#7/8 drop-in anchors

[p0orbaby]

It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

summary: you’re the new physio, tasked to help leah one on one with her recovery; but lines start to blur the longer you spend with one another

warnings: none

a/n: i enjoyed this one. also trying out a slightly different style so let me know what you think

word count: 2.8k

-

Leah comes in every morning just after 7:30, always a little earlier than the rest of the team—well, what’s left of the team—who roll in around 8, give or take. You start noticing her patterns by the second week. It’s not intentional. It’s just that she’s hard not to notice. The way she slips into the room quietly, moving like a shadow, like she’s trying not to be seen even though she’s Leah Williamson and there’s something impossible about Leah Williamson going unnoticed. You’re not sure she’s aware of it, or maybe she is, maybe it’s part of the act, something people like her learn over time—how to balance being seen and unseen simultaneously. Either way, she always acknowledges you. It’s a brief nod or a soft “Morning” that comes out like a sigh. But it’s there. And you nod back because it’s professional, it’s polite.

You’re the new physio, brought in because someone higher up decided that ACLs are the new pandemic, and Arsenal’s hit hard by it. One by one, players dropping like flies—tears, rips, stretches that aren’t supposed to stretch. Someone needed to focus on rehab, on these slow and tedious one-on-one sessions. So, here you are. Your life has become a revolving door of knee braces, resistance bands, ultrasound machines, and cold compression therapy. A strange, repetitive kind of intimacy.

Leah is assigned to you. "Take care of her," they say. She’s a captain. She’s the face. There’s an unsaid urgency that comes with her, an invisible asterisk by her name. You feel it in every briefing, every passing mention of her progress. Everyone’s waiting for her return. Waiting for her to be fixed.

Your first session with her is awkward. Stilted. You’re overly conscious of how she sits, her knee elevated, her eyes on the ceiling, like she’s counting the tiles instead of looking at you. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and that weird plastic-y scent that medical equipment always has. You ask her the standard questions: pain level, range of motion, any stiffness. She answers with one-word responses, tight-lipped. There’s a distance between you that you can’t quite figure out if it’s professional or personal. Maybe both.

-

Weeks pass, and the routine becomes muscle memory. You know when to push and when to pull back. How to make her laugh, how to coax her into stretching just a little more without her getting defensive. You start to notice the little things about her. Like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts after you adjust the brace on her leg, or how she clicks her tongue when she’s frustrated, a soft noise that barely registers unless you’re paying attention, which you are. You’re always paying attention to Leah.

It’s in the middle of a session that things shift. You’re guiding her through a series of exercises—balance work, stuff that’s boring but essential—and she’s sweating, biting her lip as she focuses on not wobbling. You’re right there, hands out, ready to catch her if she stumbles. She doesn’t, but the proximity is there. Too close, maybe. Your fingers brush her waist as you correct her form, and she inhales sharply. You freeze, but she doesn’t move. Neither do you.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice lower than usual, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the weight of her stare, those sharp blue eyes locking onto yours.

"Yeah," she says, but her voice sounds strained, like she’s not sure it’s the right answer. She’s not looking at you anymore, her focus now on the floor, her hands gripping the sides of the bench like she needs to anchor herself. The room feels smaller, the air thick.

You pull back, step away, putting space between you, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You can still feel the echo of her skin under your fingers, the heat of her proximity. You clear your throat, force a smile. "Let’s take five”

She nods, doesn’t say anything, just grabs her water bottle and takes a long drink, her throat working, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck. You turn away, pretend to be adjusting something on the ultrasound machine even though it’s perfectly fine, just to give yourself something to do, something that isn’t thinking about how her skin felt under your hands.

-

The next time around is more tense. There’s an unspoken tension now, like a line has been crossed, or maybe it hasn’t, but it’s close. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, every brush of skin. Leah doesn’t mention it, but there’s a change in her too. She flirts, subtly at first—offhand comments, jokes that land just a little too close to something more. You laugh, play along, because it’s harmless. It’s nothing. Except it’s not.

You catch yourself watching her more. The way her muscles ripple under her skin as she moves, the way her lips part when she’s concentrating, how her eyes flick to you when she thinks you’re not looking. You wonder if she notices you doing the same. You wonder if she feels it too—this thing simmering between you that’s becoming harder to ignore.

One day, after a session, she lingers. The rest of the team has filtered out of the gym, and it’s just the two of you, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound.

"Thanks for today," she says, her voice soft. She’s sitting on the edge of the bench, her knee still wrapped in the brace, but she looks more relaxed than she has in weeks. There’s something in her eyes, something you can’t quite read, and it makes your chest tighten.

"It’s my job," you say, but the words feel hollow. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks now, trying to convince yourself that this is just work, that this is just another injured player, another knee to fix. But it’s not. You’re not sure when it stopped being just that, but it has.

"Is it, though?" she asks, and her voice is lighter now, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A challenge.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"

She stands, slowly, her movements careful, deliberate. She’s close to you now, too close again, and you don’t step back this time. "I think you know what I mean," she says, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You don’t have an answer, or maybe you do but you don’t trust yourself to say it out loud. The air between you crackles with something electric, something that feels inevitable.

She leans in, just a fraction, and you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You could close the distance. You could kiss her, right here, right now, and no one would know. It would be easy. Too easy.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back. You force a smile. "We should stick to the plan. Don’t want to push the knee too hard too soon”

It’s a cop-out, and you both know it. The shift in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—the brief flicker of disappointment before she masks it with a shrug.

"Right. The knee," she says, her tone casual, but the tension is still there, hanging between you like a thin thread ready to snap. She doesn’t push it, though. Instead, she grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and heads for the door. But just before she leaves, she glances back at you, her eyes sharp, like she’s trying to figure you out, trying to decide if this is a game or something else entirely.

You stand there for a long time after she’s gone, the gym feeling too big, too empty. You can still feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body close to yours. You tell yourself it’s just work, just rehab. But deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

It’s never that simple.

-

The sessions after that are different. There’s a push and pull now, a tension that neither of you acknowledges but is impossible to ignore. Flirting turns into something sharper, more pointed, like you’re both testing the limits, seeing how far you can go before something breaks. But nothing breaks, not really. Not yet.

Then one night, you cross the line. It’s late, the training ground is empty, and Leah’s the last one in the gym. You’re both exhausted, worn down by weeks of slow progress, of frustrations mounting. The conversation starts off innocuous—something about her recovery timeline, how she’s feeling. But it shifts quickly. There’s an edge to her voice, a sharpness that cuts through the usual banter.

"Why do you keep pulling back?" she asks, and there’s nothing light in her tone now. It’s serious. She’s serious.

