#I realize that the story is unclear in places

[arolesbianism]

Every now and then I remember that oni in fact will eventually have more lore added and I get so excited and scared for a moment and then I remember that it could take months until we see any of that and I proceed to forget abt it again and the cycle repeats

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

I’m gonna write this down now so I can look like an absolute genius later (or look like a clown, but at least I said it with my full chest!)

❌ Spoilers for the FNAF Movie below! ❌

Ok, I might be huffing hopium here, but in my heart of hearts I STILL think Mike Schmidt is Mike Afton. If (or when) they make a sequel, there’s a way they can reveal this

So the most obvious thing from this movie is when Mike is in “Steve’s” office, and when “Steve” is reading Mike’s name out loud from his résumé, he stops mid-sentence. He looks at Mike for a weird amount of time, almost studying him, before completely changing the subject. There’s no way in hell “Steve” recognizes Mike from when he saw him as a kid when he kidnapped his brother Garrett 10+ ago, no chance. Also why would he go to Nebraska (unclear where the movie takes place, but let’s assume Utah because of the books) to kidnap a random kid and just drive off? Here’s what I think is going on…(also I’m gonna call him William from now on cuz we all know lol)

William fingered out that Mike is his son during that interview. My theory is that at some point, William was married and him and his wife have a son named Mike. And for one reason or another, they got divorced. This is when Mike was too young to really remember which is why he doesn’t recognize William during their meeting. Mike’s mom gains custody of Mike and remarries, she marries Mr. Schmidt. They have a child together, Garrett. Sometime after the divorce, William adopts a child, trying to cope after losing his only son. He adopts Vanessa.

William finds out about his ex-wife having another kid. He wants to cause her pain and suffering for leaving him. He follows the Schmidt’s and takes Garrett during the camping trip. Unable to handle the pain, Mike’s mom takes her own life, leaving Mike and his stepdad. Mr. Schmidt marries a little later to another woman, and she has a daughter named Abby. Sometime after this, both Mr. Schmidt and his new wife die, leaving Mike to care for Abby.

Vanessa owed William so much, he had adopted her while she had suffered in an orphanage for years. She would do anything he told her, even if it meant covering up his crimes. Years later, realizing what she was doing was wrong, she left her father and became a police officer, hoping to stop people like her father as she had failed to stop him.

Here’s another thing. Scott Cawthon knows that the fans are obsessed with the lore of FNAF. I think he knew he could make more movies, this isn’t going to be a one and done deal. Plus, he had his hand on this project every step of the way, he wouldn’t agree to anything that he didn’t want to happen in the story. Mike being William’s some is CRUCIAL to the story of FNAF (at least in the games). I think he’s trying to fake us out, you know how he loves to troll the fans!

Again, this is just a theory (A GAME THEORY lol), but I don’t think the idea of Mike being an Afton is dead just yet. Hoping and praying so I can look incredibly smart if or when the sequel drops 🙏🏻

[chinesehanfu]

[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese immortal Hanfu <西王母/Queen Mother of the West> Based On Yuan Dynasty Taoist Temple Mural<永乐宫/Yongle Palace>

【Historical Artifacts Reference 】:

▶ China Yuan Dynasty Taoist Temple 永乐宫/Yongle Palace Mural

<西王母/Queen Mother of the West>

The Queen Mother of the West, known by various local names, is a mother goddess in Chinese religion and mythology, also worshipped in neighbouring Asian countries, and attested from ancient times.

The first mentions of the Queen Mother date back to the oracle bone inscriptions of the Shang dynasty (1766 – 1122 BCE). One inscription reads:

Crack-making on day IX (9th day), we divined. If we make offering to the eastern mother and the western mother, there will be approval.

Western Mother refers to an archaic divinity residing in the west. The exact nature of the Mother divinities in the Shang dynasty is unclear, but they were seen as powerful forces deserving of ritual by the people of the Shang dynasty. Originally, from the earliest known depictions of her in accounts like the Classic of Mountains and Seas during the Zhou dynasty, she was a ferocious goddess of death with the teeth of a tiger, who rules over wild beasts and sends down heavenly punishments such as pestilences. She was also mentioned as an authority ruling over other divinities such as Jiutian Xuannü, a goddess of war and sex. Other stories hold that she is a mountain goddess or a divine tigress. She is also popularly thought to have blessed the Eight Immortals with their supernatural abilities.

After her integration into the Taoist pantheon, she gradually took on associations with other aspects, such as immortality, as well.

The Queen Mother of the West is most often depicted holding court within her palace on the mythological Mount Kunlun, usually supposed to be in western China (a modern Mount Kunlun is named after this). Her palace is believed to be a perfect and complete paradise, where it was used as a meeting place for the deities and a cosmic pillar where communications between deities and humans were possible.At her palace she was surrounded by a female retinue of prominent goddesses and spiritual attendants. One of her symbols is the Big Dipper.

Although not definite there are many beliefs that her garden had a special orchard of longevity peaches which would ripen once every three thousand years,others believe though that her court on Mount Kunlun was nearby to the orchard of the Peaches of Immortality. No matter where the peaches were located, the Queen Mother of the West is widely known for serving peaches to her guests, which would then make them immortal. She normally wears a distinctive headdress with the Peaches of Immortality suspended from it.

Flourishing parasols, we reach the chronograms' extremity; Riding on the mist, I wander to Lofty Whirlwind Peak. The Lady of the Supreme Primordial descends through jade interior doors; The Queen Mother opens her Blue-gem Palace. Celestial people—What a Crowd! A lofty meeting inside the Cyan Audience Hall. Arrayed Attendants perform Cloud Songs; Realized intonations fill the Grand Empty Space. Every thousand years, her purple crabapple ripens; Every four kalpas, her numinous melon produces abundantly. This music differs from that at the feast in the wilderness— So convivial, and certainly infinite.— Wu Yun (Complete Tang Poems 1967, line 4942)

One of the earliest written references to the Queen Mother comes from the writings of the Taoist writer Zhuangzi (c. 4th century BCE):

The Queen Mother of the West obtained it [the Dao]... ...and took up her seat at Shao kuang. No one knows her beginning; no one knows her end.

Zhuangzi describes the Queen Mother as one of the highest of the deities, meaning she had gained immortality and celestial powers. Zhuangzi also states that Xiwangmu is seated upon a spiritual western mountain range, suggesting she is connected to not only the heavens, but also to the west.

Legendary encounters

In Tu Kuang-ting's text, he includes narrative accounts of the Queen Mother's encounters with legendary Chinese heroes. One such account narrates an encounter between the Queen Mother and Laozi (Lord Lao):

"In the 25th year of King Chao of the Chou dynasty (1028 BCE) …" "…Lord Lao and the realized person Yin Hsi went traveling…" "…on their behalf, the Queen Mother of the West explicated the Scripture of Constant Purity and Quiet."

In this account, the Queen Mother plays the role of Laozi's superior and is credited with the ultimate authorship of the Dao De Jing. This dichotomy of the Queen Mother as the superior is a characteristic of Shangqing Taoism, a goddess worshiping sect of Taoism of which Tu Kuang-ting was a master. There is also an account of a meeting between the Queen Mother and Laozi in Tang poetry.[18] This account however, being of traditional Taoist thought, has the Queen Mother taking an inferior role to Laozi, calling him "Primordial Lord" (the title of his highest manifestation) and pays homage to the sage.

<China Han Dynasty stone-relief showing 西王母/Queen Mother of the West from Sichuan,China>

<China Wei and Jin Dynasties Mural showing 西王母/Queen Mother of the West>

————————

📸Photography post-production :@小何力

👗Hanfu & 👑Crown：@雁鸿Aimee

💄 Makeup：百丽 （临溪摄影���

👭Model：@清音音音音

🔗 Weibo:https://weibo.com/1648616372/O2R5bpBud

————————

[shebunie]

could you write about a reader who helps run an underground black market? while others are specialized in murder and money, her trade centers around secrets, blackmail, and information. she likes to see justice being served and will only give information if she feels the person’s reasons are honorable.

mizu came to her once to learn more about violet. there, mizu is forced to share her story with the reader. the reader feels that mizu’s revenge will bring justice and she told her some really helpful information. because of this good interaction, mizu decides to come back to learn more about fawler.

when she comes back, she realizes that the reader got into some trouble (maybe with shindo) because their reasons were not reasonable and they resorted to kidnapping and torturing her to get information. mizu decided to go rescue her, but it’s unclear whether or not she’s doing it out of affection or purely for the information.

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗜𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗼, 𝘃𝗶𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲, 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲, 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟮.𝟱𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗛𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼! 𝗦𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁, 𝗜'𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘂𝘀𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝘂𝘇 𝘄𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲, 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗱. 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝗼𝗳 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗮 𝗽𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 <𝟯𝟯

In the shadowed heart of the city, where the lights whispered secrets and the night held its breath, there existed an underground black market that thrived on the currency of secrets, blackmail, and information. In this clandestine realm, enigmatic and veiled in the shadows, you reigned as the orchestrator of whispers and dealer of knowledge.

A master of intrigue and keeper of delicate truths, you believed in a peculiar sense of justice. Only those with honourable intentions could pry open the sealed envelopes that held the city's darkest truths. For you, it was not about the money or the power, but the satisfaction of seeing justice served.

On a fateful night, as the moon hung low in the inky sky, a figure cloaked in mystery and determination stepped into your dimly lit sanctuary. 

“A newcomer, what business do you have to visit me at this hour?” You spoke, eyes never leaving the inked stained paper, with each brush stroke holding grace and poise.

The stranger, behind those orange-tinted glasses, were piercing eyes that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken stories, stepped further into the dimly lit room. Their voice, like a carefully orchestrated melody, cut through the silence. "I seek truths that have eluded the grasp of justice, and whispers that dance on the fringes of the consciousness."

You looked up from your work, a subtle curiosity in your eyes. "Not many dare to tread into these shadows without a clear purpose. What truth do you chase, and what drives you to seek it in the obscurity of this place?"

“I’ve come to fulfil a vow, revenge, I’ve come to know the whereabouts of a white man.”

Your keen eyes studied the stranger, gauging the sincerity in their words. The air seemed to thicken with the weight of their purpose. The inked quill paused on the paper as you leaned back, shrouded in the ambience of secrets.

"Revenge, in pursuit of a white man. Such tales often unravel threads that bind destinies," you mused, the subtle glow of your lamp casting flickering shadows on the walls. "But before I delve into the shadows of information, I must know more. Who is this white man, and why does he stir the flames of revenge in your heart?"

The stranger hesitated for a moment, as if deciding how much of their truth to reveal. Finally, they spoke with a mixture of determination and sorrow. "His name is Violet. He is a man of influence, a puppeteer in the daylight, orchestrating schemes that ruin lives. I've sworn to kill all four white men that resided in Japan, for cursing me with the blood of impurity, a demon."

Your expression remained unchanged, but a glimmer of sympathy flashed in your eyes. The pen resumed its dance across the parchment as you spoke, "Revenge can be a treacherous path, often blinding the seeker to the consequences. What do you seek from me? Information, evidence, or perhaps a way to dismantle this puppeteer?"

The stranger's eyes bore into yours, reflecting a mix of determination and desperation. "I seek all that you can provide. Names, connections, his hidden lairs, and the strings he pulls. I want to expose him for what he is and make him pay for the lives he's ruined, including my own."

Nodding slowly, you set aside the parchment and ink, the tools of your trade, and leaned forward. "A perilous journey, but I understand the weight of injustice and the burning desire to right the wrongs. I will help you, but you must understand the rules of this realm. The information I provide comes with a price, not in currency, but in actions. You must be prepared to navigate the shadows with precision and, if needed, dance on the edge of morality."

