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bowieandqueen11 · 10 months

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Strawberry and Black Tea / Sanji Imagine

Request: for the fluffy sanji request-- maybe sanji and the reader end up sleeping in each other's rooms one night because its hard for them to sleep apart. reader gives sanji a good night kiss and he just falls into a lovesick puddle on the floor.

Something short and sweet because this idea is so so lovely, thank you anon!! :)

Warning: mentions of child abuse!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes @suuho.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

It was the Iron Mask that had left Sanji with such a distaste for the dark.

Even now, lying tossing and turning in his bunk on the Going Merry, the dark starlight that creeped through the lone porthole seemed to do nothing but shroud his eyes in a long-suppressed misery. It reminded him far too much of home. Of his father. Of nights spent trembling in dank corners: nothing but the touch of flimsy cobwebs against his outreached hands, and the ratchet of his own voice cawing off the empty stone chamber to ease the frightened child.

Until his paranoid eyes couldn’t tell of the receding monstrous shadow shrivelling up the tower was the receding form of his father, or the unyielding loosening of shrill’s death fingers rasping uneasily across the stone wall by his cage, finally come to fulfil her promise to take him away.

She grew closer and closer, until her liripipe seemed to crow through the bars as she leant down through the shadows to kiss his forehead.

He started scrambling back desperately along the dirty dust, still too young and inexperienced with the true hardships of his life to try and face them head on. Instead he buried his head into his crossed arms, tried his hardest to calm his panting breath, closed his eyes and squeezed. It was the only way, he thought in that tumultuous moment, it was the only at he would be able to hold onto his sanity. To pretend it was you. To pretend it was you. To believe it was you.

A rat scurried out of a hole between cracked shackles, sniffing the air as it noticed Sanji cowering in the corner: the same boy who had showed the rodent such kindness only e weeks before, feeding it leftover scraps of his mother’s favourite crumble, trying his best to clear the dish before his father realised it was missing. The poor thing ran over to Sanji’s shoe, it’s tiny claws pinching into the forgotten prince’s skin as it raised its little body up closer to him. But to that child - oh, that poor child - it was like bony fingernails biting into his bone and extruding coarse chills straight to the bone.

She had come. The wrong person had come. So he did what any young child would do. He started screaming.

He screamed your name. He screamed for his ma, until the screams died, choked by the wails sticking in his throat. Then he whimpered, clawing at the metal screwed against his cheeks until his fingernails were left stunted, jagged, bloodied.

He thought about how alone he was, but realised quickly that wasn’t what made him so sad. He thought about you: how you would react, how heartbroken you would be when his father announced to the world that the young Prince has perished in a terrible accident. He imagined your tear streaked face as you would watch the faux funeral procession parade in a cheerful solemnity down past the main market and into the sea, stealing away into the alleyway and seeing how alone you were.

Most of all, he felt guilty. Guilty that this was all his fault. That he had proved his brothers right. He was weak. He had destroyed his mother. He had ruined you. He was weak. And so he crumpled into a ball, falling onto his side and allowing the sweet embrace of the shadows to lap over him.

His cries had quickly fallen into pitiful whimpers. Then quiet sobs, jolting his body forward in convulsions that had left him gasping for breath every few minutes or so, only broken by the almost angelic sound of the iron wrought door being shoved unsteadily open, and the pained whisper from the top of the stairs. ’Sanji? Sanji! Where the- ow- are you?!’

'Y/-Y/n?' He clambered to his knees, and shoved his arms desperately through the bars, as if he could levitate you down towards him. 'I'm here! I'm here - please! Y/n!' His little fists began to bang on the bars as he scraped up to lean on his knees. 'Help me - get me out, please! She's going to kill me!'

It took you less than thirty seconds to scale down the remaining steps, nearly flying chin first down into the dirt. You didn't care though: not when Sanji's fingernails sliced desperately into your skin and burrowed into the meat of your arm, tugging your forehead against the cool metal of his own. You did your best to cup his face between the clunky mask, pressing your fingers down to his neck and pulling him even closer to you. 'It's alright - it's alright. I'm here. I'm going to get you out of here, Sanj. We're going to run, we're going to get away.'

He refused to let you go, even as you bit your lower lip in concentration and wiggled into your pocket to pull out a stash of bobby pins you had pilfered from Vinsmoke Reiju when you had slipped into the castle. Poor Sanji nearly flies backwards onto his behind when you finally manage to click the locked gate open, yet the realisation hardly seems to dawn on him; he's leapt on you in a second flat, knees knocking the wind out of your stomach as he tumbles his torso against your awaiting hug.

'You came', he heaved out between sobs, shoving his grimacing face into the throbbing pulse point on your neck, 'you came back for me... why would you come back for me.'

The absolute dejection in the final warble of his desperate plea made you bite down on your tongue so harshly, you had to shove it against the roof of your mouth for a moment to stop yourself from spluttering on blood. 'Because, Sanj... because you're my best friend. And I love you. And we made a promise, didn't we? We're going to go find the All Blue, but we're only going to do it together. Not one without the other, right?'

He head bobs quickly, desperately. Shaking fingers latch tighter into your back, and although he wants nothing more than to grab onto your fingers and fly to freedom up that winding staircase, he slides his legs to the side and comes to sit awkwardly on your lap like a frail bird. The soft tip of his nose tickles the shell of your ear as he whispers: 'like black tea and strawberry?'

You snort, but nod your head against the side of his curls, tightening your grip around the shaking expanse of his spine. 'Yes chef, like black tea and strawberry. Even though that sounds absolutely disgusting.' His laugh- god, his laugh was so warming, even if the sound cracks, hoarse and low as his face balls up. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks slats covering his eyes and began to trace down an old bruised hollow that lay sharp and gaunt on his neck.

'I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry-', he starts to panic again, one eye blinking open as he stares into the inky depths of the umbral shade gathering over your heads. 'This is my fault. It's my fault we have to leave.'

'No.' You grab onto his shirt, nearly making him wince, but both of you refuse to unlatch from the other. 'No. This is not your fault. This will never be your fault, and I don't want you to think that for a second.'

The authoritativeness behind your shaking words was almost enough to make him believe you.

He nods slowly, but you can tell he's doing it just to placate you. 'I love you too, by the way', he sniffles, finally leaning back enough so he could wipe what he deemed as an unsightly amount of snot away from his nose. More than you know. More than he could even put into words. More than his young, frightful heart could even yet understand. He's too bashful to look you in the eye, instead skimming his eyes quickly over the torn threads of his kneecap, but finally allowing himself a respite of calm in the knowledge that the love he had been so desperately begging for hadn't abandoned him.

Before the adrenaline could rush out of his body, he leant forward with his head still bowed, and kissed your cheek as best he could in the darkness.

You hadn't left him. You hadn't: you never would. The revelation seems to shift the world around him, coaxing him into believing the sweet twilight sleeting across his eyes was sunlight instead; even though he still felt like his life was spent as a coin flipping through the air, so unsure of where it will land - of where it belongs - of the choices it will wrought, it felt a little easier afterwards, knowing he would eventually land. That it was your hand that would catch him.

He still hated the dark. And he still loved you more than life itself. Which is why you weren't surprised to find yourself running around your room at nearly one in the morning, trying your best to discreetly gather your bed sheets and sneak off towards the boy's cabin.

Before you could even finish gathering your pillow into your arms, the melodic rapt of Sanji's knuckles had rung out through the door. It took you less than thirty seconds to slide across the planks and fling it open, but it took the poor chef a lot longer to catch his breath and try to look more put together; he was doing his best to look suave by the way he was leaning his elbow against the doorframe, but the wind swept hair gave away the fact that he had come running over the side of the ship to get to you. The soft pant of his breath, the ruddy cheeks, the slight spasm of his abdominal muscles through his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, the scratch of his teeth against his inner lip line: you knew his tell-tale sings, his idiosyncrasies far too well. The man was flustered beyond belief, even if he did his best to cock his head and beam down at you.

What really gave it away - what really, really gave it away, though, was the fact that he literally had to clasp his hands together in front of his chest and wring them to stop them launching forward and grabbing onto you with the cloying, overwhelming power of eight octopus tentacles.

You almost have to shove your hand against your mouth to stifle your laugh at the way he flicked his head back to move the hair away from his eye: to anyone else, it would have seemed like an innocent tick. But he knew, and more importantly you knew too, that it was just so his glistening eyes could wander across your face, as if the lines and marks of your face mapped out the most beautiful treasure in all the seas.

'Well, my strawberry, I hope I didn't wake you from your beauty sleep. Not that you need it! But I, I was hoping, if you were to grace me with such luck, that I may come in-'

Before he can even finish, you've grabbed the knot of his tie and have hauled him across the door line like a fisherman reeling in his hook. Sanji goes flying, landing safely in your open arms, and flopping his back down pleasantly into your hammock. Sanji's eyes widen as he comes sliding down the material towards you, headfirst, stopped only when his chest does the job for him. His arms thump clumsily around your back, using his fall as an excuse to pull you as physically close to him as he can. He huddles up against you, his hand spreading across your shoulder blade and guiding your ear down to rest comfortably just above his right pec. You flush, pretending you don't feel the firm ripple of his tense muscle: don't hear the pounding shudder of his tell-tale heart.

'I'll take that as a yes, ma chérie.'

Distracted by the way your arm falls around his stomach, idly reaching up to curl back the stray edges of his fringe behind the corner of his eye again, his legs inch closer... and closer... and closer... until his left one has plunked down above your own. You have to bury your head into his neck to stop yourself from laughing at how incarnadine his face spreads, warm pink waves radiating off his cheeks as you lift up your knees and slide your free leg in between the heavy weight of his thighs. Bless his heart, it must have taken some exertion to hold it the way he did, making sure not to place his full weight on you, but just enough that the contact was physically there.

'You know', Sanji starts, once he has calmed his heart from beating so rapidly he feared it may have flopped out through his throat, 'Zeff used to give me a kiss goodnight.'

You lift your head to stare at him incredulously. 'No he didn't. I was there for only... uh...', you lift the arm hanging over the soft skin of his bellybutton to ostentatiously count on your fingers, waving them in front of his face. 'Hm, look at that - fifteen years!?'

He leans his head down until his chin is tucked into his neck, and does his best to try and hide the way his lips are warbling into a grin; he tries to play it off as him finding your antics amusing, as he strokes his fingers tenderly over the warm cotton on your shoulder, but inside he's just so beyond giddy to know that you remembered. To know that you had been together so long. To know that after all this time, after all the two of you had been through, he would gladly dredge through the unspeakable caliginosity again, if it meant he could always arrive at this moment. If it meant, no matter what his life threw at him, he could spend every moment of it by your side.

Even if the shadows are juddering up the walls of the girl's cabin too: even if your stroking fingers can't mask the memories of death's sharp knuckles stretching out across the walls. Even if he were to land, right now, in the waves: if he were to capsize and drown, he would be happy. He would be happy, because it was your hand instead. Your hand.

Too timid still, too apprehensive to admit that which had been a heavy weight holding down the flight of his sweet heart, he hides his love behind canorous tease.

'Yeah, well, Zeff did it when he could be arsed. Which I’m pretty sure was never.'

You snort, and he delights at the sound that he had drawn out. His vice like grip on your side tightens, but you decide better than to tease him for the way he begins squirming himself against you. He finally settles properly on his side, the bridge of his nose so dangerously close to yours that you can feel the shallow warmth of his breath brush over your bottom lip.

'Well-', he starts, trying to distract himself from your proximity. He was failing horribly, of course, because his eyes kept falling down to stare blankly at the seam of your lips. 'This does sure beat sleeping on the dungeon floor, even if we do have to put up with Luffy's snoring.'