You blink, thrown off. It’s late, the harsh fluorescent lights above cast everything in this sterile, washed-out glow that makes you feel like you’re in a hospital, or some kind of waiting room where nothing feels real, nothing matters. Leah’s standing in front of you, close but not too close, not like before, but close enough that you feel it—the weight of her presence, the space she occupies, the air between you vibrating, charged with something neither of you is willing to name but it’s there. It’s been there for weeks. Maybe longer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You’re tired, too tired to come up with something convincing, and it’s the way she’s looking at you now, like she’s seeing through every excuse you’ve built up, every wall you’ve thrown up between you because you know you have to, because you’re the physio, you’re supposed to be the professional, the one who stays detached, clinical, objective. You’re supposed to care about her body, her knee, not the rest of her. Not this.

But the truth is, you do care, too much, and it’s bleeding into everything. Into the way you touch her during sessions, the way your fingers linger just a little too long on her skin when you’re adjusting the brace, or the way your pulse speeds up when she leans back on the bench, sweat glistening on her forehead, the tendrils of her hair stuck to her neck, and you wonder what it would feel like to brush them away. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s a line you can’t cross, but the line’s blurred now, so faint you can barely see it anymore.

Leah narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s wearing an old Arsenal training kit, the fabric worn and soft, the logo faded from too many washes, and you notice that she tugs at the hem of her shirt when she’s frustrated, twisting it around her fingers like she’s trying to keep her hands busy, like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something vulnerable, like she’s exposing a part of herself she doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. “You know exactly what I mean”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. You’re not stupid. You know why you’ve been pulling back. Why you’ve been keeping your distance. It’s because this—whatever this is—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s wrong in a way that’s hard to define but easy to feel, like a low hum in the back of your mind that you can’t shake. And yet, the more you try to stay away, the more you find yourself drawn to her. Like gravity. Like something you can’t control, no matter how hard you try.

“It’s not that simple,” you say, and your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. You’re aware of how this looks—two people alone in a gym, the air thick with unspoken tension, the kind of tension that feels like it’s been building for a long time and is about to spill over. You glance at the clock on the wall—it’s almost 10 a.m.—and you wonder how it got so late, how time seems to bend around her, how hours slip by when you’re with her but still, its never enough. There’s always more, always something unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Leah uncrosses her arms, taking a step closer. You can see the faint scar on her knee, the way the skin’s still a little pink, a little raw, and it’s a reminder of why you’re here, what your job is, but all you can think about is the way her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching. “I’m not asking for simple,” she says quietly, and there’s an intensity in her voice that catches you off guard. “I’m asking for honest”

The word hangs in the air, heavy, and you feel something in your chest tighten. Honest. You think about what that would look like. What it would feel like to stop pretending, to stop playing this game where you act like you don’t notice the way she looks at you, the way your body reacts to hers. You think about what it would mean to cross that line, to give in to what’s been building between you. The consequences. The fallout. The way it would shift everything irreparably, and yet, the thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You take a breath, slow, steady, trying to collect yourself, trying to find the right words, but they’re all tangled up in your head, a mess of things you can’t say, shouldn’t say. “Leah,” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence, because there’s no good way to say what you’re thinking, no good way to explain the way your heart speeds up when she’s near, the way your skin prickles under her eyes, the way your mind drifts to her at night when you’re lying in bed, staring into the darkness, replaying moments in your head that shouldn’t matter but do.

She’s watching you, waiting, and you can feel the weight of her expectation, the way she’s daring you to say something real, something that matters. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re tired of pretending, tired of holding back, but something inside you cracks, just a little, just enough.

“I’ve been trying to keep this professional,” you say, and the words come out in a rush, tumbling over themselves like they’ve been waiting to escape. “Because I have to. Because I don’t know how else to do this without—” You stop, shaking your head, because it sounds ridiculous, it sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is. “It’s not just about your knee,” you say finally, and it feels like a confession, like something you’ve been holding onto for too long. “It’s about everything else”

Leah’s eyes widen, just for a moment, and you see something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe, or relief, or something else entirely. She doesn’t say anything right away, but she steps even closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her sweat mixed with the scent of her shampoo, something clean and floral, and it hits you like a wave, overwhelming in its simplicity. You feel the pull again, stronger now, undeniable.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, and her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the haze in your mind. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

The words hang between you, suspended in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the gym, the team, the world outside this room. It’s just you and her, and the weight of everything you haven’t said, everything you’ve been too scared to admit.

Leah reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a spark that ignites something deep inside, something you’ve been trying to suppress for weeks, months. You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you disappears, and her lips are on yours, and it’s like everything snaps into focus all at once.

The kiss is rough, urgent, like it’s been building for too long and now there’s no stopping it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of her body against yours, the way her breath mingles with yours in the small, stolen space between kisses. It’s messy, frantic, like neither of you can get enough, like you’ve been starving for this and now you’re finally letting yourself have it.

You don’t think about the consequences, about what happens when this moment ends. You don’t think about the power imbalance, the lines you’re crossing, the mess you’re making. All you can think about is the way she feels against you, the way her fingers dig into your skin like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

[dotthings]

Some spn Cas history (because yay facts!! Facts are fun!!)

Misha was a guest star in S4. Castiel was originally planned to be a 3 episode and done character, but Misha was so electrifying as Cas, had great chemistry with Jensen, and Cas turned out to be such a compelling character, the show kept him around.

Misha was promoted to regular in S5 and continued in S6.

He was dropped from the show for S7 because Gamble and Singer decided to write out Cas. The network did a lot of fans a solid for once, called up the EP's, and went "hahahaha you aren't really planning to get rid of that fan favorite pretty angel are you???? hahaha ok no really bring him back" and literally refused to let spn get rid of him.

There was for sure a listlessness factor in S7 once Cas was removed. J2 were the anchors in the early seasons. In later seasons, J2M really became the show's center supports, more than just J2. (No, this is not arguable. This is reflected in canon story, and Cas's growth as a character and plot role and emotional role and in promotion for many years. No, I don't care who is offended that I said it. It's not a point of argument).

Jeremy Carver took over as showrunner in S8 and brought Misha in for an 8 episode arc, so Misha was a guest star in S8. Carver wanted to rebuild the character and in S9 Misha was promoted back up to series regular, and he stayed at that status the rest of the series.

Originally, Misha's regular status was denoted by having him third in opening credits after Jared and Jensen, before the "guest starring" section. Eventually Misha was given an "and" credit.

The "and" credit is a contract status thing. It's for series regulars of particular note, usually for a particularly noteworthy performance. Tony Head was "and" status on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. When he stepped back to recurring, Alyson Hannigan became the "and" status.

Some have tried to paint Misha's "and" designator as a sign of his lesser importance, but it's the opposite. It's a promotion and a sign of respect.

A further note, zero fans have attempted to supplant Jared and Jensen as the "top leads" of the show, but it's abundantly fair to label Misha a 3rd lead, given the proportion of Cas's plot and emotion impact on story and Misha's longevity and status. It's semantics, really. If someone gets offended if you say he's a 3rd lead, they're aren't worth your time. Eh, okay, "main character" isn't wrong either, but I'm suspicious of people who break out in hives over calling him "3rd lead"--but main character is a descriptor for Cas's role. SPN at times had 3-4 series regulars, with J2 as the only two constants the entire run of the show, which is why we say J2 are the 2 top leads. But Cas and Misha's importance are also facts.