The stranger's gaze remained steadfast, a silent agreement passing between you. "I accept the terms. I will do whatever it takes to bring Violet and every white man in this forsaken place to justice and end their reign of manipulation."

"Good," you responded, a sense of purpose resonating in your voice. As the stranger rose to leave, the room seemed to absorb them into its shadowy embrace. The lights outside flickered, casting an ethereal glow on the figure disappearing into the night. The underground market, fueled by the currency of secrets, had found a new player in this unfolding tale of revenge and justice.

As the door closed, leaving only a faint echo in the quiet room, you returned to your desk, resuming your work with renewed purpose. The city's secrets were about to unfold, and justice, like a silent guardian, awaited its cue in the heart of the shadows.

In gratitude for your assistance, Mizu vowed to return, her purpose now intertwined with the unseen threads of fate that bound them. Time passed, like the silent footfalls of a forgotten melody, until Mizu returned, seeking enlightenment about another elusive figure—Fowler.

“I can’t help but notice your business, dear orchestrator,” Your sanctuary has been disturbed. Trouble had come knocking in the form of Shindo, a ruthless force that recognized no boundaries in its pursuit of information. You decide to humour him.

"Shindo, my old acquaintance," you replied with a calm demeanour, though a spark of caution glinted in your eyes. "What brings you to the heart of secrets? Your reputation precedes you, and I have no doubt that your visit is not a mere social call."

Shindo, a towering figure with a cold gaze, smirked as he approached your desk. The dim light reflected off the polished surface of his leather coat, giving him an air of calculated menace. "Cut the pleasantries. I hear you've been delving into matters that don't concern you. Secrets that dance on the edge of my territory."

You leaned back, steepling your fingers, your expression unreadable. "I simply provide a service, Shindo. Information flows like a river, and I merely guide its course. What concerns you is not my concern unless it becomes a transaction."

Shindo's eyes narrowed, and he leaned in, his voice a low growl. "There's a name echoing in the city— a samurai. What do you know about him?"

You hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing your words, "I've heard murmurs of a shadow in the night, a samurai navigating each crevice to find your white devil," you replied, keeping your tone measured. "But as you know, my dear Shindo, information is a delicate currency. If you seek to exchange, you must bring something of value to the table.”

Shindo's gaze intensified, and a sinister smile played on his lips. "I don't play games, woman. Give me what I want, and you may continue your little charade in the shadows."

Your response carried a subtle defiance, "Information is not a commodity to be demanded, Shindo. It's earned. If you wish to dance in the realm of secrets, you must learn the steps." The tension in the room thickened, a silent standoff in the theatre of whispers.

“Then you leave me no choice—" With a mere tilt of his head, a large man came into view "Take her," closing in you swiftly, you tried to pry yourself away from his grasp. 

Assessing the giant's imposing presence, you quickly analyze potential weak points and notice a subtle hesitation in his movements. Without revealing fear, you calmly address Shindo, "Physical force may bend the body, but the mind remains unbroken. We can find a more civilized resolution, gentlemen."

Shindo's icy gaze meets yours, contemplating your words. The room hangs in suspense, the shadows concealing the unfolding drama as the dance between power and subtlety continues.

Mizu, arriving at the dimly lit hideaway, to question you about Fowler's location, sensed the shift in the winds, the discord that had disrupted your sanctuary.

The wielder's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the aftermath, her fingers brushing against the ink-stained remnants of your meticulous work. The once-calm hideaway now bore the scars of a struggle, a battle waged in the name of hidden truths.

Determined, Mizu traced the whispers of witnesses until Shindo's name echoed through the clandestine passages. Fueled by a blend of concern and determination, she sought answers, discovering the brutality that had unfolded within the walls of your secret refuge.

“You're a stubborn one, all bloodied up and you won't even say a single thing.” Shindo snickered as he watched your shackled self breathe heavily, crimson red flowing down your body. 

Shindo's taunting words echoed in the hushed air, you spat at him, “I'd rather dwell in despair than give you what is not meant to be.” 

“He will cut you with a knife.” 

Mizu's eyes flashed with a mix of fury and concern as she stepped forward, her presence a force to be reckoned with. "Shindo, this violence serves no purpose. If you seek information, there are other ways to obtain it."

Shindo chuckled, seemingly amused by Mizu's defiance. "This one," he gestured towards you, "holds the key to the knowledge I desire. A stubborn whore who values secrets over their own well-being."

Mizu's gaze shifted between you and Shindo, her resolve unwavering. "Release them. I won't stand idly by while you desecrate the pursuit of truth."

Shindo, unfazed, signalled to his henchmen to loosen their grip slightly. As the pressure on your shackles eased, Mizu's,  eyes locked onto yours. As the room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the unspoken negotiations hung thick in the air. 

In that precarious moment, Mizu's motives blurred like reflections in rippling water. Was it affection that spurred her into action, or merely the pragmatic pursuit of information?

Mizu's gaze remained locked with yours, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you. Her motives were a complex dance of affection and pragmatism, each step carefully measured in the shadows of the dimly lit room.

Shindo, still revelling in the perceived power dynamic, grinned wickedly. "Well, Mizu, if you're so eager to play the hero, let's make a deal. I'll release this one," he gestured towards you, "if you come join me for tea."

Mizu's jaw tightened at Shindo's proposition, her eyes narrowing in a blend of defiance and calculation. She considered the implications of Shindo's twisted offer. "Tea?" She scoffed, her voice cutting through the silence. "You mistake me for a fool. Release them, and we can talk about information. But I won't indulge in your sick games."

Shindo's laughter echoed in the room, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Ah, Mizu, always so serious. But you see, this isn't just any tea. It's a meeting of minds, an opportunity for understanding. And if you refuse, well," he trailed off, his gaze lingering on you.

You felt the weight of the unspoken threat in his words, and a flicker of concern passed through Mizu's eyes. The delicate balance between affection and pragmatism teetered on the edge, the room holding its breath in anticipation.

Mizu's voice, calm yet laced with determination, sliced through the tension. "We can discuss what you want to know. But know this, harm them, and you’re dead."

Shindo's smirk faltered for a moment, the first crack in his confident facade. He glanced between you and Mizu, weighing his options. The room seemed suspended in a fragile standoff, the outcome uncertain.

After a tense pause, Shindo nodded to his henchmen. The pressure on your shackles eased further, and Mizu's eyes never wavered from Shindo's gaze. As your shackles fell away, the samurai stepped forward, shielding you from Shindo's view. The room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Very well, We shall discuss matters over tea, and perhaps you'll see the wisdom in cooperation." 

Mizu, her eyes never leaving Shindo until he disappeared from sight, leaving you two alone in the empty, cold dungeon. The sword-wielder waited for a moment to confirm he had left before turning her attention to you.

Concern etched on her face. Gently, she examined the wounds that adorned your battered form. The faint rays of the moonlight cast a soft glow on her features, revealing a mix of emotions that played out in the depths of her eyes.

She approached you. With gentle hands, cupping your face as she assessed the damage, the cold metal of the shackles leaving angry imprints on your wrists.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice a low murmur in the dimly lit dungeon. You managed a weak nod, vision blurry as you couldn’t handle the pain any more, passing out in her hold.

Time blurred in the darkness, and when you awoke, the dim glow of the moon had given way to the soft hues of dawn that shone through the cracks of the cabin. Mizu, ever watchful, was seated by your side. As your eyes fluttered open, she met your gaze with a mixture of relief and concern.

"You're awake," she said, her voice a gentle whisper. "How do you feel?"

The pain lingered, but it was bearable. Mizu's care had brought a measure of comfort, and you managed a faint smile in response. Her hand found yours, a silent reassurance.

"What happened with Shindo?" you asked, the events in the dungeon still a fragmented memory.

Mizu's expression hardened as she recounted the negotiations. "He wanted information, and he thought he could use you as leverage. But we made a deal. We'll talk, share what we know, but no more than that. If he harms you, he's signing his own death."

A flicker of embarrassment passed through your eyes, realizing the gravity of the situation. Cerulean eyes softened as she sensed your vulnerability, her thumb gently tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

"Don't blame yourself," she reassured. "I won't let anything happen to you."

“I— I know.” You held your gaze, as the dawn's light painted a soft glow on your features, and for a moment, in the swordswoman's eyes, the weight of the world seemed to fade. “But you did not have to go through all that hassle to save me.”

Mizu felt a warmth within her that transcended the dimly lit surroundings. Tilting her head down while she turned around so that her back faced you.

"It wasn't a hassle, and you're worth every risk," she said over her shoulder, her tone carrying a sincerity that echoed through the quiet cabin.

As the dawn's light continued to filter through the cracks of the cabin, a newfound closeness enveloped the two of you. The air seemed to hold a lingering tenderness, and Mizu's words hung in the quiet space like a promise.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the distant sounds of the waking world outside. 

"I meant what I said," she spoke, her voice a soft murmur. "I won't let anything happen to you. We're in this together."

A gentle smile graced your lips, as you scooted closer to the samurai, leaning to place a light peck on their cold-tinted cheek “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Thank you.” 

Mizu's cheeks warmed at the unexpected gesture, hand adjusting the kasa on their head down to block your view from her flushed face. Letting out a low hum of agreement. 

"I'm just glad you're safe," She admitted, her voice a soft murmur.

A soft giggle left your lips, placing your head on their shoulder as you embraced the warmth of the moment. 

[suuuupernovaaa]

nìmal

nìmal [nɪ.ˈmal] adv. trustingly, without hesitation

Anonymous Request: Can we have one where Neteyam and Omaticayan reader love each other very much. But a guy likes the reader and tries to break them up by making neteyam think that the reader is cheating on him. He gets really angry and accuses the reader of cheating. Like there's a big fight. But later he learns the truth and tries to make it up to her and she doesn't make it easy on him.

Neteyam believes a rumor about you, and when he finds out the truth, you're reluctant to forgive him for his bad behavior.

932 words

Your bag is so full of fish that you aren't sure you're going to be able to carry it back home, but you can't stop.

Throwing the spear, hearing that satisfying thwack when it connects, getting to put your body to use, it's easing some of the tension you're carrying.

"Idiot!" you exclaim, though whether you're directing that at the fish or not, is unclear.

How could Neteyam believe you would even consider betraying him? Have you not been loyal to him, promised to him, in love with him completely? Does he know so little of your character that he is willing to believe you would give your body to another - to someone you are not mated to?

Just the thought of it disgusts you. His confrontation yesterday has left a sour taste in your mouth, and you feel so angry and hurt, you don't know how to release these emotions.

Kiri assured you she would fix it, but it's been an entire day, and you haven't seen Neteyam. Plus, you aren't sure if she can fix it - even when Neteyam realizes he was wrong, some damage has been done.

You catch another fish, add it to your bag, and decide to head home. This isn't helping anything.

Neteyam arrives just as you try to hoist the bag over your shoulder, and you freeze when you see him.

--

He watches her from behind the trees for a while, listening to her cursing at the fish she's killing, knowing she's picturing him in their place.

He winces with every kill.

He deserves it. He will curse himself until the day he dies for what he's done.

It's hard to explain it, even to himself. He just hopes she'll listen.

The glare she gives him when he approaches is almost lethal. "Can I carry this for you?" he asks, and the bag thuds to the ground again.

"No," she replies, spitting venom through her perfect teeth.

"Okay... can I explain myself?" He lifts his hands up, palm out, surrendering to her.

Not only is Y/N beautiful, but she is lethal. Most of the Omaticayan women are fierce, but something about Y/N gives her an extra edge. She is quiet, thoughtful, and dangerous. He's almost a little scared, which is part of why he's always been so attracted to her.