'Hm, the dungeon wasn't too bad. Cosy', you say teasingly, letting your finger dance down the shell of his ear, pointing the tip against the jut of his chin and lifting his gaze with a smirk.

'How'd you figure that, sweetheart?' The feel of your finger against his skin, no matter how miniscule the touch, was enough to make the fibres of his body burn with such a want that it almost scared him.

'Because... it was the first place you ever kissed me.'

Sanji starts, eyes widening as he feels his limbs turn to stone.

He can't hide in the shadows anymore. Now, he has to come into the light. Has to let himself be free.

'Yeah, well strawberry', he wets his bottom lip with a dart of his tongue, and folds himself further down the hammock so his knees are drawn warmly up against your own. The shaking of his torso is only overshadowed by the widening of his eyes, so full of deep wonder the dams might have burst and drowned you if he hadn't spent so years cautiously restraining himself. You draw a finger down the pulse point of his neck, and he feels that resolve weaken.

He feels like that frightened boy again, but he knows it has to be now. He knows he's been lucky to have had the luxury of borrowed time, but the bell has tolled: the bill has come due, and now he must admit the truth of his life - of his soul - of his heart, for he doesn't know when it will become too late.

He wanted to kiss you. God, he had wanted to kiss you so badly for fifteen years it hurt. Now, now he was going to create his own light: he was going to thrive, in spite of it all. He was going to allow that child to live. The cage was open. He was free. His choices were decided by nobody now but by his own ruling, his own compassion, and he had wasted far too many years training himself to be sceptical, precise, composed.

'... If you may be so kind as to permit it... I think this beautiful ship might end up being the second.' He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He suddenly becomes hyperaware of it all: of the closeness of your thigh against his own: slick, naked, vulnerable below your pyjama shorts. Your warm breath, inching closer and closer to his trembling mouth as he juts his head back to look warily at you, so afraid he's messed everything up.

But then you surprise him; you rush forward, overwhelming and crushing in the way your lips pliantly slide over his own, licking against the inside of his bottom lip as it drops open, breathlessly.

He had been waiting for this - over and over since the two of you were children. This thought - the idea that he would finally get here was the only thing that had kept him grounded. Kept him sane. And so he kissed you back: heartily, heavily, with a slipping mouth awaiting your tongue, and clawing fingers coming up to rapt into your cheeks as if you were something fleeting: as if he were still spinning in mid-air, waiting for the shadows to snuff the light out again.

When you finally find the strength, the resilience to pull away, neither of you seem to be able to muster the courage to just finally admit the truth you had both always known. Sanji, instead, looks youthfully shy as he tries to hide his wanting - god, so longing gaze behind his fringe once more, although his tongue can't help but prod against his bottom lip as if in disbelief.

'Like strawberry and black tea, right?', he finally asks against the side of your mouth, nudging his nose against your own and smiling fondly.

'Like strawberry and black tea.'

#one piece #sanji #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #one piece imagine #opla #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla imagine #sanji fluff #vinsmoke sanji fluff #one piece x reader

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vilsoo · 2 years

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7 MINUTES IN HELL⌇PRIEST!GETO SUGURU ✟

｡ﾟ･ 𖤐 WORD COUNT : 3,318

｡ﾟ･ 𖤐 SYNOPSIS : you’ve been getting vivid night terrors from a demon you believe is stalking you. you meet father geto at the cathedral, confessing how immoral and horrifying these night terrors were it broke you. but it wasn’t until you discover the dark, twisted truth behind them all…

｡ﾟ･ 𖤐 WARNINGS : noncon → dubcon, sacrilege, blasphemy, rough demonic sex, stalking, breeding, impregnating, religious guilt, betrayal, impersonation, confessional booth sex, degradation, sadism. DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH DARK CONTENT. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. ⚠︎

this is a subplot from my toji fanfic “God’s Whore” where a penitent at St. Reze Cathedral suffers from night terrors. the reader in this story is not the same reader from the og fanfic.

ㅤ HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] As you are getting seated, be mindful that this simulation ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, violent themes, and jarring motions. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Any kind of photography are not allowed during the ride as well as phones. And absolutely no eating, smoking, or drinking. Thanks for your attention and we hope you all enjoy.

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In the vulnerable depths of your mind, there was this figure. A disturbing creature quietly lurking, waiting until all is calm when the darkness shrouds over the daylight skies. This darkness incarnate springs to life as a vicious, fang-bearing, gnarly, feral incubus. Born to linger on the fragile, innocent edges of your mental state and drawing you in with its sapphire eyes.

His robust figure was a silhouette on the wall; curved horns and midnight husk, he looks down on your slumber, grasping at your revelries and feeds on that furtive wanton lust. His sinful seduction is so cruel and deadly that you lie hopeless with suffering. Your disturbed sleep leads to chaotic thoughts of sexual nightmares and disturbing hypnotic states of scintillating salacious lust, night after night with this heavy weight upon your chest from an incubus growling for your ruttish, sluttish behavior ‘till your descending into a mad fulfillment of sex.

But this hypnotic state was nothing but a curse to you. As wonderful as it sounds to indulge into an immense amount of ecstasy, all you could think about was the trauma. The terror, the pain, the fear… And the more you were overridden with fear, the more he feeds off that. You were trapped in a never-ending nightmare of sex and horror.

The only place where you feel safe and away from the night terrors was at the cathedral. Welcoming with open arms to all sinners in need of guidance, prayer, and forgiveness. You were familiar with someone from the clergy, Father Geto, the most kindhearted and genuine man that cares so much for your wellbeing. He lets you feel safe with him. He lets you feel comfortable with him. He was the only available man you could trust opening up to amidst the agony and pain you’ve endured.

You remember stepping foot in the cathedral on your first Sunday, suddenly hit by deja vu as if you seen this place before. Shrugging that off, however, you were desperately seeking advice on how to overcome your pain. But then finally came a miracle; the most comforting guidance from a gentleman like Father Geto. He was open-minded, he was tender-hearted. With his patience and his virtue, you kept coming back every Sunday, slowly opening up about your fears, traumas, sexual frustrations, and strong guilt. No matter what you confessed, the sincere priest offered the greatest sympathy and rapport you could ever imagine. You treasured his solace and idolized his wisdom. Father Geto’s presence alone was your gift from god.

But the more you spent time with him, your gruesome night terrors from this feral demon grow stronger and strangely vivid every night. You wake up feeling violated, ashamed, broken. It was as if Father Geto’s comforting words was all futile and these night terrors will continue to haunt you for god knows how long. You never, never confessed to anybody about these dangerous night terrors, and if you were to describe them to your therapist, you could only manage to do so metaphorically. They don’t understand. Nobody could understand.

There was no other way to describe the horrors you’ve suffered through. Left with no hope, you had one last option.

The evening mass was over and the church goers and clergy members were departing. As confessionals were wrapping up, you were the last to sit in the booth alone with Father Geto. Although the both of you already knew each other, the screen covering the both of you was helpful enough to let everything out of your system. You quickly made the sign of the cross, told the date of your last confession, and exhaled sharply as you were mentally preparing for the dark truths were about to confess.

“Ah, Y/N. My most endearing penitent of the church,” Geto greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Father Geto… I’m— I’m just gonna get straight to the point. Sometimes I’m not entirely honest whenever I’m in confessionals. With the pain that I’m dealing with and you’re aware of, it’s not… really the whole story.”

“You can tell me anything,” he reassures, shifting in his seat. “Only if you are comfortable, of course. But please do know that I won’t condemn you at all.”

“I know that, Father. I’ve been trying to force myself to open up about everything. Why I’m really suffering from these night terrors. But I held back because of how unbelievable it sounds. So please… hear me out tonight, Father. You are my last hope.”

The priest remains quiet from across the screen as he patiently awaits for you to continue. Flashbacks of those terrorizing night terrors sent a trail of goosebumps hugging your skin. Your throat felt clogged as if you were about to cry, but you fought back your fears and your reluctance. It was time you spoke of the forbidden in desperate need of a cure.

“Everywhere I go, I see this… shadowy creature. Hiding somewhere as it watches me from afar, never taking its eyes off me. When it’s night, I’m afraid of falling asleep because I see it everytime in my dreams, turning them to night terrors. I force myself to stay awake every night but it’s as if the demon won’t let me… I end up sleepy, passed out somewhere and then he awakens whenever I’m unconscious. In these night terrors, the— the demon, the incubus— I feel him violate me every night,” your voice trembled as you confessed, crossing your arms together to hug yourself.

“What he does to me when I’m asleep— it’s like, my body is asleep but my soul is awake and alive someplace else, like a grand altar in Hell. This sounds carnal, but my body succumbs to the sexual energy from him and I can’t fight it. Some night terrors are pleasurable while some are… traumatizing. He tells me that my sexual energy is special and that I should reserve myself for only him. And the more he feeds off it, the more I feel… filthy. Everything that I’ve done with him just weighs more guilt and trauma on me. I— I don’t know how long I can live like this, Father…”

“Oh dear,” the priest consoled, sighing deeply. “And you say you feel guilty about having these night terrors that make you indulge to sexual pleasure?”

You sniffled, voice almost cracking. “Yes. I’m— I’m a sinner in the eyes of god… I feel as if my purity crumbled and fulfilling celibacy was a waste, Father. Because I— I’m ashamed to say this… That demon changed something in me. I offer my arousal and my body to him every night. In exchange, I feel bliss and pleasure, but it all turns into this… horrifying nightmare in the end.”

Geto pursed his lips as he heard you silently weeping from across the screen, staring blankly at the wooden platform. “Poor dear… Having these sexual desires and carnality were never a sin. It’s normal to act upon your sexual urges. Now, I don’t mean to get personal, but it will help if you tell me; when you’re awake and not asleep, do you still feel these urges?”

There was a pause, then a deep inhale and exhale. “I do,” you mumbled. “Like I said, the demon changed something in me. It’s as if these urges are animalistic, lewd, and salacious…”

Father Geto hummed in amusement. “Animalistic urges. I feel as if you have this primal need to be dominated on, or having a bigger, dangerous man having you their way… Pinning you down, bending you over and pounding into you like the needy little slut you were this whole time…”

You frowned and quickly averted your gaze back to the screen, confused after hearing Father Geto’s voice suddenly change so ominously inhuman. Instead of hearing a delicate monotone, it sounded as if two people were speaking at once. A deep voice more guttural and aggressive, harmonized by a familiar female voice that was more sultry and sadistic, but heard as a soft whisper. You believed you were hallucinating.

“Father?”

Suddenly you felt a shiver coursing down your back. It felt as if the air had gone thicker, leaving your body frozen. Squinting at the screen, it appeared that Father Geto’s silhouette was completely still. No words, no movements at all. Struck with silence, your chest was thrumming loudly while the nerves of your body failed to oblige. Something felt unsettling to you.

Concerned about this prolonged silence and why his voice suddenly changed, you stand up and reach for the doorknob, only to suddenly halt at the sight of illuminating red rays peeking out the door frame. You quickly gasped and your heart raced erratically, petrified at what had just happened. Why the atmosphere and environment felt strangely familiar, yet dangerous. Why you felt a strong sense of deja vu. Even though your fear had driven your curiosity, opening the door was a mistake.

You were now in the same place where you end up every night— the altar of Hell. A night terror chamber illuminating the entire world a malicious dark red. There was the hotness of fire, the fresh atmosphere of death and evil. Muddy waters of blood and sin lurking in the gloomy pit you see every night, surrounded by dark toned flowers, smoke, and the polished structure of the cathedral.

It was no wonder this cathedral gave you deja vu. You’ve already been bere before.

