#we must not let his death be in vain

[leiandroid]

"free palestine," he shouted until his last breath. aaron bushnell, we will never forget you.

as much as bushnell's actions has moved us all, please seek other ways to take actionable measures against the injustices we face in the world. none of us wanted him gone, and the least we can do is prevent another such tragedy by supporting each other in our efforts to enact lasting change.

#aaron bushnell #the boy with his heart on fire #this is in no way intended to glorify his actions #i do not condone self immolation as an act of protest but i cannot deny that it is something that causes an impact #and it has struck a chord within us all #we must not let his death be in vain #free palestine #my art #original

[krirebr]

We Are Vain & We Are Blind

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader

Word Count: ~9.7k

Summary: When you move back in with your parents after a broken engagement, a drunken dare to visit the scary house on the edge of town changes everything for you. Forever.

Warnings: Please note, these warnings are broad to avoid spoilers. Proceed with caution. Horror, psychological horror (including but not limited to: general mind fuckery, memory loss, nightmares) noncon/dubcon, gore, death (see prompt), violence (mostly offscreen), explicit language, oral sex (f!receiving), me wildly picking and choosing from hundreds of years of {redacted} mythology, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

A/N: This is my entry for @the-slumberparty All Hallow’s Tropes challenge. My tropes were The house from all the scary stories; Caught trespassing on private property; and A string of unexplained deaths. I had so much fun writing this one. Thanks so much for hosting Navy and Roo!

I tried out a lot of new things here. Horror! Smut! A ridiculous length! I’d really appreciate hearing what you think, so please drop a comment or reblog if you read it. Or come screech at me about this or anything else in my asks! Thank you for reading lovelies!

Driving through your hometown, you were surrounded by fall colors. It was comforting, in its own way. Just as the seasons changed, so could you. You liked the sound of that, of this being a good change. You needed it. You were ready for it.

You pulled off of the main street and drove the few short blocks to your parents' house, parking on the side of the road. The house was something that hadn’t changed, everything exactly as it always had been. Your eyes drifted to the neighbor’s house, a piece of police tape hanging off the front door. Your brow furrowed in concern. You hoped everything was alright.

You grabbed your duffle from the backseat, deciding that you could wait to bring in everything else. Your entire life fit into your small sedan. You tried not to let that make you sad. This was good. Change was good.

You let yourself in with the key you'd had since you were a child. “Mom? Dad? I’m here,” you called into the house. 

Your mom met you in the entryway with a big hug. “We’re so happy you’re here, honey.” She took a step back to look at you, concern all over your face. “I could kill Andy for what he did to you.”

You sighed, “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“I know, Mom,” you said, softly, both touched by her concern and a little annoyed that she was making you talk about it. You shrugged, “It’s over now.” Trying to change the subject, you asked, “What happened next door?”

Her face fell, “Oh, our poor neighbor died. They found him in the alley behind the American Legion. There was a whole investigation, but the coroner finally concluded that it was anemia.”

“I didn’t know you could die of that,” you said. Wasn’t it fairly controllable?

“I guess you can,” she shrugged, “if it’s bad enough and goes untreated.”

“Oh. Well, he must have been really sick then.”

She shrugged again, “Not that I ever saw, but how much can you ever know about someone you just say hello to at the mailbox? He was a nice young man, though.” She gave you another scrutinizing look, then gently patted your cheek. “Andy never deserved you,” she said and then made her way back down the hall towards the kitchen. “Your dad’s in his den,” she called over her shoulder.

You put your duffle down next to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms and moved through the house to find your dad. You found him in his den, sitting on the worn leather couch they’d had your entire life, baseball on the TV. You sat down next to him and he put his arm around you in a half hug. “It’s nice to have you home, sweetheart,” he said, not taking his eyes off the game.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said, appreciating the distance he was allowing you. The past month had been so hard. All the concern in everyone’s eyes, since it had all blown up with Andy, had become really difficult to take. You were happy to just sit here and watch baseball with your dad in silence.

At the next commercial break, he asked, “We have you for the whole night, or are you already making plans?”

You smiled. “I’m getting drinks with Tineka and David after dinner.”

“That’ll be nice,” he said. “Make sure you say hi for us.”

You got to the bar a little late. Your mom hadn’t wanted to give you up so easily, even though you’d be living with them and working from their house for the foreseeable future. You’d been to this bar a few times before, the nights before Thanksgiving when you were home from college, and drinking legally was still so novel. But not in ages, maybe a decade. You made your way through the Saturday night crowd, searching for Tineka before you found her set up in a booth in the back with her husband David, and someone you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Tineka climbed over David to tackle you with a hug. “Oh my god! It’s been so long. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You returned the hug a little harder than she probably expected. Longer, too. She pulled back and examined you carefully, concern in her eyes. You just shook your head and smiled. “I’m really happy to see you,” you said.

She beamed back at you and then gestured to the last person at the table. “Look who we ran into!”

“Robbie, hey,” you said with a little wave. Gosh, you hadn’t seen him since graduation. You’d been decent friends your senior year and had even gone to Prom together when neither of you had been able to get another date. You’d lost touch when you’d gone away to school, and he’d stayed home to learn the family business.

“We mentioned that we were on our way to see you, and he wanted to tag along!” Tineka enthused, raising her eyebrows at you significantly. You struggled not to roll your eyes at her; it had been the tiniest crush, and that was so many years ago.

“Welcome home,” he said, sliding over to let you onto the bench seat.

You poured yourself a beer from the pitcher on the table, and you all quickly got into all the customary ‘nice to see you again’ questions. Was it weird to be back in town? Did you miss Boston? Did you know this teacher had retired? Or that that store had closed?

The pitchers multiplied, and when you’d lost track of whose turn it was to cover the next one, Tineka leaned forward excitedly, “Oh, here’s some good town gossip! Someone’s moved into the old Thrombey house!”

“What??” you yelled, louder than you meant to. “No way! I don’t believe it.”

“Wait, what’s the Thrombey House?” David asked. He didn’t grow up here with you, only moving here after he and Tineka got engaged, and she decided this was where she wanted to raise a family.

“It’s this old, abandoned house on the edge of town,” she told him. “There used to be this big, rich family that lived there. This was back in, like, the 70s. It was this old, super-rich guy and all his kids and in-laws and everybody. One night, one of his kids–”

“Grandkid,” you interrupted. 

“Yeah, one of his grandkids, he just loses it and sets fire to the house, with everyone inside. They all die, and Hugh Drysdale, the grandkid, just disappears. No one ever sees him again.”

You nod seriously across from her. “And weird shit starts happening on the property. Like animal carcasses thrown onto what’s left of the porch. Or that psychic that went there when we were kids. She said all she felt was pain, and whatever spirits were there had a desperate warning, but she couldn’t get anything beyond that. And then our senior year, that freshman that disappeared around there. And no one’s ever been able to do anything with it. It just stands there, a burnt-out husk. There’s absolutely no way someone’s moved into it.”

Tineka was nodding furiously, but Robbie leaned forward and butted in. “Here’s what actually happened,” he told David. “There was an electrical fire. Everyone died, probably including Hugh.” Tineka took a breath, and Robbie put up his finger to stop her. “They never found his remains because he was burned to a crisp, and there wasn’t enough to identify.” He raised another finger, “It was abandoned long enough that animals moved in and left their prey lying around.” A third finger went up, “All these stupid stories and rumors have made it a beacon for the unwell and scam artists.” Another finger, “That kid disappeared because it’s where all you dumbasses would go to party, and he was drunk and wandered into the woods and got lost or fell or something.” He raised the last finger on his hand, “And whoever’s owned the property over the years probably doesn’t want to be responsible for the cost of demolition, so they’ve just done the bare minimum to keep the city off their backs.”

You turned to look at him, mildly annoyed, “I don’t remember you being this boring in high school.” He just rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever,” you said and turned back toward Tineka. “I still can’t believe someone’s moved in there. They’d have to gut the whole building!”

“All I know,” she said, slurring a bit, “is that someone’s been coming and going, and sometimes there’s a car parked there.”

“What? Have you been staking it out? Says who?”

“People!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Then her face lit up dangerously. “I know! We should go out there right now so I can prove it to you!”

You shook your head. “I walked here from my parents’ house, and I,” you placed both hands on the table to steady yourself, “definitely can’t drive.”

“Robbie can!” You could tell, now that Tineka had the idea in her head, she wasn’t going to let it go. “Right? Please, Robbie!” she whined. 

Robbie, who’d switched to water after his second beer, who knows how long ago, looked to David, who shrugged, and then to you. All you could do was grin at him and nod. You hadn’t done something stupid like this in such a long time. The feeling was a little thrilling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Robbie said. “It’s so dark out. You won’t be able to see anything anyway.” He looked around the table again and then slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he gritted. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be out there too long.”

Robbie pulled up to the entrance of the lane leading up to the old Thrombey house and parked the car. Tineka leaned forward from her place in the back seat and lightly slapped your arm. “Alright!” she said, “this is where you get out! Good luck.”

“Wait,” you turned to face her, “I’m going on my own?”

“Yup! That’s how dares work.”

“When did this become a dare?” you asked, starting to get an uneasy feeling in your gut. “What if I get shot for trespassing?!”

“I thought no one could possibly live there,” she taunted. 

You tried to look to David for help, but he’d fallen asleep next to his wife. Robbie just gave you a shrug. “Fine,” you said, somewhat angrily. “But if I’m not back in 10 minutes, you better come find my body.” You got out of the car, slammed the door closed, and started your walk down the path.

The lane was surrounded by dense trees, and it wasn’t long before you couldn’t see the car behind you. The wind had picked up, blowing leaves in front of you, and you wrapped your cardigan around you as tightly as you could. A few minutes later, the house appeared before you. 

The outside had remained mostly intact, but you knew that it was basically a husk now. Still, it was large and foreboding. Most of the glass in the windows was cracked, and ivy had overtaken much of the siding. As you got closer, you could see that there was, in fact, a vintage beamer tucked against the side of the house. Damn it, Tineka was right. You were about to admit your defeat and go back to your friends when the front door opened. You froze as a man carefully walked out onto the decaying porch.

You could have sworn that a moonbeam suddenly appeared where there wasn’t one before to light him directly. He was dressed in a sweater and slacks underneath a long camel overcoat with a colorful scarf. He looked right at you even though you were sure that the area you were in was too dark to be spotted. “This is private property. You’re trespassing,” he said. Something about his deep voice and insistent stare had you pinned to your spot.

“Um,” you said, trying to look away, but there was something about him that had you transfixed. “Uh, sorry, I just– um, I didn’t think anyone lived here. How– how do you live here?”

He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow at you. Everything had gone completely quiet. In the moonlight, his skin glowed, looked so pale it was almost translucent, and you felt completely hypnotized. He might have been the most beautiful person you’d ever seen.

“Sorry,” you said again, or maybe just breathed it. “We were just– we were drunk and–” You didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Why were you here?

He looked you up and down. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Not tonight then.”

“What?” you asked, even though you were pretty sure he was talking to himself more than to you.

“Not tonight,” he repeated, grinning a little meanly. “I don’t have much of a taste for cheap booze.”

What a strange thing to say. It’s not like you were inviting him for a drink. What did he mean?

His focus shifted to somewhere behind you, and it was like you suddenly found yourself back on earth. The sounds of the forest filtered back in, and you didn’t feel held in place anymore. As you tried to adjust to the sudden onslaught of your senses, you slowly processed that you could hear Tineka calling for you, and the sounds of Robbie’s car quickly approaching.

“Better run, little rabbit,” the man said. “You don’t want to keep them waiting.”   

You turned around to see the car pull up, and Tineka hopped out without waiting for it to stop fully. “Holy shit, you scared the shit out of us! You didn’t come back! This was so dumb, I’m so sorry.”

You turned back to the house, to say what, you weren’t sure. But the man was gone. Maybe he’d never even been there? Maybe you were even drunker than you thought. “I’m not sure what happened,” you said, in a daze, as you let Tineka and Robbie herd you back into the car.

You were awoken the next morning by a knock on your bedroom door. Your mom let herself in without waiting for a response. She was carrying a large vase filled with roses so deep red, they were practically black. 

“What are those?” you mumbled, barely awake.

“How am I supposed to know?” she asked as she placed them on your dresser. “Someone left them for you.”

“Wha?” It was too early for this. You rolled over to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. Oh. It was 11 AM. Fuck. You didn’t think you’d had that much to drink the night before, but you felt incredibly hungover. This was drinking in your thirties, you guessed. “Is there a card?” You finally mustered the awareness to say. 

“Not that I saw.”

“Then how do you know they’re for me?”

She looked around theatrically. “Who else could they be for? Your father?”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for bringing them in, Mom. I’ll be down in a bit.”

She nodded and left. 

You got up and examined the bouquet. They were beautiful, but… dark. There was something about them that made you feel a little unsettled. The vase looked old. Vintage. Expensive. No card. No sign of where they came from. 

You opened your phone and pulled up the contact you’d made for Robbie the night before. You wrote out the text and hit send before you could think better of it.

Hey, weird question. And please know that I’m embarrassed to even ask it, especially if you say no, but. Did you send me flowers?

His response was immediate.

Nope, not me. Aren’t you popular

You cringed and tossed the phone on the bed to create some distance. You hadn’t even been back 24 hours yet. Who could they possibly be from?

Late that night, you were wandering through the grocery store aisles, making your way towards the freezer section. Your mom didn’t keep snacks in the house, and you’d had a sudden craving for ice cream. Just as you were coming up on your prey, someone stepped right in front of you and turned around to face you.

“Well, if it isn’t the little trespasser,” the man from the Thrombey house said. It was startling to see him in the middle of the grocery store. He seemed so out of place, wearing his same overcoat and scarf, which from this distance you could now see was silk. Everything about him seemed expensive, even his smirk, and here you were in yoga pants and a too-large sweatshirt. How did he even recognize you? It’d been so dark that night.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, somewhat bashfully, “sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, with a cold smirk that you were starting to think was just the permanent state of his face. “I kind of liked the novelty of it. It’s not very often that your kind comes right to me, instead of the other way around.”

What the fuck did that mean? Did he mean not wealthy people? Well, you weren’t the one living in a house that was about to fall down. This man was so strange. “Well, anyway,” you said, “I’ll let you get back to your evening.” You tried to step around him to get to the ice cream case, but he followed you there. 

“What’s your poison?” he asked. You grabbed a carton of Moose Tracks and showed him, before trying to walk away again. 