Misha was "guest star" in S4, 7, and 8. Eventually he got "special guest star" credit during his guest starring era on spn, another indicator of an actor/performance/character of note, but not a series regular. He was a series regular for S5, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15. (No this is not arguable. These are production facts. Some people still, after all this time, try to erase his regular/main character status on spn, and they aren't working in facts).

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

okay here's part 6! this literally was not meant to be as long as it is, but i got carried away while doing some archery research... and here we are.

hope you guys enjoy! part 7 will be uploaded tomorrow!

(p.s if you're an archer/know archery and i get stuff wrong please don't yell at me, google can only give me so much info hdshdshdh)

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 7 | part 8

there's a masterlist now!

*athena had left not long after midday, but not before saying she’d see them all later at dinner*

*telemachus, odysseus & penelope are all together in the palace gardens*

*penelope is sitting on a bench, with odysseus also laying on it & his head in her lap as they watch telemachus practice using a bow and arrow* 

telemachus: *trying to aim for the centre of the target in front of him*

telemachus: *struggling but wants to show his parents what his training with athena is doing for him*

telemachus: *lets the bowstring go*

*the arrow flies through the air, but misses the centre of the target completely and hits the edge of the target*

telemachus: *drops the arm holding his bow to his side and sighs in disappointment*

penelope: *looks at her son and then looks down at odysseus*

odysseus: *looks up from his son to meet penelope’s eyes*

*both seem to have a conversation through their eyes*

odysseus: *smiles and nods at penelope*

odysseus: *gets up from penelope’s lap and walks over to telemachus*

penelope: *smiles while watching odysseus head over to their son*

odysseus: don’t be disappointed son, go ahead and nock another arrow

telemachus: *does as his father says*

odysseus: now draw and anchor, as you normally would

telemachus: *again does what odysseus asks*

odysseus: *looks at his son’s pose* ah i see some of the problem

odysseus: *gently takes hold of telemachus’ drawn back elbow* 

odysseus: ok your elbow needs to be a bit higher, and just straighten your back a little…

telemachus: *follows odysseus’ instructions*

odysseus: *stepping back so he’s not in the way* that's perfect! now breathe in as you would, but not to the point it hurts! 

odysseus: and then as you go to let the string go breathe out but not all the way, about only half way

telemachus: *breathes in as he aims for the centre of the target again*

telemachus: *steadily breathes out and releases the string*

*the arrow flies through the air again… and hits just slightly off the centre of of the target*

telemachus: *looks at the target in disbelief but in also joy*

odysseus: *cheers in happiness for his son* you did it!

penelope: *clapping and calling out to her son* well done telemachus! 

telemachus: *drops his bow and turns to his father*

telemachus: *gives odysseus a hug* thank you father!

odysseus: *hugging his son back* no need to thank me, i’m happy to be able to help teach you!

telemachus: *lets odysseus go while smiling*

odysseus: *looks down at telemachus’ bow then picks up it up and grabs an arrow*

odysseus: *nocks it with ease and shoots it in the blink of an eye*

*the arrow hits the dead centre of the target* 

odysseus: *turns and hands the bow back to telemachus*

odysseus: now, how about you keep practising? once you have this completely down i’ll teach you other things you can do with a bow

odysseus: *hand under his chin in thought* i’ll have to get an archer’s ring commissioned for you

telemachus: *stares at his father in shock at how easy he made that look* i didn't know you knew so much about archery- i mean…

telemachus: *thinks back to when odysseus shot an arrow through 12 axe heads*

penelope: *giggles to herself as she realises even their son doesn’t know about his father’s mastery & skill with a bow*

odysseus: *looks over at penelope, and then he understands just why she's giggling*

odysseus: *now looks at telemachus with an amused expression*

telemachus: *sees his father’s expression*

telemachus: *holds his hands (with the bow still in one of them) up hoping he hasn’t offended his father*

telemachus: not saying you didn’t know how to use one! 

telemachus: i thought you just knew the basics and that ‘trick’ you did to prove yourself, was originally just to impress mother?

telemachus: *puts his arms down and then looks down towards his father’s hands* besides, that ring you wear on your thumb is just a normal one like the other’s you wear isn’t it? 

telemachus: it certainly doesn’t look like any archer ring i've seen before at the markets…

odysseus: *laughs to himself and holds up his hand* oh this? you’re right it doesn’t look like an archer ring.

odysseus: *rubs his thumb along his index finger* that's because it isn’t a normal one

telemachus: *looks again at his father’s ring to see it now has a point to it like any standard archer ring*

telemachus: *looks up at odysseus’ face, then back down to his hand and then back up to his face again* 

telemachus: but- you- it- hOW?

odysseus: *rubs his thumb against his index finger again and the ring is back to looking like any standard ring* 

odysseus: *looks from telemachus to penelope* ask your mother, it was a gift from her

telemachus: *immediately swivels to face her*

penelope: well, as you’ve now found out…your father isn't one to let people know he’s a skilled archer, so i ‘commissioned’ an archer ring to be made for him that could hide as a normal ring when not needed. 

telemachus: wow! the jeweller who made this certainly is skilled then

penelope: *thinks back to asking athena if she could try to get hephaestus to make one*

penelope: yeah skilled indeed 

telemachus: *turns back to odysseus* so why didn’t you want people to know? about your skills as an archer i mean.

odysseus: sometimes it's best to not reveal all your strengths

odysseus: *grins while shrugging* keeping people guessing is also fun

odysseus: *walks to telemachus and ruffles his hair* anyway, back to practising! i’m going to head back over to your mother, but call me if you want me to assist with anything ok?

telemachus: ok!

*time passes as telemachus keeps on practising, odysseus is back to laying in penelope’s lap while she caresses his hair*

*odysseus wants to keep watching his son but is struggling to not fall asleep from penelope's motions*

*telemachus notices so decides to discuss some final dinner plans with his mother*

telemachus: so the cooks have everything they need for tonight, right? are you sure you don’t need me to quickly run down to the market for anything? 

penelope: *smiles reassuringly at telemachus* they do, and if on the off chance they don’t i'm sure one of them will go to the market themselves. no need to worry yourself my son.

telemachus: *nods while getting another arrow ready* 

telemachus: *starts pulling the string back when he has another thought*

telemachus: oh what about the seating plan? i should probably tell fathe-

penelope: *who knows about athena’s seating plan, and also knows that odysseus doesn’t (hey she wants to have some fun too ok?)*

penelope: *forgetting about her husband peacefully half-asleep in her lap*

penelope: *jumping up from the bench* NO-

telemachus: *not expecting his mother’s outburst*

telemachus: *lets the string go accidentally and also having lost his aim*

odysseus: *falls off penelope’s lap and the bench with a startled yelp*

*meanwhile the loose arrow now wizzes straight past the target, through the garden trees and over the palace cliffs, heading into what looks to be its final destination of…. the sea*

telemachus: *turns to face his parents* mother, are you ok? why did you yell no?