You shut the wooden booth door and started to panic, your breaths growing heavier and your sense of stability deteriorating. It wasn’t until you looked down at your feet, trailing up your legs and seeing all your clothes were gone, naked skin already coated with blood stains. This was always what you looked like for every night terror. You feel this uncontrollable ache scorching your body from the feeling of despair and hopelessness. You didn’t know if you were lured into yet another dream; hell, you couldn’t even tell if this was reality or not. Your convulsions were flaring uncontrollably, worsening your panic.

“No, no, no… Help! Father Geto! Please, somebody help!” you screamed out, banging your fists on the confessional booth walls out of frustration but hearing nothing except your taunting echos reverberating. Your hopelessness crushed you to the point you collapsed on your knees and started crying once again.

“Father Geto is not here anymore.”

There goes that disturbing voice again. When you turn your head ever so slightly, your eyes widened in horror at the close proximity the incubus’ shadow was peeking under the door. You stood up and rushed to grab the knob to prevent him from getting in, but you were too late. The creature barges in, trapping you in this tight space and shutting the door. With your chest numb in horror, walking back slowly, your eyes travel up his tall figure and into his face. And suddenly your heartbeat expelled all of the air from your lungs at this horrifying sight.

In your dreams, the incubus’ face was more vague and warped, unable to identify any human-like features. But now his figure looked more like Father Geto, utterly paralyzing you with this sinking sensation of diabolical fear and painful turmoil.

Pathetic tears started to stream down your cheeks and your sobs were uncontrollable during your helpless state. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe this was real. To find out the only man you felt safe with in opening up about the endless voids of your crippling chasm of pain… was also the cause of it. He fulfilled his mission and purpose of corrupting you this way, to torment your life for his satisfaction, and left you to feel ashamed about it in the end.

The incubus slanted his head, the end of his wicked lips curving to a small smirk. “What’s the matter, hm? You don’t like me in this form? Even though you knew me as my pathetic priest impersonation, I scare you like this?”

Your vision kept blurring with more tears as you felt furious, betrayed, hurt, and shattered all at once. Your throat started to ache and your trembling voice groveled weak. “It… it was you this whole time…? Sending those nightmares after me every night, violating me..?”

Geto the demon-priest chuckled sinisterly, inching closer to your body that you backed up into the wall, trapped and helpless. “I knew from the very first time you walked into this church… that I was gonna have my own way with you. You had this mask of perfection going on, this whole act of maintaining your purity and innocence for the church. You were obsessed with receiving the validation of being a celibate. When really… you were nothing but a perverted slut behind closed doors, begging for those filthy fantasies of yours to be fulfilled. It didn’t matter who— a stranger, your neighbor, your coworker, your local priest…? Oh, you were so perfect for me the more I kept hearing your wanton thoughts. I’ve watched you every day and do what I want with you every night. Your sexual energy kept me satisfied for weeks, but a creature like me can never have enough. You became the spring in my step, the fire in my chest, the reason for my algolagnia. And for me to abandon my modest persona and back to this form just to give you what you want… you should be thanking me.”

Your heart was racing like wildfire, pounding loudly in your ears. You could feel your own blood being forced through your veins with every loud thump of your broken heart. His large hands travel up your body, its skin texture rocky like scales that burned like coal for days after being shed. You were too stunned from the unfolding of events to fight back and run away. You sobbed, you pleaded, but nothing could stop the demon-priest from the way he was going to have you, just as how he has you wrapped around his finger every night.

Geto had you pinned against the wall, unable to move from the suffocating grip he has on your throat. The cry that tried to rise up from your throat got caught, coming out more as a strangled sob. He bites harshly around your body, sharp teeth sinking into your fragile skin, causing you to squirm only for the scorching pain to torment you more.

“Ah, ah. Did your slutty, stupid brain forget what happens when you try to squirm away from me?” mused the incubus. “You have no control over your body anymore. All of you belongs to me.”

He abruptly flips your body over to face the wall and locks your arms behind your back. Every fiber of your being tenses up at the close proximity he was from behind, his body heat transmitting onto your back. You can feel his cockhead grazing the folds of your swollen cunt, inching it ever so slightly inside. The more you struggled, the more pain accompanied your burning soul. It felt as if numerous tremors were shaking violently in your body as the incubus-priest stretched your cunt. You sobbed helplessly, drool already dripping on the wooden booth floors. His large hand snakes to your face from behind and clasps it over your mouth, snapping his hips against your ass to shove his entire cock inside you.

You let out a muffled cry, your body suddenly surrendering to this indescribable feeling of pleasure and torture. No matter how many times this exact moment of the demon sliding into you occurred in your nightmares, this reality felt oddly different. Your perceptions were more real, more vivid compared to when you’re unconscious. You can feel the texture of skin, you can legitimately feel his cock sliding in and it wasn’t just a throbbing sensation you get when you dream about demon sex. Geto took predatory thrill in your sudden realization and state of helplessness, fueling the fire as he started thrusting without notice. His sexual rage was surging right through you faster than your adrenaline it corrupted you.

“Oh, look at you. Fucking into your virgin cunt for the first time and you’re already in a bliss from how good I’m making you feel,” the demon coaxed, whispering up close to your ear from behind. “You see now? Letting me take control over you is just what you needed this whole time. You wanted this. And I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to you. I’m your true God now and all you have to offer is your body. Arch your back for me more. I’ll fuck you hard in this confession booth like how a hound takes a bitch.”

You could feel Geto raking against your insides as if he was molding your cunt to hug his cock perfectly. He pulled out for a brief second, then slammed back into you, pushing your entire body against the wall with only your ass sticking out and your shaking legs spreading. The most animalistic groan came from deep within his throat, once again sending chills down your body. He kept pounding his fat cock inside you, fucking you so frantically that your eyes almost rolled to the back of your skull. Every pathetic muffled moan of yours drove the demon insane. The pressure in your abdomen was soon to be soaring to its peak. It was so hot. Every part of your skin and body felt like it was on fire.

“Fuck, fuck… You make me want to fucking breed you,” the demon growled. “I’ve waited half a month to finally feel your virgin cunt in this form. And— ah, fuck— it was fucking worth the wait. You’d let me do that to you, right? Hm? Filling this fucking pussy with so much of my cum, overflowing you until that cute belly grows round with my young… You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You kept moaning and whining pathetically on his hand that the demon-priest took it as a yes. Every harsh, rough thrust into your pussy sent you to an out-of-body experience. It didn’t matter to you how this was all possible anymore; you didn’t care if you were conscious, unconscious, or even stuck in Hell; all that mattered was the immeasurable rapture from being violated like this. Your fear and trauma were blurred out with pleasure flooding your body. All you thought about in this very moment was indulging into this sinful nature.

Suddenly every muscle in your body clenched as your first penetrative orgasm came in as waves of pleasure, spreading throughout your body like a wildfire in the middle of a scorching summer. Your body faltered, your legs struggled to keep your balance, and your mind was buzzing. You even felt your ears ring at one point. Geto’s cock pulses against your soaking walls, his balls aching to be emptied inside you. A few more thrusts and he’s letting out low groans with hot, sticky strings of his cum flooding your womb. Overloads of it started to drip onto the floor. Your head grew so hazy with intensity that the world around you started spinning. You looked like you were in a daze, your glossy face too fucked-out. It was suddenly hard for you to comprehend what was going on. Then, the same overwhelming panic started rising in you again. Terror struck you so suddenly like a lightning bolt, and your unending pain and fear strangled you like barbwire.

“Every time I have you… you’ll be trapped in endless torture with me. An eternity of sex and horror.”

Your shaken, weakened body collapsed onto the wooden floor, eyes slowly shutting and your thoughts becoming incoherent at this strange state. Every part of you was beginning to dull and the world around was becoming less tangible to you. Then suddenly, you blacked out; the last thing you ever saw was that creature standing over you with a smirk on their face.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. The nearest exit will be on your left. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO ©. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access.

NOTES :: the way the reader got sent to hell here is basically the same as getting vecna’d. her body is unconscious in the confessional booth since her soul/mind got trapped in hell. lol

TAGS :: @neemuu @jaaaysblogg @lilacs-lavender @michealsfinalboy @milanesasupremacy @neko.sya @slashersluttt @eighties-milf @dedicatedahlias @akiyaasworld @satoriluvs @getoswhore @yeetingmypencil @valoruzky @estrey @deitysdream @roseymae1234 @vintagexparker @looveb4 @kristvns @muzans @gothbitch2078 @cxmmies @lustry106 @heartcigs

#( 🩸 ) — horrorland.#geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x you #tw sacrilege #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw demonic #tw anxiety

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forgottenroderick · 3 months

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OOC | Varmont Wedding Traditions

a complement to [ this ] post, here're some things that jumped out at me as things that feel varmont-esque????? lmk what you all think!!! (also i wanna announce that every single one of these is inspired by a real ancient thing!!!!!!!! there's sm being ready to fight in all this aklsdjfkjdsf you can check out more [ here ] as well as more in the links in the replies of the first linked post!)

def big church weddings feel like a thing!!! wedded beneath the looming view of the one god who watches all in sharp judgment!!!!

probs some big vigil thing in which you gotta like prostrate urself before the altar or smth

the ancient germanic tradition of 'stealing/rescuing' the bride from her father's family so they can 'run away' together and get married

the ancient norse tradition whereby the groom must break into the burial mound/mortuary/whatever of a forefather in order to steal an ancient ancestral sword. often this involves symbolically fighting off ghosts (played by your besties and brothers) who talk to you abt family history and the importance of legacy, continuing the family line, etc

big dowry exchange between the families outside the church just before the wedding begins

the ancient visigothic tradition of the groom presenting the bride with bridal jewels as part of her bridal gift which is hers to keep/to prove he can provide for her, etc

engagement rings -- roderick: 'i got it i bought it is mine'

a la ancient rome/greece, the bride wears a red or yellow veil (tho it might be an any-color veil in our current timeline or whatever, or maybe she enters in a veil of her own family's colors and leaves in her hsuband's or smth?), shrouding her from head to toe, to look like a living flame and obscure her that she might frighten off demons/confuse jealous rivals who might wish to carry her off or do her harm!

the bride also wears a blue ribbon somewhere on her person to signify fidelity

a bridal party dressed the same as the bride to confuse those pesky demons (and any jealous rivals, too!) who wanna carry her off! the groom's party also dresses similarly to him in case of attack

groom's party to act as your seconds and back up if the bride's family objects after you've stolen her and/or demons show up to try and carry her off! (so many dangers when ur tryna get hitched oops sdlkfjaksdjlf)

the ancient hunnic/gothic/visigothic practice of a cache of ceremonial weapons are kept beneath the floorboards of the church for this purpose too! can't be too careful

a la ancient sparta (and today) men have stag parties to celebrate their last night of freedom, generally ending in the whole breaking into the tomb bit

the medieval practice of reading the wedding banns to announce the pending marriage to 1) inform the public and 2) give any objectors sufficient time to gather their case/object etc

the bride stands to the left so that the groom's sword hand is free in case of attack!

walking under an arch of raised swords to ensure safety as they go

drinking from the same chalice while holding it together/for e/o

ritual bathing/purification before the wedding

symbolic exchange of rings/bracelet/some kinda jewelry to signify marriage in daily life

i just gotta think there's some bloodletting no lie like cutting their hands and placing them together or smth def feels like a thing (roderick got a v scarred palm ig ;D lkjaskldfjkdsf) -- probs while under the arc of swords since the groom's sword hand is occupied!!!! a terrifying moment given all the dangers!!! ;D

probs more/not some of these etc!! i just read a lot of these while researching the other and was like 'this sure feels varmont' so i thought id pop it up here while i was thinking abt it!!