"You can apologize," she replies, standing straight, arms crossed over her chest, waiting.

"I am sorry, Y/N. Not only did Marek confess to me what... he said happened, but many confirmed it. It seems, you made some enemies, and one um, admirer. They were all too willing to confirm his story for him."

"None of that should have convinced you, Neteyam," she replied, so evenly and calmly that a chill ran up his spine. "You should have trusted me. You should have trusted how I feel about you."

"But you, Y/N," he rubbed his forehead. "You almost never tell me how you feel about me. You're very hard to read."

Her back stiffened, and her mouth opened a little as if to speak, and then closed again.

"Oh..."

--

That wasn't at all what I had expected Neteyam to say.

Though I felt very sure of my love for him - had I not done a good enough job ensuring he was sure of it, as well?

I tried to think... how many times had I told him I loved him? Not very many. But, how many times was I supposed to? Did he have a greater need to hear it than I realized?

"Still," I replied, still processing. "You wouldn't even listen to me, Neteyam."

He stepped forward. "That was wrong. I was wrong, and I should not have doubted you. It will never happen again."

You felt crushed by the look on his face. You tried to put yourself in his place; if he was feeling unsure of your affections, and so many people were lying to him, maybe it was easy to be confused?

"I would never want to be with any man, besides you," you said finally.

Neteyam stepped a little closer still, tentatively.

"I want to be your mate, Neteyam. It is all I have ever wanted. I am angry at you, very, very angry... but I see maybe I haven't made how I feel clear, to you. It all get stuck, up here." You point to your head, and you see Neteyam's expression relax.

He reaches out and takes your hand, and you allow him to pull you close.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I trust you fully, and I will never doubt you again."

"I will... I will tell you how much I feel for you every day, if it helps."

He smiles, and squeezes your hand. "You don't have to say it every day... if you don't want to."

You reach out, running your fingers from his temple to his chin.

"I could show you, instead."

His brow perks up, and his smile grows.

"Yes, that could be good."

You lean in, pressing your lips gently to his, and he takes your face gently into his hands, and then wraps his arms around you as the kiss deepens.

When you pull apart, you are both breathless and smiling.

You bend down, picking up the bag of fish, and thrust it into his arms.

"You may carry this, and then consider yourself forgiven."

He bows under the weight of it, but dutifully carries it the long walk home for you.

Neteyam never doubts you again, and you show him just how much you love him every day.

[sphireath-wisp]

Can you do Blue Lock Rin x female reader x Sae? The reader is a very sweet and kind girl. The Itoshi brothers are fighting for her love.

Sypnosis: The ask above!!

Warnings: Love angle, unclear ending, all characters are aged-up, mild cursing, messy interchanging grammar

Notes: You didn't exactly specify how you wanted the story to end. Neither did you say whether you wanted Rin to get with the reader or Sae to get with the reader? Thus, I made it more of a big situationship. (I didn't have much to work with and I wanted to stay in bounds instead of straying further from your ask and making my own story)

Featuring: Rin x F! Reader x Sae

"So, this is what you were up to, Sae?" Sae clicks his tongue at the sound of Rin's voice. He had hoped that dragging you alone with him to a booth near the back of the club would have let Rin off of his trail. This suffocating crowd wasn't doing him any good, especially when they failed to slow Rin down.

Rin, on the other hand, is irritated beyond words. Even with the bright lights in the club, he can still see the bright red flush of your cheeks and bare skin. You're wasted, drunk beyond comprehension and he can tell from your slurred speech.

You're on Sae's lap, forehead resting against his shoulder as his hands pretend to hold up upright - both Sae and Rin know Sae wants to hold you.

The sight alone causes Rin's hands to ball into fists. The blood in his veins feels like they've reached a boiling point, his gut churns uncomfortably when you give him that glazed-eye look. He's never wanted to be his brother so bad.

You feel a hand wrap around your wrist. "Come on, (Name). We're leaving." Rin declares.

"You're leaving. (Name)'s with me." Sae speaks up, hand holding your other wrist when Rin tugs you off of his lap. Sae's frown visibly deepens. He doesn't like you leaving - he realizes.

You stumble between the two. The world is spinning when you stand up and the ground looks distorted. The alcohol has its own strong effect on you, you can barely stand up and, unluckily or not, they take notice.

Rin takes action first, tugging you in his direction and allowing you to rest your head on his chest. His body has a mind of its own when his hand snakes around your waist. Sae, however, just had to intervene and pull you away from him just when he was getting comfortable.

"Fucking moron, can't you see she's wasted? I'm not leaving her like this. I'm bringing her home." Rin hasn't let go of your wrist.

"I know what I'm doing, Rin. Go home," Sae's words are firm, eyes narrowing at Rin and earning a glare from him. "Tugging her back and forth like a ragdoll, you don't know how to treat a girl right."

There's an almost deafening silence between you three. You're too disoriented to really hear the snarky comments exchanged except for the loud music blasting through the speakers. Chills shoot up your spine when Rin places his hand on the small of your back. Sae stands his ground and his hand find their space on your shoulder, fingers invasively going under the strap of your top.

"(Name)'s going home with me, Sae."

"You can't decide shit for her."

"What? You wanna ask her yourself?" Rin's tone is mocking, eyes rolling at his older brother. "If you have eyes, you can clearly see that she's drunk."

"She'd still want to stay with me, drunk or not." Sae's eye twitches. "Right, (Name)?"

You blink, dazed from the alcohol. Everything's a blur and you stagger back and forth. If it wasn't for them, you'd probably have fallen down by now.

"...Huh?" you blurt out after a moment.

"(Name)," Rin begins, speaking slowly so you can process things, "Do you want to go home with me or stay with Sae?"

[mountainsandmayhem]

Wings. Fire. Magic. Part Three

Joel Miller x Female Reader - AU

Masterlist || Part One || Part Two

Summary: After being stripped of your wings by The King, you see a new side of Joel, maybe a side that you might like a little too much. CW: I don't think any warnings are needed for this chapter, and I don't want to give any spoilers. 18+ due to talks of female pleasure. AN: Thank you @mermaidgirl30 for listening to me blab about this story, and being the first to encourage me writing it! So glad I slid into your DM's lol. Dragon graphics by @saradika-graphics WC: 4.1k

The sound of heavy footfalls stirs you from your sleep. It takes a few minutes for you to come too, groaning in pain as you try to get your bearings. Your body is being jolted around and when you crack an eyelid there’s nothing but a leather covered mass in front of you. You blink slowly a few times and see your arms dangling below you, possibly above you. 

Fuck, where I am? 

After a few more breaths you realize you’re upside down, stomach folded over on a broad shoulder. You close your eyes and focus on the rest of your body. You can feel fur on your skin, and it comes flooding back. 

The guards stripping off your clothes, The Sorcerer and his mist. Fuck, if you’re not dead then that means…breeding camp.

You squeeze your fists tightly and begin pounding on the back of whoever is carrying you. “LET ME GO!” you yell as he starts ascending a winding stone staircase. 

When you reach the top, the man slides you off his shoulder and places you gently on your feet. Joel. His eyes look into yours gently as he adjusts the furs over your shoulders, tightening it around you to block out the cold night air. 

Four guards come up the stairs behind you. The biggest one says, “you have five days, Miller. Otherwise, we’ll come for you.” 

Rem lands with a soft thump between you and the guards, letting out a menacing growling. Everything seems foggy and unclear, pain in your head pounds relentlessly behind your eyes. The last thing you remember was being placed on a table. 

How are you going with Joel? 

What’s happening? 

You feel light headed and start to fall to the ground. Everything feels weak. Joel catches you before you fall and hoists you up to sit sideways in the saddle. Your clothes are gone, just furs to keep you covered. Joel doesn’t say anything to the guards who are now cowering in fear. The long spikes that line the neck and back of Remmer’s head are standing straight up, growling and huffing smoke at them as she waits for Joel. 

“Easy girl,” he says as he grabs the reins. With a small tug she stands up tall, stretching her massive wingspan before taking flight. Joel adjusts to control Remmer with one hand, wrapping the other arm around you and pulling you into his body. Your cheek lands on his collarbone and you relax into his pine and fresh grass scent. 

His lips brush the top of your head as he whispers, “Rest. I’ll explain everything when we’re back.” 

“Back?” You croak. Your mouth is bone dry, how long have you been out for?

“Just trust me.” 

The pain behind your eyes waves again, reminding you that this is his doing. Trust him? Not a fucking chance. You were stripped naked and poked at all because of him. You feel your wrist, no magic cuff. You lean deeper against Joel. You’re going to miss the way his eyes roam over your face, no one looks at you like that, but you can’t stay with him. You have to play it cool, make him think you’re relaxing and then make your escape. Rem won’t hurt you, she might try to chase you but you’ll fly as fast as you can, you’ll swoop into the thick forest and use the trees for cover, she’s too big to follow you in there. 

Don’t move your wings, you tell yourself. 

“Joel?” You saw sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes. 

He grunts in acknowledgment, eyes fixed on the night sky. God he looks beautiful in the moonlight.

“Can you move back for one second? I need to readjust.” 

Joel shuffles back, loosening his grip on your side. This is your chance, you slide off the saddle quickly, free falling to the ground. When Remmer and Joel are above you, you rip the blanket off and flex your back to open your wings. 

Only your wings don’t open, and you’re plummeting to the ground completely naked. You start to flail your limbs, looking back to see two gaping and scarred holes that are glowing blue where your wings should be. 

The ground is catching up to you quickly. Anger fills your chest. They took your wings. They took your wings. Your wings. Your magic. You’re essentially mortal now as you plunge to what will be your death. 

You let out a rage filled scream, just as Joel maneuvers Remmer gracefully underneath you and you fall completely bare onto Joel’s lap. 

“What the fuck did you do to me, Joel!!” You demand, punching against his chest with your fists. 

Rem lands on the ground in the middle of a field of crops. 

“I saved you.” Joel states. 

“They mutilated me!”  You’re practically screaming at him, spinning around to show him. His eyes turn sad as he takes you in. 

“Saved me? No - you,“ it comes out thick with disgust, your finger pointing in his direction, “you let them mutilate me!” 

Joel slides off his jacket and then removes his grey shirt. You’re mad, but you can’t stop yourself from taking in his naked upper half. He’s tanned and tattooed, markings of those who swear to protect the realm swirl down his arms. A large dragon across his abdomen and up the right side of his ribs. A tiny handprint over his heart. Before you can take in the rest he throws his jacket back on and holds his shirt out to you. 

You cross your arms in defiance so he takes it upon himself to slip it over your head, the hem stopping a few inches down your thighs. Your back hurts as you push your arms through the holes, you aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed the searing pain before.

“They wanted to wake you, and torture you while they stole your wings.” He says, zipping his jacket back up with his thick, strong fingers. 

“You should have let them,” you say, fighting the tears that are building behind your eyes. 

“You’d rather be tortured and killed than be near me? I saved you, I told them I’d take you as my slave.” His voice is broken and pleading and it just makes you hate him more.

“Go fuck yourself.” You turn and start walking through the crops. Pushing thick stalks out of your way, not caring as they scratch at your entire body. 

“Stop. I don’t intend to actually make you my slave.” 

“Oh jeez thank you so much,” you snap over your shoulder. “Let me gather the masses and throw you a goddamn parade.” 

“Stop,” Joel is right on your heels, “I’m not - I’m not explaining this properly.” 