penelope: oh um… i’m sorry for shouting telemachus 

penelope: what i meant to say was, there's no need to spoil anything. we’ll keep it as a surprise!

telemachus: uh ok…

odysseus: *face down on the ground and groaning from the sudden series of events*

odysseus: *pushes himself up and looks at his wife*

odysseus: penelope why?

penelope: *laughs a little at odysseus’ rumpled state* 

penelope: *helps him up* 

penelope: i’m sorry my love *kisses him on the cheek*

odysseus: *smiles at the kiss and then brushes his clothing free of dust*

odysseus: what were you two talking about anyway?

telemachus: uhh-

penelope: -the final bits for dinner! speaking of which, we should all go and start getting ready!

penelope: *points at the sun starting to set* helios is not long from being done for the day, and i'm sure when selene takes to the skies, our dinner guests won't be long!

penelope: *starts to head inside* come along you two!

telemachus: *to odysseus* what about the archery equipment?

odysseus: *shrugs* we’ll deal with it later

*telemachus & odysseus follow penelope back into the palace*

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 3,025

warnings/notes: I decided to post another Austin fic I've been playing with for a little while. This is a set up chapter for the story and hopefully you guys enjoy it. The romance will begin soon :)

Chapter 1: Anchors and Aspirations

The icy wind bit through Violet's thin shawl as she maneuvered through the bustling market square, her gray eyes flitting from stall to stall. With the stealth of a seasoned thief, she slipped a hand into a basket, withdrawing a bruised apple before anyone noticed. At her heart, there was no love for thievery, but survival in the grim alleys of Victorian England left little room for scruples. As she tucked the stolen fruit into the folds of her dress, a shadow loomed over her. Her heart caught in her throat. She turned slowly, only to see Mr. Clarence Johnson, a local shopkeeper known for his scrupulous eye and unforgiving nature.

“Miss Everly,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft, his gaze not on the stolen apple but on her face. “You look more worn than usual. Are you unwell?”

Violet tensed. Clarence Johnson was an uncommon figure in their decrepit part of town; his presence alone suggested he was either lost or up to something far beyond her understanding.

“I am just fine, sir,” Violet replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering of her heart. “Just tending to some errands for my father.”

“Aye,” he nodded slowly, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“But you needn’t resort to pilfering for your sustenance,” he continued, glancing at where the apple had disappeared into her dress. “There are other ways, Miss Everly, ways that do not risk your slender neck at the gallows.”

Violet stiffened, her hand instinctively clutching the fabric over the apple. The threat of the law was always a ghost that haunted her every step in these streets. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Johnson, but I assure you, I manage as best I can.”

Clarence surveyed her with those discerning eyes that missed little. “Your father,” he began, his voice dropping to a softer timbre, “he does little to provide, am I right?”

The accusation stung because it was true, yet Violet felt a surge of defiance. “He is my father still,” she said coldly, daring him with her gaze to speak ill of the man despite his failures.

Clarence sighed digging into one of his pockets and pulling out a few coins. He handed it to Violet. “Go buy the apple, girl. It would be a shame to see you hang for a fruit.” A trace of regret flitted across his features. “Miss Everly, I—” He paused, seeming to choose his next words with care. “I find myself in need of a reliable assistant at my shop. Someone keen and observant. Your... talents could be put to better use than thievery.”

Violet's heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage at the offer. Employment from Mr. Clarence Johnson was an unexpected lifeline, a beacon in her relentless sea of struggles. Yet, mistrust curled inside her like a dormant snake. Why would a man of his standing offer her, a known petty thief, an opportunity?

"I appreciate your offer, Mr. Johnson," Violet started cautiously, her voice a low murmur as she glanced around the bustling market to ensure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby. "But why would you trust someone like me in your establishment? You know very well my... activities."

Clarence's eyes softened, hinting at a depth that Violet hadn't noticed before. “Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, Miss Everly. I’ve watched you, not just today but many times. You’re quick, smart, and despite your current... enterprise,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, “you have morals. You steal only what you need and no more.”

He was right—Violet never took more than necessary to survive. Her actions were driven by desperation, not greed. The acknowledgment of that fact from Clarence Johnson stirred something akin to hope within her chest.

"Consider it," he urged gently as he started to turn away, leaving the coins in her palm.

Violet watched Clarence's retreating figure, the coins heavy in her hand like the sudden possibility they represented. In a world that had offered little but hard edges and cold shoulders, the warmth of an unexpected offer ignited a flicker of daring in her spirit. She could almost taste the promise of stability, a stark contrast to the bitter tang of pilfered fruit and the relentless ache of uncertainty. Still, Violet knew better than to leap without looking. Her life had taught her the sharp lessons of betrayal and disappointment too well. As she moved away from the market square, her mind raced with both the perils and prospects of Clarence Johnson's proposal. Could she truly step into the light of legitimate work without the shadows of her past pulling her back? And more pressingly, what did Clarence see in her that others didn't? Was it pity, a calculated gamble, or perhaps something more personal?

As she wandered through the alleys, her route took her instinctively towards home—a term used loosely for the cramped, dingy room she shared with her father. The door creaked ominously as she pushed it open, revealing Edward Everly slumped over a table littered with empty bottles. The stench of stale liquor and despair hung thick in the air. Violet's entrance went unnoticed by her father, his consciousness lost to the depths of another drunken stupor. She stood there a moment, her gaze hardening as she took in the sight of his decrepit form. This was the life she was born into, one suffocated by poverty and neglect, a stark reminder of what awaited her if nothing changed.

With a soft sigh, she stepped over the threshold, her boots echoing softly on the bare wooden floor. The coins still clenched in her hand felt like both a promise and a burden. She walked past her father, careful not to disturb his fitful slumber, and seated herself on the small, worn-out chair near the cold fireplace. Here in the dim light of their one-room abode, Violet allowed herself a moment to think. Mr. Clarence Johnson’s offer was tempting—an escape from this life of constant desperation. Yet doubt gnawed at her; trust was a luxury she could scarcely afford. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden groan from across the room. Edward Everly stirred, his eyelids fluttering open only to squint at his surroundings in befuddled drunkenness.

"Violet?" he slurred, his voice soaked with alcohol and confusion.

"Yes, Father," she replied quietly, steadying her voice to hide the tumult inside.

"What are you doing, sitting there like a lost soul? No food again?" His voice was rough, accusatory, as he tried to focus his bleary eyes on her.

Violet's hand tightened around the coins, the metal biting into her palm. She considered telling him about the job offer, about the possibility of change, but the words died on her lips. Her father's unpredictable temper and his disdain for any sign of ambition or hope outside his own distorted view discouraged any such revelations. Instead, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her dress with a practiced motion. "I'll get us something to eat," she said, her tone neutral. "Rest now. You need it."

Edward grunted in response, collapsing back onto the table with a weary thud. Violet turned away, feeling the weight of responsibility press down on her once more. As she stepped out into the waning light of day, the coins still in her grasp represented more than mere currency; they were a test of her courage and resolve.