#idk this is v scattered but here have a thing!#ooc #lore #about

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mrcformoso · 9 months

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mrcformoso's Fanfic Directory

First off, if you love my work, if my stories have touched you, and you would like to offer monetary compensation (only if you are able to!), you can buy me a coffee here!

You may request prompts by sending an ask! :D I have a wide range of genres under my belt, and I hope you enjoy them!

My AO3!

Fandom: MDZS / Modao Zushi / The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

New Perspective Series - (WangXian, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending) Character analysis one-shots deep diving into their thoughts and how they develop from the events in CQL/The Untamed, and beyond.

New Perspective (LWJ POV, T, 8K, 1/1)

The Choice is His to Believe in Me (LWJ POV, T, 11.8k, 1/1)

Smoke and Mirrors (WWX POV, T, 6.9k, 1/1)

Revolution (LSZ POV, T, 8.4K, 1/1)

A Matter of Time Series - My Dark!LZ story! After Wei Wuxian's death, Lan Wangji went insane, doing everything in his power to get back his most precious person. Willing to sacrifice every single person in the cultivation world to reclaim his love. PLEASE read tags and warnings!

A Matter of Time (WangXian, E, 41k, 7/7 + Announcement chapter)

A Matter of Choice (WangXian, E, 17.6k, 1/1)

A Matter of Devotion (WangXian, E, 11k, 1/1)

A Matter of Closure (WangXian, SongChen, M, 13.9k, 1/1)

A Matter of Change (WangXian, NieLan, QingMian, SangNing, T, 7.5k, 1/1)

A Matter of Happiness (WangXian, NieLan, QingMian, SangNing, ZhuiYi, M, 9k, 1/1)

The Art of Communication - Modern!AU Fluff where Everything is Nice and Nothing Hurts (WangXian, G, 4k, 3/3) Lan Zhan can only say so much before the words get caught in his throat. In contrast, Wei Ying never seemed to run out of words. So the Gusu University students found it rightfully strange that the two were dating. (Podfic by Straynyx)

Just Ask Me to Stay - Modern!AU RomCom Hurt/Comfort (WangXian, M, 20.9k, 5/5) After a nasty breakup, Lan Zhan comforts his best friend Wei Ying, and does everything he can to reaffirm his self-worth. Including sex. And sometimes, it takes a good railing too see what has been in front of you all along.

When the Words Stop Coming - Angst with Happy Ending (WangXian, T, 7k, 1/1) Wei Ying had been openly declaring his love for Lan Zhan ever since they met at The Cloud Recesses. Confused and emotionally constipated, Lan Zhan rejected him, until everything went wrong, until he lost Wei Ying in the end. 13 years later, Wei Ying cannot trust Lan Zhan with his heart.

Window of the Waking Mind - Heavy Angst with Happy Ending (Wangxian, M, 8k, 1/1) Wei Ying always said he has a terrible memory, but the truth was that he was very, very good at packing away the most horrible parts of his life into a closet at the very back of his mind and shrouding it in the dark. But when a night hunt went wrong, and those memories were released, it is up to his family and closest loved ones to take the burden of his memories, lest Wei Ying implodes in his own grief.

-----

Fandom: TGCF/ Tian Guan Ci Fu/ Heaven Official's Blessing

Paper Flowers for the God of Gods - FlowerGod!XieLian AU with Rapunzel vibes and Hades & Persephone vibes, with a LOT of flower language. (HuaLian, M, 54k, 10/10 + announcement chapter) In another universe, The Crown Prince of Xian Le, Xie Lian, did not ascend as a martial god, but as a god of flowers, a minor god. Fanart Directory Here!

Paper Flower Extras - (HuaLian, T, Oneshot compilation) Extras from prompts for the Paper Flowers for the God of Gods universe. Current number of Extras: 4

And the Show Goes On - Modern!Idol!AU that is a horror mystery thriller. Featuring Idol!XieLian and CEO!HuaCheng. (WIP, HuaLian, M, 48k, 9/9) Eight years ago, the Xie Family was killed in a fire. A month ago, a new idol debuted on stage under the name Taizi Dianxia. Yesterday, a mangled body was found.

Mind in Madness, Heart in Peace - ReverseAU resulting from a canon divergence. Calamity!XL and Amnesiac God!HC. (WIP, HuaLian, M, 73k, 17/24) The Martial God of Death, Hua Cheng, ascended with little to no memory of his mortal life before godhood. Except…he seems to have caught the eye of The Scourge of Heaven, the Lord of the Ghost City, and The Mad Calamity: Fangxin, the Crimson Sword Deathly Flower.

Sleep - Yin Yu Appreciation Week 2024 Day 1 Prompt - Vacation (HuaYin Friendship, Minor HuaLian, Minor QuanYin, T, 3k, 1/1) Hua Cheng tells Yin Yu to take a break, but Yin Yu doesn't know how. He finds solace listening to Hua Cheng read aloud.

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thedragonchilde · 7 months

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G Gundam meta notes part four, eps 25-29:

"All Fighters Gathered! The Final Battles Begin"

-the Shuffle Alliance being so shrouded in mystery is interesting given that EVERYONE IN UNIVERSE SEEMS TO KNOW THEM or at least that the crests mark top fighters

-blah blah clip show episode mostly but HELLO FUUNSAIKI

-S U P E R A S I A

-just in case we forgot this is actually a crapsack world, we get "yeah you can target the cockpit now, yes I know exactly what will happen :)"

-and "unlimited repairs (if you can afford it lol)"

-hold on, is Chibodee left-handed? Or is he just saluting with the left because it feels less Nazi-esque that way? (If this was obvious in his earlier episodes, forgive me; I've never been great with my left and right, especially when I have to flip them. It just sticks out here because he's saluting differently from everyone else.)

"A New Weapon! Erupting God Finger"

-Wong talking with his mouth full is great

-I love that Domon seems to be allergic to hotels

-”no one here has any clue how powerful my Burning Gundam is” INCLUDING YOU, DOMON

-WHY IS MARCELOT THIRTEEN FUCKING FEET TALL

-✴️ wander bug ✴️

-Argo's thumbs up is a thing of beauty

-I wanna know what happened to Hoy and Ming's parents

-ah, the suit-up is much easier in this gundam

-huh, Marcelot took that loss in stride

"Hang on Domon! Triumph of the Restored Faith"

-i love Domon with children

-and Rain referring to said kids as Domon's friends, interesting

-and Domon both believing kids are working with Chandra and being disturbed to distraction over it

-okay this is bizarro-land racist. Is he supposed to be part snake?

-although between him and the last guy, I wonder if it's supposed to imply that some of the colonies have been doing genetic engineering to create super-fighters. It wouldn't be the weirdest or shadiest thing going on in this universe

-Hoy is clearly markedly younger than the rest of the friend group

-”Mister East”

"Domon Targeted! The Assassin's Staff"

-the announcer swooning over Schwarz

-Hoy, kiddo, there's a pest here and it's the one who kicked a guy in the shin 0.2 seconds after meeting him

-love that, knowing he's dealing with an assassin, Chibodee 1) brings it up real casual with the target, and 2) is ready to BEAT UP SAID ASSASSIN

-”if I can sneak up to him” he says, and then yells

-that was a noble attempt to save him, Chibodee

-Chibs did his research on Kyral, I see

-Neo Nepal is fucked up, but then with some of these countries what else is new

-Sai as training partner is great

-Chibodee, why would you rush in and try to hit this guy? Also, why are you still hanging around there anyway?

-after all these wins by default, you'd think someone would investigate

-that double phallic sword faceoff just screams "I see your schwartz is as big as mine, now let's see how well you use it"

-”then I will SLASH you!”

-I wonder if there's something to be said about ableism in the Gundam Fight - like, clearly Kyral can fight while blind, so they didn't have to toss him aside

-Schwarz’s Moon Tiara saves the day again

-cultural relativism? Chibodee seems hung up on Kyral’s crimes being unforgivable, while Domon and Sai are like “he's moving forward and doing better, good for him”

"Running Away! Sai Saici In Love"

-I guess Neo Denmark is low on money, to not be able to repair the Gundam

-Sai trying to sound cool and mysterious is hysterical

-I wouldn't mind Sai’s canon height so much if Cecile wasn't shorter than him. A teenage girl markedly under 4’4”? With no indication that they're meant to be little people? Even for anime, that's a stretch

-though I wonder if she dresses the way she does to signal that she is, in fact, older than she looks

-Cecile is so frickin noble and good-hearted

-Hans has very twink-or-lesbian vibes

-”elderly men?” Cecile probably assuming a gay couple adopted Sai. Though I guess we don't know what's up with Zuisen and Keiun anyway?

-Domon doesn't know a date when he sees one, or at least that you don't interrupt one

-brb going hyper mode just to trip some guys

-unison speaking is one thing, but synchronized crying is something else

-I wonder what Hans does in the off season

#g gundam #mobile fighter g gundam #meta #thinky thoughts

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charlotteswebbbbb · 4 months

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What's the vibe? #62

MyTheresa are probably one of the only e-tailers to say they're making quite big leaps in profit. "The Munich-based luxury e-tailer’s net sales jumped 18 percent to €234 million ($253 million) in its fiscal third quarter that ended in March. It expects net sales for the year to grow as much as 13 percent to €869 million"

+ "Mytheresa’s steady rise in sales has been attributed to the retailer’s ability to differentiate its offering from competitors. In the third quarter, it released exclusive capsule collections with Gucci, Bottega Veneta, Loewe and Brunello Cucinelli. The company also focuses on wooing its top spending clients with special events — a recent example is a 24-hour event with Paris-based label Courrèges in Shanghai for top clients that included a brand exhibition, a meeting with the brand’s creative director Nicolas Di Felice and a private dinner."

Alongside that they're thinking of acquiring Yoox-Net-A-Porter. But we'll see.

Cannes is on right now so here's my top films which I'm predicting will be big over the next year....Furiosa to start with, but it's a big budget film directed by so to be expected.

The Shrouds (dir David Cronenberg)

youtube

Kinds of Sadness (dir Yorgos Lanthimos)

youtube

The Substance (dir. Coralie Fargeat)

youtube

The Balconettes (dir Noemie Merlant)

High fashion strategy of appealing to the young when you’re an old maison!

So Chanel has a Timothee Chamalet ad, directed by Martin Scorsese! Cinema!

Dior Ambassador Rosalía!

Louis Vuitton doing a Federer + Nadal ad

Weddings being more niche and unique than ever:

SSense launching their wedding campaign with the cutest couples has me thinking. Vogue wedding announcements are nice but this isn't similar. This is the unconventional and so are the designers in their edit - Chopova, Shushu/Tong and Anna Sui re-edits from the past.

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^ From 2021

Weddings being a big business means that wedding dresses aren't necessarily applicable in every edit. They can be from ready-to-wear or custom. Younger generations are finding it easier to splurge on a designer dress more than ever, especially from a much more independent designer. They want the unique, something that someone else doesn't have.

I'm sure this is also applicable to wedding destinations also - putting this alongside maybe the rise of Luna Luna fake weddings, Usher getting married at Elvis chapel in Vegas, having custom photo booths and 7 outfits. (See New Yorker Gia Kuan)

Anything else:

Losing it with Blackbird Spyplane this week....

Ending the piece with: "And remember that a ravenous desire for cool clothes is tight so long as you keep it “gourmand” mode and avoid slipping into “glutton” mode, where, in the throes of a boundless acquisitive frenzy, you keep shoving food down your face without even tasting it, without thinking about how it got on your plate — without ever stopping to consider whether you’re enjoying it or not."