He kept pace with you. “What’s your name?” he asked.  He stepped in front of you again and looked you right in the eye. “C’mon, tell me your name.”

It fell past your lips without you ever making the conscious decision to tell him. He smiled. All of his smiles were a little mean. “You can call me Ransom,” he said. 

You’d arrived at the self-checkout. You were so ready to get out of there. “Well, okay, Ransom. It was nice meeting you, but I’m gonna check out now. And let you get back to your shopping.” You noticed for the first time that he didn’t have a cart or basket with him. And he wasn’t holding any items in his hands. He could have just gotten there, not started shopping yet, but something in your gut told you it wasn’t right. 

He paused at the opening of the aisle opposite you. “Yeah, I think I’ve found what I was looking for,” he winked, and then turned around and finally walked away.

You tried to suppress the shiver that coursed through you. There was something not right about him. It didn’t matter. He was gone. You paid for your ice cream and walked out the automatic doors–

You were sitting in your car. Something niggled at your brain. You couldn’t remember the walk through the parking lot. That was strange, but you were probably just on autopilot. Plus, you were tired. Exhausted, really. You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were. There was a twinge in your neck. You tried to stretch it out but the skin pulled a little painfully. You looked at the clock. It was later than you realized. You needed to get home, eat this ice cream, and go to bed.

That night, you dreamt of a river of blood and you were drowning in it. You woke up choking on nothing.

In the morning, you still felt tired, but you could hear your parents moving around downstairs, so you got up and got dressed. You put on a T-shirt and jeans, a cardigan, and then found an old scarf that you looped around your neck a few times. 

When you got downstairs, your mom was scrambling eggs at the stove, while your dad read the paper at the kitchen table. He smiled and wished you a good morning, then nodded at your chest. “Is that your passive-aggressive way of telling me to turn the heat up?” He laughed at himself.

“Huh?” you asked and looked down. Oh. The scarf. Was it odd? Now that you thought about it, you weren’t even sure why you’d put it on. It had just felt… important. You didn’t know why. But you also couldn’t take it off. You curled in on yourself, a bit defensively. “I just liked it with this outfit.” 

Your mom came over to the table. “Leave her alone, you,” she said to your dad as she set a plate of breakfast in front of each of you. “I think it looks nice, honey,” she said to you as she sat down with her own plate. “Although, maybe a little warm. It’s cooling down, but it’s not winter yet.”

You fingered the fringe of the scarf self-consciously. “I just like it,” you said, quietly. It was just a scarf. You didn’t know why everyone cared so much.

Your dad was the one to finally change the subject. He shook out his paper as he asked you, “Didn't you go to school with Shannon McCready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said around a bite of eggs, “She was a real bitch. What? She get arrested or something?” 

Your mom grumbled unhappily next to you about your language, but you barely even noticed because the next thing your dad said was “No, she died a few days ago.”

You couldn’t say what or why, but something inside of you reacted to that. A frisson of fear crawled up your spine. "What?"

"Mhmm, the obituary doesn't say exactly, but it seems like it was sudden."

"Does it say how?"

He shrugs, "Just says natural causes."

"Natural causes? She was thirty-two!" 

He shrugged again and went back to his paper. Your mom blithely ate her breakfast beside you. You couldn't explain why you were so unnerved by this, but something deep inside of you was screaming that it wasn't right. You took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. You barely even knew her. You needed to get logged into work. Focus on something else.

The workday was long and hard. Your exhaustion only built as the day went on and your mind was all over the place. But you finally made it to the end and triumphantly logged off.

You met Tineka for dinner, just the two of you, at a little place right off Main Street. After you’d gotten settled and your drinks had arrived, she’d looked at you carefully. “I didn’t want to bring it up the other night with David and Robbie there, but how are you doing with everything? Really?”

You sighed. “Uh,” you said, “better than I thought I’d be? I mean, everything feels kind of strange, because I was living this whole life, and I just don’t really have any of it anymore? I mean, I was living in Boston with Andy. We had an apartment, a community. We were gonna get married. And now none of those things are true anymore. None of that is mine. That’s strange. But, maybe not bad. I’m realizing that I was kind of unhappy there. More than kind of. But I couldn’t see it until I was outside of it. And, like, moving back in with my parents, it isn’t ideal, but it doesn’t feel bad right now. If feels OK. If that makes sense.”

Tineka nodded. “I think that makes a lot of sense. And for what it’s worth, Andy was a piece of shit and I’m glad you’re rid of him.” She reached forward, cocktail in hand, to clink your glasses together. All you could do was smile. You really had missed her.

Your seat faced the window, and as you chatted, you watched the sun set over the colorful trees outside. It really was pretty here. This wasn’t a bad place to spend the season. 

As you were finishing your entrees, you frowned when you saw Ransom walk in. He noticed you too, and, waving the hostess away, made a beeline for your table. 

“We just keep running into each other,” he said, once he got to you, that perma-smirk firmly in place. 

"It's a small town," you said, nervously. You couldn't explain why this man triggered your fight-or-flight instincts so terribly. You were being ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything. “Oh, uh, sorry. Ransom, this is my friend Tineka. Tineka, Ransom.” 

Tineka looked between the two of you, open curiosity on her face. “How do you know each other?” she asked.

 “New friends,” Ransom supplied. “We just can’t help bumping into each other.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about where you’d met. That was his business, so you just nodded along.

He stood there for a moment, in a way that was too confident to be awkward, but still had you feeling a little uncomfortable. Tineka, bless her, had the social skills you just couldn’t pull together at that moment. “It’s packed tonight,” she said. “You’re welcome to sit down with us, although we’re probably leaving soon,” she gestured to your nearly empty plates.  

“Thank you,” he said, “I think I’ll take you up on that.” He winked at you as he took the empty chair next to you. Something about it, about him, made you have to look away, focusing on your plate.

“So,” Tineka started, and oh no, that was her casual interrogation tone, “are you from around here? This town is small enough that I’m always surprised when I don’t already know someone.”

Ransom chuckled. “Sort of. I used to have family here, but I haven’t been back in ages. Just in town to collect some things and then I’ll probably be on my way again.”

You could feel him looking at you. His attention was always so much.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Tineka said, giving you a sideways glance you knew meant trouble. “We’re only just getting to know you.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll admit, I’ve found more here than I expected.” He stretched his arm out and briefly rested it against your chair back. His fingers brushed you between your shoulder blades and you couldn’t help the way you shivered. He dropped his arm back into his lap. When you turned to him, he was looking at Tineka, but you could feel his attention still on you. 

“You said your family’s no longer in the area?” Tineka kept probing.

“No, they all passed a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “It was no great loss, trust me.” There was a darkness in his eyes when he said that that had you swallowing nervously.

“I guess it’s the season for homecomings,” Tineka said, then pointed at you, “she just moved back too.”

He grinned knowingly at you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” she said, pointedly. “Recovering from a shitty ex.”

“Tineka!” you hissed, but all she did was laugh. 

“Well,” he said, working his jaw, and you would swear it almost came out as a growl, “I bet he’ll live to regret that.” You couldn’t explain it, but at that moment, it felt like a threat. Which didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know Andy. He barely knew you. But the most disturbing thing was the little thrill that rushed through you at the thought. 

While you were having your mini-crisis, he stood up abruptly. “You know,” he said, “it really is busy in here. I’m probably better off getting dinner somewhere else. And I’ve intruded on girls’ night enough.” He then looked right at you and said, “I’ll be seeing you.” That, too, felt like a threat.

As he left, Tineka looked at you excitedly. “He’s hot!” she said, too loudly considering he hadn’t actually exited the restaurant yet. You hissed at her, but she batted it away. “And he’s clearly into you. Seems like the perfect opportunity to fuck Andy out of your system.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed and looked to the front to make sure he’d left. “You don’t think there’s something kind of unsettling about him?” 

“What do you mean?”

You paused to figure out how to put it into words. “I don’t know, sometimes, just the way he looks at me, I get this chill down my spine.”

She laughed, delightedly. “Yeah, that’s called ‘he wants to fuck you!’ Seriously, this is good. Great, even!”

“I don’t know,” you said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on that you just didn’t understand. 

She sobered and looked at you seriously. “Listen, you deserve this. After all that shit Andy put you through – the women. It’s time for you to get yours. I don’t care if it’s Ransom, or Robbie, or whoever, but you deserve this.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s definitely not going to be Robbie.” You couldn’t even imagine that.

“Ok, fine!” she said, throwing her hands up. “Then it should be Ransom!”

You laughed. “Ok, Tineka. Sure.”

A little while later, you left the restaurant together. On the sidewalk, Tineka asked, “Did you walk here?” You nodded. “Do you want a ride home?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not far. I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s just so dark.”

“Unless this town really changed while I was gone, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. Thanks, but I want to walk.”

“Ok,” she said, but she seemed hesitant. 

You rolled your eyes and she backed down. “Hey,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “This was really fun. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she said and pulled away, starting to head back to her car. “Think about what I said about Ransom!” she threw over her shoulder.

You laughed and started walking in the opposite direction, back to your parents' house. 

A few blocks later, when you were off the main street, you stopped when you heard a noise behind you–

You were half a block further down now. You looked around, confused. What just happened? How– The pain in your neck was back. It was on the other side now, and worse. You were so tired. A little dizzy. You walked as quickly as you could the rest of the way home.

You dreamt again that night. In this one, you sat in the middle of a large field. The sun shone down on you but you were sobbing uncontrollably. Your tears were made of blood.

You slept through your alarm the next morning, only waking when your mom came in and shook you. You were exhausted still, even though you’d slept a solid nine hours. Maybe you were coming down with something. Even though you had no other symptoms.

You went through your dresser three times until you found your one turtleneck. It seemed important.

Work felt impossible. Your focus was non-existent. You just wanted to lie down. 

Late that afternoon, when Robbie texted to see if you wanted to grab a coffee, you logged out early. You weren’t going to get anything else done anyway. Caffeine sounded helpful.

When you met outside the coffee shop, he asked, “Is coffee still ok? I know it’s getting kind of late in the day. We could do beer instead.”

You shook your head. “No, coffee’s good. I’m trying to cut down on how much I drink.” You stopped. You were? When did you decide that? Why? You shoved down the not-right feeling that was crawling up your throat. It was fine. It was good. Healthy. It was fine.

Robbie raised his eyebrows when you ordered a triple espresso, but didn’t say anything. It helped some, but you still felt sluggish. And you struggled to focus on the conversation. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked after about half an hour.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, trying to shake your head clear. “I’ve just been a little off the past few days. Probably just everything that’s happened catching up with me.”

He nodded. “I heard about all that. I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you ever need it.”

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m fine, really,” you said, “but I appreciate it.”

A few minutes later, as you were trying to decide if you’d been there long enough to politely make your excuses and go home, he said, “Oh, do you remember Alex Higgins?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” The name didn’t ring a bell, but you weren’t sure if that was because you didn’t know them or whatever was going on with you.

“He was a few years ahead of us? Friends with my brother?” 

You shrugged and shook your head.

“Well, this won’t mean much to you, then,” he said, “but he died a few days ago.”

Not right not right not right, your gut said. “How… how did he die?” you asked, terrified of the answer without knowing why.

“They don’t know yet. They haven’t been able to find anything wrong with him. They just found him collapsed outside, I guess.”

You white-knuckled it through the rest of your coffee.

Afterward, you lost over half of your walk home. When you arrived, there was another bouquet of almost black roses on your front porch.

Things began to disintegrate quickly from there.

Over the next week, you kept losing time. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, sometimes even more. Once you started paying attention, you realized it was only after the sun went down. But knowing that didn’t seem to help.

There were more nightmares too. There was the one where you were being chased through the woods by something unseen, under a blood-red moon and the trees came alive to trap you. Or the one where you were back at the Thrombey house and it was on fire. The skies opened up, but instead of rain, the clouds poured down blood. The strangest one had Ransom in it. Blood flowed from his mouth as he choked you with his scarf. They all started to blend together after that. Blood. Pain. Terror. 

Even with the nightmares, you slept like the dead. But that didn’t stop you from waking up exhausted every morning. You called in sick to work multiple days. You stopped seeing Tineka or Robbie. What would have been the point? You couldn’t concentrate on anything. You could barely stay awake. And every time you went for a walk in the evening, to try to get some exercise and clear your head, you lost time. Something was very wrong and you didn’t know what to do.

The one person you did see was Ransom. He often seemed to be out and about at the same time you were. The fear you felt for him was still there, but you couldn’t deny that you were drawn to him, too. When he was near. you could feel the chaos that had taken you over the last week finally quiet down. You still lost time with him, but it didn't seem to matter as much. Nothing seemed to matter as much when you were with him. Even if you still felt the instinctual urge to turn around and run away whenever you saw him.

Compounding your troubles, the roses just kept coming. Every few days, another bouquet appeared on your porch. You still had no idea who was sending them. It had occurred to you that maybe it was Andy, trying to fuck with you. As much as you hated him now, that just didn’t seem like him. But you couldn’t think of anyone else who would do it either. You barely even knew anyone in town anymore.

For a reason you couldn’t articulate, you didn’t say anything about any of this to your parents. You couldn’t hide it from them though. They may not have known exactly what was going on, but they knew there was something. You overheard them one night as you came down the stairs to get a glass of water, their low tones coming from the living room.

“She is not okay,” your dad was saying, “and we need to stop acting like she is.”

“She’s been through a lot,” your mom said. “If she wants space–”

“Look at her!” your dad said, trying to keep his voice quiet, but the emotion still came through. “The time for space is over. I think we need to start talking about professional help.”

As quietly as you could, you ran back up the stairs. You weren’t that thirsty.

You spent the next two days in bed. When your mom came in to check on you, you told her you had the flu.

On the third day, you woke up feeling clear-headed for the first time in ages. You were rested. You hadn’t had any nightmares. The fog seemed to have cleared from your brain. When you bounced downstairs and greeted your parents, the relief on their faces made you want to cry. Your work day was the most productive you’d had since you’d arrived at your parents’ house. You finally felt like things were going to be ok.

That night after dinner, you decided to celebrate your good mood with snacks. You got in your car and started driving to the grocery store.

When you parked, you looked up. You weren’t at the grocery store. You were in front of the Thrombey house. You burst into tears. No no no. How had you gotten here? Why was this happening to you? As you were about to put the car in reverse and go back home, the front door opened and Ransom came out. So instead, you got out of the car.

“Trespassing again?” he asked, that smirk always on his lips. Like there was a joke that only he knew about.

   “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know what’s happening!”