You continue walking, someone owns this farm. You’ll find the house and they’ll give you clothes and tell you where you are. You’re no longer in danger now that Joel has sacrificed your wings and magic to The King. Anger, confusion, sadness, it all swirls through your body. You don’t know how to feel, but you do know that you DO NOT want to be around Joel “I saved you” Miller.

“Stop!” Joel grabs your arm and turns you towards him. 

You glare up at him, wishing that looks could kill because he would cease to exist with the rage that twists in your face right now. 

“The King wanted to take your wings after The Sorcerer said you wouldn’t be able to breed.” Your hands come to subconsciously rest on your lower belly. Having children was never something you wanted. But you knowing that you can’t is just another knife to the back. 

“So I…” he pauses and runs his hand down his face, rubbing the hair that speckles his jaw. 

“You what?” You demand. 

“I offered The King dragons,” he whispers.

Your jaw drops. “You what?” You say softly. 

“I offered him three eggs, we settled on five.” His eyes are locked on yours, the moonlight reflecting on the warm brown flecks within them. 

“Five? Joel, I was alive the last time a king had dragons,” you shake your head and look up at the clear night sky. You remember the fire, the destruction. “This isn’t going to go well.”

He steps towards you, “I have a plan, but you need to come with me. And…” he trails off, his eyes looking down at his boots.

“And what?” you ask, even though you’re sure whatever he’s about to say is going to piss you off.

“If, or when, we get a visit from The King or his guards, you need to pretend that you are my slave.” He can’t bring himself to look at you. First, he ignored your warning about The King, then he watched helplessly as The Sorcerer took your wings. You jumped from a fucking dragon to get away from him.

“And my wings?” you scoff.

“When he gets his five eggs, you get your wings back.” 

The next afternoon, Remmer lands down in front of a sleepy log cabin before flying off to the heavily wooded area behind the house. The same wooded area that you snuck into just days ago to steal that fiery orange egg. Joel wanders up the stairs to the front door, opens it and then gestures with one hand for you to go inside. 

The front door leads to a warm and cozy open concept living and kitchen area. Joel immediately heads to the large fireplace and lights a fire. You stand in the doorway, still in just his t-shirt, with your hands clasped in front of you. You rock on the balls of your feet and look around. 

A large brown worn leather sofa sits in the middle, flanked by two cozy chairs of the same beaten down leather. The coffee table has a few books scattered on it. Large windows let in lots of natural lighting, and as the sunsets it highlights everything in a warm amber glow. The kitchen has an island in the middle, surrounded by tall wooden chairs. Cast iron pots and pans hang from the ceiling above it. Along the back wall is a large gas stove with plenty of cupboards and counter space. A deep copper sink sits underneath another large window. Everything is hues of deep greens and browns. It’s cozy and homey. It’s Joel. 

“Bedrooms and bathrooms are that way.” He says, pointing to the long hallway to your left before holding his large palms out to the heat of the fire. “You can come in…” 

You pad across the hardwood floor in your bare feet and sit gently on the edge of one couch cushion. The books on the coffee table are all about dragons and their histories. You glance around for any pictures or signs of other life here but you don’t see any. Does Joel not have a wife? You’ve deduced that he’s probably in his forties, so one would think he was married or a father, but there’s no sign of other life here. Just him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks as he stands across the living from you.

You shake your head no, linking your fingers and placing them on your lap, you look down at your hands, pushing back one of your cuticles. It’s so quiet here, only the crackling of the fire to fill the quiet gaps between the minimal conversation of you and Joel.

“Thirsty?” He asks sheepishly, “I can make coffee or tea.” 

You shake your head again, eyes focused on the cuticle of your thumb. What you want is to go home, your family needs you, or needed you at least. You guess you’re the same as them now that you have no magic and no wings, just the pointed ears of the Fae to show the world what you really are.  

Joel walks over and sits on the armchair closest to you, it groans beneath his weight, his leathers squeaking slightly against the lived-in leather of the chair. His expression is soft and kind, he takes a shaky breath before saying, “I really am sorry. But I’m going to do everything to get your wings back.” 

You glance up at him, “you can’t give him dragons, Joel. You can’t.” 

“Just trust me.” He says it in the same pleading tone he did before you took your insane death fall to the ground. 

You shrug and then turn your eyes back to your hands, focusing on another cuticle. Joel stands and wanders down the hallway. You hear water running and then him moving around the rooms, opening and closing what you assume are closets and drawers. The water stops and Joel walks back out to you, holding out a hand. 

You grab it tentatively and he leads you down the hall. He’s changed into loose black cotton pants and a fitted white t-shirt. He pulls you into the bathroom, soapy bubbles that smell like lavender and sea salt foam over the tub. 

“There’s a towel there,” he says, pointing to a small stool by the end of the tub, “and some clothes. They’re mine, I’ll get you something better tomorrow.” 

He turns and leaves, the door clicking softly behind him. As you lift your arms up to remove the shirt, the glowing scars on your back send sharp hot pain throughout your back and down your arms. You let out a gasp of pain, clamping your arms back to your side and you contemplate how you’re going to get out of this shirt. You glance down and thank your lucky stars that the shirt has a few buttons from the neck to the chest. Your fingers work to undo the buttons before you slip the shirt over your shoulders and down your body, then you slowly slide into the warmth of the tub that’s large enough for two. You close your eyes and breath in the calming aroma. Silence surrounds you, you can’t remember the last time you relaxed like this, where you didn’t have a laundry list of things to do and only you to do them. The salts in the bath start to dissolve, they feel like champagne bubbling along your sore muscles, relaxing them into pure bliss. You let out a content hum, sinking deeper into the hot water.

You feel like you’ve been soaking for hours when a small knock on the door catches your attention. 

“Ya?” You say quietly. 

Joel cracks the door, keeping himself on the other side, “are you doing ok?” 

“Umm, ya.” Truthfully, you were doing ok but you know you won’t be able to lift your arms to wash your hair. 

“Are you sure?” He asks through the little crack in the door. 

“Umm, well….I can’t exactly,” you’ve never had to ask for help in your life, and you realize at this moment that it’s not because you didn’t want help, it’s because there was no one to ask. But now, well now you do have someone you could ask, so why can’t you find the words. “No, never mind. I’m fine.”

“Can I come in?” He asks. After you sink into the bath so only your head is visible you give a shy yes. Joel has seen you naked before, just yesterday in fact, but something about him seeing you like this feels more intimate and vulnerable. 

A warm smile crosses his face, a little dimple that you haven’t noticed before dents his right cheek. “What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t lift my arms…” you say defeatedly. “I can’t wash my hair.”

He stares at you for a second and reaches for the cup on the vanity and then grabs the little stool. Placing the fluffy white towel and the clothes he’s lent you on the counter. 

“Spin around.” He groans a little as he bends down beside the tub to sit on the stool.

You do as he says, turning to face the wall and criss crossing your legs in front of you. Water sloshes around you and you hear some of it hit the tiled floor. You whisper a small sorry, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous.  

“It's ok,” he says, voice cracking a little. He clears his throat, “Tilt your head back, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. You dip your head back and close your eyes. It feels almost overwhelming to have someone care for you for once. Being in this gorgeous log cabin in a hot bath, the smell of the dinner he’s prepared wafts down the hallway and through the crack in the bathroom door. It smells like butter and garlic and some sort of red meat. Guilt swirls in your stomach. You haven’t been home in a week, your family might need you. 

You hear the click of the shampoo bottle, it smells like rosemary and mint as Joel rubs it in his palms behind you. His strong fingers come to your hair line, the pressure of the small circles of the pads of his fingers are delectable. When he hits your temples a chill runs down your body, your nipples peak at the attention under the hot water. He works backwards slowly along your scalp, when he hits the nape of your neck your whole body feels like it’s buzzing. He gently nudges you so your head tucks into your chin and he kneads at the muscles of your neck. You adjust your legs so you’re hugging your knees. Squeezing your legs together to try to help relieve some of the ache that’s building in between your thighs. 

Neither of you have spoken, but it’s a comfortable silence. Plus, you have a feeling that that is just how Joel is. Joel Miller is a doer and a giver, small acts like running you a bath or cooking a nice meal is how he shows that he cares. 

After working the shampoo through your ends, he guides your head back, grabs the cup and rinses the suds off. The combination of the warm water and his hands parting your hair is unlike anything you could have imagined and you stifle a small moan in your throat. He repeats the process with the shampoo one more time before running the conditioner through your ends. 

He stands and you look over your shoulder at him, “thank you, Joel.” 

He digs through a drawer in the vanity and pulls out a comb. “You don’t need to thank me,” he sits back down, groaning again, and you can only imagine how ridiculous his broad form must look sitting on the tiny stool. It can’t be comfortable for him. He spins the end of the comb at you and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling before turning back around. 

After eating the dinner Joel made, you both sit on the couch watching the fire. Dinner was accompanied by another comfortable silence, both of you perched on the stools around the counter. He made fingerling potatoes with fresh herbs, roasted carrots drizzled with honey, and a steak that he basted in butter and garlic. Now you’re wrapped in a blanket, knees tucked up to your body.

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly, swirling the ice around in his whiskey glass.

“Ya,” you pull the fur blanket around you tighter. 

“Are you the only one with wings in your family?”

You hesitate for a second, “I was, now I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting you off, “I didn’t mean for that to come off as insensitive. I just feel like you have turned everything I’ve known about this world upside down.”

You shake your head and smile at the fire. “It’s ok, Joel. Over two thousand years ago, humans came into our villages. We worked together for a while, building this kingdom. Then one king managed to get his hands on a dragon, and the humans attacked us. Injecting us with that green magic in your chains and cutting off our wings to take the power for themselves.” 

Joel places his empty whiskey glass on the table before he walks over to crouch in front of you. His hands come to rest on the cushion on each side of you. He makes eye contact, oranges and reds dancing around the room from the fire.

“This isn’t the history that we are taught. We are led to believe The King is good after what he’s done to fix the mistakes of that king thousands of years ago. We are also told that Fae turned on us and we fought hard against them.” 

“Did you really believe that?” you scoff, “Fae back then had all sorts of magical powers. Some could have mortals like you evaporate into thin air if they wanted. Many had the ability to control minds. You never would have been able to win that war, unless we were tricked or attacked by surprise.” 

You look at each other in silence for a while before you slide one hand out from the blanket and place it on his. Both of you look at your hand on top of his. He rotates his wrist and you immediately intertwine your fingers with this. 

“Thank you for saving me, or trying to save me.” You say, eyes still fixed on your hands. 

“Don’t thank me until we have your wings back and you’re with your family.”

You look up at him, “I’ve been the only one caring for them for over six hundred years.” 

“I know. Please just let me help you.” 

You slide your legs out from the blanket so Joel is kneeling on the floor between them. Your free hand pushes back a stray curl that’s landed by his temple. His eyes shut as he leans into your touch. 

“Promise me that you’ll help my family.” 

He releases your hand and pulls you to the edge of the couch by your waist, bodies flush against each other now. Your hand tangles into the curls at the back of his neck, the other resting on his broad shoulder. 

“I swear I am going to fix this. I’m going to do whatever it takes to show you that you can trust me.” 

You brush your nose against his and close your eyes breathing in his scent. Pine needles and freshly cut grass, now surrounded by the cedar of the fire and the log cabin. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” you say in a breathy whisper.

“Never,” he hums. Your lips brush against his. He’s intoxicating. Just as you turn your head to let him kiss you a loud roar from the woods behind the house startles you, jolting you back on the cushion and out of his gravitational pull. 

“Rem has impeccable timing,” he says, shaking his head. “I better go see what’s going on. Your room is just across from the bathroom. I’m sorry.” 