#parsed #fashion #wedding #vibe #what's the vibe

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mccdreamys-writes · 5 months

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smiles for miles – 12. i will find you

she's the sweetest love i could find, and so i guess i'll be hunting high and low.- a-ha, Hunting High and Low

S E P T E M B E R 1 8 T H 2 0 1 1 earlier that day.

"Tell me what you got Baby Girl", Morgan asked Garcia through the phone.

The remainder of our team made their way into Kansas City under the cloak of night, their arrival shrouded in anticipation and determination as we braced ourselves for the impending finale.

Garcia's voice crackled over the line, carrying the weight of her discoveries. "Alright, buckle up. Maile's backstory is like something out of a novel. She's thirty-one, just as we suspected. The early years of her life were calm, but then things took a dark turn. From age six onwards, it's a laundry list of hospital visits."

As Garcia dug deeper into Maile's troubled past, a chill ran down my spine. Memories of our shared childhood flooded back, reminders of the pain she endured even back then. The idea that her suffering had only worsened since we parted ways sent a shiver down my spine.

"The hospital records paint a grim picture," Garcia went on. "Despite obvious signs of abuse, they never once raised any alarms. It's a real failure of the system. Worthy of a lawsuit if I may say so."

My heart sank at Garcia's words. The betrayal of trust, the system's failure to protect the vulnerable – it all hit too close to home. It was a story as old as time, but it never failed to stir up a whirlwind of emotions within me.

Garcia's voice filled the room, her storytelling painting a vivid picture of a pivotal moment in Maile's life. "On her sixteenth birthday, she took a bold step and moved out," Garcia narrated, her words carrying the weight of significance. "Since then, she's called Florence, Alabama, her home, carving out her own path amidst the city's gentle Southern charm."

As Garcia continued, her admiration for Maile's resilience and determination was palpable. "She worked her way through college on a full scholarship," she added, her tone tinged with admiration.

A brief silence followed, allowing us to absorb the gravity of Maile's achievements. "She graduated with honors," Garcia announced proudly. "And then, she pursued a master's degree, diving deeper into the world of poetry, just as we suspected she would."

Listening to Garcia's narrative, I felt a mix of pride and regret wash over me. "Well done, Maile," I murmured, acknowledging her accomplishments.

But beneath the surface, there was a twinge of remorse. How many chances had I missed? How many times had I unknowingly crossed paths with her, unaware of the brilliance she possessed? The realization weighed heavily on my mind, highlighting the fleeting nature of chance encounters and the profound impact they can have on our lives.

Garcia spoke with admiration and respect as she delved deeper into Maile's current endeavors. "She's made a name for herself as a freelancer," she remarked, her words carrying a sense of reverence for Maile's entrepreneurial spirit. "Through her poetry, she's not only found her passion but also a way to make a living, which, I must say, is quite an achievement."

She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, "Despite her success, she stays true to her values." Garcia's tone was filled with awe. "She lives simply, resisting the temptation of lavish spending or extravagant vacations. Instead, she opts for a life of modesty and fulfillment, finding joy in stability and contentment."

As Garcia painted a picture of Maile's journey, memories of her past flooded my mind. Each detail revealed the remarkable woman she had become. It seemed as if fate had woven together the threads of her life into a masterpiece—a tapestry reflecting her pride, humility, resilience, and grace.

Deep within me, I couldn't shake this strong feeling that Maile had achieved exactly what I always imagined for her. She had this unique mix of traits—she held her head high, not in a showy way, but with this quiet power that just radiated from her; and yet, she also had this humility that reminded me how we're all connected and how vital it is to understand and care for each other.

I couldn't stop thinking about how much her goals mirrored mine. And when I heard that she saw me not just as a guide, but as someone who inspired her, it filled me with such deep thanks. It really made me realize how much our actions can influence those around us, and how important it is to be a guiding force in someone else's journey.

As Garcia spoke, I felt this surge of pride for the woman Maile had become. She seemed to embody all the hopes and dreams of what's yet to come, this vision of her growing and changing into the person she was always meant to be. And in that moment, I knew she hadn't just reached her potential—she had surpassed it.

Amidst all the chaos around us, the need to find her felt more urgent than ever. We were driven by this strong desire to rescue her from the overwhelming situation we found ourselves in. It was like this relentless mission, fueled by a mix of determination, duty, and this overwhelming sense of responsibility to shield her from the storms raging around us.

With anticipation gripping us tightly, we hung on every word Garcia uttered, each one carrying weight as he peeled back the layers of our search. Then, out of nowhere, he uttered her name— Ira Listunova. Unlike the elusive Maile, she was more visible, leaving a digital trail that practically begged us to follow it.

Garcia's words painted a vivid picture of this woman who embraced the online world with zeal, her social media profiles offering glimpses into her life. From the crack of dawn to the dead of night, she roamed the digital realm, craving connection and sharing bits of herself, creating a detailed map of her life through posts and updates.

As Garcia revealed the details of her relationship with James, a bitter taste filled the air, adding to the thick tension in the room. Learning that they started dating just eight days after we decided to split felt like a cruel twist of fate, stabbing into our wounded hearts.

The realization hit me like a bolt of anger— we hadn't even begun the painful process of divorce, yet he had already moved on, leaving behind the wreckage of our once-promising marriage. It was a harsh reminder of how fleeting love can be and how unpredictable human emotions are.

Garcia's storytelling unfolded like a captivating book, each detail she shared about Ira's life seeming to carry immense weight as he revealed more about her journey. It was like she was peeling back layers of her life story for us.

As Garcia dug deeper into the ins and outs of Ira's life, a troubling thought started to form in my mind. It felt like Ira's path mirrored mine in unsettling ways—from her education choices to where she lived and even her romantic involvement with James Blake. The similarities were too striking to ignore, leaving this strange feeling of déjà vu hanging in the air.

Why did it seem like Ira was walking in my footsteps so closely? Was it just a coincidence, or was there something more profound happening—some cosmic twist of fate weaving our lives together in ways we couldn't understand?

As I pondered these questions, a sense of unease settled over me, casting a shadow over the room. It was a stark reminder that the lines between what's real and what's not, between chance and destiny, can often blur and merge.

"Thanks, Baby Girl," Morgan's voice came through the phone, a gentle reminder of the bond that held us together as a team. But beneath the surface, there was a tangible tension, an uncertainty that hung in the air like electricity.

As the call wrapped up, JJ's comment sliced through the quiet, shattering the calm that had settled around us. "Sounds like someone is obsessed with taking over every part of your life, Alex," she said casually. Her words held the ease of someone who was used to navigating our team dynamics.

I couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh at JJ's observation, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a heavy burden. It was a stark reminder of just how serious things had gotten, a reminder that the stakes were much higher than any of us had imagined.

"And considering she wants to take over your life," Reid chimed in with a sharp mind. His gaze flicked over the lines of poetry spread out before us, each word a potential clue in the complex puzzle we were trying to solve. "We rely on the clues Maile has given us," he added urgently, his voice tinged with a sense of determination.

"Returning our focus to the second poem," Reid said, his voice filled with purpose as he pointed to the poem displayed prominently in the center of the whiteboard. The room quieted as we all contemplated the eerie words on the page, each line seeming to lead us deeper into the unknown.

"It's undoubtedly depicting a dark place." He concluded, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Morgan was the first to speak up. "It could be a basement," he suggested, his words hanging heavy in the air like a shroud of uncertainty.

Rossi, always the voice of reason, nodded in agreement. "Or perhaps a garage," he added, his tone thoughtful. It was a practical suggestion, considering the need for secrecy and accessibility in our investigation. A garage offered both, a place where someone could hide their intentions away from prying eyes.

Hotch, as per usual, chimed in with his insights. "A warehouse," he proposed firmly. It was a logical deduction, given the scale of the operation we were dealing with. A warehouse provided ample space for clandestine activities, shielded from outside scrutiny.

Reid's question hung in the air, each word reminding us of the enormity of our task. "Does anything stand out to you?" he asked, his eyes fixed on me, searching for any sign of recognition amidst the uncertainty.

I furrowed my brow, delving deep into my thoughts, trying to piece together any fragments of memory that could shed light on the situation. But despite my efforts, there was nothing—no hidden meaning, no clue waiting to be discovered. "I can't think of anything," I admitted, frustration creeping into my voice as I shook my head.

But Reid persisted, delving further into the puzzle. "She also mentioned 'nowhere you'd be ever found,'" he reminded us, his words lingering in the air like a challenge. "Does that ring any bells for you, especially considering the dark place?"

As Reid spoke, memories flooded my mind, snapshots of moments shared with Maile. I remembered the nights we spent stargazing, the soothing rhythm of the waves as we swam under the moonlight, the quiet intimacy of reading together by candlelight. But intertwined with those cherished memories were darker ones—moments of pain, of fear, reminders of the abuse she endured in her past, haunting her like shadows she couldn't shake.

My inner turmoil must have been written all over my face because Hotch's voice broke the silence. "What's on your mind, Blake?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared to confront the darkness hiding in the depths of my thoughts. "We made a pact," I started, my voice barely audible. "There was this one place I was never supposed to go unless I couldn't find her for more than four hours."

As I spoke, memories flooded back, vivid and sharp—the rundown shed on the edge of her father's property, stained with the memories of her pain and suffering. "Her father had this shed where he'd work on stuff," I continued, my voice trembling with emotion. "But it wasn't dark... except for one room."

Realization hit me like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the shadows clouding my mind. "He'd lock her up there whenever he'd beat her and someone unexpectedly came by," I revealed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "She showed me once, just in case I ever needed to come and rescue her."

The weight of my words hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the horrors lurking beneath the surface of our seemingly normal lives. But amid the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope—that together, we could find a way to save Maile from her past and bring her back into the light.

"That could work," Morgan jumped in, his voice cutting through the silence like a beacon of unity in the midst of chaos. Reid agreed with a solemn nod, his eyes filled with determination.

Hotch turned to me, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Can you lead us to this shed?" he asked, his words both a challenge and a call to action.

Meeting his gaze with determination, I nodded firmly. "Yes, I know where it is," I confirmed, my voice steady with resolve.

"Alright," Hotch announced, his tone firm and decisive. "Blake, Dave, you're with me. The rest of you, take the other car."

With a sense of urgency, we hurried to the waiting vehicles, the tension thick in the air as we prepared for the next phase of our mission. Though the precinct was only a ten-minute drive from the shed, each moment felt like an eternity as we mentally prepared ourselves for what awaited us.

Arriving at our destination, anticipation hung heavy in the air, the weight of our collective apprehension nearly suffocating. Stepping out of the cars, we formed a tight circle, our resolve strengthened by our shared determination to confront whatever darkness lay ahead in that shed.

As we geared up to enter that dreadful place, Reid's voice cut through the air, freezing us in our tracks. "Alex," he called out, concern evident in his tone. "You shouldn't go in. Remember what she said."

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me at Reid's words, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I can't just stand by and watch," I countered, determination and desperation mingling in my voice.

Hotch stepped forward, his gaze unwavering as he echoed Reid's warning. "Reid's right," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "You're not going in."

"But—" I started, my protests silenced by Hotch's firm tone.

"No," he interjected, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. In that moment, I realized that despite my eagerness to confront our past, I was bound by the constraints of reality. Sometimes, true courage lies in knowing when to step back and let others take the lead in battles we cannot fight.

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nrccleaningclub · 4 months

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Scarabia Dormitory Log #2

announced by: E. Shroud

More of our crew have gone missing, we do not know why. Each time we go into the dorms, we come out with eight less people. It has always been eight to the point we travel in groups of Tens now to have two remaining survivors to inform us. Surprisingly yet unsurprisingly, They are stuck in a state of shock. As that one RSA member describes, We seem to have a “Secret Chamber” and have to be careful of snakes.