He came down off the porch and walked over to you. He gently brushed a tear off your cheek and looked you in the eye. “Poor little rabb–

You were sitting in your car, parked in front of your parents’ house. The sun was coming up. How? The last thing you remembered, it was evening. It’d been hours. So many hours. The entire night. You let out a frustrated, guttural cry. You checked your phone, certain there must be so many panicked calls and texts from your parents, but there was nothing. Looking further, you found a text from yourself to your mom, telling her that you were spending the night with Tineka. Had you? Was that where you’d been? You thought about calling Tineka to check but one of two things would happen. She’d be confused as to why you couldn’t remember that you’d just left her house. Or, she’d tell you that she hadn’t seen you in days. Both options seemed equally awful and impossible to deal with. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and looked up at the front door. In front of it, was an ornate, vintage vase, filled with roses, so deep red they were practically black. No. Absolutely not. You started your car again and pulled back out onto the road in a flurry. This was one mystery you might actually be able to solve and you were going to do it.

The only dedicated floral shop in town didn’t open for another two hours. That was fine. You could wait. You sat in your car as long as you could stand it, and then when you grew too antsy to bear, you got out and paced in front of the storefront.

As soon as the door was unlocked, you were inside the shop, frantically looking through all of the roses.

“Can I help you?” an employee cautiously asked from behind you. 

You spun around. “I’m looking for black roses.”

“Oh, uh, so, roses don’t actually come in true black. The closest is a really dark red that looks almo–”

“Yes, I know that!” You interrupted. “That’s what I’m looking for!”

“Well,” they said, a professional curtness in their tone now, “we don’t carry them. You’d have to do a special order.”

That was actually good news. It’d narrow down possibilities considerably. “Can you tell me who’s been ordering them?”

They looked confused. “Like, ever?”

“No! Just in the past two weeks!”

They took a step back. “We haven’t had anyone order them recently.”

You shook your head wildly, desperation taking over. “No, that’s not true! You’ve been delivering them to my house! I just want to know who’s sending them.”

Another employee came out from the back and eyed you carefully.

“Please,” you said, sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “You have to tell me who it is. I have to know.”

“We haven’t had any orders like that,” the first employee said firmly.

“No!” you shouted. “Please just tell me. You have to tell me!”

“Ma’am,” the second employee finally spoke up. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

You stopped and looked around yourself. Another customer had come in. They stood by the door and stared at you. Everyone stared at you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The first employee looked deeply uncomfortable, but the second just folded their arms and gave you a hard look.

“You’re sure?” you asked. “You really haven’t had any special orders?” You felt a few tears fall down your cheeks.

“Ma’am, if you don’t leave, we’ll have to call the cops.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You left as quickly as you could, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

Once outside and away from the floral shop, you found a bench and sunk down on it, trying to pull yourself together. What was happening? What was wrong with you? 

You heard someone across the street call your name and you looked up to see Robbie rushing toward you. He dodged a few cars and then stepped up onto the sidewalk. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You started sobbing at that, unable to hold anything in any longer. He sat down on the bench next to you and tentatively put his hand on your back. He said your name again, softly. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I think I’m losing my mind,” you choked out. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He was rubbing gentle circles now. “Tell me what’s happening. Maybe I can help.”

So you did. You told him about losing time and saying things you didn’t understand, being so tired all the time you could barely get out of bed, the nightmares. He listened quietly to everything and when you were done he just nodded for a moment, then said, “First thing, I think, is that you need to see a doctor.”

You shook your head. “No, I can’t.”

“Listen, I know it’s scary, but I don’t think this is going to go away on its own. This could be a brain tumor or something. You really need to get it checked out.”

“You’re not listening to me,” you growled out, surprised by how upset you were, and how quickly your mood had changed. “I can’t.”

“Ok,” he said, putting his hands up in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m listening. Why can’t you?”

“I just can’t!” you said, standing up. You were jittery. You needed to move.

Robbie reached out a hand, and quietly said your name again, clearly trying to calm you down.

You couldn’t stop shaking your head. “I just can’t, okay? I just can’t. I can’t. I’m not allowed!”

You both froze. “What–” Robbie stopped then tried again, shock clear on his face. “What do you mean you’re not allowed?”

You didn’t know, exactly. You just knew it was true. No doctors. Absolutely not. “I have to go,” you said and turned abruptly to race back to where you’d parked your car. Robbie called after you the whole way.

Your phone buzzed at you the whole drive home. Robbie. He wouldn’t stop. It continued all day. He was worried about you, his texts and voicemails told you. What you said had really freaked him out. Was someone hurting you? He just wanted to help. You hid in your bedroom and buried your phone in your laundry hamper. You could still hear it buzzing away, but it made it easier to pretend that you couldn’t. Finally, sometime after dark, it stopped.

It started ringing again in the morning, just as insistent as before. You dug it out of your dirty clothes, ready to tell Robbie to just forget what happened and leave you alone when you saw that it was Tineka, and she was calling for the third time.

When you answered, at first you just heard her crying. “Tineka?” you asked. “Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Robbie,” she sobbed, and for a moment you thought maybe he’d talked to her, told her who knows what, but then she continued. “Oh god, Robbie. Robbie’s dead.”

A chill whipped through your entire body. “What?” you breathed. Just yesterday– No. Your mind went to all the people you’d heard about since you’d gotten here. The vague reasons, the shrugs given as cause of death. A pattern you’d refused to see until this moment. You had to know if he was part of it. “Tineka, how did he die?”

“Oh god,” she sobbed, “It’s so awful. I can’t– His throat. It was ripped out.”

You felt time stop. Distantly, you could hear Tineka still talking. Going on about animal attacks, coyotes and bobcats, maybe something escaped from a sanctuary or private owner. You couldn’t explain it, you didn’t know why – you obviously didn’t know anything – but you knew deep down in your being that this was because of you. Something was happening.

Without saying anything, you ended the call and left your phone on your bed. You didn’t get dressed, still in the leggings and oversized t-shirt you always slept in. You moved through the house as quickly and quietly as you could, not bothering to stop to look for your parents. The only things you grabbed on your way out were your coat and your car keys. 

As you started driving away, you didn't really have a destination in mind, but once you were about halfway there, you realized that you did in fact know where you were going now. Of course, you did. There was only one place to go. One person to see.

As you pulled up in front of the Thrombey house, it struck you that you’d never seen it in daylight before. The way the sun shone down on it almost made it more eerie. It should not be here, in this daylight world. It was a relic of the night. You shook your head at yourself. Your thoughts had become so strange lately.

You waited in your car. He always heard you and came out, but this time, nothing. You looked to the little driveway at the side. The beamer was there. So where was Ransom? After several minutes of waiting, you got out. You went up to the house, ready to pound on the door until he came out, but stopped at the porch. You could clearly see now how the wood was rotting, the holes that were already there. You couldn’t risk taking a single step onto it. You didn’t know how he came in and out this way.

You looked around, there must be another way in, maybe on the side of the house. As you walked around the corner, you came up short. Lining this side of the house, hidden from the front, was a beautiful, neat row of rose bushes, in such a deep red they were practically black. No. No no no. It couldn’t be. But of course, it was. You were so stupid. So blind. You fell to your knees beside them. It had all started here, at this house. You could clearly see that now, finally. Whatever end came, that would be here too, so you laid down, and you waited. There was nothing else to do.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You were pretty sure you’d dozed in and out. But at some point, the sun had gone down. Once it was fully hidden beneath the horizon, you heard the front door open and footsteps come around the side of the house.

Ransom crouched down next to your head, his hand gently brushing the hair out of your face. “So you know now,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but you still shook your head. “No,” you said. “I don’t know anything. I don’t understand.”

He nodded and stood up. You sat up, almost like there was a string in your chest, connected to his. “You know,” he said, looking up at the house. “Ransom is my middle name. I’ve always gone by it, but when they reported on everything that happened here, they used my first name, so that’s the one everyone remembers.”

Of course. “Hugh,” you breathed. “You’re Hugh Drysdale.” You were as sure of it as you’d ever been of anything. Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. He nodded, pleased. “How?” you asked. Hugh had been roughly your age when the fire had happened and he’d disappeared. Almost 50 years ago. The man standing in front of you didn’t look a day over 35.

He crouched down again, so that he was level with you, so that you could clearly see his face in the moonlight. So that you had a perfect view of the fangs that dropped down.

You gasped, wanting to scoot away on your hands, but you stayed pinned in your spot. “No, that’s not– You can’t–” You took a deep breath and gave yourself the courage to say the word. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He threw his head back and laughed. It was wild and loud and cruel. “Come on now,” he said, “I know you aren’t that stupid, sweetheart.”

As you tried to process this, you realized it didn’t actually matter how any of this could be real. There was only one question you actually needed an answer to. “Why did you do this to me?” 

He grinned at you, mean as ever. “Because you came right to me, little rabbit. How could I resist an offering like that?” Tears started to run down your face, and he cooed at you, collecting a few with his finger. “I’ll admit, at first, I’d just planned to drain you, leave your body beside the grocery store for some teenage employee to find the next day.” He smiled at the thought. “But that first taste. You have no idea how good you taste, baby. It couldn’t just be a one-and-done. It was as easy as anything to put you under a little thrall. Compel you to forget when I fed on you, make sure you didn’t let anyone else know. The plan was to snack on you while I was here, and once I had everything I needed, I’d bring you with me, keep you as a little pet blood bag until I was bored and done with you. And torturing you was so fun. It made having to be here so much more bearable. But as I broke you down, brought you to your weakest, it made me realize that I’m desperate to see you at your strongest. See you surging with power.”

There was something in his words, in his eyes, that filled you with panic. But also something else. Want, you were terrified to admit. “What does that mean?” you whispered.

“It means you’re mine, baby, and I’m going to keep you. Claim you. Forever.”

It was the last word you fixated on. That was the word that meant everything. That really said what he meant. You took a deep breath, trying to get the crying under control. “And if I let you do that, this will all stop? I’ll be ok again?”

He chuckled. “Sure, honey. If you ‘let’ me do it, it’ll all stop. You’ll get your mind back. The thrall will lift.”

“And if I don’t?”

He tilted his head to the side. “If you don’t, you’ll still be mine. I’ll just make it hurt. Your friend Tineka sure has a pretty neck. Maybe I’ll rip it out, just like I did to your other little friend. Or your parents. Blood is kind of like wine, you know, gets better with age.”

“No, no, please,” you begged.

“Then give yourself to me, right now.” He leaned forward into your space and you fought the dual urges to pull away and to close the distance completely.

You took a deep breath and blinked the tears away. Your torment would stop. Things would be better. Your family would be safe. “Okay,” you whispered, “please. Please, Ransom.”

Without further ado, he pulled you into a bruising kiss, both hands tightly gripping your face, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He gave you no choice but to sink into it, his fangs still dropped, occasionally nipping into your lips. When he pulled away, you were left gasping for breath. 

You had no time to recover before he was pushing back on your shoulders and then slipping his hands under your knees to tip you onto your back. You held yourself up, as much as you could, on your forearms, unable to look away from him. Mesmerized by him, as always. He pulled on your leggings until they ripped in two and tossed them away. He crawled between your knees and then did the same to your panties. You cried out at the sting of the elastic breaking. He smoothed a hand over you, fingers moving through the thatch of soft curls, and growled “Just perfect.” Then he lowered his face to your cunt and slowly dragged his tongue along the length of it. You finally gave in and let your upper body fall back, tossing your head to the side, your hands grasping for purchase in the dry grass beneath you, as he worked you over with his mouth. Little mewls escaped you, beyond your control. You wanted to deny how good it felt; he was a literal monster. He had killed countless people. His own family, in this exact spot where he now defiled you. But you couldn’t think about that right now. You couldn’t think about anything other than his mouth on you, the rising heat in your core, the grass under your hands, the twigs poking into your back. The one thing outside of this exact moment that your brain briefly flashed to was Andy. How he had never felt like this. Never given you this. In his own way, he too, had wanted to drain you dry and then he’d left you with nothing to show for it. His promise of forever had turned out to be empty. With Ransom, you knew that word meant something different. Meant something more. Something real.

Your mewls had turned into soft little chants of “Please,” and “Ransom,” over and over. As you reached your peak and were just about to go over it, he removed his mouth from you. You cried out in frustration and lifted your head just in time to see him turn his and sink his teeth into your thigh. You screamed at the pain. The way it mingled with the intense pleasure you were already experiencing, along with the constant fear you’d been in for the past weeks had you hurtling over the edge. You came harder than you ever had before, your body spasming through it, tears rushing down your face, wetness pooling between your legs. Ransom drank from you all through your orgasm and the aftershocks. As you were finally coming down, he released your thigh, quickly licking up the blood that had dripped down your leg. He reached up to your face and grabbed your chin, forcing eye contact as he viciously bit into his own wrist. He brought his other hand to the back of your head, grasping it firmly, and then pushed his bloody wrist into your mouth. You flailed, instinctively trying to get away, but his hard grip wouldn’t let you move. You choked as his blood filled your mouth. Your eyes were wide, hands wildly trying to release his hold on you.

“Just drink,” his voice filled your consciousness. “Drink. Take it all, sweetheart.” At some point, your body gave in, no longer struggling, trying to dislodge him. You took what he gave you and swallowed. “Good girl,” he cooed as you continued to drink. “Good girl.” You grasped his wrist, latching on with your mouth, suddenly desperate for more. Blackness was gathering at the edges of your vision. It started gradually and then quickly overtook you. The last thing you heard before you slipped into the darkness was Ransom’s chuckle.

You gasped for breath as you rocketed up to a sitting position. You could hear everything. The birds on the roof of the house. The wind moving in the trees. The ants in the ground beneath you. You could feel everything. The hair on your arms, standing straight up. The grass growing in the ground. The electricity in the air. The one thing you couldn’t feel was your blood flowing through your veins. It was still. You knew it was. But something was pumping through you. Power. You gasped again to feel it. You could do anything now. You were sure of it. You’d been so weak before. But now. Now nothing could beat you. With that power was also the most intense hunger you’d ever felt. You needed something, right now. You needed everything. You needed to feed, you needed to fuck, you needed to drink.

A familiar chuckle interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to see Ransom standing above you. That mean smirk that was always on his face. “Oh little rabbit,” he said, “we are going to have so much fun.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, there's a follow-up! 💜

Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire

#ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #dark fic #knives out #ransom drysdale #horror fiction #chris evans fanfiction #navy and roo's sleepover #kris wrote something #fanfic #we are vain & we are blind

[thedovesaredying]

Little Chicken | Cowboy!Nikto x F!Reader | Oneshot

Figured out a cute little nickname for Nikto's reader in the Cowboy AU originally created by @ghouljams as always! I thought it was fitting since "chicken" or "chook" is an affectionate term where I live and I think it's an adorable petname.

