, the time shows that it's past midnight*

Joseph: Let's fast forward this a little. *Speeds it up*

TV: *Speeds up for a bit until something weird happened at 2:45 AM*

Joseph: Oh! *Rewinds it a bit before playing normally* There.

TV: *Shows Medea's blanket being removed by itself before Medea began to float by herself*

Polnareff: *Confused* What the hell???

TV: *The door to Jotaro and Polnareff's room opens up, showing Medea getting carried there before being placed in Polnareff's bed and they're left alone all night, the footage ends there*

Joseph: You see, Medea? It's nobody's fault but whatever carried you to the room.

Medea: Then who the hell did this though? Was it one of our Stands?

Joseph: Hm, there's only one way to find out. *He rewinds the footage back* First, I'll rewind it back a few seconds before it starts, then I'll enhance the footage so you can see ghosts. *Does so*

Avdol: I think that only works in the movies.

Joseph: I did it once when I kept finding empty bags of shredded cheese in the cooler, turns out it was [Silver Chariot] that's been taking them.

Jotaro: *Glares at Polnareff* Pol, did you know about this?

Polnareff: *Holding a bag of shredded cheese*.......*Hides it behind his back* I'm not on trial here... >_>

Joseph: That being said, here we go. *Resumes footage*

TV: *Now enhanced, the same footage plays the same way as before, only this time a Stand showed up.*

Medea: Hm?

TV: *The Stand looked strangely feminine in stature, has long hair, and covered in belts, it was [Flogging Molly] carrying Medea to Polnareff's bed, they then disappeared after tucking her in*

Joseph: Oh good, it wasn't an enemy Stand at all, just [Flogging Molly] wanting to move her to a different bed. *Smirks* That's oddly sweet of them doing that for her XD

Avdol: *Snickering* X3

Polnareff: Why me though!?

Medea: *She manifests her Stand just to glare at her* [Mollyyyyyyyyyy].... <_&lt;***

[Flogging Molly]: *Back towards them, pressing forefingers* 👉👈.........

Medea: What do you have to say for yourself?

[Flogging Molly]: *Turns to her, shyly* Kiru kiru...

Medea: Who the hell ask you to do that to me? You trying to make me look bad?

[Flogging Molly]: Kiru... kiru kiru... kiru...

Polnareff: That's why you reached out to me?

Avdol: Hm, it seems whatever your Stand's doing is a cry for help.

Medea: *Irritated* I need help!? I don't need help from these wankers! We're DIO's Agents, not Crusaders!

[Flogging Molly]: Kiru kiru, kiru...

Medea: Whose side are ya on!? >o<***

[Flogging Molly]: *Chops her forehead* Kiru!

Medea: Ow! >_&lt;

Jotaro: Good grief...

Joseph: .....Sooooo who's wants breakfast? *Feels an ashtray hit his back* What the????

- [Flogging Molly] causes a ruckus in the morning trying to get Medea to reach out for help.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar #jean pierre polnareff #muhammad avdol #jojo oc #stand oc #oc #incorrect quotes

[tsarisfanfiction]

Bedrest

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort Characters: Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Austin Lake, Kayla Knowles

Unsurprisingly, a sick Will is much like an injured or exhausted Will; stubborn and a terrible patient.

Day five of @solangeloweek “trope cliche”.  I’ve been meaning to do a Solangelo sickfic for a while, so this worked quite nicely for that!  Timeline wise, this is set sometime after TOA.

Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

Nico di Angelo was not a morning person.  He also wasn’t really a sleep person a lot of the time, more a pass out from exhaustion person, much to Will’s eternal frustration, but for his boyfriend’s sake he’d been working on improving his sleep schedule so he looked slightly less like one of the skeletons he summoned (Will’s words, not his). It was still a bit of a disaster, but lately he’d managed to get it to the stage where he was no longer awake before dawn, and in fact got a veritable lay-in where he didn’t necessarily leave his cabin until the later wave of campers.

It spared him the early morning chaos of some of the Apollo cabin members; most of them were morning people, energised as their father’s chariot came into view and beamed light directly into their cabin (why they slept with the curtains open when they had some perfectly serviceable blackout curtains, Nico had yet to understand), and after a dubious night of sleep, that was too much energy to deal with.  Even Will, although far from the worst offender in cabin seven (that was Austin, in Nico’s opinion), was often a little too chipper to handle at that hour.

Still, Nico was never last to get up, and Will always waited for him at table seven, barring a sudden medical emergency, in which case a message was left with another sibling so Nico knew where to find him, so it worked out fine for both of them.

He was not prepared, that morning, for the sight of a zombie at table seven.

Nico blinked.