“I want to come, too,” you say forcefully, standing and following him towards the kitchen.

“It’s safer if you stay. Rem likes you but, well - it’s just safer if you stay.” 

Joel disappears into the pitch black of night and you decide to head to your room. A large wooden bed frame takes up most of the space, but you have a large closet and a chair that looks out a big picture window. It’s too dark to see anything now, but you know it faces the woods where Joel took off to.

The morning sun peaks its way through the big trees towards the back of the house. It streams through your windows and the dreams of Joel’s rough hands on your body fade as you blink awake. 

You slipped into the plush white sheets completely naked last night, you can feel the wetness between your legs from your dream. You close your eyes and try to bring those images back. Your hands trail along your exposed skin, squeezing one breast hard, trying to imagine its Joel’s as you run a thumb across your hardening nipple. 

It still feels a bit wrong to be so attracted to him, but his apology last night was so genuine, you have to lean in and trust him. He’s your only chance, your only infuriating handsome chance. 

You continue playing with your nipple as your other hand trails down your stomach, tracing the slit of your pussy. Your clit throbs and more arousal wets your thighs. 

You spread your legs and wish Joel was here to call you a good girl as he settled himself between your legs. With that thought your hand dives for your entrance, collecting your slick before rubbing tight, fast circles on your clit. The other hand moves to your other breast, pinching the nipple and rolling it between your fingers. 

Fuck, you wish this was Joel. 

Slipping your hand down, you easily slide two fingers inside of yourself, trying to reach that oh so sensitive spot that drives you wild. The other hand comes down to put pressure on your clit, turning your head into the fluffy pillows to muffle your little moans of pleasure. 

That familiar burn starts to build, before you can stop it you whine Joel’s name as your body starts to shake. The wave of pleasure consumes your entire body and mind, images of him flashing behind your eyelids. 

The inner walls of your pussy clench down on your fingers, when the pleasure starts to ease you slide them out, looking down to see the wetness that still connects them. 

Fuck.

You roll onto your belly to catch your breath and hide your face. You aren’t embarrassed about indulging in your own pleasure, but you should not have thought about Joel Miller while doing it. 

After convincing yourself that it was a one time thing and he’s out of your system now, you slip back into the clothes Joel gave you. Comfortable fleece lined grey pants and a zip up sweater with a hood and large front pocket of the same colour.  You have no shoes so you slip out of the kitchen door and wander out over the cool morning grass in your bare feet.

You walk towards the woods where you know Rem will be. As you approach the clearing that you stole the egg from an eerie feeling washes over you. You take a few more steps before a large milky white dragon lands in front of you. You stumble backwards as its scales puff out around its neck. Its red eyes glow, it feels like they’re piercing into every fiber of your being. Its wings flare out, large talon-like spikes along each bend of the top ridge.  Remmer is nowhere to be found. Joel’s door was closed so he must be sound asleep. 

You stand, knees slightly bent, hands out in front of you. “It’s okay,” you say as camly as possible to the fierce beast. 

It snarls, lips pulling back to expose long sharp teeth. Smoke starts to billow from its cheeks. 

“Easy, it’s ok.” you’re trying to keep your voice calm but fear is eating at you from the inside out. Should you scream? Run? You thought you’d be coming out to Remmer, and she’d bounce over and let you pet her. This dragon is terrifying, the glassy white scales and ghastly red eyes. It’s not as big as Rem, but it still towers above you.

The dragon lets out a loud and angry growl that reverberates every bone in your body. Its spit hits your face, mouth open so wide that you can see the fire starting to form in the back of its throat. 

Fuck, I’m dead.

==================================

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag  @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest

[onbearfeet]

Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

[nina-ya]

HI NINA!! I hope ur doing well, for some reason I never realized your requests are open but ive had this little idea with me for a while and I would really like to see it written ;))

can I request law × reader whos like a spirit or ghost kind of?? But only law can see them for some reason. Also reader is not dead hh they might be a spirit because of a curse or something maybe...

maybe a little angsty (or very)?? Either way, I can't wait to see what you write :)) i love ur work sossoooo much and thank uu!!

A/N: HIIIIIIII I had a lot of fun with this idea actually I DO HOPE YOU ENJOY!! Angst really gets me in my feels and I kinda left it to the possibility of a p2 if anyone ever wanted it :'))) Pairing: Law x reader CW: None really just angst towards the end WC: 2k

You sighed to yourself. Another pirate had arrived, their purpose unclear- were they here for treasure? A place to rest? Or to investigate the rumors of the haunted building? Said building is being haunted by you, of course. You hadn’t intended for the place to become a spectacle that would send even the toughest pirates screaming for their mothers, but the curse condemning you to the spirit world left you with little control over this, so you had to make the most out of it, right? You gave up hope long ago that you would be able to be freed from the clutches of curse. You wandered city to city. You even stowed away on pirate ships to go to different islands, desperate to find a miracle that would help, but that all got tiring and soon enough you called the building you resided in your new home.

From the rafters, you peered down at the interesting pirate that had just entered. He sported a spotted hat, matching pants, and a halfway unbuttoned dress shirt that revealed one of the many heart themed tattoos adorning his skin. 

His voice filled the room, muttering about the rumors of the haunted building, and frustration surged within you. This intruder had disrupted your quiet evening, prompting you to cut his visit short and scare him off. You swung off the rafters and landed on a cabinet with an open door, slamming it shut with a great deal of force.

The metallic sound of a sword unsheathing sliced through the air as the man focused on the source of the disturbance. His eyes locked onto yours, momentarily causing panic through you. Could he truly see you? You questioned the possibility for a moment, but rationalized that he was only looking in your general direction rather than directly at you.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice demanding.

A shiver ran down your spine as the weight of his gaze fell upon you. ‘Impossible,’ you thought, ‘there’s no way he’s talking to me.’

“I suggest you answer my question before you regret it,” he stated, a blue orb materializing in an outstretched hand.

Disbelief filled your senses as you responded. “Wait, wait, wait… hold on… you can see me?” you stammered, trying to understand the reality that is unfolding before your eyes.

“Quit playing games; of course I can see you,” he replied, his voice unwavering.

You stumbled over your words as you tried to satiate his demands, “I’m sorry, it’s just… well, you’re the first person that’s seen me like this.”

Law grew impatient, and with a quick motion, he enclosed you in the blue bubble of his room, slashing at you. Yet, that was a futile effort as the force passed through you without a trace. Frustration bubbled within him as he attempted again and again, the uselessness of his efforts quickly settling in.

“What the hell is the meaning of this?” He finally snapped, his voice filled with irritation and subtle curiosity.

“Let me explain!” you pleaded, taking the opportunity to share your story. “I’ve been like this for a while and I think I’m a ghost? I can’t really tell.”

"A ghost? Really?" Law sighed, his skepticism obvious. "Okay, whatever, go on."

A sigh of relief escaped you as you continued your story. The tale of encountering a curse, the passage of time, and the unexplainable circumstances that left you in this state spilled from your lips. However, Law rolled his eyes and cut you off.

"I don't know what kind of fun you gain from telling this story to people, but it's not going to work on me," he declared, moving to leave the building, his patience gone.

Desperation filled you as you chased after him in a plea to be heard. "Wait! Please! I promise I am not making this up."

"Yeah, yeah, go find some other oblivious person to fool," he retorted, rounding a corner, making his exit.

You positioned yourself in his path. "Wait! Give me a chance! Don't leave yet!" Your desperate voice rang out.

He rolled his eyes at you, "would you shut up and leave me alone?" he barked back, the force of his words drawing the attention of passersby. Some stopped  in their tracks, casting curious glances your way, while others continued their journey with judgment evident in their glances.

He looked around, noticing the stares. "Look, now you're bringing attention to us," he said, irritation dripping from his features.

The whispers of the crowd filled his ears, 'Us?' 'Is he okay?' 'Why is he talking to the air?'

A sense of unease settled over Law as the judgmental murmurs were made clear to him. Clenching his jaw to hold off a retort, he shot you a silent look that said, 'Follow me,' before walking away.

Back inside the building, the door barely closed when Law spoke up, his tone unchanged, "So, a ghost, you say?"

You sighed in relief at the opportunity to explain. "I… I mean, I think so? A ghost or a spirit, or any other synonym would probably be my best guess."

"Your best guess? Do you not know what happened to you?"

"No! I really don't," you admitted with a sigh. "All I know is that one day, I messed with some people that I shouldn't have, and well… I'm like this now."

His face remained expressionless, a calculating gaze fixed upon you. The silence stretched, and you couldn't bear it any longer. A nervous chuckle escaped you. "So, uh, I guess I have to properly introduce myself to the first human I've spoken to in a while, huh." You extended your hand for a shake, revealing your name. Law hesitated for a moment before reaching out. His hand enveloped yours for just a moment, then phased right through.

You nervously laughed again, retracting your hand at the failed handshake. "Ah, I'm sorry about that. I don't know why I thought that would work."

"But you were able to slam that cabinet just fine earlier?" Law questioned.

"Will you kill me if I say I'm not sure why?" you replied sheepishly.

"How would I kill you when you're practically dead?" Law retorted, his deadpan delivery drawing a smile from you. 

“Not dead, just cursed.” you correct him. “I don’t see much of a difference.” 

Your laughter filled the building, a sound that seemed out of place, but it certainly felt good. It was the first time in a long long while since you genuinely laughed and had fun. Law didn’t seem to share your amusement, though. He eyed you with a raised eyebrow. As your laughter dissipated into chuckles, you felt a warmth inside of you.

“Laughing, huh? You sure you’re not trying to trick me?” Law asked, still seemingly skeptical about this whole situation.

Your smile quickly turned into a frown at his doubts. “What? No, I just…” you start but trail off, seemingly unable to form any words.

An awkward pause fell between the two of you. He just couldn’t understand your predicament. Law is the first to break the silence. “Maybe it’s time for you to get out of here and try and find a way to get back to your old self.”

“You don’t get it,” you said quietly, your voice filled with despair. “I can’t just do that. I’ve tried, trust me. For years I’ve tried, but I'm tied to this life.” For a moment, Law's doubts faded as he saw the desperation in your eyes, and he decided to give you a chance. He walked over to the nearest wall and sat on the floor, leaning against it. He saw your confusion and he gestured to the floor in front of him, nonchalantly saying, “I have a feeling that you have quite the story to tell me, so go on.

- - -

As the night deepened, the two of you found yourselves engaged in an unexpectedly long conversation. You opened up more about your predicament, telling Law every detail you could about the curse, telling him about your human life, your past, and even your fears. He opened up to you as well. You learned that he was the captain of a crew, that he was a former warlord, and he even showed you his tattoos.

The light of the moon filtered through the dusty windows, and the conversation flowed into more lighthearted topics. You learned that you had much more in common with him than you originally had thought. You even learned about some of his quirks such as his distaste for bread. 

As the first rays of sunlight slowly started to replace the moonlight, you two found yourselves in an odd state of comfort. The two of you talked throughout the night and not once have you run out of things to say. 

“I’ll help you break the curse,” Law declared, his words causing a momentary pause in your thoughts. Your eyes widened in disbelief and gratitude. Unable to contain yourself, you impulsively find yourself throwing yourself at Law, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

The world stood still as you held the hug, and Law could only widen his eyes in shock at the feeling of the touch. Then the realization hit you– your arms were wrapped around him. You were actually hugging him. Embarrassment soon washed over you as you became aware of the awkwardness of the situation. You pulled away abruptly, your features emanating embarrassment, and you cleared your throat. 

A pause fell over the two of you as both of you tried to grapple with the reality of the uncharted territory of physical contact. “Uh, sorry about that,” you mumbled sheepishly.