Nikto has complicated feelings about watching his girl doing her job. She's by no means weak or incompetent at it, but he can only hold his nerve for so long.

Call of Duty Masterlist

“Цыплёнок,” Nikto huffs, trying in vain to call you back while he watches you continue to wade through the knee-deep water of the river. He normally trusts your ability to handle yourself with large and dangerous animals; this is your job and you’ve been doing it for years. But this? This is too far even for him.  

“Nikto! Come look!” you excitedly call to him, looking back to grin at him with that blindingly bright smile that shows off your dimples. In any other situation, seeing such a loving, genuine smile aimed his way would give him that warm feeling in his gut. Instead, it just concerns him even more that you’re paying attention to him and not the animal at your feet.  

“нет, we can see fine from here,” he keeps his eyes glued to the huge creature floating in place only a few feet from you.  

“Aww, c’mon Nikto! He’s only a little fella, can’t be more than seven or eight feet,” you look back to the alligator sitting on the riverbed. You hum to yourself, tilting your head this way and that as you observe the animal, “he’s got a nice thick snout, so it’s definitely a male.” While you continue to list different facts about the species, Nikto can only watch as the alligator in question starts drifting closer.

“-and look, because of all the sensory nerves along the top of the head, tapping the water’s surface like this will cause him to-” you reach down toward the water and- Before you can do... whatever it is you’re planning on doing, he takes a couple of long strides into the water and reaches down, hauling you bodily from the river.  

“нет, абсолютно нет, не происходит, нет,” He throws you over one shoulder and carries you back to dry land, regardless of your protests.  

“Nikto, Nikto put me down,” he ignores you, “I know what I’m doing, I wouldn’t have let him actually bite me.” You grumble when he continues all the way back to the truck the two of you arrived in, corralling you into the front seat with his broad body blocking you from attempting to escape.  

You hop up into the seat, turning your body so that you’re sitting facing out the open truck door. The truck is high enough that you can look him in the eye without craning your neck, and the pout you subject him to is admittedly rather endearing. “You will be the death of us, Цыплёнок,” he sighs, gently knocking his forehead against yours.  

Your brows furrow slightly, “I’ve never heard that one before, what does it mean?” you ask quietly, refusing to break this soft moment.  

“It means chicken,” he replies, and tries not to grin when you giggle, “you are like a little chicken, yes?” 

“Are you saying I’m a coward?” you pretend to clutch your pearls, but the dramatic reaction is ruined by your bright grin.  

“No, of course not,” he reassures you, “you’re stupid.”  

He receives a slap to the chest as you gasp, “Nikto!” You glare at him, poking his chest with a single finger, “I guess that makes you a donkey, then, because you’re a complete ass.” 

The cackle that bursts out of him is entirely genuine, but he can’t help it, not when you come out with something so unexpected. You quickly join him in laughter, and the two of you must be a strange sight, sitting in a truck beside the river, giggling like a couple of teenagers.  

“You’re lucky, Цыплёнок, no one else would be allowed to get away with being so rude.” Perhaps he’ll keep the name, it suits you, to be a sweet little chicken, and you don’t seem to be too put off by it given the way you plant a soft kiss against his clothed lips.

-

Translations:

"Цыплёнок" - Little Chicken - An affectionate term for a partner.

"нет" - No

“нет, абсолютно нет, не происходит, нет” - No, absolutely not, not happening, no/nope.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #call of duty nikto #cowboy au #nikto x reader #oc chook

[riniworld]

my perfect soldier

yandere!emperor x general!f!reader

warnings// mention of blood+injury, that much it.

reference// you,general, woman/girl, y/n, she/her.

remake of this hcs

a/n// i was having a bad wi-fi and when i wanted to save the draft it didn't save, i had a damn long heart attack, then when i was about to cry it said that it had been saved, man the scare!

born and raised as the heir of the throne,in a luxurious life,some people will dream to live like his life, but he hated it.

Baron hated how he shouldn't act like a child because he's the heir, hated the boring meeting he has to attend with his father, hated how he didn't get attention,but he hated his parents more than anything.

a small light lightened his life,his brother,who came to him after 8 years from suffering alone,as he grew up,baron took his responsibility upon himself,he won't let his brother live like him.

in the night of his eighteenth birthday, instead of hearing clapping and partying for him,what the castle heard was a scream, echo in every corner of it.

in that day the death of the emperor and his wife was confirmed and he stood there without guilt or shame "i did it." was Baron's first words on that night.

he did it,he got rid of his misery, he got his revenge for his shattered childhood, for his brother's tears.

he got rid of his misery and gave the people a new misery.

And who can prosecute him? he is the law after all,he put it and he eras it.

as a young boy it wasn't professional to give him the throne but he insisted and killed everyone that was against it.

as the years passed,baron was expanding his empire taking as much kingdoms as he please, starting with small ones to the large ones.

however,Yale,baron's brother,didn't like all the blood that was sacrifice for his brother's pleasure,hence he left the whole empire at age 18,and has never communicate his brother again.

This got on Taron's,as he named himself, nerves, wich lead him to take out his anger on the civilians,the smallest mistake lead to getting killed.

life started to get boring for him until he heard about you,a powerful general that no one had defeated,not like the kingdom you were in was under too much pressure or popular,but it won't hurt him to take it anyway.

anxiety kicking in as you hurry to the throne room, the king asked for you to come,it's not everyday he want to see you so it's must be something important.

a loud thud was heard as you open the door aggressively.

you bow your head a little as you see the prince standing in the room,he smiled at you softly in return,when you get closer to the king you kneeled down on one knee and bowing your head down in front of him.

"your majesty." you said steadily.

"Excuse me for bringing you from your duties in a hurry,general, however we received information that you should hear." the king explain "I'm sure you've heard about the falling kingdoms by now?"

you stood up "i did,your majesty, apparently the new emperor isn't as peaceful as his father."

after a minute of silent the king spoke again "i don't know what is his purpose by this.." he walked to a close table and took a latter that was on it "but it seems we're next." he handed it to you. "I'm counting on you about this."

you opened your mouth to speak but the prince cut you off.

"pardon me but what! you're saying the emperor wants to take our kingdom and you still want to fight? father no one happen to stop him!." he said irritated but didn't rise his voice.

"what do you suggest then? giving up easily? so everyone can call us cowards?" the king said calmly (dumbledore said calmly)

"It is better than wasting the blood of soldiers in vain."

the king sighed in frustration and motion for you to go.

you bow your head and headed out immediately.

planning to call every battalion commander to discuss the plan for the battle.

the day of the battle came,everyone was anxious even you,you'll fight the emperor how can you not?

but as the general you need to keep a steady expression as you check on every soldier,recuse the frightened ones and reassure the ones that has a slight anxiety.

The promised hour has come, you wear your armor, it wasn't alot but it did just enough.

you arrive at the place at the same time taron's has arrive, you two were at the head of your army.

taron scoff as soon as he sees you "a woman? is that what your king could bring? what a joke."

you got irritated, you've always hated when someone talks about you because you were a woman, You extended your hand to the side and someone gave you a bow, you throw the arrow at taron, it didn't land on him as you knew this was a big move to do first but it did scratch his cheek and killed one behind him,you return the bow and say"i didn't laugh" in a calm manner.

taron put his finger on the scratch and look at his blood, he smiled crazily. This was the signal for the beginning of the war.

Two hours have passed since the start of the battle، and it did not go well in your favor. Many of your soldiers were dying, but that does not mean that you were not advancing as well.

you were against the emperor the whole time and the first thing you learned about him is that he's not a silent type because he was talking the whole damn fight.

in a quick motion his blade was at your neck,you expected your head to chop off, but instead taron was smiling widely as he looked in your eyes "it would be such a waste to kill you now." he said.

then he removed the blade away from you as he announced to his army to withdraw.

you wanted to yell after him to come back,to end things, you couldn't return to the kingdom with such shame, even if you didn't lose you know deep down that you would have if he didn't do that.

when you return to the kingdom the king received you with clapping hand and congratulation, you didn't even left your head up you don't know how to tell him what happened in the field.

you were sitting on a bench at the practice ground, your head between your hand thinking about everything.

you felt someone sitting beside you, you were ready to kick out whoever was there but when you left your head up you shut your mouth close, it was the prince "your royal highness!."

the prince was smiling slightly at you,like always, "why are you here alone?."

"I'm just...resting." you say turning your head away.

"you don't seem like usual, what happened at the battle?."

you pause don't know how to say it, "i-..wouldn't have won if the emperor took it seriously," the prince hummed "he was an inch away from killing me but he just backdown..i don't count this as a won." you continue.

"well,what were you expecting from an emperor?, i respect your power but as much as you've been in the army he must have been practicing more, I'm just happy you're alive." he put his hand on yours.

you looked at him with soft eyes like you were about to cry, in return he looked in your eyes as he spoke "how about you accompany me to the town,hm? like old days."

right,in one point of your serving here you were his personal knight wich made you two so close to each other, even if you treat him as a royal prince he always has treated you as a friend, wich made you,as much as you don't want to admit it,falling for him.

"that would be an honor,your highness."

"great." the prince took your hand and drag you outside.

seeing all the people in the town safe, smiling and laughing was enough to make you smile and forget about the battle.

on the other side,at taron's castle.

"she's incredible." taron was lying on the bed, smiling staring at the roof.

His personal advisor was standing at the door inside "if you say so,your majesty."

taron sighed dreamly "i can't wait for our next battle,y/n, was it?."

"it is,your majesty."

"Gather as much information of her as possible."

"as you wish,your majesty."

the battles continued to happen,Day after day, taron becames quicker to announce the second battle,he start,what you consider it as,flirting in the middle of your fight, saying things such as, "you look gorgeous with blood." , "you make me more insane in your love,dear" , "won't you consider becoming my personal soldier? oh,or maid!." you nearly cut his arm off when he said that, he sometimes cross the lines saying some personal information no one knows.

you got enough with his playing, always announce a battle then backdown when he's close to knocking you off.

it all changed though at that fateful day.

after every fight the prince,keith,would come to you, talking or taking you out with him, the civilians noticed that as much as the servants did, and the rumors spread quickly about you two being in some sort of relationship.

it eventually reached taron's empire.

"what is this fucking thing i hear?! what do you mean there's a rumor about my woman being in a relationship?!" taron was holding his personal adviser by his collar.

"i-i don't know your maje-it what I've heard!." the man says frightened.

taron throws him away making him hit the ground "oh,i know what I'll do, if that shame of a man wants to take my girl away, then I'll just have to make him to never see her again, prepare the army, we'll go get what's mine."

and that's how you end up looking at him standing above while you bleed on the ground.

finally ending this

have a good day/night♡

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #yandere story

[mak3itr7ght]

Taehyung x fem!reader

Warnings: mention of death

Inspired by the new IU song's MV "Love wins all"

(maybe an alternative ending👀)

Words count: 924

(I didn't revise it so there will be SO MANY ERRORS)

The moon was shining over the city, well, over what remained about the city. The buildings were destroyed, ruins everywhere, still the satellite and the stars kept floating in the sky, imperturbable, not caring about what was happening beneath them.

I was laying down against the cold concrete, I was tired to escape. I realized it was useless run away, because there wasn't a safe place.

They were everywhere, ready to exterminate everything. Damn it. Those metallic demons, those machines that brought only fear, terror and death. They were soul less, they hadn't feelings. They just knew that humans must disappear, turning in piles of ash and clothes...

The flashbacks of what happened in that building still crushed against my sight. I was there. I could help them both, I could help that couple, but it took me so much to fight against my cowardice.

Flashback

She was wearing a wedding dress, it was dirty but she still looked like a princess, and he was leaning against her chest, wearing a black suit. I heard their laughing before that moment, those voices made me and my curiosity looking for them. "I am not the only one left then.." i thought. But there they were, with one of those cubes in front of them, ready to reduce their existence in..nothing. i felt chills along my spine as soon as I met her eyes. She was crying, keeping her lover against her, trying to comfort him. One hand placed on his still-working eye, while the other one was already lost. I was hiding behind two huge pieces of wall, but she saw me. She bagged me to help them, at least one of them.

I thought about it for a few seconds, seconds that looked like hours, days, years in that moment. I felt my stomach backflipping, my head spinning, the adrenaline in my vains running so much that I feared they would explode. We exchanged a few looks and I stood up running across the cube.

It all happened in seconds, she made her lover standing up, pushed him against me while the cube started burning her...she wasn't even screaming. I was able to see what she was trying to mimick with her lips.

'내 사랑을 살려줘" ("save my love")

I hurried towards the guy who was still over me, and I covered both his eyes, I didn't want to take the risk to make him see what was happening.

She died in front of my eyes and I realized that we couldn't let her death be in vain.

I took his arm and pulled him away. He was too stunned to speak, he was surprised, unable to realize what was actually happening. We kept running. We ran for hours and hours, until we hid ourselves at a subway stop.

He stayed silent the whole time. I asked him a few questions, if he was hungry, thirsty, also if he needed to cry... he stayed still. I I put my arm around his shoulder and I let him lean his head agaisnt my chest. I didn't know him, but, he was the only one left, along with me.

"괜찮아" ("it's okay") I whispered, gently stroking his hair. I looked down at him. A warm tear was running down his left eye. That made me cry too. I cried in silence, looking up, meeting the dark atmosphere in that metro stop. I hated that place, it was so noisy, so full of people. I realized that i missed all that, that i actually never hated that, it was just me that never found a way to appreciate life.

We were alone, there was no way to escape, nothing could save us.

I prayed that night, while that boy was trying to sleep, still burying his head against my dirty white sweater. After praying i started coursing everything, the world, those machines, myself, humanity..God itself, and once i finished a small and weak ray of sun spreaded across a crack from the subway's ceiling. In that moment i promised myself that I would have found a way to save us. Nothing was lost. I would have fought until the end.

End of the Flashback

It happened weeks ago. Still it was so clear as soon as I closed my eyelids.

"Y/n씨, 가야 돼" ("Y/n, we must go") A voice made me snap back from my thoughts. I set up and looked behind me. There he was.His hair got longer, that made him even prettier.

"응" ("yeah") I smiled at him. Taehyung approached me and extended an hand. I took it and he pulled me towards him.

It was a relief that he started talking again, even if he was silent most of the time. We looked at each other for a few seconds when he grabbed his camera, and started recording me out of nowhere. He used to do that a lot. I didn't know that..through it..he was able to see her, not me.