Speaking of the snakes, they seem to be made of a guarding spell and are not even snakes at all. The moment we brought them out of the snake pit, they turned into sand. None of us have a Unique Magic of these sorts.

We shall keep you and the rest of the students updated.

Regards,

𝘕𝘙𝘊 𝘊𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘭𝘶𝘣

#twst rp #twisted wonderland #twst roleplay #twisted wonderland roleplay #twst au #twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland rp #announced by: e. shroud #twst scarabia #scarabia

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zapreportsblog · 1 year

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T H E N U N

➥ summary : “I’m a devoted member to God, now with that said” pulling out the gun which had once been strapped to her side she pressed it up against the temple of the demon, “Come devote your ass to this ass whooping.” And with that she blew its brains out.

➥ Demon Slayer x Reader

➥ chapter two : the breakthrough

Months had passed since (Y/N) had embarked on her rigorous training under the watchful eye of Raven. The once-familiar routines had now become second nature, her body and mind honed through countless challenges. Despite the grueling regimen, (Y/N) had grown stronger, her strikes more precise, her spirit unwavering.

Each day, (Y/N) pushed herself to the limit, facing Raven's relentless attacks with unyielding determination. She had gained a deeper understanding of combat, learning not only how to fight but also when to listen, to anticipate the unexpected. Even though Raven's strength and experience still proved to be more than a match, (Y/N) refused to yield. With each defeat, she grew more resolute, more determined to become the guardian she aspired to be.

One day, after a particularly intense training session, Raven's usual stern expression seemed to hold a different air—a glint of anticipation. "Tomorrow, our training will take a different path," she announced, her voice carrying a sense of mystery.

Curiosity danced in (Y/N)'s eyes as she regarded Raven. "What do you have in mind?"

"We will journey to the mountainside," Raven replied, her gaze steady. "There is a cave there—a place of reflection and revelation. We will enter, and you will discover your spiritual revolve."

(Y/N)'s brow furrowed, confusion evident on her face. "Spiritual revolve? What is that?"

Raven's lips curved into a faint smile. "It is a moment of clarity, a connection to the deeper aspects of yourself and your purpose. The cave holds the answers you seek—answers that will guide you forward."

The anticipation of the unknown tingled within (Y/N)'s chest. As the sun set, casting long shadows across the village, Raven's words lingered in her thoughts. She could feel the weight of her journey, the challenges she had faced and the ones yet to come, coalescing into a singular moment of truth.

The following day, (Y/N) and Raven set out on the journey to the mountainside. The air was crisp and invigorating, the path winding upward as the village faded into the distance. As they reached the mouth of the cave, (Y/N)'s heart raced with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

Inside, the cave was illuminated only by the dim light filtering through the entrance. As (Y/N) followed Raven deeper, the atmosphere seemed to shift—a sense of quiet reverence that settled like a cloak around them.

They came to a chamber, the walls adorned with ancient carvings and illuminated by the soft glow of Raven's torch. Raven motioned for (Y/N) to stand at the center, her gaze unwavering as she spoke, "Close your eyes, (Y/N). Clear your mind and listen to the whispers of your spirit."

(Y/N) did as instructed, her breathing steady as she allowed herself to become enveloped by the silence. In the darkness behind her closed eyelids, she felt a stirring—a connection to something beyond herself.

As minutes stretched into what felt like hours, (Y/N)'s mind began to drift. Images and memories swirled, the echoes of her past blending with the potential of her future. And then, amidst the quiet, a voice—a whisper that seemed to come from within and beyond.

"You seek purpose," the voice echoed, carrying a weight that resonated within her very being. "You seek to transform pain into power, to honor the fallen, and to stand against the forces that threaten to consume the world."

Tears welled in (Y/N)'s closed eyes as the truth of the words settled over her. The spiritual revolve Raven had spoken of wasn't just a fleeting moment; it was a connection to her own heart, a revelation of her deepest desires and the path that lay ahead.

As the cave remained shrouded in silence, (Y/N)'s eyes fluttered open, and her gaze met Raven's. With a sense of awe and newfound clarity, she realized that her journey was far from over. The training, the challenges, the relentless pursuit of strength—all of it was leading her toward a destiny that had been shaped by her own choices, her own resolve.

With a determined smile, (Y/N) stepped forward, her voice steady as she addressed Raven, "I understand now. I will continue to train, to become the guardian I aspire to be."

Raven's nod was approving, her eyes holding a mixture of pride and understanding. "(Y/N), your journey is your own, and your spirit is your guide. Embrace the challenges ahead, and let your purpose shine as a beacon of light."

And as (Y/N) left the cave, the weight of her training and her newfound clarity settled over her like a mantle. With every step she took on the journey back to Sanctum Glen, she understood that her path was not only one of strength and determination, but also one of introspection and growth—a path marked by the whispers of her own spirit and the unwavering faith that had guided her from the very beginning.

On the days when (Y/N) wasn't engaged in rigorous training under Raven's watchful eye, she found herself immersed in the daily life of Sanctum Glen. The village had become her home, and the bonds she had formed with the nuns and priests were as strong as the determination that fueled her training.

With each sunrise, (Y/N) embraced a different kind of purpose—one that extended beyond the battlefield. She spent her mornings tending to the lush gardens that adorned the village, her hands working the soil with a sense of connection to the earth. The act of nurturing new life amidst the ruins of her past offered her a unique kind of solace.

As the sun reached its zenith, (Y/N) could be found assisting in the kitchens, helping to prepare meals that nourished not only the body but also the spirit. The camaraderie among the villagers was palpable, and (Y/N) found herself forging connections that transcended words. The shared laughter and stories were a balm to her soul, a reminder that she was not alone on this path.

In the afternoons, (Y/N) would often join the nuns and priests in their studies—diving into the sacred texts, learning about the teachings that had shaped their lives. The lessons were not just about faith, but also about compassion, understanding, and the unwavering commitment to a greater purpose.

Through her tasks, (Y/N) discovered that every action, every moment of service, was a reflection of the teachings she had embraced. Whether tending to the gardens, preparing food, or engaging in study, each task was an opportunity to embody the virtues that guided the village's way of life.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, (Y/N) would often find herself gathered with the other villagers, the day drawing to a close in moments of prayer and reflection. The words and melodies of the chants echoed through the village, carrying with them a sense of unity and devotion.

These moments of service, these glimpses into the everyday lives of the nuns and priests, were more than just tasks; they were a reminder that (Y/N)'s journey was not solely about becoming a guardian. It was about becoming a part of something greater, about contributing to a community that had opened its arms to her.

As she laid down each night, the memories of the day's tasks and interactions swirled within her—a tapestry woven from the threads of determination, compassion, and faith. The path of a guardian wasn't just about physical strength; it was about embodying the teachings, the values, and the sense of purpose that had shaped the lives of those around her.

With each day that passed, (Y/N)'s connection to Sanctum Glen deepened. Her training with Raven had become intertwined with her service to the village, each aspect of her journey fueling the other. And as she closed her eyes, the echoes of prayers and the sense of unity lingered, guiding her dreams toward a future illuminated by both her own strength and the collective spirit of the community she had come to cherish.

Under the embrace of the moonlit night, (Y/N) found herself wrestling with the weight of the prophet and prophetess's revelation. The concept of becoming a god was both extraordinary and overwhelming, a destiny that seemed too grand to fathom. As the village slumbered, (Y/N)'s mind was anything but at rest.

With a sense of determination and a heart heavy with thoughts, (Y/N) made her way to the mountainside once more. The path to the cave was familiar, lit only by the soft glow of the moon and the distant stars. Each step felt purposeful, as if she was guided by an invisible hand.

As (Y/N) entered the cave, a sense of reverence washed over her. The walls bore witness to the countless reflections that had taken place within its depths. Finding the chamber where she had stood before, (Y/N) closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing herself to be enveloped by the stillness.

"Show me the way," she whispered into the darkness, her voice carrying the weight of her uncertainty and determination.

And then, as if in response to her plea, the voice—a whisper that seemed to echo from within the very walls—spoke once more.

"(Y/N)," the voice resonated, carrying a warmth that enveloped her, "you stand at the crossroads of destiny, a convergence of mortal and divine. The path ahead is one of transformation, a journey that will test your strength, your faith, and your resolve."

Tears welled in (Y/N)'s closed eyes as the words washed over her, carrying a sense of reassurance she desperately needed. "How can I possibly bear such a destiny?" she murmured, the weight of doubt tugging at her heart.

"The light within you burns brightly," the voice continued, "a reflection of the virtues you hold dear. The journey you have undertaken, the battles you have fought, have shaped you into a vessel of purpose. Embrace the power within you, and let it guide you toward a future that will illuminate the world."

The cave seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, as if the very essence of the divine was present in its depths. With each word spoken, (Y/N) felt a sense of clarity, a connection to a truth that had been dormant within her.

"(Y/N), your spirit is a beacon," the voice resonated, its words carrying a sense of profound affirmation. "Embrace your destiny, for it is a path that will unite the mortal and the divine, a path that will guide others toward a future of light and hope."

As the voice faded, (Y/N) opened her eyes, her gaze steady and resolute. The doubts that had plagued her seemed to have loosened their grip, replaced by a profound sense of purpose. The journey ahead might be daunting, the destiny she was meant to embrace unfathomable, but within her heart, a fire burned—an unwavering belief in her potential, in the strength she had cultivated, and in the light that had been ignited within her.

With a final glance at the chamber that held the whispers of guidance, (Y/N) turned and left the cave, her steps filled with newfound determination. The moonlight illuminated her path as she descended the mountainside, each step a testament to the journey that awaited her.

Her destiny as the next God might be shrouded in mystery and awe, but (Y/N) was ready to face it, to embrace it with open arms. With the echoes of the voice resonating within her, she carried the promise of a future that held the potential to reshape the world—a future marked not just by power, but by compassion, wisdom, and an unwavering commitment to the light that had guided her every step of the way.