Law nodded in understanding, though he still seemed taken aback. “No harm done, right? Let’s focus on breaking that curse.” He looked out of the window as he finished his sentence and his voice filled with urgency as he realized the time. “I have to go now,” he explained, regret in his voice. “But, I’ll be back tonight. I will help you figure this out.” Through the sudden disappointment, you nodded in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Law nodded at you before making his exit. He left you alone, and the quietness that you were oh so familiar with. You eagerly awaited his return, and as the night came about, you stared out the windows looking for any sign of him, but to no avail. You occupied your mind with feeble excuses, convincing yourself that he might just be running late and that he will come for you. But as the night turned into days, that wait stretched agonizingly long and uncertain. 

Morning after morning, you wandered the island, hoping to find some sign of Law, just to be filled with a growing sense of abandonment instead.  You questioned every bit of Law’s promise, wondering if you had just gone insane and made up that conversation to make yourself feel a little less lonely. The desolation you felt before was nothing to this new crushing weight of shattered hope.

The loneliness settled in, and with every sunset that passed, your hope vanished further. That is, until you were searching the island for him, and you saw fresh wanted posters plastered across the walls. There he was. Law’s face was among them. The realization that he was not even around anymore hit you like a truck. He went off to do other better things rather than fulfilling some stupid promise with someone he just met. The memory of your interaction replayed in your mind, the hug lingering in your mind more than you’d like to admit.

In a moment of frustration and despair, you tore the wanted poster off the wall, startling those who were nearby. Tears flowed freely as Law's absence filled you with despair. His presence had filled a hole you hadn't even realized existed, and now that he was gone, that hole seemed even bigger than before. Now you were left with the dreaded thought that you may never truly break this curse.

[whereonceiwasfire]

Okay, so, I send a lot of emails to people I don't know for my job, and there's a lot of copy/pasting involved. Because I have a sort of on-hand reply to certain emails, I usually just have it queued up and ready to go, right? Open email, hit reply, ctrl v, send, boom, done, next one (I promise you, this is all relevant context).

I also sometimes, somehow, magically find myself on Tumblr now and again when I should be working. As one does.

You know. Tumblr. A place where one might copy images...of things that make them laugh...maybe from their fandom of choice atm...

I think you can see where I'm going with this.

Long story short, I'm doing my thing, open email, press reply, ctrl v, hit sen--WAIT, NOOOOO! ABORT MISSION!! ABORT MISSION!!! I was within MILLISECONDS of sending THIS IMAGE, and LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE, in response to a professional email.

CAN YOU IMAGINE GETTING VLAD MASTERS IN RESPONSE TO A WORK EMAIL??? And not just Vlad Masters, but THIS Vlad Masters?! Unhinged, spins-around-in-chair, back-lit-by-lightning, "I've-been-expecting-you" type villain moment, Vlad Masters? I mean, it could have definitely been worse, but it also could have definitely been better. "Hi, thanks so much for your interest, may I offer you this very cryptic image of a cartoon villain instead of an answer to your question?"

What does it mean? Unclear. Does this open up room for further communication? Unlikely. And why does it feel more than a little bit threatening?

My fingers was hovering over the send button when I realized NOPE, that WAS NOT what I meant to paste into the email. I think I would have just had to hand in my resignation right then and there. Moved into the woods, never to be heard from again.

Moral of the story, double check your work before hitting send, kids. And if, one day, you ever get a response to a work email that defies all comprehension, please think of me.

[inkandarsenic]

I had a dream last night that could have been a fic and I’m disappointed that it wasn’t.

It was Buck and Eddie like after the last episode after Eddie was like “this changes nothing between us” and at first, everything was fine and normal but then it became very apparent after like six months that something very much had changed between them, like Buck was still dating Tommy and Eddie was still dating Marisol and in the field they were as in sync as ever but then everywhere else there was this weird distance between them? Like they were still best friends but like fundamentally they were Buck and Eddie instead of BuckandEddie like they used to be and everyone else in the 118+ could see it and they couldn’t

And then suddenly they could see it, because Buck was at Eddie’s and something happened and he needed to change his shirt but he realized that for the first time in years, probably since Eddie got shot, Buck didn’t have anything of his at the Diaz house. A couple weeks later, Eddie was telling the 118 a story about Chris and Buck had no idea what’s going on in the story and they (Buck and Eddie) were talking about it and they realize that it’s been a while since Buck picked Chris up from school or just like had a day that was just the two of them. And then there was some gathering at Eddie’s house instead of Bobby and Athena’s, and Buck makes cookies at his loft and brings them and Maddie points it out, and Buck has a mini crisis as he realizes abruptly that he is a guest in Eddie’s house and he was looking around and the couch was new (Marisol had convinced Eddie to buy a new one) and he hadn’t even realized.

And then Eddie and Marisol and Buck and Tommy were going on a double date at Olive Garden of all places but Marisol couldn’t make it, so it was just Buck and Eddie and Tommy and it was awkward and Tommy was like “look i haven’t known you guys as long as everyone else around you but even I can tell that there is something not right here and you need to talk it out and fix it because you’re both not the same with your lives being almost completely separate, it’s like not natural for you two.”

And they start talking except it kinda devolves into grocery store fight 2.0, about Buck not being there for Chris and not being around except this time it’s kinda on both of them and it’s really no one’s fault but it’s kinda both their faults. And this argument makes its way into their work life where they’re just not as in sync in the field.

And then something happened on a call (unclear what) that wasn’t really anyone’s fault but Buck blamed himself and the current issues he’s having with Eddie, and asked Bobby to be put on B-Shift for awhile and it was just super awkward in the firehouse and Bobby was talking to Eddie and was like “I don’t know what’s going on but whatever it is you need to fix it” and Eddie was like “I dont know what’s going on either, Buck and I just aren’t the same since he started dating Tommy” and Bobby was like “maybe you need to evaluate that because that’s something that only seems to be affecting you.”

And then like a week later, Eddie and Marisol broke up, and Marisol was all “it’s because of Buck isn’t it, you love him more than me.” And Eddie did not work through that, he just went to Buck’s despite still sort of being in a fight and they got drunk on Buck’s couch and Eddie kissed Buck just kinda out of the blue and then was like “fuck I didn’t mean to do that” and left.

Buck told Tommy immediately the next time he saw him (because he learned his lesson from Taylor) and Tommy was pretty cool about it but he was also like “hey maybe you should think about that because you don’t actually seem all that upset by the fact that Eddie kissed you just that he kissed you while you’re dating me and I feel like that says something” because Tommy is a real one.

After like two weeks wherein Eddie goes to great lengths to avoid Buck outside of calls despite being on the same shift again, and Buck talking through it in therapy and with Maddie, Buck breaks up with Tommy (who again is very chill about all of it and is like “we can all still be friends just give me a little space for a while”) and then he drove to the Diaz house and Eddie saw him pulling up and met him outside and it was raining so they really should have gone inside but I digress. And Eddie was like “Buck it’s like midnight what are you doing here” and Buck was all “i broke up with Tommy because you kissed me” and Eddie was like “fuck I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that I never meant to get in between you two” and is just sort of spiraling and Buck can’t get a word in so instead Buck kisses Eddie and Eddie is just like “Oh. So you aren’t mad.” And Buck laughed and was all “No I’m not mad I’m in love with you”

And then my neighbor’s kid started screaming and woke me up so I didn’t even get to see the ending and I’m kinda mad about it because I wanna see how everyone else reacted to all of this

[maripr]

Ozcarnation merge musings from my twitter

I wrote these months ago and finally sharing them on tumblr.

Why I differentiate between Ozma and Ozpin, a 🧵

I disagree with the general interpretation of where the merge subplot is actually heading in canon: most people think it will actualize, I think it will be reversed, either stopping the merge for good or reversing it after it comes very briefly into reality.

Oscar's arc, paralleling Ruby (mainly, but other characters share the trait as well) has been about him trying to find his own place and his own story, but the shadow of supposed ego death is always looming on him and terrifying him.

Everytime he takes a step forward, he's reminded again of the expected fate for him, something that some characters actively want (like Ironwood).

Examples:

volume 6, after being treated as a stand-in for Ozpin, currently MIA, Oscar takes his own decision to forgive the team and be prepared for battle alongside them. While reconciling with tem, with his new combat gear, he still can't help but be haunted of "how much time he has left".

Volume 7 places him in a conundrum the entire volume: he's developing as a fighter, growing up as an adolescent and forging stronger relationship with his newfound friends. Jaune clearly comes to see him as a little brother and there's something interesting going on with Ruby that may or may not result in a romantic relationship down the line. The team actually worries about his opinion on stuff as well, and Ruby clearly values him as Oscar Pine. Meanwhile, the very person who's helping in his growth is James Ironwood, who cannot shut up about wishing Ozpin was there everytime they meet, and telling Oscar he will basically cease to exist to his face with a big shiny smile. It's unclear at this point if James knows or not about how terrified Oscar is of the merge, as the boy never voices this fear. I think he just wants not to think of it. So even at the end, where James finally says "fuck it, Oscar or Ozpin, i don't need either" and shoots him, Oscar starts coming onto his power, in a scene that's both powerful and bittersweet, paralleling Penny.

Both of them, for their qualities, were chosen by a magical destiny, one capable of beautiful and powerful magic, that they don't want, never wanted and will struggle with with the next volume. Penny's arc is a direct parallel and commentary to Oscar and the way it ends might comment on Oscar's arc. Not in death but that Penny could finally show everyone she was her own person who could choose for herself.

Coming back to volume 8, Oscar has his worst time yet, finally voices his fear of merging with Oz, and comes back from it scarred but stronger, having helped Ozpin trust himself and others and gaining a new ally in Emerald.

But, see where I'm getting at? This is no resolution.

Oscar has briefly shown his fear but at the end of the volume, much like Ruby has done for several seasons, swallows the literal torture he endured for half of it and the fear of imminent ego death due to reawakened magic, and chooses to focus on the positives.

Boy, if he had fallen into the ever after maybe he would have healed too. Or maybe we would have no plot at all bc Oscar and Ruby would have noticed each other's pain, which would have been nice as well, but sometimes therapy has to be brutal.

And also Oscar can't conclude his arc in the ever after because his own is complimentary to Ruby's but also a contrast to it. Ruby wants to emulate her mother and ideal of what a hero is and must learn that she is enough as she is already. Oscar does NOT want to emulate or be his father figure, whose og incarnation was basically THE ideal hero of fairytales. He wants to be enough but doesn't know who he is yet, since everyone keeps telling him to his face that Oscar Pine isn't enough.

SO anyway. If both Penny (a commentary on Oscar) and Ruby (a direct parallel)'s arcs end with them realizing their own individuality, I 100% believe Oscar's arc will end like this as well.

And when i say end i mean end is just a new beginning.

Before moving to my final argument, let me also briefly comment on how Jaune and Weiss' arcs are similar but different to Oscar and Ruby's. It's interesting because, by main character status, Jaune as the leader of team JNPR, is a lancer and a foil to RWBY and Ruby inside of team RWBY's dynamic, Weiss, as Ruby's partner, is the lancer and foil to Ruby and inside new JNPR/ORNJ, Oscar, as Jaune's new partner, is his lancer and foil.

And both Jaune and Weiss deal with identity but more in a role they want to play as expected to what their family might want, initially, and later as the knights they idealized in fairytales. This is way too long for this post, but again, fascinating. And also Whiteknight slays.

So, my final thesis:

Oscar's arc will end with him affirming his own individuality over the merge.

So why can't Ozpin also do the same?