I raised an hand and gently pressed on the camera, lowering it. I shook my head, moving some hair from his eyes, he looked beautiful under the moonlight. Leaning in, i pressed a soft kiss on his nose, while my thumb kept stroking his cheekbone. It was okay. I cared about him. I loved him. And i was sure he loved me back, in some way. I realized that when he smiled back at me and pressed his forehead against mine.

"살아남을 거야" ("we will survive"). He whispered softly. Yes, we will survive.

Hope you liked itㅠㅠ♡

#bts au fanfic #bts au masterlist #bts fanfic #bts #spotify #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #taehyung ff #taehyung bts #taehyung x you #taehyung #taehyung actor #taehyung love wins all #taehyung x reader #SoundCloud #IU love wins all

[r--kt]

Kid Kakashi is getting away from responsibility! does he?

I once saw an opinion that «Kakashi adheres to the rules to avoid responsibility for his actions so that he always has a safety net», and it seems to me that this is a fairly common misconception. so here's the thing...

contents | analysis of Kakashi and Sakumo's motives, a little speculation on the topic. also the text is a bit messy

Sakumo commits suicide. the parent as a the only support in Kakashi's life has been lost, and Kakashi needs to grow up quickly, become responsible and not make paternal mistakes. a five-to-seven-year-old child must figure out the dilemma of an adult who raised him. not a bad task, huh?

the moral dilemma is as follows: should I recognize a warrior as a soul worthy of life, or as a tool used to save the majority?

a small child, by the way, should take it upon himself. he is this warrior. let me rephrase, it's "should I recognize myself as a soul worthy of life, or as a tool used to save the majority? what way should I recognise my father? what way he recognised himself by committing suicide?"

everything that happened makes Kakashi wonder if he (a shinobi) is worthy of living if he doesn't defend his homeland. a healthy little child would say "yes/idk/idc, let's go play". a child who experiences the suicide of a father deprived of honor and hounded for such humanity due to violation of military regulations chooses to consider himself unworthy. is it a fear of responsibility? let's take a closer look at the accents.

CH 240. Minato and Obito's conversation.

so Sakumo saves his Shinobi group. he does this because he knows that they will not cope with the mission and will die in vain, without benefiting the village, and, moreover, harming it with the loss of labor. and, obviously, this was done out of humane motives, which is what the emphasis is on. what does Sakumo do as a team captain? Sakumo, who is clearly a skilled strategist and/or warrior, since he's compared in strength/fame to the three Sannins. he's retreating. does he do it just like that, without having a way out and a plan to come back? well, hardly. the dude has to be damn smart, judging by the way he was introduced. but will the embittered, war-weary shinobi figure out all the subtleties of the failure of Sakumo? the question is rhetorical.

let's think (I can't assert this, but it sounds logical) Sakumo wanted to return to the village to develop a new plan with a larger team, but did not have much time, because enemy attacked the land of Fire earlier. the consequence is hundreds, possibly thousands of civilian lives and so on. Sakumo would not be a respected captain if he simply refused the mission out of fear of someone else's death. fear of the meaninglessness of someone else's death? maybe. rather, it was a sense of duty to his team, a sense of the very responsibility for his leadership to these people. these things are not the same.

Sakumo's actions are driven by risk. the mission is a failure, but it was certainly intended as a justified failure. however, there is no point in proving this to others, they will not enter the position, because «you are the captain who gave the wrong order. you're a captain who broke the rules. you are to blame for these deaths.» a bunch of rescued shinobi are nothing against the background of thousands of war dead. and even this bunch thinks you fucked up, Captain.

Interesting how, from Obito's words, we can find out that there is another opinion about Sakumo, a more positive(?) one. «in the line of duty» — that's how they call it, huh. I also want to note that Minato emphasizes the following idea: Sakumo was vilified and slandered. no one just wanted to figure out if he was this guilty.

so the whole topic was not about to be responsible or not. it's about responsibility as a duty and as a choice. It's about responsibility to a metaphorical face of the country and responsibility to specific people of that country. it's about different approaches to understanding humanity, peace, sacrifice, honour, about rethinking the duty of shinobi and the so-called will of Fire. and, most importantly, Sakumo's story is about the dishonour and disgrace that can come when no one wants to figure out why you acted that way. and no one should have, it's just circumstances. when you mess up, all your comrades stop being your friends and take on the face of a single military structure that doesn't care whether you wanted it better or not. you messed up, you violated the rules, and so many people died because of you, scum.

Naruto Shippuden. Ending 33.

and with Sakumo's death, it all falls on his child. he's the son of a traitor. of course Kakashi's behavior afterward is a defense mechanism. (which I would like to talk about separately) if he was so afraid of responsibility, then why did he rush up the ranks? he would have sat as a genin and kept his head down. what kind of irresponsibility are we talking about?

Kakashi is not about irresponsibility and the consequences of it, after which he became responsible. he was already like that, in his own way, but it led to the disaster — again. that's the point. It's about fighting disgrace, and about trying to avoid unwanted consequences by one behavior, during which he got even worse.

so, I just seemed to justify Sakumo (can do vice versa) to show the background of Kakashi's behaviour and his attachment to rules. he doesn't just act out of spite and is not protected by the rules (to some extent, but not to the one mentioned at the beginning). he really concluded that in order to prevent civilian casualties, he would sometimes have to sacrifice his loved ones. and it's better not to have these loved ones at all. as events have shown, shinobi has no right to put his interests above, because his task is to protect others. it's selfish and disgraceful. he understood that shinobi is a tool. this is what Kakashi came to after Sakumo's death, because everything pointed to this: the fact that Sakumo was harassed by the same people he saved, and the fact that he was basically slandered by the whole village, and the fact that he himself eventually committed not a simple, not some kind of, but namely a ritual suicide with his own tanto.

so many people can't be wrong, can they? well... another rhetorical question.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi #sakumo hatake #naruto #naruto shippuden #obito uchiha #minato namikaze

[camille-lachenille]

Like a god of old

For @cilil

At first, there is only darkness, like mist on a winter morning. Then there is a glow not unlike dawn piercing through clouds and Théoden blinks, surprised to be able to see. He takes a breath in, shocked not to hear his lungs rattle and feel his chest ache, before noticing he does not need to breathe anymore. He breathes in again anyway, relishing in the lack of pain. If this is death, Théoden thinks, it is a hundredfold better than his last years of life. Only then does he notice the presence beside him, just at the edge of his vision.

Careful, Théoden sits up, marvelling at how easy it is, and look at the being. He looks like an old man, in the dim light, yet his stature is strong and his face unlined by the years. Théoden peers at his face, half hidden in the shadows, and feels his breath hitch. “Father?” he asks quietly, for the man looks like Thengel as he was in his prime. Yet something is off.

The man smiles and his features shift just the slightest, and he bears now a face Théoden knows from countless carved statues and innumerable descriptions in songs. “In a way,” the likeness of Eorl the young says, voice deep as the woods. “I am you father as I am the father of your forefathers, of countless warriors and hunters from Ages past, Théoden Ednew son of Thengel.”

The man’s - no, the god’s - face shifts again, taking the appearance of a dark-haired Elf of noble bearing, and Théoden looks at him in awe. “Béma, my Lord,” he whispers in awe. “So I am well and truly dead, in the Halls of my Fathers…”

This last addition is mostly for him, more a whispered thought than anything else, but Béma still answers. “You are dead indeed, Théoden King, and your death was bold and glorious like few before you. But this is not the halls of your fathers, but the Halls of Mandos. This is but a step in jour journey. Come, walk with me.”

Stunned, Théoden grasps the god’s outstretched hand to help him stand. The motion is strangely fluid, the old ache in his hip gone as if his body is more thought than flesh. Of course he cannot feel pain, he muses, he is dead and his body must be a memory of sorts, an old image he clings to.

Béma leads Théoden through vast halls shrouded in mist, the place eerily silent for their feet do not make a sound on the ground. “I heard of your valour, son of Rohan,” Béma says almost conversationally. “I looked over you on the Tapestries and saw your fate. Be proud, for your end was not in vain and brought a new Age in its wake.”

“I was but an old man riding to his death in despair,” Théoden answers without thinking. He glances at the god walking beside him, and finds he is changed again. Gone is the noble Elflord, replaced by a tall and rugged hunter. Théoden thinks he sees shadows of antlers about his head. “I did my duty to my people after I let them suffer for too long.”

There is a silence before Béma speaks again. “You were despairing indeed, knew you were riding to your death, and yet you met it in your own terms. This demands no small amount of courage, Théoden King. I heard songs already comparing you to me, charging the enemy with fury and might…”

Théoden suddenly feels like a boy barely of age and ducks his head. “They mean no ill, Lord Béma,” he says almost bashfully. “And most certainly my deeds are made grander than they are.”

The god laughs, a deep, rumbling sounds that reminds Théoden of galloping hooves pounding the ground. “Old tales are made to be sung again and again, and I have no grudge against the bards likening you to me, son of Rohan. And I may even say that they are more flattering to me than you. For, you see, I am made for battle and blood, while you had to shape yourself for this role in pain and despair. And you turned this despair to rage, to strength to face your enemy head on in a way I will never be able to. Yes, you are strong, Théoden King, and worthy of all the songs that will be sung about you in the Age to come. But we reached the path you have to take now, I cannot go forward.”

Indeed, they stopped walking, and they are facing doors that look carved out of the very mist that bathe the place. Théoden runs his hand, calloused but smooth of any wrinkles, on the shifting shapes of the doors. He sees a child crying, a woman falling down a ravine, a king lying down to sleep, a woman with her babe in her arms closing her eyes. He breathes in, for the last time he knows, and look back at Béma.

“My Lord, I am honoured you took the time to lead me here,” he says with a bow of his head, so light without a crown resting on his brow.

“The honour was mine, son of Rohan. Go now, your time has come to take this road.”

Théoden closes his hand on the door handle, hesitate. Breathes out. Looks back at Béma once more.

“Your forefathers await you, Théoden King. They are proud of you,” the god says with a warm smile that remind Théoden of his mother’s smile.

Théoden nods at Béma, smiles back and open the doors.

Inspired by this post: https://www.tumblr.com/curiouselleth/746143860815740928/the-ghost-of-jrr-tolkien-rising-from-the

#théoden #oromë #the lord of the rings #tolkien #tolkien fic #my writing

[alice-angel12x]

Death is always around the Corner

Vil + Death!Reader

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil,Idia, Malleus

Masterlist

Let's set the scene:

"Magic Mirror on the wall. Tell me, who is the fairest of them all," The Beautiful queen asked her magic mirror. " I see the figure of your fair stepdaughter. With her lips as red as a rose, hair as black as ebony, and skin as white as snow," The mirror said. " Snow White…!" The Queen scowled.

Death stood in the shadows as they watched the vain queen glare and curse the young princess.

---------------------------------------

Reading Vil's book brought back memories of the terrible women. Y/n could only hope that history is not about to repeat itself, but they knew. Just by the patterns of what has been happening around this school, they knew that was most likely.

"Wha—?! Don’t just stop and stare, Yuu! I hit my nose on your leg, yanno?" Grim groaned.

"You’re staring intently at the Great Seven’s statue, Y/n. Something up?" Ace asked.

"It's... It's strange seeing all these people. Being looked up to and aspired as such," Y/n said simply.

"Why is that? Did you know them personally?" Deuce asked.

"Not personally, but I was there to witness their prime and watch their downfall," Y/n explained.

"Really?! So what was the Queen of Hearts like?" Ace asked."

"A hypocritical tyrant. She would enforce the rules on everyone, but herself. She would even make up laws on the fly just to have an excuse to behead people. 60% of the rules in Heartsybuyl were ''on the fly'' made ruled," Y/n explained.

-----------------------------------

After that Ace and Deuce certainly had a new perspective of the queen of hearts. But school continued as normal, and Y/n could already feel the presence of a growing blot. It Has Begun.

Later that day an announcement was posted in the cafeteria. An audition for the Joint Cultural Festival’s Vocal & Dance Championship.

“Come and join us! Aspiring singers and dancers, this is your chance for stardom! You shall represent our glorious school! In the case that you are chosen to be part of the finalists. The prize money of 5 million Madol will be divided among the participating members."

This certainly caught the boy's attention. As the group walked through the courtyard expressing their excitement. They were interrupted by singing, a lovely voice too.

That voice belongs to none other than Epel Felmier. As those boys began talking, Epel noticed that Y/n seemed to be left out. Sadly before he could reach.

----------------------------------

"Goodness, Epel. Are you neglecting your lessons to talk to some pigeons?" asked a smug voice.

"Vil-san!" Epel gasped.

"Wha—?! Is he talking about us?" Grim asked nervesly.

"Who else is there? This is an important lesson for our Epel. There are less than two months before the VDC. He does not have the time to be fraternizing with lowlifes like you," Vil said with a prideful smirk. " Please do not bother him while he is doing his lessons."

"We weren’t bothering him at all—," "Vil-san, don’t shout at them! This’s—This is my fault—," Epel said, cutting Deuce off.

"Epel, how many times must I tell you to stop with that vulgar way of speaking? It is not befitting a person of your standard. Surely you do not want to be referred to as a “Poisonous Red Apple,” do you?" Vil continued.

"But I—I don’t really want to do this—!" Epel stuttered

"Have you forgotten your promise with me already? Come along now," Vil commanded.

"Hey, you. I don’t care whether you’re a Prefect or not, but you just look like you’re bullying him," Ace glared.

" H-hey, you two…! Didn’t the Headmaster tell you both not to pick fights anymore?!" Deuce said nervesly.

"Hmph, pretty bold of you nobodies to challenge me. This will be perfect exercise after a meal. Come now, I’ll turn you into mashed potatoes," Vil smirked.

Sadly Adeuce and Grim were not on the same level as Vil, so Y/n eventually decided to step in. Just as Vil was about to throw a blow at the First Years, Y/n effortlessly caught his fist.

"Abusing your authority as a Prefect is not a good look. I thought you were better than that, but I guess I was wrong," Y/n smirked as they tossed Vil into the air. Only to grab him by his collar and slam hard onto the stone below. Vil had the wind knocked out of him.

"I'd give you a... 5 points out of 100," Y/n smirked at Vil's gasping form.

"Instant kill!" Grim and Ace cheered.

"S-so cool," Epel awed quietly.

______________________________________________________

After that one-sided fight, Epel asked Y/n if it would be possible to be as strong as them. They answered "That is for you to decide, but don't focus only on the strength. Or is trying to be a muscle head the only thing about you?"