The streets outside whispered with the voices of dusk—traders packing up their stalls, children playing before they were called in for supper, men heading towards the pubs for their evening respite. Violet moved through them like a shadow, unnoticed yet sharply attentive. She made her way to the tiny store at the corner of the street, its windows dimly lit and shelves sparsely stocked. Mrs. Bauble, the elderly proprietor, looked up from her knitting as Violet entered, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion and then softening as she recognized the young woman.

"Back again, Violet?" Mrs. Bauble asked, setting aside her knitting. Her voice was raspy yet carried a warmth that was often absent in their bleak surroundings.

"Yes, Mrs. Bauble," Violet replied, approaching the counter with the coins still tight in her grip. "A loaf of bread and whatever meat you can spare for this."

Mrs. Bauble eyed the coins and then Violet, a knowing look crossing her features. "Trouble or fortune, my dear? Those coins look heavy with one or the other."

Violet offered a small, weary smile. "Perhaps a bit of both," she confessed softly.

The old woman nodded as if she understood all too well the dual nature of sudden opportunities. She turned to gather the requested items, wrapping them carefully before handing them over to Violet. "Be cautious, child. Fortune's favor is a fickle friend," she advised, her wrinkled hand briefly squeezing Violet's.

Violet nodded, feeling the weight of the old woman's words sink into her heart. "I will, thank you, Mrs. Bauble," she murmured, taking the small parcel with a sense of gratitude mixed with trepidation. As she left the store, the cool evening air brushed against her face, whispering possibilities that both exhilarated and terrified her. The walk back home was a quiet one, filled with the sounds of her own footsteps echoing off the cobblestones and the distant laughter of children not yet called to their suppers. Violet's mind spun with thoughts of Mr. Clarence Johnson’s proposal. It was a chance to step away from the shadowy margins of survival into something resembling a normal life. But at what cost? Could she really leave behind the streets that had taught her everything about resilience and distrust just as easily?

The uncertainty churned inside her as she approached the door of her humble abode once more. Violet paused, hand on the latch, feeling the divide between her current life and the one that might await her with Clarence Johnson. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, soft and encouraging, urging her to take a chance for a better future. Yet, the haunting memories of past betrayals loomed large, making her hesitate. Resolutely, Violet pushed open the door, stepping back into the shadowed confines of the room she shared with her father. Edward Everly was now snoring loudly, lost in an alcoholic haze that seemed to provide him the only peace he knew. Violet set down the small parcel of food on the shaky table and took a moment to look at him. Despite everything, he was still her father, and a pang of compassion tempered her longstanding resentment.

Quietly she unpacked the bread and meat, setting aside a portion for herself before preparing a smaller plate for Edward when he would inevitably awaken. Her actions were mechanical, performed with little thought as her mind wrestled with larger concerns. She knew that accepting Clarence’s offer would mean more than just changing jobs; it would mean stepping into an unknown world, risking exposure and vulnerability in ways she hadn't before.

Later, as darkness enveloped the room and the flickering candle cast long shadows across the peeling walls, Violet sat with her thoughts, tracing the outline of the bread with her fingers. The sense of impending change weighed heavily on her. It wasn't just the prospect of leaving behind the familiar, suffocating squalor that gnawed at her; it was also stepping into a realm so vastly different from anything she had known. What if she was unprepared for the challenges? What if she failed?

As these doubts swirled in her mind, Edward stirred from his stupor, his movements sluggish as he adjusted to the dim light. He squinted at the plate set before him and then up at Violet, a rare flicker of confusion crossing his usually indifferent gaze.

"Did you fetch this, Violet?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," she replied quietly, watching him closely.

He took a piece of meat and chewed slowly. For a moment, there was silence between them—a silence filled with unspoken words and stifled dreams.

"Why do you stay?" Edward's question came unexpectedly. His eyes, clearer now, fixed on her with an intensity that made her flinch slightly.

Violet paused, her breath catching in her throat. It was not like Edward to show interest in her choices or her life. The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with implications that Violet had long avoided. She searched for an answer that could appease both her father and her own restless heart. "I stay because this is my home," she replied quietly, her eyes not meeting his. "And because you are here."

Edward snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him as he looked around the decrepit room that barely served as a shelter. "This? This is no home, Violet. It's a prison. You're young still. You shouldn't be shackled by my failures."

His words, so starkly honest, struck Violet with unexpected force. It was rare for Edward to acknowledge his own shortcomings so openly or to express concern for her well-being. This glimpse of the man he might once have been—before grief and vice had reshaped him into the figure he now presented—left her momentarily speechless.

"You could leave, find a better life. Isn't there anyone...?" His voice trailed off, his question unfinished but clear.

Violet’s heart pounded in her chest as she considered her father's words. They echoed the very thoughts that haunted her nightly dreams—the possibility of a life beyond these walls, a chance at happiness that seemed so tantalizing yet so remote. But the thought of leaving her father in this state, as wretched as it was, tugged at her conscience. "There might be," she admitted softly, allowing herself to think of Clarence Johnson once more. His offer had been genuine, filled with promises of respect and a new beginning. Yet, the weight of her current reality shackled her ambitions.

"But I fear what leaving would mean for you," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Edward scoffed, looking away from her piercing gaze. "Don't make an anchor out of me, Violet. I'm already drowning." His voice was gruff, edged with the harsh self-awareness that alcohol sometimes brought to his lips.

Violet swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears she refused to shed. Her father’s usual indifference made his moments of clarity all the more painful for their rarity and raw honesty.

"I need to think on it," she finally said, standing up and moving towards the small window that overlooked the dim alleyway below. There, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass, trying to draw strength from the night itself. The tangled streets of London sprawled out before her—so familiar and yet suddenly brimming with the promise of escape. Her heart fluttered at the thought, a wild bird caged by years of oppression and fear.

Inside, Edward shifted uneasily in his chair, watching her silhouette framed against the weak moonlight that dribbled through the grimy window. For a moment, he seemed about to speak again, perhaps to retract his harsh truths or to further encourage her departure. But no words came; instead, he sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh that spoke volumes of his resignation to life's cruel turns.

Violet remained at the window long after her father's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep. Her thoughts were tumultuous waves crashing against the shore of her resolve. Clarence’s proposal was not merely an employment offer; it was an invitation to step into a world where she could perhaps wash away the stains of her past and emerge reborn. It promised safety, respectability, and above all, an identity unchained from the degradation that had colored her life. Yet, her father’s words haunted her: "Don’t make an anchor out of me." Could she really leave him here, adrift in the haze of his vices, or was it her duty to stay and prevent him from sinking deeper into despair? The weight of decision seemed insurmountable, anchoring her to this moment of indecision.

Violet pressed her cheek against the cool pane, the glass fogging slightly with each exhaled breath. Outside, the labyrinthine alleys of London whispered secrets of escape and adventure, but also murmured warnings of betrayal and hardship. Each whisper tugged at her soul, a symphony of opportunity and fear mingling in the night air. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Edward shifting again in his chair, his face etched with lines of discomfort and regret. For a fleeting second, she saw not the man who had failed her but rather the father who had once held dreams and aspirations beyond the confines of their dreary existence. The weight of his words echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of their shared struggles and the unspoken bond that tied them together.