The zombie face-planted a plate, while the rest of the table’s occupants sighed and prodded at it. Austin braved attempting to drag it upright again, only to be defeated and throw his hands up dramatically.

“Fine!” he declared.  “Be that way.  But when Nico gets here-”

“When I get here what?” Nico asked, crossing the rest of the distance to the table and taking in the sight properly.  The zombie, unsurprisingly, wasn’t a real zombie (Nico knew what those looked like, and this was certainly not it), but rather one William Andrew Solace, albeit with sallow, pale skin and straggly blond hair that fell in clumps rather than bouncing in its usual bright waves.

Nico didn’t need Kayla’s contribution of “Will’s sick,” to tell what was going on.

It was too early for this.

“He insisted on getting out of bed this morning,” Austin continued, sending his older brother a look of heavy disapproval.  Will, his eyes unfocused, fell forwards again and with a heavy sigh, Kayla braced his shoulders so he didn’t give himself a concussion against the stone table.  “He’s been ignoring all our instructions to go back.”

Nico rolled his eyes, stole Austin’s coffee and threw it back in a single gulp to the younger boy’s half-hearted protest, swiped a muffin from Kayla’s plate and stuffed it in his mouth, then grabbed his idiot boyfriend’s shoulder.

“What were you planning to do like this?” he demanded, getting a huh? before Will’s head whipped around far too fast.

“Nico!” his boyfriend rasped delightedly, even as he overbalanced and almost fell off the bench. Nico had been expecting it and stood his ground firmly, catching the blond before he could do himself some worse damage. “Mornin’!”

“Bed,” Nico told him flatly, and got a sheepish look in return.

“’snot tha’ bad,” Will tried to claim, but the son of Hades was having none of it.  His boyfriend was always warm to the touch, but this morning it felt like he was holding a very clammy sun.

“Give me a shadow,” he ordered the two sensible Apollo kids, who ignored their brother’s immediate protest that they should not do that and shifted until their long morning shadows passed over where Nico was standing.

Will’s half-delirious complaints were swallowed up by the darkness, and Nico grimaced as they re-emerged from the shadow of the top bunk above Will’s bed.  The son of Apollo didn’t do all that well with shadow travel at the best of times – he’d done it enough that he was at least used to it, but even when he was perfectly hale and healthy he stumbled upon re-emergence. He rarely showed it any more, but Nico also knew it fogged his mind up a little, leaving his head heavy and achy for a minute or so.

Sick, all of Will’s earned endurance flew out the window, and he immediately keeled over, knocking Nico onto his side as they both collapsed onto the bed.  A whimper slipped from Will’s mouth, and a pale, shaking hand reached for his head.  Nico shuffled out from underneath his boyfriend, rolling off of the bed and onto the floor with a distinct lack of grace, before pushing himself up onto his knees to assess Will’s condition.

He looked worse, and there was a twinge of guilt at that because Nico knew the shadow travel hadn’t helped, but Will hadn’t really left him with much of an option.

“You should have stayed in bed,” he told him, and got a bleary blue eye cracked open in response. Will clearly disagreed, but his face was only getting paler and his eye brighter.  Nico sighed.  “Stay,” he ordered.  “Doctor’s orders.”

“’m th’ doc,” Will tried to argue, but Nico was having none of it, pulling himself the rest of the way to his feet and rummaging through Will’s dresser to find clean pyjamas, ignoring the ones crumpled up near the foot of the bed, where the blanket was also messily discarded.

“You’re the sick idiot,” he told him, finding a thin cotton set with an ugly green wrinkled creature’s face on the front of the top, above the words STAR WARS. Those would do.  “Sick idiots don’t get to claim doctor.”  Shutting the drawer, he returned to Will’s bed and perched on the edge.

Unsurprisingly, Nico had been disobeyed; Will had not stayed still, but had instead tried to push himself into something that seemed like a sitting position with the clear aim of getting back out of bed.  His face was screwed up in discomfort – no doubt his body was screaming at him that what he was doing was idiotic, and Nico knew that his boyfriend’s vitakinesis extended to himself, so Will knew what was wrong with his body better than anyone else did, but sadly that didn’t seem to be persuading him to stay put.

Nico tossed the scavenged clothes onto the bed and grabbed Will’s shoulders, stopping him from lurching off of the bed and the likely fate of face-planting the floor.  “I told you to stay,” he said firmly, pushing him back until he was no longer in danger of falling.

“’s nothing serious,” Will disagreed, but Nico was stronger than his boyfriend and the son of Apollo’s attempts to force his way out of bed became an exercise in futility.

“If it was me, you’d be giving me an unholy lecture on stupidity for even thinking about sitting up, let alone getting out of bed,” Nico disagreed. “You’re hotter than your dad’s chariot, Will, and as someone who’s ridden in the thing, I’m qualified to say that.”