With that Y/n and the Adeuce group left. After some days of dance training with Kalim and Jamil. The group had to sign up by talking to Rook. The school stalker, who was all to happy to lurt random info on the group. Though he didn't have much on Y/n

So Y/n returned in kind.

"Greetings Rook hunt from Class 3-A, seat number 10. Your height is 177cm, whose unique magic is "I see you," Y/n smirked as Rook froze. For the first time being on the receiving end of his action.

But Rook would smile it off and tells them to come to Pomfiore in three days' time. And thankfully Adeuce was accepted into the group. Along with Kalim and Jamil.

But unfortunately, Y/n and Grim were forced to house the new VDC group. for the next 2 months, and While Grim was easily won over with money and tuna. Y/n didn't want to share their temporary home.

So with much back and forth Crowley ignored Y/n and gave the boys the green light. So Y/n was not the happiest when they came. especially when Vil starts making demands and setting down his own rules. And order them around.

Sadly not only did Y/n have to house them, but also help assist them with their training.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Of course. Manager, please play the song for us," Vil said expectantly.

"Who?" Y/n asked as they leaned against the windowsill.

"Who else is there? Didn’t the Headmaster ask you to support us? If you want to get paid, then work yourself to the bone for us, too," Vil said.

"Well, I don't need your currency," Y/n answered simply.

"What?!" Grim Gasped. "B-But my Tuna!"

"Grim I cook fresh fish for you for Breakfast and Dinner. You have no reason to complain. I even get the certain types of fish you like," Y/n scolded.

But Grim wants that money so he did follow Vil's command. As the Video was about to play an Ad of Neige popped up. And As Y/n watched they could see Vil crumble inside.

"He is very Lovable," Y/n commented, throwing salt into the wound.

"Gentlemen, stop focusing on the wrong things and watch the dance video, for god’s sake! This time for sure… I promise that we will not lose," Vil promised.

"Good. Well, I wish you luck. Don't cause trouble Grim," Y/n said as they left the dance room.

"W-where are you going?" Vil asked, but was ignored.

Practice went well, all the way to sunset, But Vil began to rear his head. As his ugly tendency surfaced.

" I… I don’t want to do it…" Epel stuttered.

"Pardon? “Meandering and girly? Are you sleep-talking, my dear? Well, even then I still will not tolerate such brashness," Vil scoffed as he grabbed and yanked harshly on Epel's ear. "Let me explain. This “meandering” dance trains the inner muscles so that our movements look clean and beautiful. Clothes and dancing should not be categorized into “girly” or “manly.” You are absolutely being close-minded if you think you shouldn’t do “girly” dances just because you’re a boy."

Suddenly Vil yelped in pain as a strong pair of fingers grabbed his ear. He was pulled down to Y/n's level by his ear as Y/n began to talk directly into it.

"And You should know that Boy or Girl, you have no right to place your hands on another individual. Or have you thrown out common human decency?" Y/n asked. "Since we're on the trend of pointing out flaws, I have many of yours to point out."

"Like how you drag unwilling people into your goals. Aren't you ashamed of forcing your dreams onto Epel? What are you incapable of reaching your goals on your own, and need someone else to succeed for you?"

__________________________________________

Y/n called the first day of training to a close. Vil wasn't feeling too chatty after that earful with Y/n.

Y/n sensing that Vil had enough, they left the group alone Till everyone went to bed. Kalim was surprised to See y/n outside. They gave Kalim a small pep talk and sent him back to bed.

Since Y/n death Didn't need sleep, they continued to do work. Like Removing Vil's curse on the baked goods Trey made. Before anyone could get hurt, reaping unfortunate souls, and Catching fish for Grim to eat.

Vil was not happy when he caught Ace and Deuce eating sweets, but was infuriated to learn that Y/n removed his curse. And Y/n would continue to be a thorn in Vil's side.

But sadly Vil's tune didn't change over the few days. And Eventually, it Got to the group. Epel quits, Deuce with a massive loss of confidence, and Ace becomes more of a jerk.

________________________________________

" Well only after a few days, you're out of a team. Seems like you are well on your way to losing after all," Y/n laughed.

"Those potatoes didn't have what it takes," Vil glared.

"Oh, just like you don't have what it takes to beat Neige?" Y/n asked with a knowing and cruel smile.

"Gaining what you want by means of pure effort is a thing of dreams," Vil muttered to himself. "And I do have what it takes, I will be the fairest of them all."

"Will you, or are just repeating words of people telling you are beautiful?" Y/n asked. " find something else to do with your time. Like becoming a better teacher or instructor."

"Do you just enjoy insulting me?" Vil glared.

"I just act how you act when you do when you are around people you think are beneath you. Time 5 of course,' Y/n said. " And yes, I do find it amusing how fail to be an influencer. Like how you fail to influence Epel into seeing the benefits of being pretty. You just Sqwaked and screeched at him the whole time."

"Then what would you do?" Vil scoffed, as he nervesly watched Y/n polish their blades.

_________________________________________

Y/n recommended trying to appeal to Epel, like helping his family with their business. This helped ease things over with Epel, and Vil was a bit nicer. And soon 2 months were a breeze.

Things were looking up for the group and Vil, spirits were high, and confidence was through the roof. Til Vil got cold feet after seeing Neige's performance. And the story of the evil queen replayed once again.

---------------------------------------------------

"Where am I?" Vil wondered as walked in the darkness.

As he did he found a backstage vanity, the lights were bright and the station was pristine. There was a book on the table, it was about Him. He read through the script-like text, and memories began to surface. And it was strange seeing it from a new perspective.

"Ah, your here Mr.Vil. Are you ready for your makeup session?" Asked a voice.

Vil turned in his seat to see Y/n dressed like a makeup artist. The boy nodded slowly as Y/n began to recline his chair.

"So what do you think of the script. Do you like the Vil Shoenheit character?" Y/n asked as they began to soak Vil's hair with warm water.

"I just wanted to stand on the stage till the very end," Was all he could say.

"Everyone one does, and you just wanted more then what you got," Y/n agreed as they began to shampoo his hair. " You didn't want to be seen as the Villain any more."

"Exactly, but no matter how much I try and Improve... I don't want to be just that, that villain character. I'm sure the Queen of beauty would look upon me with disappointment," Vil sighed.

"The queen of beauty wouldn't give a flying feather about your struggles. If she were in your passion, she would have killed Neige back in high school. And eat his heart, thinking she would gain his beauty," Y/n said as they rinsed Vil's hair.

"Do not mock the Queen of beauty, and how could you possibly know who she was?" Vil spat as Y/n conditioned his hair.

"I know you very well, I wrote the script in your book," Y/n answered.

"Y-you did. How did you know such personal details about me? Who are you Y/n?" Vil asked slowly.

"I am always near, but never quite here, I am feared by most, yet always appear. I take life from the living, with one final breath. Who am I?" Y/n asked as they rinsed and dried his hair.

Vil looked back at the mirror, but instead of seeing a style artist. There stood a black-robed figure with two razor-sharp scythes.

"Y-your Death. So... You were there during The queens time?" Vil asked as Y/n brushed his hair.

Flashes of Y/n's memories of the Evil queen appeared in the vanity mirror. Showing the queen's true color. Vil slumped into his chair as his idol, everything he knew of her... Was a lie.

"If you were to ask me, you outshine the queen far more than snow white," Y/n said as he turned his chair to face them, applying the makeup. "The queen never cared about improving her own beauty. She simply would not allow more beautiful people to live. You on the other hand worked har to improve your beauty."

"You really mean that?" Vil asked as he looked back at his book, only to see a wanted poster on top of it.

"Yes, straight from death's lips. You are everything, you thought the queen embodied. Sadly you would have never known that, because you really on strangers to inform your worth. When only you can truly know what your value is," Y/n said as they finished their work and turned Vil around to face the Vanity.

"Vil? Who is the fairest of them all?" Death asked.

As he looked in the mirror, images of his life achievements flashed in the vanity. Vil smiled as turned to face Death.

"I am the fairest," Vil said.

"Are you sure?" Death asked as they bored into Vil's eyes.

Vil stood from his chair and stood face to face with Death. " Yes, I'm very certain."

"Good," Y/n smiled as they stepped aside. "Well, you better hurry. You're going Live in 30 seconds. Your public awaits."

Vil looked ahead to see the stage doors open, as a blinding light showed through. With confidence, he stepped back into the living.

#twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland x reader #Death au #Death!reader #vil shoenheit #vil x reader

[2af-afterdark]

Leviathan’s Curse

As I played chapter 5, especially toward the end when you get the flashback to his childhood, I couldn't help put pay attention to the game showing us the curse laid upon Leviathan that explains his actions far too perfectly. Now, I don't mean a literal curse (although his beauty seems to be its own curse given how the angels treated him because of it). I am talking about the metaphorical curse placed upon him from the moment he was taken by Heaven. More specifically, the moment he escaped to Hell.

Spoilers for chapter 5 below

87 was his number. Not a name, but a number. He knew nothing of Hell or other devils aside from the other children trapped around him. His only experience in life -- at least the experience he could remember-- was the cruelty of angels toward him and his friends/peers. These were his only friends and the people who supported one another through an experience worse than death as the angels experimented on them.

Then, one day, when a fire starts in the lab keeping these young angels captive, 87 gets the opportunity to escape... or rather, he is forced to escape because the other children trapped with him can tell he is special and they are doing all they can to get him out of there and make sure Leviathan survives.

They will not allow him to stay with them and risk dying. He is the one person who must live, even at the cost of everything else.

As he is leaving, they all request that he go out and live for all of them; to have the kind of life they know they never can.

That's his curse.

It was the innocent wish of children who knew they were about to die and was partially said to try and motivate 87 to leave like they wanted and give him the will to live, but it is burned into Leviathan’s mind even now.

They were all one another had -- children relying on one another to survive -- and they died for Leviathan. They sacrificed themselves, refusing to let him stay behind to help them the way he wanted or escape with him because they had to ensure he got out at the cost of everyone else. In order to uphold their memory, he has to fulfill their wish to live on for them.

His life is also their life. His experiences are their experiences. He has to live the best life vicariously for them because that was the wish they made and is his last memory of the most important people in his life. Everything he is must be the best, because the people that died for him deserve the best. He is the best because he is their living memory.

We could also say it's the reason he is so stringent in his values of eliminating any threat to Hell, no matter how small or improbable. His friends died for him in order to get him back to Hell, so he will ensure that it is safe no matter what. He will not let their sacrifice be in vain.

In his Bloodshed card, we also see that Leviathan keeps empty [symbolic] graves for his dead friends. However, when these graves are destroyed, he says that the graves are empty and it doesn't matter if they are destroyed because he can always rebuild them later. But the graves to him are a form of atonement. The graves don't matter because Leviathan is their true grave and living memory. He is the one that lives for them. He made a kingdom for them; one that would have accepted them if they had been born there. He visits their graves every year. They are mythologized through him and their memory lives on as long as he does.

[Unfortunately, I have hit the Tumblr image limit as I am typing this section up, so I can't fit the screenshots, so you will have to decide if you trust me or not on this point]

On a more personal interpretation, I also think that this is why Leviathan wants neither "twisted hatred" nor "unconditional worship". He has known both. Hatred hurt him and made his life worse than death, worship got his friends killed (remember that they willingly died because they could sense he was special. In a way, he was already their king and they worshiped him).

He wants a partner who expresses something more pure than unreasonable, unexplainable emotions. He wants someone to express genuine feelings towards him rather than irrational ones that seem to control their view of him.

I think it's also the reason that he is annoyed at Morax at the end of his bloodshed card; Morax is willing to die for Leviathan in order to heal him. Leviathan has already seen enough of people dying for him.

I also think it makes it very interesting that his citizens wear nooses. They say they wear them because, on a literal note, they will hang themselves if Leviathan should ever die and, as symbol, that same noose is meant to show that there is someone (+Leviathan) they are willing to fight to the death for. The mythology surrounding his escape is so prevalent that it seeps into the entire culture of his land and its people.

He doesn't want people to die for him, but every single citizen of his kingdom is willing to die in his name. It puts him in a position where his life is the center of everyone who he meets. His Bloodshed Victory (2) line is "As long as the devils of Hades are behind me, I never lose" because he cannot afford to allow more people to die in his name. They can die, of course, just never for him.

#what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #whb theory #whb spoilers

[yandere--stuck]

Yandere!Joker kidnapping you and keeping you locked away in his hideout. Of course, you're terrified. Trembling in fear, flinching at the slightest of movements - and worst of all, not letting J hug you or have you snuggle with him.

Well, that simply won't do, now will it?

"I'm sorry, darling, but I'm afraid you've forced my hand," He shook his head, pouting as he plucked the trick flower from his suit pocket.

Your eyes went wide the moment you saw it. Stumbling back, you turned to run - only to be captured in the harsh grip of two of Joker's men. They spun you around to face the Clown Prince of Crime even as thrashed in their grip.

"I can see you're very overwhelmed. And I'm so sorry for not taking your feelings into account! All this running around, hiding from the cops and Bats. Your nerves must be shot! So... How about we do something to take care of that, hmm? This'll make you see the funny side of things..."

You screamed so hard and loud your throat burnedas tried in vain to fight back, uding up all yoyr strength, begging for mercy and for Joker to stop- but it was too late.

With a squeeze of the flower, gaseous toxin flooded through the air, flooding into your nostrils and down your throat as you inhaled to scream.

You were dead. You were dead. This was it. You were going to die as a madman cackled above you, watching as you writhed in pain and laughed through a painfully wide grin.

You waited, eyes squeezed shut and tears streaming down your face as you waited for the agony, for the laughter, for death.

But, nothing came.

You opened your eyes, exhaling with a sigh as a wave of calmness washed over you. Your whole body felt light yet heavy. Everything felt so slow.

You hadn't even realized that you'd been released from the men's grip until Joker pulled you into his arms, nuzzling you. And for some reason, you didn't feel the urge to fight back. You just wanted to relax. Maybe sit down. And The Joker was so warm, so maybe being close with him like this wasn't so bad.

A giggle escaped you as you hugged him back.

"I'm sorry I had to scare you like that, dear, but you should know I'd never expose you to my toxin," The Clown purred. "Just good, ol' nitrous oxide."

Oh. Laughing gas. It was just laughing gas. Haha. That's funny.

As Joker maneuvered you over to a nearby couch for you to sit, Joker sunk onto the seat beside you, pulling you close to him.