Drawing in a deep breath, Violet stepped away from the window. The cool air had not offered solace nor had it stiffened her resolve. If anything, it had only deepened her turmoil. Walking over to the flickering candle, she snuffed it out with a quick pinch, plunging the room into darkness. She navigated through the black with practiced ease, her every step whispering against the wooden floor. Reaching her modest bedding in the corner, she lay down without changing, drawing the thin blanket up to her chin. The darkness was not just a physical veil but also a metaphor for the uncertainty that clouded her future. As she lay there, her mind continued to race, replaying her earlier conversation with her father, weighing each word, each pause.

As sleep eventually claimed her in its restless embrace, Violet dreamt of vast oceans and endless horizons—a world away from the cramped confines of their decrepit home. In her dreams, the ocean was a deep blue, not the murky grey of London's foggy mornings. She stood on the deck of a ship, the wind tugging at her hair and billowing her threadbare dress like a sail. This was a freedom she had never known, unshackled from the burdens of her father's failures and the oppressive weight of their squalid existence.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! I hope you're doing well. I just shared a gifset of de-aged Derek and present Derek pinning Stiles to the wall and was curious if there are any fics where de-aged Derek maybe sticks around longer than canon, and he and Stiles start dating because it looks like he'll be stuck like that. Then, of course, he gets aged up again at some point ... anything? Thanks!

Yeah!

Out of the Mouths of Pups by cardel

(1/1 I 1,358 I General)

Everyone smells anxious and that should set off alarms in him but it doesn’t. The human begins walking towards him, slowly, until he’s standing in front of him. Derek looks up at him curiously, not feeling threatened, Derek stays calm.

That is until one of the werewolves takes a step closer to Derek, the human’s heartbeat picks up. This triggers Derek’s instinct to protect, and propel him to stand in front of the human. He flashes his alpha eyes at the approaching werewolf.

You feel like mine too... 🩵☄️🧡 by Eerien_Ent29

(1/1 I 2,681 I General)

Stiles' anger and frustration boiled over as he spoke with Erica on the phone. "What do you mean he's gone? I entrusted him to you guys so you could take care of him! What happened? What did you tell him?" His voice crackled with a mixture of concern and anger.

Of Boundaries and Bedroom Walls by AClosedFicIsNeverRead

(7/7 I 19,015 I Explicit)

Noah eyed the teenage werewolf with barely concealed apprehension, taking in the unhealthy measure of swagger and self-confidence oozing off the kid. He was entirely too good looking and built for 16 years old and it was clear that he damned well knew it.

Derek smiled back at the Sheriff, self-assured and showing off just a few too many teeth to look strictly human.

“Alright. Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Noah began, rubbing his forehead as he prayed for strength. “You want me to allow a teenaged boy to sleep directly across the hall from my teenaged daughter with zero parental supervision while I’m pulling overnight shifts?”

“Daaaad!” Stiles groaned. “It’s still Derek!”

- OR -

The one where de-aged Derek moves in with the Stilinskis and becomes fixated on the delicious, hyperactive human girl. Sure, she says they won't be more than friends. That doesn't mean he can't try to change her mind, right?

anything that's dead shall be regrown by blueinkedbones

(26/? I 54,176 I Teen)

“Derek,” the guy with the hands says. He's still got his hands out, kind of reaching, kind of catching, kind of dropping to his sides. His voice is calm, but his eyes are too bright to sell it, and his heartbeat is out of control. “Are you—Do you know who we are?”

Derek swallows, thinks. If this is a treaty thing, another pack thing, why would they care about him? He's not even the alpha-in-training, he's nothing. Mom doesn't even bother explaining most werewolf politics to him. He knows most of it from Laura, Peter, from passing packs who used to think it was cute to tell the youngest beta their complicated histories and have it repeated back to them around still-awkward fangs. Now that's Cora, and not recently, either—She says she's too big to play kid games.

“No,” Derek decides. “Should I?”

A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing by alexenglish

(8/8 I 81,325 I Explicit)

The pack of Beacon Hills' past transgressions are about to converge on them, and Derek stumbles out of the forest with no recent memories and straight into a pack he doesn't know, with an alpha and an anchor he can't possibly remember.

[longwuzhere]

Here are some cool Easter eggs that I found the newest My Adventures with Superman episode, “Let’s Go to Ivo Tower, You Say”. Links to the easter eggs post:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

SPOILERS if you have not seen the episode of course:

Perry assigns our intern trio to go get interviews about Anthony Ivo. I previously mentioned Ivo's deal in the comics in this post, but we'll talk more about this version of Ivo later.

Shout out to Lois' hanbok! As a kid in the 90s my first exposure to the DC was through the DC Animated Universe. Because of the way some of the characters like Lois, Clark, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Terry, were designed, as a kid, I thought they were Asian. Very cool to see this version of Lois be Korean.

Before Lois shows up for their black tie event at Ivo Tower, Jimmy knocks down a stack of papers and magazine and Clark goes to pick it up and stumbles upon the Metropolis Star with a cover that shows him as a kid flying 15 years ago.

The Metropolis star is a rival newspaper to the Daily Planet in the comics. The publisher makes its first appearance in Superman #9 (1987) (W&P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tony Ziuko, L: John Costanza).

When our intern trio makes it to Ivo Tower, Lois spots some very interesting powerful and political figures of Metropolis, the CEO of Galaxy Communications and Mayor Fleming.

Galaxy Communications makes its first appearance in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #133 (1970) where it was headed by Morgan Edge, the then leader of Intergang. In the comics Clark and Lois does work for Galaxy communications thanks to it buying out the Daily Planet forcing Clark to be the evening news anchor. The Galaxy Communications panels here are from Swamp Thing #68 (1988) (W&P: Rick Veitch, I: Alfredo Alcala, C: Tajana Wood, L: John Costanza).

Mayor Fleming makes her first appearance in Action Comics #894 (2010) (W: Nick Spencer, P: R.B. Silva, I: Denis Freitas, C: Dave McCaig, L: Rob Leigh) where she appoints Jimmy Olsen and Sebastien Mallory as a welcoming committee for Dalwythians aliens. Like her MAwS counterpart she is obviously the Mayor of Metropolis.

Later, Lois goes and questions Senator Sackett at the party/event.

In the comics Sackett was a councilman not a senator who makes his first appearance in Superman #130 (1997) (W: Dan Jurgens, P: Norm Breyfogle, I: Joe Rubenstein, C: Glenn Whitmore and Digital Chameleon, L: John Costanza) depicted here in the issue's panel wearing a Superman costume. Sackett in the comics is in Luthor's pocket.

I am like 99.99% sure this is Lex Luthor like who else in Metropolis is named Alex, has red hair (if this is Lex Luthor and he shows up again, I'll talk about him and what I mean by this in another post.), and works in the science and tech field.