He sat himself on the bed, deliberately putting his weight on Will’s legs to pin him in place, and plucked the flip flops from his boyfriend’s feet, letting them drop onto the floor, before twisting around until he was facing Will.  There was a glaze in blue eyes that hadn’t been there earlier, and Nico suspected that the full effects of the illness were still setting in.

Will’s expression was a mixture of frustration and betrayal. “’m no’ tha’ bad,” he disagreed, but Nico was having none of it.  He grabbed the clean pyjamas from where they’d landed and held out the top in a demand.

“Can you get changed yourself or do I have to do it for you?” he asked, remembering the various occasions his boyfriend had used those same words against him when he’d overdone it and ended up in the infirmary overnight.

“’ico,” Will complained, but he didn’t relent, taking it as a cue to grip the hem of the orange t-shirt and pull it up. Any other complaints were swallowed by the fabric, and when Will tried to fight him, Nico let out a growl.

“William Andrew Solace,” he snarled, “you will get changed, and then you will lay down in that bed and stay there until you’re better.  If you so much as think about escaping, I will tie you to it.”

A choking sound came from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Kayla bashing Austin on the back.  The daughter of Apollo winked at him.  “Kinky,” she grinned.  “We have restraints in the infirmary I can fetch for you.”

“No-” Will started, but Nico overrode him.

“Get them,” he told the green-haired girl, who gave him a salute and disappeared.  Austin started choking all over again, but Nico turned his back on him, fixing Will with a glare.  “And you, get changed.”

“But-”

Another tug on the orange fabric had Will’s torso bared, the stark lines of his tattoo clearly visible, and the son of Apollo finally wilted into some degree of submission.  The verbal protests didn’t cease as the fresh top was pulled over his head, but there was no more physical resistance.

By the time Kayla returned with the promised restraints – Austin long since having gathered up his sax and departed the cabin – Will was fully changed and Nico was sitting next to him on the bed, pointedly between his boyfriend and freedom.

“In case you need them,” the girl chirped cheerfully, dropping them into Nico’s waiting palm.

“Thanks,” he replied, while Will sighed.  He still seemed reluctant to stay in bed, but Nico was also getting the impression that, for all that he was apparently skin and bones, his boyfriend found him nicer to lean against than his headboard.  In fact, he seemed to find Nico a comfortable backrest, because he was leaning solidly against him, still emitting enough heat to rival the sun chariot.

There was no way he had the strength to get out of bed successfully, and Nico had to wonder how he’d managed it the first time; stubbornness and the illness not yet setting in fully were his best guesses.

Still, that didn’t mean he was going to underestimate his boyfriend; Will was in no state to do it, but if he thought he had half a chance, he’d attempt it anyway.  Mentally, Nico prepared himself to stay where he was all day, so he could make sure Will didn’t try.  As an extra dissuasion, he hooked the restraints to the posts of the bed, ready and waiting in case it was a threat he’d need to go through with.

Will grumbled at that.  “’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Nico retorted, running his hand through straggly blond locks.  Will’s eyelids fluttered.  “You’re sick, Will.”

In all honesty, that by itself was a strange occurrence; as proven by Apollo inflicting hay fever on the camp while he was mortal, Apollo kids were not automatically immune to illness, but Will had somehow escaped that entirely, and Nico had never seen him sick before.

Nico wasn’t at all surprised that a sick Will was much the same as an injured or exhausted Will – unwilling to rest and still insistent on putting everyone else first.

Not on Nico’s watch.

“Jus’ a cold,” his boyfriend mumbled, and Nico rolled his eyes.

One of the advantages of the Apollo cabin being the camp’s main healers was that it was well stocked for various medical emergencies. With Will being both head counsellor and the camp’s head medic, the bulk of the supplies were kept near his bed, and Nico had seen him access it enough times to know firstly how to get in, and secondly what was in there.  Leaning slightly to reach it, he grabbed hold of a vial of nectar, a very useful cure-all for demigods without intricate knowledge of the rest of the medicines lurking in the cabinet, and held it to his boyfriend’s lips.

The dose was swallowed with minimal fuss; Will was stubborn but he still knew his healing, and no demigod ever refused nectar and its nostalgic taste for long.  Nico slid the empty vial onto the bedside table and resumed petting his boyfriend’s hair gently.

Sated by nectar, Will was getting heavier against his shoulder even as the illness settled in fully; the repetitive motion of Nico’s fingers through his hair seemed to be sapping his ability to fight the drowsiness.  It was a trick he’d used before, when Will was exhausted from healing, and Nico was glad to see it working again now.

Despite what Will seemed to think, sleep was the best thing for him.