"Well, nitrous oxide and a few other things," Joker mentioned with a grin. He pressed a kiss to your cheek. "But, you don't need to worry about that."

And you didn't.

#yandere x reader #the joker x reader #joker x reader #dc x Reader #yandere dc #yandere joker #btas x Reader #tnba x Reader #arkhamverse x Reader #yandere arkhamverse #batman x Reader #yandere btas #yandere batman #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenario #drugging #drugging tw #tw drugging #drugging cw

[atokirina-writings]

The Calm Before The Storm, A series

III. The Destruction.

⭒ series masterlist

⭒ this means speaking in Na’vi, this means speaking in english

⭒ warnings/notes: death, angst, use of cannon background characters.

⭒ parings: tsu’tey xfem!reader, jake sully x fem! reader, reader x son oc.

꧁꧂

You don’t know how long you had been crying over the death of your son when you begin to hear footsteps. Multiple of them, coming your way. Your ears perk up at this but they’re not heavy enough to be sky people in their machines. They’re Na’vi.

They’re the students of Tsu’tey, he’s been training them to become hunters for you clan. Saeyla, Ka’ani, Maru, and Atan emerge from the thick of pandoras forest. “E! E!” Saeyla calls, signaling everyone else to come over to you.

“Y/n what has happened?” She says kneeling to your level as her eyes frantically switch from your grieving state to Hea’tey’s cold and unmoving body.

Your voice is so hoarse from all of your wailing that you can’t even make out a sentence. Instead you move your hands to your neck, pointing out the comm. “Find.. him” you choke out.

Nodding she presses her thumb and pointer finger on the device. “This is saeyla, Y/n is here and Hea’tey is dead. She is unable to speak come quickly please.”

Tsu’teys pov.

What. What did she just say? His mind is racing all over the place. Did she just say that his son is dead? Making eye contact with Vaytnay he notices that he looks confused and scared. Tsu’teys heart clenches at the sight. Together they circle in the sky trying to identify their family on the ground below. “There!” Vaytnay yells, diving his ikran as fast as he can to the ground, his father follows.

Landing on the ground he rushes to his mate. She’s cradling Hea’tey in her arms, her chest protectively covering his face. Hearing his arrival she looks up at him and he sees it. He was hoping he heard Saeyla wrong over the comm but this just confirmed it all.

Frozen, he watches as his son sobs angrily, his body switching from crying atop his brother and banging his fists into the ground. He can see her stare blankly into the distance as she grips his shoulder attempting to soothe him. He sees all of his students with their heads heads hung low, a few of them even crying at the sight.

“Tsu’tey! Brother do you read me?” The volume of jakes voice in his ears makes him cringe and break out of his thoughts. “Yes” he replies coldly. “Where are you!?” Tsu’tey him gives him details of the area surrounding them. “Will be there soon over.”

Your pov.

Tsu’tey sinks to his knees starting at his sons dead body. He places a hand on his chest to really confirm. He feels nothing. No warmth. No thudding from an active heart. Nothing. You can see his blood boiling within in.

He grabs the nape of my neck pulling me into his chest. He tugs at Vaytnay’s shoulder placing his body over mine. Finally he takes hold of his sons hand placing it on his face. We stay this way until Jake and Neytiri arrive.

You hear Neytiri gasp as she grabs Jakes arm for comfort, her heart sinks at the sight. She had been friends with your son for a while. He would often collecting beads with her and making jewelry to pass the time he wasn’t hunting.

They stay in silence for awhile until Toruk Macto finally speaks up. “Brother, the fight is still going on. You are Olo'eyktan, you must protect the people.”

Something in you snaps at his words. Tsu’tey places a hand on your cheek, staring at you intently. “Be strong. For the people, for us.”

Deeply inhaling you rise from where you’ve been sitting for hours, your legs are sore but you ignore it. Boarding your ikran you take off. Jake, Neytiri, Tsu’teys students, your son, and Your mate following suit.

You will not let your son die in vain.

#atokirina writings #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #avatar fanfiction #avatar x reader #jake sully x reader #tsu’tey te rongloa ateyitan x reader #jake sully x fem!reader #tsu’tey angst #tsu’tey x reader #tsu’tey fluff #tsu’tey imagine #tsu'tey x reader #tsu’tey fanfiction #avatar x oc #avatar series #avatar headcanons #avatar fic

[drconstellation]

Liberty versus the Tree of Life

TW: Discussion of death and grief

I received a question from @lickthecowhappy the other day on one of my metas that I'm going to try and address in this post. This is going to wander into some pretty heavy areas, and discuss some implications for S3.

They asked:

"What do you think about comparing "give me liberty (coffee) or give me death" with gaining free will via the tree of knowledge but losing access to the tree of life in the process?"

On one hand this might look like a simple choice between two things, but its not - there are shades of grey, of course. Can the two (liberty/death vs. knowledge/life) be compared? Yes - in a way. But we need to unpack the question in its entirety first.

"Give me liberty, or give me death!"

This famous quote that forms the basis of the name of Nina's coffee shop is from a reconstructed speech given by the American politician Patrick Henry in 1775, as the colonists prepared to fight against the British Empire. It is worth us having a look at the extended excerpt of the speech quoted from Wikipedia in context of what we know is coming in S3:

If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

If the mention of Boston wasn't there, you could almost read that as a crazy synopsis of S2 and S3. The Great War, that wasn't considered concluded satisfactorily and must be restarted and finished once and for all, has begun again, and is on its inexorable way. There will be storms. Some see the outcome in black and white - you either win or die; there is no other option, because they do not dare entertain it.

The fandom seems quite settled with the analogy of liberty and freedom = coffee, and six shots of espresso is Crowley's coffee preference, because he loves and protects his freedom with a passion. Crowley is that coffee, in a way - long, dark and richly intense. He is a champion of free will. Even as a demon he still gives those he tempts the choice to make their own mistakes. So how do we apply this to the coffee the Metatron offers Aziraphale, and the other option, death?

The coffee the Metatron orders and forces on Aziraphale is a message, and a warning, to the angel - "I know all about you and your demon partner." The shot of coffee in it is Crowley, the oat milk is to say Aziraphale has maybe gone a bit too far with things with Crowley while on Earth, and the almond syrup is to say they have been watched and observed do so. This is confirmed when the Metatron mentions that he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have formed a de facto partnership.

And where would Aziraphale get his Crowley from if he went back to Heaven?

What about death? Is it a real option? What does the option of death mean anyway?

If you are not familiar with the Tarot deck, the Death card can seem quite alarming. A skeleton in black armour strides over a fallen king - death does not care for rank or position. Death cares not for riches, they will not hold it at bay. Nor will prayers. Death does not care what age you are, either. But the small, kneeling child holds a posy of flowers up as if in greeting, the only one prepared to face the rider on the pale horse; this is because children are not as always as set in their ways as adults are, and can adapt to change more easily.

Experienced Tarot users know that is what the Death card signifies when it appears: Change. Something is coming to and end, but something else is about to start as well. It's not a physical death, its a spiritual or metaphorical death. It should be a welcomed card, as it indicates there is a promise renewal and new beginnings on the horizon (see the dawning sun between the two pillars in the top right of the card?) and all one has to do is surrender to the inevitable change. But like death, making changes can sometime be a hard, fearful thing to face. Facing death, either your own or someone else's, is ultimately about accepting change.

Surrender to the British is not what Patrick Henry wanted to do. He wanted to keep the liberty he had in the new world.

But death was the only viable option Aziraphale had.

"So predictable," remarked the Metatron to Nina, when she told him people don't ever ask for death in response to his question. Death is present in Nina's coffee shop - it's the green colour on the inside walls.

I haven't done much colour meta lately but I have been doing a lot of research on them, as I realized the original meta I wrote needed a major revision, which I plan to do soon. Green was one of those colours that needed more work.

The green on the inside walls actually has two meanings, which are both specifically tied to the coffee shop, but the first one is Death, with the capital D. This is one of the Four Horsepeople lurking in the background of S2, as Armageddon prepares to ramp up again. War is on the label of the wine bottle Crowley has in S2E5, Famine is the Marley Horse statue that Crowley puts his sunglasses on inside the bookshop, and where the stone-shaped Eccles cakes are placed in offering. Death is waiting inside the coffee shop, right next to the constraining sky-blue moral lawfulness of Heaven.

Death rides a pale horse, but the word used to describe it, "chloros," actually translates to a "pale greenish-yellow." That would have looked a bit sickly inside the coffee shop, I think, so they used a more complimentary shade of green, and one that would double up with a second meaning. Green is also the colour associated with new beginnings and the resurrection. That's why the outside of The Resurrectionist pub is dark green - it's got nothing to do with Hell (at least, I don't think it does, in this case!)

The Second Coming is in progress. Armageddon is underway again. Someone in Heaven is determined to see the supposed Great Plan come to fruition.

The Riddle of the Sphinx

In Sophocles play Oedipus Rex the titular character meets the Sphinx on a hill outside of Thebes. The monster has been devouring travelers who do not answer her riddle correctly.

"What is the creature that walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three in the evening?"

Clever Oedipus replies with "Man," and defeated, the Sphinx departs, removing her curse from the city.

A baby crawls on four limbs into childhood, then two legs into adulthood, then on three legs with a cane for an aid into old age. This is the natural progression of life. You would not want to remain an infant forever, and similarly if you have children wouldn't you wish to see them progress from childhood to adulthood and have children of their own?

Remember Momento mori? It's a major theme in the series. Remember that you die. It's a reminder that cycles must end and restart, and that death is an important part of life. We saw the Starmaker set up a star factory, but even stars die eventually, and need to die, to make new stars. The universe recycles itself, that is how it keeps going. Sometimes we need a reminder that life is short, although sometimes it seems too long as well.

I think we too easily forget that our ineffable duo, as angel and demon, are entities that can effortlessly travel between these two worlds of life and death, as we humans see it. It's their business to do so, after all. As supernatural beings, they are eternally alive, and death has a different meaning to them - it's destruction that they fear.

The Tree of Knowledge & The Tree of Life

Aziraphale's role as Guardian of the Eastern Gate was to prevent humans returning to the Garden of Eden to access the Tree of Life after they had eaten from the Tree of Knowledge.

The Tree of Knowledge gave us questioning, curiosity and imagination. We learned, we created and in doing so made choices - we used free will. But in taking this liberty it gave us the responsibility for ourselves. It supposedly gave us the concept of sin and doing wrong, and also shorter lives to help us deal with the "agony" of this.

And the other option, the Tree of Life, that is apparently so dangerous we must be kept away from it? Is it death? No, quite the opposite - it offers eternal life, and redemption from sin. In short - a state of no change - and no choice.

To access the Tree of Life now the choice is made for you before you can arrive in front of it, in the Book of Life. If your name is in the Book on Judgement Day, you get to enter Paradise. If it is not, you will be cast down into a lake of burning sulfur (hmm, sounds familiar...) And that's it, forever and ever.

Is that really the ideal of Paradise? Yet we're made to fear the cyclic change and new growth that death brings, and want to yearn so much for the stagnation of Eternity that we rigidly structure our lives around a possible promise of it as a goal.

Eternal Life, Eternal Youth

Eternal life is not the same as eternal youth. In a cautionary tale from Ovid's Metamorphoses we have the Cumaean Sybil who lived a thousand years. She was the priestess of the oracle of Apollo at Cumae, near Naples, and apparently Apollo offered to grant her a wish in exchange for her virginity. She scooped up a handful of sand, and asked to be given as many years of life as there were grains of sand that she held. Later, she refused to sleep with the god, so he let her physical body wither away, because she had failed to ask for eternal youth as well. Her body shrunk as the years went by, and grew smaller and smaller, and eventually only her voice was left, kept contained in a jar. (And here is a link to one of the books on Jim's bookshelf - Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar is named after the ampulla that the Sybil's voice was said to have been kept in.)

Searching for a Fountain of Youth, or creating a Philosopher's Stone for immortality has a common theme in stories through history, even from earliest times. It can be seen as a blessing, or a curse, or a fool's errand. It's a quest that is still prevalent in our modern thinking - going to the gym to build muscle, cosmetic surgery for looks only etc Queer culture has long had an emphasis on youth and beauty and growing old is anathema; freezing the body in time like in Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray is an aim, but our fragile mortal frames just aren't made for that. Isn't it what is inside us that counts, not the label we have applied to it?

Choices, Choices...

The time has come to make a choice: will it be the stimulating coffee of free will, or the painful change and rebirth of death, that might lead to something even better?

Perhaps you want to try the other combination: Having control and responsibility over your own short life in exchange for having to live your life to a strict set of rules so that you can then exist forever in somebody else's idea of a static ideal afterwards.

I find I'm a bit biased. But you chose what you will.

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” T. S. Eliot

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #the metatron #the resurrectionists #the four horsemen #sophocles #oedipus rex #the riddle of the sphinx #memento mori #the tree of life #the tree of knowledge #the cumaean sybil #the bell jar #the picture of dorian gray #the book of life #judgement day #give me coffee or give me death

[dazuya]

Dark And Cold

ragnvider! adopted! reader and the unfortunate events that follows after the death of their father.

Tw: Mentions of blood and injuries.

_________________________________________

"Stop it. You guys. Please. Just not in front of father!" Diluc and Kaeya's fighting doesn't seem to stop for anything. Diluc is going at it and Kaeya only seems to defend himself from his brother. Not even trying to attack back in the slightest. But still shit talking every chance he gets.

"I said Stop!" A lighting bolt is let out and it lands right in between the two brothers.

It was comical indeed. You were blessed with a vision. Blessing? It was life laughing at your face. It was a curse. For better or for worse that seems to have finally stopped your brothers from fighting and then to look at you.

"Can we please just get dad home and sort this out? I- I can't bare to see you guys fight. Please." Everything just comes out a hushed wispher but you're sure they heard you. After all the dead of the night was the only white noise.

"There is no home for us. Haven't you guys already done enough? I don't ever want you traitors near me. I don't want you calling my father as your own." Diluc spits out with his eyebrows furrowed. The expression is clear. Hatred. Betrayal. You name it. He doesn't trust anyone anymore. Not even his siblings. Dare he say you guys were never family.

"Is that what you truly wish for?" The question came as a surprise to Kaeya. He was going to tell Diluc off for dragging you into this. Archons! you were the youngest there and you weren't even remotely related to kaeya by blood, So why must you be a subject to this? Just someone who was left to fend for in front of the church. But again, Before he could answer no. Diluc beat him to something else.