We finally meet Ivo and he is as I was hoping he'd be a major techbro tool. The way he acts in his introduction and his meeting with Clark is very much like Lex and Clark's meeting in Batman v Superman. Both Ivo and Lex upon meeting Clark know how strong he is. In MAwS Ivo punches his chest and it hurts him and in BvS you heard an audible thud when Lex knocks on Clark's chest. Very similar vibes between both scenes.

Clark confronts Ivo about one of his deals and name drops one of Metropolis' mob families.

Bobby Gazzo, head of the Gazzo crime family in Metropolis, makes his first appearance in Batman: Dark Victory #1 (W: Jeph Loeb, P&I: Tim Sale, C: Gregory Wright and Heroic Age, L: Richard Starkings). Fantastic sequel to Long Halloween, highly recommend reading both books.

After Clark gets thrown out and Lois offers to repair his jacket, we see Lois mentioning her dad, Sam Lane a military general and if the person at the end of the second part of the first episode is Sam Lane...

...and he shows up again in the show I'll talk more about it in another post. For now this is all just speculation.

Might be reading into this but maybe a subtle nod to how the words "Superman" and "pal" are often used together. Both have been used as a comic book title, "Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen" as I've mentioned in these posts a few times.

The show here did a very clever thing with Ivo. Normally any other media pertaining to Ivo would give the audience his power and weakness stealing robot Amazo, but here the MAwS team was able to combine both Ivo and another villain in Superman's rogues gallery, Parasite.

The first Parasite, Raymond Jensen, makes his first appearance in Action Comics #340 (1966) (Cover Art by Curt Swan, George Klein, and Ira Schnapp). All iterations of Parasite have the ability to temporarily steal away anyone's energy, strength, and their knowledge. As I've said there have been other Parasites that Superman fought, the second and most recurring Parasite is Rudy Jones, the Parasite I'm more familiar with, who makes his first appearance in Firestorm #58 (1987).

Cover Art by Joe Brozowski, Bruce Peterson, and Tom Ziuko Alex and Alexandra Allston the third and fourth Parasite (green Parasite and purple Parasite respectively) first appeared in the Adventures of Superman #633 (2004).

Cover art by Gene Ha and Art Lyon

The latest Parasite, Joshua Allen, makes his first appearance in Superman #23.4 (2013).

Cover art by Aaron Kuder and Dan Brown So yeah there are similarities between the Amazo robot and Parasite and it was smart of the MAwS team to just combine Ivo with Parasite to avoid redundancies. Besides the Amazo robot is more of a Justice League villain anyways.

Near the end of the episode, after the Parasite suit wrecks Ivo's body, he begins to look more like his recent iterations in the comics now. The panel here is from Justice League of America #4 (2013) (W: Geoff Johns, P: Brett Booth, I: Norm Rapmund, C: Andrew Dalhouse, L: Rob Leigh). Hope you all had a wonderful time checking this post out. Like I said at the beginning my other MAwS easter egg posts are:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[someprettyname]

✨GF FC INDIGO AWARDS 2024 PT 4✨

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | winner's list | after party

Some points to note before you move to the event visualizer : 

🟣 My anchoring style is highly energetic and bubbly so you can imagine me doing a lot of hand gestures, changing pitch and tones of my voice, moving around on the stage a lot, etc. Hehe.  

🟣 The theatre/event venue has been engineered by the best engineers of the world, with the most modern technology. The petals of the lotus can close or open to hide or reveal the night sky. It can also change its colours. For tonight, it's indigo!  

🟣 The "OUTFIT CHECK" were clicked in different places (according to where the member was spotted first) hence the different background. 

🟣 I didn't want to write too dialogues on yall's behalf but I can't really bother you with every small detail, so I hope whatever dialogues I've made up are not too out of character! 

🟣Ignore the contradiction of same blue locker entering the scene multiple times, pretend there are a few copies of each member 🥰👍🏻

🟣 Ignore the outfit mismatch in the edits (any edit after the outfit checks please, our editing skills only go so far 🙏🏻 ) 

🟣 I highly suggest that you listen to songs as you keep finding them being embedded in links for added feels and extra hype! 🔥

🟣 The performances where multiple songs have been used is supposed to be a mashup. You can imagine the mashup to be as you please! The songs I've bunched together are for the sole purpose of creating a particular vibe, so as long as to they are fulfilled it's all good! ���🤝🏻

🟣 The posts are scheduled at a gap of 3-4 hours each, this event is going to be spread throughout 2 or more days. Feel free to go feral in the comments/reblogs/community my mates. 🔥 

🟣 I hope you enjoy this! Tagging all the attendees here : 

@glue-thief  @getosugurusbangs @bueris @soleilonthesun @galaxynajma

@sid3buns @mariyumemi @pinkinsect @refrigeratedboombursts @satosuguhastakenovermylife 

@10renz0 @simp-simp-no-mi @boinin @sharkissm @milkteansugar 

@thebestsetter @merlucide @jujutsustraycats @kurona-theshark @nskiyuriz

@asarajaa @writingonthewalls1832 @hooudie212back @sadao-tsuki @milaisreading 

@8-xnny @licoririce @rinitoshisgirl @luvingshidou  @duckydee-0

@kuro-min @gojoracle @marcsnuffy @filecurropt0 @riririnnnn 

@wroophruh @sanaexus @melodiclune

(*The lotus petals curl outwards, revealing the night sky to the attendees as certain beat fills the place and atmosphere. The lights shine upon IZZY (@/luvingshidou) as the audience recognise the beats to be that of DIVA by BEYONCE. The stage burst into fireworks and audience sing along as IZZY demands. Fireworks can be seen in the sky, marking the beginning of an epic evening which will go down in history.*) 

[ LINKS : DIVA | Choreography ]

(*Confetti works are seen on the stage as the curtains fall. *)

(*The curtains rise again and this time they reveal a dark figure coming more and more into light as she walks forward on the stage. Nami. The MC for the evening.*) 

GOOD EEEVENING LADIESSS AND GENTLEMENNNNN!! 

How are we FEEELIINGGG TONIIIGHT? 

LET. ME HEAR. YOUUUU!!  🎤

*Turns the mic towards the audience*

*indistinct sounds so hooting, clapping and cheering*

WOAH! WOAH! The mood in here is even better than I expected!! Well! Well! That's Girlfriend FC for you!! Always breaking past the metric of expectations, leaving everyone's jaws to drop to the ground. Ha! 

I'd like to take this moment to officialy welcome you all to this award ceremony. Ladies and gentlemen, you all look ABSOOOLUUUUTELY gorgeous and HANDSOME in your gowns and suits! I also thank the blue lock players for accompanying our members to this show! You really do add a shine, like stars in the night sky of our celebration!

*camera moves around to show the hall*

(The seating area for attendees.)

*Camera flashes to Isagi waving politely at the camera, REO clapping and Aryu flipping his hair ✨osha✨ way* 

*The camera moves back to the stage.*

(Best part? It keeps changing the colour as per mood! This pic was taken before show started so it's not lighted up yet, but it has a lower platform too!)