#x reader #x reader series #the nun #the nun masterlist #demon slayers imagine #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer

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sunnydaleherald · 8 months

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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, January 30

Joyce: We're working out a coordinated schedule for you. Giles: It'll be tight, but, uh, I think we can fit in all your responsibilities. Joyce: We've got more work to do here, honey. Why don't you give us a little more time? Um... Take the car, and, um, Mr. Giles can drive me home. Buffy: What? (smiles and shakes her head) Excuse me, I meant what?! Joyce: Keys. Take them. Buffy: You don't have to tell me twice. Well, actually, you did, but... (snatches the keys) bye! Joyce: Bye, honey. Drive careful. Buffy: Uh-huh! Joyce: Do you think she noticed anything? Giles: No way!

~~~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Warm Welcome (Xander, T, Devil May Cry xover) by madimpossibledreamer

Maybe (Faith, Giles, G) by apachefirecat

Promises Made (Spike, Dawn, T) by veronyxk84

Out of These Hands () by [personal profile] madimpossibledreamer

Lovesick (Buffy/Angelus, T) by MadeInGold

i could've been your girl (we've all been here before) (Buffy/Drusilla, E) by chasingfictions

A Black Void (Spike/Dawn, T) by MadeInGold

How Drusilla Saved Christmas (Drusilla/Spike/Buffy, E) by TheClowniestLivInExistence

Interlude (Buffy/Spike, G) by hulettwyo

Nature Documentary (Buffy/Spike, E) by ClowniestLivEver

[Chaptered Fiction]

Comic - In Your Shadow Ch. 1-4/? (Spike/Xander, T) by genericaces

Spike's Price Ch 3 (Buffy/Spike, G) by Jdharblood

He Slays Monsters Ch. 11 (Buffy/Faith, E) by BeatriceEveryTuesday

If We Could Freeze Time Ch. 21/60 (Buffy/Spike, E) by cosplayermadness

Goodbye to Everything That I Knew Ch. 18 (Buffy/Spike, M) by My_Barbaric_Yawp

hit rewind Ch. 29 (Buffy/Spike, M) by untiljanuary

(Xander, M) by Jennifer Schumacher

In the End Ch. 8 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Halo0223

I Do!, Chapter 20 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Dusty

Cherry On Top, Chapter 28 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Maxineeden

A Vampire and a Slayer Walk Into a Park..., Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, E) by holetoledo

Lie to Me, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, E) by In Mortal

The Neighbor's Point of View, Chapter 81 (Buffy/Spike, T) by the_big_bad

Bonds of Shadows, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, T) by Chewbacha

To All We Guard, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, E) by simmony

Other, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Grief Counseling

Coming Through, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, E) by hulettwyo

It's Easy Time, Until It's Not, Chapter 20 (Buffy/Spike, E) by hulettwyo

Going Home (to a place we’ve never been before) (Dawn T, LotR xover) by curiouslywombat

[Reviews & Recaps]

BTVS Rewatch Chronicles: Season 2 by QualifiedApathetic

PODCAST: Bonus Episode - Season 1 Recap by The Sunnydale Diaries

PODCAST: ATS 208 - The Shroud of Rahmon by Another Buffy Podcast

[Community Announcements]

Tuesday: Tropes by comment_fic

[Fandom Discussions]

Revelations - Giles Was Totally Wrong by NoShip

Spike's devotion to Dawn as an extension of his love for Buffy by AndHerSymbols

Three-Time Tony Award Winner Hinton Battle Passes Away at 67 by Cheese Slices

Initial Reaction to Buffy by nuritlevy

On another rewatch and I just love AtS Season 1 so much. by

What if Buffy made the same mistake Faith did? by spiritualdesai

Connor (I Actually Really Like Him) by Big-Restaurant-2766

Re watching buffy ep 17 (Normal Again) by Reasonable_Tip_9181

They don’t have a right to get mad at Spike for sleeping with someone by Eagles56

Guess which High School Architectual Digest named most beautiful in California? by Hellmouthgaurdian

Spuffy fans, do you forgive Spike? by mallowycloud

I feel cheated that we didn't get more scenes of these three together, anyone else? by Novel_Comparison7735

"Nubile" by ChamPurr_

https://buffy-reddit-feed.dreamwidth.org/11101376.html by Forgotpassword517

the hero shot of Buffy in the S6 opening

katywell by

Testing a hypothesis regarding 6x17 Normal Again with a poll by rattusprat

Windows by Sufficient_Ride_5036

Oh you sweet Summers child.... Darla & Drusilla have definitely already enjoyed that show by alrtight

Kristine Sutherland, Joyce, reaction to the bug on her neck in Egg episode by Tsole96

For the lovers & haters of Spike by Girlthatbreathes

When BuffyBot appeared in "Bargaining" how did you react? by jdpm1991

First time watching: thoughts on Seasons 1-3 and a bit of everything so far by AppropriateYou5011

If You Could See Any Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and/or Angel Episode for the First Time Again? by Big-Restaurant-2766

Scoobies and music by BiscottiChemical2893

oh my gosh, i just got spoiled on something as a new fan. by Ok-Connection4917

Who else has read? by jackBattlin

Do you think Anya is thinking about all her victims in this scene? by grkpektis

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series #fan art #fan fiction #meta

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adamwatchesmovies · 2 years

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Shadow of the Vampire (2000)

With Shadow of the Vampire, writer Steven Katz and director E. Elias Merhige have caught lightning in a bottle. It isn’t that the film couldn’t have been made at any other point - though a different decade and country probably wouldn’t have given them access to Willem Dafoe, so good here. It’s that a fictional account of the making of any other film besides F. W. Murnau’s classic Nosferatu just wouldn't work. The way "Shadow of the Vampire" manages to be both funny and frightening and then do it in ways you don’t expect is kind of brilliant.

In 1921, German director F. W. Murnau (John Malkovich) announces that an obscure German theater performer will play the vampire in “Nosferatu”, his unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. To fully immerse himself in the role, Max Schreck (Dafoe) will only appear in makeup, at nighttime and will never break character. Strange incidents on the set lead the crew to suspect that Murnau has employed a real vampire to make the most authentic film possible.

If you’ve seen Nosferatu, you know how appropriate this fictional scenario is. Murnau’s vampire is a monster like no other. The film has dream-like atmosphere. It isn’t influenced by the much better known 1931 adaptation of Dracula featuring Bela Lugosi, so it interprets the idea of an immortal bloodsucker in a unique way. Murnau didn’t obtain filming rights from Stoker’s widow before production began and all prints were nearly destroyed once she found out. Why didn’t he wait until he had the rights, or just make a different story? Then there’s the picture’s age. Made in 1921, it comes from that bridge between the old world and the new. Movies were being made, but everyone was making it up as they went along, which led to strange choices from everyone involved. Nosferatu is an oddity that’s hypnotic and I can think of no better film whose origin could be shrouded in a sinister mystery.

We’ve got a dynamite premise and the perfect film to apply it to. The final, critical piece comes in the form of the actors. Dafoe is so good here. He’s weird enough that you and the film crew believe he might be an actual vampire. He seems filled with perpetual sadness: a monster, but a pathetic monster, a creature who’s lived on for so long it no longer has a place in a world where you can not only capture an image of the sun and look at it anytime, but film an entire sunrise and project it on a screen to tell a fictional story.

Of course Schreck isn’t actually a vampire because vampires aren’t real, right? And even if vampires were real, what kind of insane film director would hire one? How would you pay them? In blood? How would you coach a vampire to pretend to drink from your female lead (Catherine McCormack as Greta Schroeder)? Unless you shot the film in a way that meant the scene where she is attacked is the last one before production wraps…

There are movies who get better the longer you sit with them. Nosferatu and Shadow of the Vampire are two examples. The more I talk about Shadow of the Vampire, the more I like it. There are so many details here to be considered, though “details” feel like the wrong word. It implies little hidden things when, in fact, they are not hidden, they’re right there, but invisible at a first glance. This is a film I’m going to return to, both mentally, and physically. Shadow of the Vampire is a motion picture like none other and a perfect companion to a horror classic. (On DVD, April 13, 2018)

#Shadow of the Vampire #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #E. Elias Merhige #Steven Katz #John Malkovich #WIllem Dafoe #Cary Elwes #John Aden Gillet #eddie izzard #Udo Kier #Catherine mcCormack #Ronan Vibert #2000 movies #2000 films

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yzeltia · 2 years

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Dreams of a Lost Paradise

Chapter 8: First Sight Characters: Shadowhunter, A-Ruhn-Senna, Raya-O-Senna, Keith Summers, Y'hmitra Rhul, Hayzel Baker, Terris goe Sirius, Emet-Selch Rating: Teen Notes: CW: Torture via Claustrophobia - First Chapter - -Previous Chapter- -Next Chapter-

"What do you make of him?"

A-Ruhn watched quietly as Keith, Y'mhitra, and his sister, Raya-O gathered around a food stall, taking a moment to observe before realizing that the Garlean was talking to him.

"Not a lot going on upstairs, but he's well-intentioned. I don't think anyone else could get away with the way he speaks to Master E-Sumi," the white mage answered before rubbing his nose, "If you're intent on making small talk. Why are you staying around? You don't seem like the team player sort."

Shadowhunter grunted then leanded up against a light post as he crossed his arms. "I was on the hunt for the Ascian...and led his little brother straight into their trap. He's just a lordling boy that's never seen a battle. I don't want to rob someone of two sons."

"You speak as if the battle is decided. We've yet to pin down their whereabouts in Gridania. All might be well," the Padjal offered, watching the trio as they headed back towards them, Keith trying to get Raya-O to feed him something as he struggled to carry the majority of the snacks in his arms.

"Optimism is something that-,"

"Mr. Shadowhunter, your reputation for monologuing is well known by a certain few. I think I'll assume you mean something bleak about the struggle of man and how you've had to power through it."

The Garlean stared at A-Ruhn for a moment then smirked before turning away as the rest of their group returned.

"It seems our friend here has deep pockets. There's something for everrryone," Y'mhitra announced, taking a skewered freshwater fish for herself while offering another to their older charge who held up his hand in turn.

Keith knelt to drop the rest on the bench beside A-Ruhn before pulling out two caramel apples for the white mages.

"Let's see, the red one for the lovely Raya-O and the green one for the charming A-Ruhn," the Gyr Abanian offered with a smile.

The younger white mage tilted his head back looking at Keith from under his bangs, brow raised high before taking the apple as the other joined him and the treats on the bench.

Keith licked his lips as he unwrapped a curled piece of walnut bread that had been slathered in honey while looking as the siblings picked at their apples. "Ah. Those look kinda good. I wouldn't mind a bite. I'd give you a nibble of my bread. If you- AFF!"

Keith whined as he was hit, gently, atop the head by the Shadowhunter's fist. "Enough of that. You're no bard."

"Huh…Whath do you meanth…ah, myth tongue…"

The siblings laughed a bit while Y'mhitra nodded toward the Garlean as he ignored Keith's question.

"Thank you," she offered before turning to address everyone, "Now then. We should take stock of what we know to help narrow our search down."

Shadowhunter rolled his shoulders a bit then turned his head to the group. "They're not a red-mask…And as far as I'm aware, between me and the Warriors of Light and the Scions, all have dealt with anyone that might be pulling their strings."

"So then as I understand it, they would be an awakened soul native to the Source. I apologize, I'm not as versed as my Archon sister. Still, this means they probably do not pose a greater threat, at least enough for us to call for aid," Y'mhitra mused.

"Any Ascian suffering to live is a threat. Native or not. I could easily take care of this myself-"

"But then we'd be letting the infamous Black Wolf run free and unchecked in the shroud," A-Ruhn interjected.

"And the elementals might not take too kindly to your presence without us to babysit. My little brother here was pulled out of his pilgrimage to help so you better start acting like a team player."

A-Ruhn waved his hand out of embarrassment towards his sister as she scolded the older man.

"Anyroad…That being said. The elementals do seem to be bothering our friends here so they haven't left the shroud. Keith, you've been in their company the longest. Are you sure you don't have any insight?"

Keith huffed a bit, finding his tongue still a bit swollen. "Ah…No. As I said before, they were held captive during the occupation…or I guess that's what they told me. Since we found them, everything has been mostly smooth sailing. My brother fell in with them pretty fast though. I was sorry if third wheeling it while we traveled, but I'm the one that has the in with the Gubal Restoration Guild."

"Who held them captive," Shadowhunter asked gruffly.

"Terris goe Sirius?"

The mercenary pushed off the lamp post then knelt down before Keith, looking him straight in the eyes. "You are sure?"

"Y-Yeah!"

The older man looked down for a moment. "A grotesque man and a hypocrite. Money brought him into power. He had a penchant for torturing those who violated moral law. I imagine he weaseled his way into power in Ala Mhigo after…after the incident with the Ultima Weapon. I would have never let him set foot on my claimed territories."

Keith tilted his head. "Your claimed territories? I never asked what your…ah…what is this…"

Keith groaned then dropped his bread before falling forward into Shadowhunters arms while the rest quickly sat up to check on him. His head throbbed as he felt his vision blur.