"Yes. Don't come crawling back to our place. There is no place for you both. I hate you! Everything my father did was in vain because of you guys. A selfish lot indeed." The wound is still fresh. Right now it seems to sting more than ever. Father died. Kaeya is a spy. What does he expect from you? He doesn't wanna find out. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"If that's what you want. I'll gladly oblige. Diluc, Kaeya. If i ever see you again. Pretend you don't know me. You cut out ties off so i don't see a reason to stay in mondstadt. I hope you live a filling life." With that to drag your feet out of the place. It's cold. It's raining. Diluc and Kaeya look at you leave. They utter nothing. Unsure of wheather you truly meant that. They don't chase after you. They have their own wounds to tend to.

For you however it's dark out. What can you see? Nothing. No hope for your future. What were you ought to do?

It's like God had answered your question. A certain ginger head was walking right by the qingce village you were near by. He saw the uneven steps you took. Mistakenly taking you for a drunk person and he thought of playing with you even. That is until he came closer and saw you clutching your arm. It was a horrifying sight to see. Even the Fatui Harbinger was shocked. Your Arms had a dagger through it. Your body was almost soaked in blood. There were many open wounds here and there. But most importantly you looked pained. Tears threatening to spill out. But somehow still holding back.

"Little Miss. You better come with me and see a doctor right now. Those wounds aren't gonna heal themself you know?" He spoke so kindly. You didn't have the heart to refuse. You weren't the position to either. Any help. Any pitiful gaze. Just anything to put out the pain you feel.

"That.. would be very helpful." You chuckle out. Almost funnily enough you find out that he was one of the Harbingers later. What were you supposed to do? Honor your father- That's not what you deserved to call him. Honor your dead gaurdian or honor the man that saved you. You merely chose the one in front of you.

Childe was a day of hope in the dark that you needed. He played a big brother's role. Unironically and very well at that too. He was always eager to take you home to his siblings. Always more than happy to treat you lunch. Making sure you a safe and sound before you sleep. You saw both Diluc and Kaeya in him. Being an actual brother himself, He understood both sides. However he ridiculed your brothers for not going after you. Although he wouldn't say it out loud. He did drop a couple of hints that he would love to have you in his home with his other siblings. You didn't have to get your hands dirty at the Fatui. You could just do something else.

But you can't sit idly knowing the man that took you in at your worst could be out there on danger. You vowed to never leave his side and to protect him. Although childe was much older than you, he found it rather endearing. He let you stay during his missions. Of course he would still try to protect you from the bloodshed happening. Closing your eyes with his hands every chance he gets.

"So, Little Missy, you don't have to come to this mission. It's rather in a place you'd rather not visit." He spoke. Placing his warm hand on your head and ruffling it ever so gently. But you were set. When you said you'd never leave him, you meant it.

"No. It's fine. I have you now don't I? Mondstadt doesn't bother me anymore. Plus, it's not like i have family." He saw the sad chuckle you let out. No sibling deserved to go through this. They didn't either. But what was he to do anything?

"Hey now, don't say that. Teucer and I will be sad for months." He tried to lighten the mood. You saw right through him. He's always trying to keep the pain away.

"Thank you. I truly appreciate you guys." You said smiling. It was geniune this time.

After a decade. A long stretched out decade later. You find your way to mondstadt. But it isn't with intention to find your old family, No. It's with intentions with protecting the one you've been gifted with.

It was nostalgic to say the least. You were twenty five. A bigger circle of people with you. Certainly drawing the attention. You still had that same hair colour. Still the same eyes yet somehow dead. The scar on your arm seemed new. The clothes you wore. Everything seemed the same yet off.

"Let's go get a few drinks! I am certainly drained but some alcohol will sure be there to cheer me up." Childe said. Dramatically placing a hand over his head to act out as if he were in pain.

"Okay, let's go." The only time you agreed to drink with him was when you guys weren't at home. You were known to have weird drinking habits. So it was best to not show childe's family that side.

The nearest Tavern was Angel's share. Of course the well known one. You didn't object to go there. After all you didn't know anyone. Or rather you refused to acknowledge them.

The ring of doors opening altered the owner. "Welcome to Angel's share. What can I-" He looked up to be faced with his dear sibling. Does he even deserves to call you that? He remembers the harsh words he said. He didn't mean them. Not one of them. He also sees the Fatui there. He's confused. But right now he has to focus to getting to talk to you.

Kaeya who was sitting in front of Diluc was shocked as well. He couldn't say anything. The words were stuck in his throat. You were taller. More cold. The electro vision hung on your waist like his. Yet it seemed different.

The ginger next to you speaks up so you don't have to. "If you'd be kind to give us comrades a big table and loads of booze would be great!" He spoke with a smile.

Diluc couldn't say anything. He simply nodded. He would speak to you before you left. He surely would. He thought to himself.

"Come on, Dear. And please be mindful of how much you drink, yeah? We don't want you doing what you did last time." He said. You could only look away in embarrassment as you recalled how you cried and refused to let childe go thinking he'll abandon you when he was really going to the bathroom.

The way that man coaxed you rubbed Diluc and Kaeya the wrong way. It wasn't his place.

"It won't happen again. I swear." You said.

The drinks had been served. Everything was going very well. Until you met eyes with Diluc. God. You couldn't say a part of you want relieved at them doing well. But now you simply showed no emotion on the outside. For now, you were drinking a glass of wine. You were getting a bit tipsy. The drinks were getting to you. This is where you should've stopped. But you didn't. You just couldn't.

"Brother Ajax." You uttered. Three heads turned to you. Only one was overjoyed however. Diluc and Kaeya looked in horror. The one who they raised as their own for nine years was in front of them calling a Fatui Harbinger their brother.

Childe was beyond happy. He told you multiple times to call him that. But somehow this was the first time.

"Finally! You said it. I've been waiting for so long to hear you say that! You're as endearing as ever. I wished you just stay home though." He said hugging you.

You could only smile and say "How am i supposed to protect my brother if he's out fighting for our family?"

Everything came crashing down. Diluc couldn't hold back the cracking of his heart. Kaeya could only tear up at that. What went wrong? Well, everything. They would never have you smile at them. They could never have you call them brother again. They could never have you back in their family again. You were nothing but a chapter in the past.

"Can you please come back home?" Diluc spoke up to you. It came down as a surprise to childe though. He didn't think your brothers were none other than the famed protecters of mondstadt.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I don't understand you." You replied. All that you had drunk seemed to have vanished.

"Just come back home. I miss you, No We miss you. Kaeya, The maids. Everyone. I'm sorry for everything i said. I never meant them. Just please.. find your way back to us." He had a very sad look. lips pressed into a thin line. Kaeya could only say yes in a hushed voice.

"But i am home. I am home with brother Ajax-" Right when you said that you fainted. Dropping in and out of consciousness send to be one of the side effects of you drinking alcohol. Before your head could collide with the table, Childe put his hand in between. Slowly putting you to the side he turned to Diluc and Kaeya.

"You know when my sibling right here told me that their brothers left them. I would've never guessed it would've been you guys. Of course i expected more from you. Now that i know, I'll make you never get to hurt my dear again." Childe said. He had seen you grow up in front of him. Grow up? it was forced upon you. You never got a chance to have a normal childhood. Always killing, going to dangerous places. All of this could've been avoided if only one of them spoke up that night.

"We were talking to our sibling. Not yours." Kaeya spat out. All these years of searching for you. After such a long time, they finally got to see you but they couldn't hug you. They couldn't say they missed you dearly. They couldn't be a family to you when you needed them most.

"Yours you say? All you seem to have done is stab their heart. Rest assured they're with me now. Family to me. Keep your noses out of our business." With that childe carried you out of the tavern. They didn't dare chase after you again. Not when you were happy else where.

It was dark. It was cold. It was raining but you had your brother on your side this time.

#genshin angst #ragnvindr brothers #childe #kaeya x reader #diluc x gender neutral reader #childe hurt/comfort #diluc angst #kaeya x gender neutral reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya angst #kaeya and diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #childe fluff

[orcelito]

thinking about.............. this. when vash calls wolfwood a coward vs his thoughts immediately post-legato.

trimax volume 2 chapter 4 VS volume 14 chapter 2 (pages from @trigun-manga-overhaul)

vash, caught up in his ideals, calls wolfwood a coward for resorting to killing for survival. these words are Cutting for wolfwood, & he spends the next several chapters thinking about them. he knows he can't live like vash does, not as a normal human, bc it would Kill Him. (and, of course, when he does try to follow vash's ideals, it Does end up killing him.)

fast forward to after wolfwood's death. vash is forced to kill legato, and... he has this thought. he thinks back to that time with the thought of, "Did it feel like this for you, too?" we see by his expressions throughout this scene that he feels Horrible for it, the very act of killing going against his staunch moral code...

but he couldn't bear to let wolfwood's sacrifice be in vain, so he killed someone.

and he now knows how wolfwood felt in that scene. he understands the fact that this has Never been easy for wolfwood. it's Never been a matter of cowardice. vash remembers the words he said to wolfwood, now with the knowledge of how much those words must have Hurt Him... and so vash cries.

the worst part is that he can never apologize for those words, because wolfwood is already dead.

#speculation nation #trigun #vashwood #trimax #id in alt text #trigun spoilers/ #trimax spoilers #fanny's trigun analysis #fanny reads trigun #trigun meta #idk if this really counts as meta but it's an analysis of this moment so im counting it #anyways ive been thinking about this for. months really #i directly address this exact thing in chapter 3 of ITNL #ive been working on that chapter's re-edits today. so i wanted to reference these moments to better dig into that part #got to thinking about it in depth tho & wanted to make a post. so. Here. #weep with me. i can never get over how guilty vash must feel for this.

[diary-ofamadwoman]

WHERE IS NIKOLAI??? Why didn't he go back to save Sigma? Is he that heartbroken that he has changed his mind about wanting to know more about Fyodor? (I know that Fyodor told him Sigma's dead, but Nikolai must have considered that possibility and thought of a way to get the info even if something happened to Sigma)

I can see something like "all my efforts were in vain and it's not worth it anymore" pass through his mind after the realization that he has lost Fyodor forever (as far as he knows) and maybe he kind of considers the idea of living with the mysterious, perhaps idealized to certain extent, version of Fyodor. But wouldn't that contradict his character? He's seeking the truth and freedom and sees more than a regular person, beyond what's visible at first sight

And he's clever. Let's say that his reaction to Fyodor's 'death' was genuine, it's possible that in the following moments he realizes that there must be more and Fyodor couldn;t be dead

Or he goes back to get Sigma but he's too late and Sigma's already with Dazai and Chuuya?

It would be interesting to see whether Nikolai has given up on knowing more about Fyodor, or he comes back in order to get the info

ALSO!!! Nikolai's goal was finding information about Fyodor's ABILITY, which could mean Nikolai had already started suspecting his ability is unusual, or maybe he even has a theory about what Fyodor's ability might be. This wouldn't mean that his reaction wasn't genuine, everything was too sudden and even if Nikolai has a theory, he doesn't know anything for sure

Idk how much of Fyodor's backstory will be revealed but I hope we get to see how he met Nikolai too; Fukuchi and Dazai as well; also, does he know Natsume? I have so many questions...

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fyodor #fyolai #bsd nikolai #nikolai gogol #fyodor dostoevsky #diaryofamadwoman

[fayestardust]

On September 16, 1944, Private Ivor Rowberry wrote a final letter to his mother. Five days later, he was killed. He was just 22. He was part of the 2nd South Staffordshire Regiment, volunteering for airborne service. During We Happy Few 506's Operation Market Garden Tour this weekend, Mark Huberman, the actor who plays Lester Hashey in Band of Brothers, read his letter to us (pictured).

I would normally post it under the cut, but it is so moving that I want everyone to read it.

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Dear Mom,

Usually when I write a letter it is very much overdue and I must make every effort to get it away quickly. This letter, however is different. It is a letter I hoped you would never receive, as it is just a verification of that terse, black-edged card which you received some time ago, and which caused you so much grief. It is because of that grief that I wrote this letter, and by the time you have finished reading it I hope that it has done some good, and that I have not written in vain. It is very difficult to write now of future things in the past tense, so I am returning to the present.

Tomorrow we go into action. As yet I do not know exactly what our job will be, but no doubt it will be a dangerous one in which many lives will be lost – mine may be one of those lives. Well Mom, I am not afraid to die. I like this life, yes for the past two years I have planned and dreamed and mapped out a perfect future for myself. I would have liked that future to materialise, but it is not what God wills, and if by sacrificing all this I leave the world slightly better than I found it I am perfectly willing to make that sacrifice. Don’t get me wrong though, Mom; I am no flag-waving patriot, nor have I ever professed to be.

England’s a great little country, the best there is, but I cannot honestly and sincerely say “that it is worth fighting for”. Nor can I fancy myself in the role of a gallant crusader fighting for the liberation of Europe. It would be a nice thought, but I would only be kidding myself. No, Mom, my little world is centred around you, and includes Dad, everyone at home, and my friends at Wolverhampton, that is worth fighting for, and if by doing so it strengthens your security and improves your lot in any way, then it is worth dying for too. Now this is where I come to the point of this letter. As I have already stated, I am not afraid to die, and am perfectly willing to do so, if, by my doing so, you benefit in any way whatsoever. If you do not then my sacrifice is all in vain. Have you benefited, Mom, or have you cried and worried yourself sick? I fear it is the latter. Don’t you see, Mom, that it will do me no good, and that in addition you are undoing all the good work I have tried to do. Grief is hypocritical, useless and unfair, and neither you or me any good.

I want no flowers, no epitaph, no tears. All I want is for you to remember me and feel proud of me; then I shall rest in peace, knowing that I have done a good job. Death is nothing final or lasting; if it were there would be no point in living; it is just a stage in everyone’s life. To some it comes early, to others late, but it must come to everyone some time, and surely there is no better way of dying. Besides, I have probably crammed more enjoyment into my 21 years than some manage to do in 80. My only regret is that I have not done as much for you as I would like to do. I loved you Mom; you were the best mother in the world, and what I failed to do in life I am trying to make up in death, so please don’t let me down, Mom, don’t worry or fret, but smile, be proud and satisfied. I have never had much money, but what little I have is yours. Please don’t be silly or sentimental about it, and don’t try to spend it on me. Spend it on yourself or the kiddies, it will do some good that way. Remember that where I am I am quite O.K. and providing that I know you are not grieving over me I shall be perfectly happy. Well, Mom, that is all, and I hope I have not written it all in vain. Goodbye, and thanks for everything.

Your unworthy son,

Ivor

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#ivor rowberry #world war two #operation market garden