Nico didn’t say anything more, unwilling to jerk Will back into wakefulness as he continued to slip further into some much-needed shut eye. He stayed exactly where he was, his only movement his hand in his boyfriend’s hair, until blue eyes slid closed and stayed that way.

Even then, he waited another five minutes or so, watching closely for any signs of faking it or stirring, before he carefully slipped out from underneath his boyfriend and manoeuvred Will until he was laying down in bed properly, pulling the blankets up to his chin and brushing stray hairs away from his face.

Will still felt far too hot, and when Nico rested a hand on his forehead there was a small, unconscious whimper from his sleeping boyfriend.  Nico wasn’t entirely sure how hot was too hot, especially for a naturally warm child of Apollo, and at what stage Will might need some assistance to keep cool, but he knew he ran cooler than the son of Apollo and that his hand might as well have been a cool pack.

Sitting next to his sleeping boyfriend and providing a natural cool pack was far better than sitting next to an awake and protesting Will and forcing him to stay put for his own health, and Nico was enough of a fan of solitude that he was content to do exactly that, leaning over to swipe one of the Apollo cabin’s books to read quietly while Will slept.  He didn’t know how long it would take Will to get better, but he’d stay right where he was until he did.

#solangeloweek #trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #nico di angelo #will solace #austin lake #kayla knowles #solangelo #tsari writes fanfiction

[beardedmrbean]

The Federal Bureau of Investigation is warning secretaries of state nationwide of "extremely alarming" threats in anticipation of the elections taking place across the country.

Election security has become a significant issue since the 2020 presidential election between Donald Trump and Joe Biden. The close election that took days to officially call in Biden's favor led to a litany of lawsuits and accusations by some conservatives, including Trump, that the results were compromised, eventually leading to the riot at the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021.

Trump awaits a criminal trial after being indicted on four counts in Washington, D.C., for allegedly working to overturn the results of the 2020 election in the run-up to the Capitol riot. Charges include conspiracy to defraud the U.S. government and conspiracy to obstruct an official proceeding.

Last August, Trump and 18 others were indicted by a Georgia grand jury for allegedly attempting to overturn the state's 2020 results. The Republican front-runner for the 2024 nomination has pleaded not guilty to all charges.

"The threat environment, unfortunately, is very high," Timothy Langan, executive assistant director for the Criminal, Cyber, Response, and Services Branch of the FBI, said last week at the winter conference of the National Association of Secretaries of State in Washington, according to Stateline. "It is extremely alarming."

Newsweek reached out to the FBI via email for comment.

Langan reportedly advised caution to gathered secretaries of state and election officials about familiar and new cyberattacks, including an urging of vigilance in the face of violent threats that may affect their safety.

Election officials were also reportedly told that voter databases could be targeted via phishing or ransomware attacks conducted by domestic or foreign individuals or entities who want to sow doubt in the electoral process. That includes spreading misinformation and disinformation and addressing rapid technological changes spurred by artificial intelligence (AI).

"You need to conduct assessments and there are groups out there to assist [the process], whether at state or county levels because unless you understand what your vulnerabilities are, you can't do anything about it," Aaron Thacker, spokesperson for Democratic Arizona Secretary of State Adrian Fontes, told Newsweek on Wednesday.

"We can't just be afraid of these threats; we have to act on them," he added. "And that means to prepare."

Thacker said that Fontes and the state of Arizona, whose election officials were present at last week's conference, have been working in various facets to show the public that its elections are fair.

That has included updating an elections procedure manual approved in December by Governor Katie Hobbs and Attorney General Kris Mayes, correcting misinformation about ballot drop boxes, the successful completion of a "rigorous" certification and recertification training program for election workers, and multi-day "tabletop" exercises educating citizens and stakeholders in over a dozen counties on "deep fakes" and AI-related disruptions.

He said that future outreach will involve educating both the media and members of law enforcement on election-related protocols—saying the American public also needs to be critical thinkers and understand how elections actually work, as those who do not may spread conspiracy theories, which hurts overall confidence in institutions.

"At the end of the day, we have an elections process that works, and it has worked for a long time...Quite frankly, so much of this is less about actual manipulation of actual elections and ballots than themes people are buying into. So, we have to communicate that. We have always had free and fair elections."

Even as recent as last August, a CNN poll showed that 69 percent of Republicans and Republican-leaning independent voters viewed Biden's victory as illegitimate—an increase from 63 percent who thought the same in early 2023.

Dominion Voting Systems is one of the privately-owned voting equipment companies that received financial restitution after suing Fox News for $1.6 billion for defamation due to statements made by Fox News hosts regarding the legitimacy of the 2020 election. They ultimately settled out of court for $787.5 million.

#nunyas news