In a haze, he tried to move his body, but found himself frozen, no longer in Gridania but in an Ala Mhigan cellar. Two soldiers passed through him, carrying a makeshift coffin. Setting it on an altar, they saluted and then stood at the ready while slow deliberate metal footsteps rang against stone.

"If you're going to refuse to divine for me then there's really no use for you anymore. It's a pity. I had high hopes for our union," a sadistically honeyed voice rang out from behind Keith.

Passing through him, a man in red armor and a wolf-like helm with horns approached the coffin. "I could have handed you over to our researchers, or let you pass from house to house, being the court's songbird…but I decided to give you a nice home and station out of the generosity of my heart. And yet you refuse to sing for me. Perhaps while you're six feet under a vision will come to you. A pity no one will be around to relay it too."

The man laughed then squatted down to grab a fistful of dirt and toss it over the lid. Hayzel's muffled scream soon echoed through the room.

"Scoop until they're well covered then we'll return to see if they're more agreeable tomorrow," he ordered before turning to let the soldiers shovel earth up onto the alerter. Keith's gut twisted as he listened to Hayzel's screams and flailing in their wooden prison. As much as he tried to scream out to let them know they were in no real danger, no voice came.

When the soldiers finished, they left, leaving Keith to listen to his friend's sobs. He tried to pull free of the vision, but he remained. In the corner, a black aura appeared and from it, the most tired-looking Garlean, perhaps even a person, he'd ever seen.

"What's all this then? Surely you didn't fall for this half-assed attempt to frighten you," the ornate man sighed before blowing aside the dirt with a dark wind.

With little effort, the lid was freed and out popped Hayzel who quickly fell to the floor and panted. "Thank you…thank you…"

The tired man helped the other to his feet then propped them on the altar. "Don't thank me yet," he huffed before waving his hand over the blond's face.

Hayzel seized up, a red mask of light briefly appearing over his face before dissipating. As if coming up for sure again, Keith's friend gasped and clutched their chest.

"Good Morning, Hypnos," the man greeted before wandering around the cellar, looking unmoved.

"I…I am…you are…"

"Emet-Selch. In the flesh, so to speak. No need to grovel or bow. I'm only here to see that you're awakened before I go on a little trip. I sense something awry here and my allies are dwindling. You, though, seem to be able to peek between shards. I would have you check in with me…there's a world of light. I'm sure you're familiar."

"Yes my lord…the First?"

"Good. That's the one…In the meantime, perhaps you should remedy the situation you're in. Show your captive what a true nightmare is."

Hayzel stood properly and nodded, eyes flicking up with anger. "I believe I shall."

Emet-Selch shrugged then opened another portal. "And Hypnos. Do not get distracted looking for him. I expect you to fulfill your duty to the Convocation and star before all else."

With that, the man departed, leaving Hayzel to exit the room through Keith.

"Wake up lad! Wake up," Shadowhunter’s voice rang out, concerned but not losing its bite.

"Sir, please don't shake him. This is rather common for those new to the Echo we've gathered," A-Ruhn sighed.

Keith winced a bit as he came to, spread out on his back with his face wedged between the calloused hands of the Garlean, thumbs raking at the corner of his eyes to wipe his tears while the back of his head rested in Raya-O's lap.

"What gift leaves a man screaming and vulnerable?"

"I believe he'll become steadier as he grows accustomed to it," Y'mhitra offered.

"I'm…okay I think," Keith finally answered, voice hoarse from his supposed yelling.

"You gave us a scare," Raya-O said, stroking his bangs.

"Well. All is right now that you're here. I'd feel better if you rubbed my shoulders a bit too" Keith sighed, closing his eyes before finding his pillow quickly departing and his head upon the Earth.

"Something has seized this poor lad," Shadowhunter sighed while shaking his head.

"I think he has an affinity for those "kissed by fire". I've known him briefly, but long enough to have never seen him be such an intentional try-hard," Y'mhitra laughed.

"My patience is thin… On your feet boy! Tell us what your precious Mother had you screaming about."

Keith hopped up then swallowed and started to explain what he'd seen.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv oc #ff14 #ffxiv endwalkers #shadowhunter #gaius van baelsar #a ruhn senna #raya o senna #y'mhitra rhul #Keith Summers #Dreams of a Lost Paradise #first sight #cw claustrophobia

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vihrago-a · 2 years

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@constellatory said on my old blog: " we can talk in the morning. for now, you need to rest."

this was bad. very bad. he wasn't supposed to be there. none of this was supposed to happen. stevie was carrying out a task that one of her higher-ups had asked her to do. a mole she needed to eliminate. it was nighttime and the shroud of the darkness concealed most of the situation in the back alley. but what she didn't expect was for her target to hear her sneak up on him. and instead of running away , he fought back. stevie vaguely remembers getting into a very intense struggle with him and getting clocked directly in the nose , blood dripping down her mouth and chin. the target then had her pinned up against the wall with both hands constricting her airway. a bruising grip. it was only then that she heard another person approach them and pry the male from her figure. easily thrown to the ground as if he weighed nothing. her eyes flickered to her savior --- you've got to be fucking kidding me.

there was two choices in this situation because it was cain who had somehow miraculously appeared. one , go through with her job and plant a bullet in the skull of her target. two , run and let him take care of the situation. she was driven. so she finished the job and didn't care that cain could certainly glass her for it in the future. he couldn't say anything at this point. his programming wouldn't let him. stevie's quick to pull her suppressed pistol from her holster and fire at the male who'd been struggling on the ground. in a moment's notice he is no longer an issue. the android didn't even need to say anything before he motioned her to come with. obviously they both needed to get the hell out of dodge before this looks really bad on them both. i'm going to owe him , aren't i? great. just damn peachy.

he took her home. but how the hell did he know where she lived? actually. that was a stupid question. he was an investigative android who's sole purpose was to solve things like this. of course he knew where she lived. anxiety and fear come rushing up her throat while she speaks.

" you weren't supposed to see that-- how did you-- " [ W E C A N T A L K I N T H E M O R N I N G. F O R N O W, Y O U N E E D T O R E S T. ]

that wasn't good. that was an announcement of silent rage --- even if he didn't express anything. all she could do was open the door to her apartment and dread every single minute that came after. in the morning , he would probably verbally kick her shit in. fantastic.

#MUSE : STEVIE #VERSE : DBH #ft. cain #constellatory #death tw #death cw #gun tw #gun cw #injury tw #injury cw #stevie is quaking in her boots #read more bc its long

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ancientcosmicsecrets · 4 months

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Ancient Portals

Many ancient cultures speak of portals to other worlds and gateways to star systems where their "creators" reside. Conventional wisdom tells us these tales are merely myths and legends. However, recently declassified FBI files have stated that beings from other dimensions and planets have visited Earth. NASA has announced that "portals" appear to be hidden within the Earth's magnetic field, making some wonder if the legends of stargates, portals, and wormholes may have some degree of truth to them.

The Place Of The Gods

The Abu Sir Pyramids, a site shrouded in mystery and claimed to be one of the oldest on the planet, hold a unique secret. Within its depths lies an ancient platform made of alabaster, a material believed to be in tune with the 'vibration' of Earth. This platform, it is said, can 'open the senses' for a person to communicate and 'be one' with the higher, sacred energies of the Universe. It is a stargate, the conduit through which the holy energies, the Neters (gods), were believed to have traversed.

As the legends of Abu Ghurab being a stargate, there are signs of what some would perceive as advanced technology having been used to create the site. One example is the exact circular markings drilled into the alabaster.

Sumerian Stargate

A famous Sumerian seal, a relic steeped in mystery, depicts a Sumerian god emerging from a portal of his world into ours. The god, seemingly on a staircase, is moving away from the viewer. On each side of the emerging god are strange shimmering water columns. Another equally enigmatic Sumerian artifact is that of Ninurta. Ninurta not only appears to be wearing a modern-day wristwatch but also uses his finger to press what appears to be a button on the wall of the gateway he is standing in.

Chapter 9 of the Book of Revelations speaks of this stargate. The verse reads, "(1)Then the fifth angel sounded his trumpet, and I saw a star that had fallen from heaven to Earth, and it was given the key to the pit of the abyss. (2)The star opened the pit of the abyss, and smoke rose out of it like the smoke of a great furnace, and the smoke from the pit darkened the sun and the air. (3) Locusts descended on the Earth out of the smoke.

Gate of the Sun

Believed by some to be a portal to the land of the gods, the "Gate of the Sun" in Bolivia shares much of its legends with other similar sites in the Andes region. Tiahuanaco city is said to be one of the most important sites of ancient America, with legends stating that the Sun god, Viracocha, appeared in Tiahuanaco and made it "the place of creation"—the place he chose to start the human race.

Carved from one block of stone and thought to be 14,000 years old, the gateway displays what appears to be human beings with "rectangular helmets." This has led many researchers to state that the purpose of the gate is indeed connected to something astronomical, although this is hotly debated. The top middle of the arch features a carving of the supposed sun god and shows what look to be rays of light appearing behind and forcing their way around all sides of the deity's head.

The 'Doorway of the Gods'

The Native American tribes once knew Sedona, a small town in Arizona called Nawanda, and at one time, it was the most sacred city to them. The Red Rocks of the deserts surrounding the small town can create vortexes capable of transporting people to another realm or dimension. Native Americans believed these rocks were spiritually charged, while sounds emanating from them have been reported. In the mountains of Arizona, it claims to be the "Doorway of the gods"—a strange stone arch portal to another time and space.

In the 1950s-1950s, a local tribesman aided treasure hunters searching for gold in the mountains. He told them a story of his people, dating back to the 1800's1800s, of three tribe members who had discovered the archway while riding in the desert. The story goes that he disappeared when one of them walked through. Believing they had encroached on sacred land, the other two fled.

The helpful tribesman stated he had also seen a strange incident at the alleged doorway. While out in the desert, a sudden rainstorm hit the area, turning the skies grey with clouds. As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of the archway and saw the skies through the arch were clear blue. He walked closer to it, seeing that the archway's image of the mountain range was the same, and the only difference was the sky. However, he, too, became scared, mounted his horse, and returned home.

He told the treasure hunters that only his people knew of the stories. He had only spoken of it because they had shown him kindness and to serve as a warning not to walk through the archway should they come across it. Numerous ancient sites worldwide display fascinating properties that archaeologists cannot explain. These sites prove that thousands of years ago, ancient cultures knew of a technology that has been lost in modern times.

Ancient sites like the Gate of Hayu Marka in South America and Mada'in Saleh in Africa display fascinating similarities in their construction and extensive history that speaks of intriguing details. Locals consider these ancient sites as powerful places with mystical powers. These strange doorways were created by civilizations thousands of years ago for mysterious reasons. Why build gigantic doors into solid rock? Were these sites designed to support local legends? If so, why are these legends not an isolated phenomenon?

Legends tell that in the distant past, great heroes crossed into the land of the gods and enjoyed a prosperous and glorious immortal life. Among the most famous legends is one that says that during the Spanish conquest, an Incan priest called Amaru Muru, from the temple of the seven rays, fled from his temple with a sacred golden disk known as "the key to the gods of the seven rays. "

The priest hid in the mountains of Hayu Brand, afraid that the Spanish might take the key from him. Later, the priest arrived at the "Gate of the Gods" at Hayu Marca, where he showed the key to several local priests and shamans. After they had performed a ritual, the door opened with a blue light emanating from it. The priest, Amaru Muru, handed the golden disk to one of the shamans and entered the door; he was never seen again.

This fantastic story sounds eerily similar to what we call a stargate or portal today. While modern science believes such travel is impossible, legends all around the globe speak of travel through mysterious 'gates' thousands of years ago.

#aliens #history #science #ufology #mytholog #religions #space #news #writers on tumblr #archeology #ancient history #conspiracy theories #conspiracies #truth reading #forbidden knowledge #portal #interdimensional

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