The god of light's intention in bestowing Ozma with this method of reincarnation was the positive idea of him never being alone.

And this works, more or less, in different lifetimes. Even in the very first, the farmer who we initially assumed was completely eradicated, still voiced his opinion and reminded Ozma of the good path.

In later lives, the spirit and the host lived more comfortably, having estabilished an equal partnership.

But... They still end up as one person? They're literally so like-minded that their enormous guilt complex makes one believe he's responsible for everything the others did?

I feel like this is what the story is trying to say, much like what many characters say of Oscar, and it's framed as a bad thing.

And incorrect. Oscar is always "punished" for what his predecessors did because he will be Ozma eventually.

The voice still going by the name of Ozpin feels responsible for everything that happened since Ozma was brought back to life and literally agrees with his own torturer that yep, he deserves all the punishment and pain for it.

Every incarnation eventually reaches a point where they start to identify with their predecessors in such a way that contradicts what the god of light's intention was (then again, we have been shown time and time again that the god of light is not very good at his job).

Instead of a partnership where each soul helps the other moving forward and never los hope, we have a continuous cycle of guilt and self-abuse accumulating. Oscar is gnawing at it the entire time. Who's to say Ozpin, as the professor, also didn't?

And Oscar is going to break the cycle.

As he does that, I want Ozpin to also realize his own individuality.

This is why I want an happy ending for all the incarnates, not just Ozma. Merged they may be for now, in the physical realm, why should only Ozma move on to a peaceful afterlife? All the people who ended up clogs in the ever ticking clock and had no say in it were all people with their own lives, their own friends and families, their own name. And they deserve peace too.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei - Side Story 1

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

"Even without a guide, the stars continue to rotate"

Man with purple eyes: "What are you doing here?"

Mitsuki: "U-Um, I..."

She suddenly appeared in this distorted fate and in that despair-filled garden.

As I prepared for my lecture at the university office, I recalled the incident that took place yesterday.

(I never expected “that girl” to appear before me.)

That girl, who came from the East, suddenly found herself in a mansion where historical figures who had become vampires lived.

The master of that mansion, a pureblood, revived the men and gave them a second life.

But that girl, upon observation, seemed nothing more than just an ordinary human.

(Did she use the door to come here, or did she simply wander in?)

(In any case, inexplicable things started happening after she appeared.)

(The future, which I saw once using the door, has changed.)

The future had changed after those influential figures revived, and fate started changing even more since that girl appeared.

(Who on earth is that girl?)

At that moment, the voice of a man living with me crossed my mind.

------------Flashback-----------

Drake: “But if you really met her by chance, then maybe that means something.”

Drake: “She might be that woman of destiny, after all.”

---------Flashback Ends--------

(Is it some sort of guidance?)

(But whether there’s causality remains unclear. I need to keep an eye on her.)

I was still lost in thought when someone suddenly knocked on the door.

Galileo: “Come in.”

I turned around, thinking that it was most likely a student who had come to ask a question about the lecture.

Mitsuki: “Excuse me. I’m here to deliver something to Professor Maury.”

(----!)

The girl I was just thinking about was standing right in front of me.

Galileo: "You're the one from yesterday."

She seemed taken aback, as if she didn't expect to meet me again.

Mitsuki: "Um, I…"

Galileo: "How long are you going to stand there? Come in."

As she stepped inside, she bowed her head.

Mitsuki: "I'm Mitsuki. I apologize for intruding into the garden yesterday!"

Mitsuki: "I was walking around town and happened to stumble upon that place."

Galileo: "You're not a student here, are you? So, why are you here today?"

Mitsuki: "I came to the university to see Professor Ayscough and to deliver these documents the president asked me to."

Mitsuki: "I didn't realize you were Professor Maury. So…"

Galileo: "I see. Another coincidence, perhaps."

(Right, considering the possibilities, it's not entirely impossible.)

Professor Ayscough. Isaac Newton was also living in that mansion.

It wouldn't be unnatural for her to come to the university for some business.

It'd be too early to interpret this reunion as guidance or fate, but…

(To begin with, the fact that she stumbled upon that garden seems a bit too convenient.)

(Maybe Drake is right in saying that fate is in motion.)

And am I the one being drawn into it?

(If so, perhaps the "world" is once again trying to deny me.)

(Like my brethren.)

I suppressed the faint surge of frustration welling inside me.

Galileo: "I've received the documents."

Mitsuki: "Then, I'll be going now."

I looked up and asked her a question.

Galileo: "Some say that when coincidences pile up, they become inevitable."

Galileo: "Even turning into destiny."

Galileo: "What do you think?"

She showed a confused expression at my sudden question.

(Even though we're facing each other like this, she still looks like an ordinary human.)

Nevertheless, she looked straight at me and spoke up.

Mitsuki: "Sorry, I don't know how to answer that, but…"

Galileo: "But?"

Mitsuki: "Whether it's coincidence or fate, I think it's up to each person how they perceive and choose to interpret it."

(Up to oneself, huh?)

Galileo: "So, it's up to oneself to govern fate. Is that what you're saying?"

Mitsuki: "I didn't mean to make it sound so dramatic."

I could understand her response.

Humans live through multiple choices, so in that sense, it's up to oneself to carve out their own destiny.

(But I know of a fate that cannot be changed.)

A fate of scorn, of being shunned, and of hopeless despair.

(..........)

As the scenes I've witnessed flashed through my mind, her answer, believing that one can carve out their own destiny, seemed terribly arrogant.

After she left, some students came to visit the office.

Galileo: "Are you suggesting it's fate, then?"

Student: "Professor? Is everything alright?"

Galileo: "It's nothing."

I averted my gaze from the door she exited and turned on my heel.

Galileo: "I'll fulfill my purpose until the end."

(No matter what happens, I've got to make sure I stay out of whatever fate that girl's bringing.)

Even as I held such determination within my heart, her eyes, staring back at me, somehow remained in my mind.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

[khattikeri]

maybe a controversial opinion but while i really love jiang cheng as a character he is deeply self-centered as a person. and seeing people fight tooth and nail claiming he isn't, or is just misunderstood, or that he has genuine valid reasons to be selfish when plenty of other characters make the difficult choice to forego status and opportunities for what they believe is genuinely right to do (read: wei wuxian, wen ning, wen qing, lan wangji, jiang yanli, mianmian, etc.)

it's just odd to me. especially if they're talking about the novels.

mxtx didn't give jiang cheng the name "sandu shengshou" as a quirky coincidence. there's a REASON she named him & his sword after the 3 poisons of Buddhism (specifically ignorance, greed, and hatred). it's crucial to the story that jiang cheng is NOT selfless and that wei wuxian IS.

it's important to accept that wei wuxian is, by their society's standards, not morally gray; he represents several Buddhist ideals in direct contrast of jiang cheng and multiple people attest to wei wuxian's strong moral character, which is a lot of why jiang cheng even feels bitter about him to begin with.

it's crucial, because by the end of the novel jiang cheng realizes the extent of this and begins to let go!

the twin prides thing wasn't jiang cheng wanting them to 100% mirror the twin jades. he does care about wei wuxian, but he wanted wei wuxian to stay his right hand man, in part the way wei changze was for jiang fengmian.

and if there's one thing you can notice about wei changze in the novels, it's that literally nobody talks about him. he is only ever mentioned when his cool mysterious mountain sect wife cangse-sanren is mentioned, or (even more rarely) when they discuss him as a servant to jiang fengmian. regardless of jiang fengmian's own feelings, wei changze was considered lesser to him and didn't seem to outdo him, since nobody's out there years later still waxing poetry about wei changze's skills.

it may not be the only thing jiang cheng wants out of a twin pride dynamic, but it is a big part of it. regardless of his parents' intentions in taking wei wuxian in and treating him certain ways, this twin pride right-hand man thing is what jiang cheng has felt owed since childhood. he gave up his dogs for wei wuxian, people gossip about his sect heir position with wei wuxian there... jiang cheng wants the reciprocation of what he views as personal sacrifices.

he is ignorant to the depth of what wei wuxian must've suffered for over 6 years as a malnourished orphan child on the streets. he hates how wei wuxian's intelligence, witty charm, and cultivation abilities are naturally stronger than his own. he does care about wei wuxian a lot and want them to be together as sort of-brothers, sort of-friends, sort of-young master and sect servant...

...but if it's between that unclear (yet still caring) relationship and being able to save himself just a little bit more, jiang cheng nearly always manages to clam up in the face of danger and choose the latter, which ultimately benefits himself most. maybe it's a stretch to call that sort of thing greed, but it certainly isn't selfless.

there are of course plenty of justifications for this. it's his duty as sect heir. his home and sect was severely damaged by the wen attack and subsequent war; he had to protect himself, etc.

but doesn't that prove the point?

wei wuxian may be charming, but in terms of pure social standing, he is lower and far more susceptible to being punished or placed in harm's way by people who have more power and money. to protect wei wuxian, yunmeng jiang's long-term head disciple and semi-family member, even in the face of backlash and public scrutiny would've been the selfless thing to do. this is what wei wuxian does for the wen remnants in the burial mounds.

jiang cheng does not choose this. it's not even an unreasonable choice for him to make! nobody else in the great clans is doing such a thing, stepping out of line to take on a burden that could weaken them in the long-run. wei wuxian himself doesn't hate jiang cheng for it; he lets go of these things and focuses on what good he can do in the present.

jiang cheng thinks further into the future - what would happen to him if he continued vouching for wei wuxian and taking his side? what about jiang cheng's face, his sect's face? would wei wuxian even care to reciprocate somehow? everyone expects him to cut off wei wuxian for being dangerous, for threatening his position, for...

do you see what i mean? to call jiang cheng selfless for falling in line with exactly what people expected him to do after the war is not only wrong, it's foolish.

"but they faked their falling-out!" okay. why fake it to begin with, except to protect jiang cheng and the jiang sect's own face? is that selfless? who does it ultimately serve to protect? wei wuxian canonically internalizes the idea that he stains all that he touches, including lan wangji, and agrees to the fake fight because he doesn't want to cause the jiang sect harm. regardless, it eventually slides into a true falling-out, and in the end jiang cheng is more or less unscathed reputation-wise while wei wuxian falls.

that isn't selfless. it's many things! it's respecting his clan and his ancestors, it's making a good plan for the future of his sect and cultivation... but it isn't a truly selfless in the interest of what's right rather than in the interest of duty and what's good for him and his family lineage.

that brings me to my next point: even though wei wuxian hid the truth of the golden core transfer, jiang cheng spent nearly 20 years believing that the golden core "renewal" he was given was a birthright gift of wei wuxian's from baoshan-sanren, an immortal sect teacher of wei wuxian's mother's and a martial elder to wei wuxian.

of course we all know that's a big fat lie, but jiang cheng believed that wei wuxian gave up a critical emergency use gift to him for decades! he was lied to, yes, but jiang cheng immediately agreed without even needing to be convinced. the light in his dead eyes came back with hope the moment wei wuxian even said baoshan-sanren's name. he accepted wei wuxian's offer to give that up to him and take it via identity theft without missing a beat.

with how mysterious and revered baoshan-sanren is, that's obviously not a light sacrifice to just give up to anyone, no matter how close they might be to you. pretending to be wei wuxian to take the gift could even be considered dangerous. what if she found out and got offended? could wei wuxian be hurt by that?

jiang cheng doesn't even hesitate. wei wuxian is the one who mentions that if jiang cheng doesn't pretend to be him, the immortal master could get angry and they'd both be goners. and funnily enough, the day they do go to "the mountain", jiang cheng is the one worried and suspiciously wondering if wei wuxian was lying to him or had misremembered.

of course they've both been traumatized like hell prior to this point. but still: it speaks to how broken he was at the moment as well as to his character overall.

i digress: jiang cheng "gets his golden core back" via what he believed was a gift that should've been wei wuxian's to use in serious emergencies. rather than use it for himself, wei wuxian risked his own safety and gave it to jiang cheng... and jiang cheng still ends up embittered and angry, believing that wei wuxian is arrogant and selfish.

if he truly views them as 100% brothers and equals with no caveats, why would he think that way? it's not like he needs to grovel before wei wuxian for doing that, or to reciprocate... but this is what i mean when i say jiang cheng feels he is owed things by wei wuxian. wei wuxian's actions hold a very different weight in jiang cheng's mind, and jiang cheng himself doesn't ever act the same way, except once.

is it wrong for him to feel like he is owed something? it depends. many asian cultures, including my own, feel that a person owes their family in ways that may not make sense to westerners. for example, it's considered normal for a child to owe their parents for giving birth to them, or to other caretakers for feeding, clothing, sheltering, educating them, etc.

however, something like verbally saying "thank you" or "i'm sorry" to family is considered crazy- why would you owe that? you're supposed to inconvenience your family; saying thank you or sorry is the sort of thing you say to a stranger or acquaintance. i get half-seriously lectured by my elders on this a lot even now, even though they know such phrases are just considered good manners in the US.

this muddies up the idea of wei wuxian being jiang cheng's family vs his family's charge or servant even more. jiang cheng wants wei wuxian to be close... but ultimately doesn't really choose to use what power he DOES have to protect wei wuxian. he considers himself still owed something that in his mind wei wuxian flagrantly never repays.

this isn't even getting into how despite spending a majority of his time with the yiling patriarch he never once noticed that wei wuxian stopped using any spiritual power-based cultivation. even lan wangji, who met them far more rarely, realized that something was wrong and that wei wuxian had taken some sort of spiritual damage, hence the "come with me to gusu".

of course manpain is fun and i'm not immune to the juicy idea of them reconciling and talking things out... but jiang cheng is deeply mired in his own desire to be "above" wei wuxian in multiple ways, and doesn't realize the extent of wei wuxian's actions, the intentions behind them, and the consequences wei wuxian knowingly faced for them.

to not recognize this about jiang cheng, especially in the novels, is really revisionist if you ask me. i reiterate that i really do like him a lot. he's flawed, angry, traumatized and has poor coping mechanisms, an overall fascinating character... but he is not selfless nor ideal, and i seriously draw the line at people saying he is.

wen ning shoves this all into his face at lotus pier to disastrous results. it is the reason why jiang cheng's a total mess at guanyin temple, and the reason jiang cheng ultimately doesn't tell wei wuxian about the fact that he ran towards the wens on purpose.

for that one last act of his to have really been selfless, he needs to not seek anything in return. he did it purely because it was right to do to protect someone else. if that means wei wuxian never finds out about it, so be it.

that moment that ended up causing jiang cheng irreversible harm is not a debt that wei wuxian owes him. it hurts, but no matter how bitter it is, that realization is so important to him changing in the future.

[mchlgayser]

hii can you please make more jobe ffs (when you can) i love them 🫶🏽🫶🏽

𓂃⭑ᜊ: ART GALLERY ft jobe bellingham

𓂃⭑ᜊ an: I LOVE writing Jobe's fanfic ngl, I realized my writings are neater everytime I'm writing for him skhsksj somethings wrong with me

𓂃⭑ᜊ content warning: none

𓂃⭑ᜊ: @iwritesjud3's masterlist

'I want you guys to be on your best behavior today... Andrew this indicates especially for you.' Miss. Coffee said in her promising stern voice, Andrew was half-listening, mostly talking to you and you elbowed the right on his stomach making him wince in pain 'Yes Miss.' The bus stopped abruptly as the students lined up to exit the bus. You and your closest friend, Andrew are at the very back, taking your best moment procrastinating as you take out your Canon brand camera alongside with your sling messenger bag stuffing it with your iPad, a book, notebook and your pencil case.

The bag and camera sling over to your shoulder, Andrew was watching you occasionally looking back to the front to catch a stare or Miss. Coffee 'Hurry up!' She said and you both scurried away.

Since today's weather is somewhat, colder you are thankful enough for your generous mother that reminds you to take a thick jacket before going out. Right now you are wearing your school's uniform, a thick and soft fleece baseball jacket, a scarf wrapping over your neck, stocking pants, leg warmers and to match it all, a high-cut black converse. You didn't bother to tie your hair, letting it loose since it somehow helps you to reduce cold on your neck and ears.

You hop out of the bus with Andrew and join your other schoolmate's lining ups at the main entrance of the gallery, 'I have to remind you all again, our school is not the only school on a trip today, that includes Birmingham's Academy. So once again, please behave yourself and stay as quiet as possible. For that, you can enjoy the rest of the day to yourselves.' The main entrance open and one by one of us started to flood the hall.

Your eyes were attached to the drawing and paintings that are hanging on the walls, some placed on the table and put in a casket, there are writings below, the origins, the painters, the drawers, and the story behind the art and you adore it all! You are taking pictures of the art sometimes with Andrew in it, posing for the camera.

One of the picture is Andrew doing a silly face, you are laughing at him 'You are so quirky!' You commented making him snort back at your quick remark. You and Andrew are having your best time adorning the arts that you failed to noticed you had caught an attention from a certain pupil from the Birmingham's Academy!

Jobe went inside a bit late because he was talking over with his trainer. His loyal friends who promised to wait from him had somehow left him to go to God knows where. He was looking around for any signs of his friends but find them nowhere. Instead, his eyes caught with something, perhaps, someone.

He could notice the girl from far over, she is with a person around her age, probably her friend, they were laughing while she take pictures of the boy. Jobe could not clearly see her but he could catch a glimpse of her smile and laugh, it was unclear due to the loud atmosphere inside the hall but he could still sense the tint of honey-like and her contagious laughter.

Her eyes are twinkling when she blinked, it was like the whole universe is on hold within her stares, Jobe noticed she had stopped laughing, her friend are whispering something over to her, and looked behind immediately making contact with him. It was as if his world stopped. Her whole focuses are now on him and he was stoned and nervous.

The pressure melted away the seconds the girl offered him a gentle smile and quickly averted her attention elsewhere. Jobe could feel his heart throbbing inside him. It was loud and clear he could feel it about to explode out of its cage. The smile she sent his way was the kind of smile he could never forget, even if he wanted to, the smile he yearns for more.

It was nearing the end of the trip, you are on your way out to take a breather at the gallery's front garden, Andrew has separated from you to join his classmates in playing games. You sat on the bench grabbing your camera to take pictures. The trees, the fountain, the pigeons from any sort of angle. You stop to check and a certain picture caught your engagement. It was one of your pictures you took of a pigeon resting on a tree, you saw the same guy from before Andrew accused of staring at you.

He is behind the tree, almost like he was hiding. You avert your attention back to the tree and slowly walk there. You could almost sense a presence behind the tree and you peeked your head 'Huh?' The boy startled, almost stumbling to the ground if you hadn't caught him 'You should be careful.' You let out and smile at him, you weren't very sure if it was something that you said or done but his face turned red, he was hiding the smile that plastered on his face by turning his head around 'Are you alright? You face.' You did a motion to your face and look at him 'Yes, it's the cold!' You nod 'What are you doing behind this tree anyway? Are you hiding?' He shakes his head 'No I was just... Watching you...! But not in a creepy way! I just thought that you are very beautiful especially your eyes!' You were baffled, having a hard time containing your laugh 'Do you want to laugh?' And you did, he was cute explaining it 'Sorry, I didn't mean to!'

He wasn't offended by your honest remark or feeling belittle instead he was feeling giddy, somehow because he was able to talk to you.

[redgoldsparks]

I've never won National Novel Writing Month, but I am participating for my 7th time (not consecutively) this year. In the past I've always enjoyed receiving the Pep Talks from published authors, which are essentially like letters of encouragement to all of the writers trying to pour out the first draft of a novel in a month. A few of the ones I read, especially in my first year of doing NaNo, really stuck with me so I was very delighted to be asked to contribute one this year. You can read my Pep Talk here on the NaNo site but I will also post the full text below the cut. And to anyone doing NaNo this year-- good luck and keep writing!

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

I wanted to be a writer long before I knew I had anything to say. 

I had a childhood immersed in stories. My parents took me to the local library every week, where I checked out stacks of fantasy novels. I would pick up any book with a dragon, elf, sword, castle, wizard, or spaceship on the cover and my heroes were the authors and illustrators of these magical worlds. 

At some point I started to wonder about these writers. Who were they? What were their lives like? I began to pay more attention to author’s notes and was astonished to discover that many authors I loved mentioned each other in their acknowledgements. In The Ladies of Grace Adieu, Susanna Clarke thanked Neil Gaimen, Terri Windling, Ellen Datlow, and Charles Vess. In Stardust, Gaimen thanked Clarke in return, and also Diana Wynne Jones. Ursula K Le Guin and Robin Hobb wrote blurbs for Patrick Rothfuss’ Name of the Wind. In Finder, Emma Bull thanked Terri Windling, Steven Brust, and her husband, Will Shetterly. Tamora Pierce, George RR Martin, Peter S Beagle and Kelly Link all blurbed books by Ellen Kushner, who thanked more people than I have space to name. 

Holy shit, I realized. All of these authors know each other! They’re friends! This was followed by a second thought: If I want to meet them, and especially if I want to be friends with them, maybe I should publish a fantasy novel myself. 

That realization gave me a new goal, but no specific pointers on how to pursue it. I started out as many young authors do: I began writing long fantasy narratives with orphaned protagonists, extremely derivative of the fantasy I’d read as a teen. During multiple successive NaNoWriMos I chipped away at a YA novel about a boy and a dragon. I started drawing a webcomic about a thief who tried to rob a monastery only to be foiled by a witch with the same plan. These stories had characters, settings, and some plot but what they didn’t have was themes. They didn’t ask any questions about what it means to be human, and they didn’t touch on any of the big concerns I was wrestling with in my personal life: gender, sexuality, and identity. 

It took the rather painful experience of a literary agent telling me my fantasy work was unpublishable before I set my early stories aside, stepped back, and changed the direction of my writing towards exploring the big, vulnerable themes I had been shying away from. 

What I discovered is that instead of making writing harder, facing these themes head-on made writing easier. In my earlier work I had frequently hit writing blocks, places in my outlining process where I felt like I was wading through mud. When I didn’t know what I was trying to say on a meta level with my story it was often hard to decide what should happen next at the plot level. I would send my characters from location to location, but I’d be unsure of what they should do there, because I was unclear on how their actions added up to a larger picture. That feeling of being stuck and uncertain over what should come next fell away when I started focusing more clearly on expressing my bigger themes. Suddenly the path forward felt smooth. All it took to follow it was bravery and persistence. 

I also achieved my initial goal in wanting to be a writer. I have now met and befriended many other authors, not the same set that I idolized as a teen, but different writers who are exploring many of the same themes and questions in their work as I do in mine. I have friends, colleagues, co-authors, and writing partners to thank in my acknowledgements– often more than I have space to name. 

During this month, I know many of you are focused solely on pouring out the words. That is very important, but I recommend you take some time to think about the larger themes of your story as well. What message, hope, fear, question, or truth are you trying to communicate to the world through your writing? I promise that clearly articulating your themes will help you tell your story and find the friends and writers who will become your community. 

Good luck, and know that I am writing alongside you, and rooting for you! 

Maia Kobabe, Fall 2023