Before I move any further, a HUGE THANK YOU to @/luvingshidou for the SPLENDID performance which most certainly hyped us all up! I'd also like to extend our gratitude to our engineers who used the most modern technology to build this hall, but I suppose it's about time we say a bye to the night sky. 

*I click my fingers and the huge wall like petals of the lotus start whirring and buzzing as they move closer to each other, within a few seconds the hall was completely covered with walls on all the sides and secured from the nightsky* 

 Now, first things first, I hope everyone didn't have difficulties finding their assigned seats. Each table has been equipped with blankets and shawls in case any one of you gets cold. Specially the ones with sleeveless gowns, or shorter dresses.

Moving on, should we start our evening folks?

*Turns the mic to the audience with a grin again*

*Indistinct sounds of "Yeahhh" "woo" "yeasss" "let's goooo"*

Alright then! Like we all know, the world never sleeps. The world never stops. Every day thousands of people achieve success and make a name for themselves while other thousand fall from grace. One thing about the people in the latter category is that they forget their roots. They forget where they started from and to respect it. But we can't let that happen to us can we? And that's why it's been decided to start our evening with a special crowning. 

[ All the introductory slide(s) editing credits goes to @/soleilonthesun. ]

Please welcome on stage @/getosugurusbangs @/galaxynajma and @/glue-thief!!! 

*The audience's side bursts into cheers and applauds as @/riririnnn simultaneously walks out from the backstage for the crowning* 

This one is to thank them and pay them a token of respect for starting this community which is a reason for many people's smile and laughter today! How wonderful it is to have a safe space for self ships with our favourite most characters!! The applause shouldn't stop ladies and gentlemen!! KEEP THEM GOING!! 🗣️

Thank you Riri for the crowning, now before we move onto awards, let's fill this place with some optimistic beats first, shall we? 

PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR TEEEEAAAM YOUNG SIX!! 

[ links : show | odo | dare ]

(*After the performance, Nami and Soleil walk up on the stage together.*)

Nami : Thank you, team young six for the splendid performance!! (*walks up to the front of the stage with a smile*) Daaamnnnn! I can see some fired up and happy faces here! Looks like now's the perfect time I introduce you all to the FIRST category of awards we'd be giving out tonight : 

THE GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS!!!

*the camera zooms past several trophies of the same design kept on a table*

Soleil : This one is to honour the members who have contributed undeniably something very special to our community. Something so special that it can't go without being acknowledged and praised. This award can be won by one or more than one members. 

Nami : That's right Soleil! So shall we introduce the first category of the awards, everyone? 

*Distant cheering and clapping*

Soleil : (*chuckles*) alright! I think, as a community, we all need those adorable little members who go around creating chaos but in the most endearing ways. They always make sure that everyone's getting their daily dose of serotonin, and that in itself is worth honouring, don't you think so Nami?

Nami : (*grins*) Indeed! So ladies and gentlemen, please welcome on stage miss KIRA (@/merlucide) for giving the first award for tonight : GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS FOR THE MOST PEACEFULLY CHAOTIC MEMBERS! 

*Kira walks on the stage waving and smiling as the audience cheers on and takes over the mic* 

Kira : Thank you! This award is shared by 2 of our members.....and they are....

🥁

🥁

🥁

Kira : ISH AND BILLY!! 

(*The audience breaks into cheers and claps as they stand up with a huge smile on their face and walk over to the stage, recieving pats on the back on their way.*

*Kira grins and hands them both the award* ) 

Jujutsustraycats : I am really thankful for being graced with this award, but I'm not really the one for speeches so I'll let Kitty take this one! 

Bueris : *grins* yeah!!! it's fine!! so fine! everything is totally okay yeah 💞 life is about living it, you can't die completely without regrets in a world of infinite choices but you can certainly lessen that amount by following your heart! even if it means eating baked beans out of a can you found on the roadside! not joking! really I'm not! they tasted 🔥 mediocre 🔥!

I'll shine forever, just for u ma, glad to be on ur side!!! :33

Nami : Aww Billy!! 🥹❤️❤️

Soleil : So lovely! Thank you for joining us, my lady! 

*Kira nods and they all get off the stage.* 

Nami : So, Soleil? What do we have next? 👀

Soleil : Hm. I think, having someone who's  talented with an amazing foresight really helps in keeping things fascinating. Isn't it? 

Nami : Ah! (*Smirks knowingly*) It's time then, eh? Please welcome on stage @/sadao-tsuki for announcing the winner of GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS FOR THE DIVINE PREDICTOR!! 

*@/sadao-tsuki walks up from the backstage* 

Sadao-tsuki : *smiles and nods until the cheers die down* And the award goes to none other than....

🥁

🥁

🥁

Sadao-tsuki : NAJMA!! 

*The camera cuts to najma who's found shaking her head and a smug looking Kaiser is patting her back encouraging her. In the end, she gets up and walks over to the stage to recieve the award.*

Galaxynajma : honestly all I wanna say here is…. FUCK YOU APOLLO you made me look so bad! With both jjk and blue lock HOW DARE YOU… but I am happy I won this award … am I a little scared to speak my mind now? Yeah but it’s worth it. 

Nami : (*Giggling as they both get off the stage*) Well Najma, i certainly wouldn't want you to be scared of speaking your mind. Where's the fun in that? 

Soleil : True! But Nami....now that we are on the topic of being scared...it's made me think. 

Nami : Hm? What is it Soleil? 

Soleil : It makes me realise how being bold and strong is something worth being honoured too. 

Nami : (*smiles*) You're right Soleil. Every Kingdom needs their soldiers to be able to sleep peacefully at night. These people are doing a noble job by providing us the assurance of safety all that by their mere strength. 

Soleil : Please welcome on stage ELI (@/getosugurusbangs) on stage to handout the GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR BRAVEST WARRIOR. 

*audience breaks into a huge round of applause, camera cuts to @/licoririce smiling and waving and back to Eli walking up on the stage*

ELI : I think we all know who's winning this one, so without wasting too much time let's put our hands together for....

🥁

🥁

🥁

ELI : RIRI AND KIRA!! 

(*Kira gasps slapping hand over her mouth, her surrounding members patting her back before she gets up, hugs Riri on the way and they both walk on stage hand in hand, smiling and complimenting each other. What a truly beautiful example of camaraderie!!*) 

Riri : I'm honoured to share this award with my fellow, very brave rival, @/merlucide. She is very courageous and I've never met a rival like her! She is the best! She was the only reason why our battle was so legendary!!! And it's dedicated to beautiful Miss Manager, @/licoririce!! It's her kisses and smooches that made Merlu and me so strong!!

Merlucide : Definitely! Thank you for this award!! 

Nami : No! No, Kira! In fact we're grateful to have such amazing guardians to our community like you both! ♥️

Soleil : That was certainly inspiring! 

Nami : You know what what else is inspiring, Soleil?

Soleil : Sae's amazing goal in the last match? 🤩

Nami : ☺️

Nami : With all due respect, no. What's inspiring is the next set of team who's going to take over the stage with their amazing performance. Ladies and gentlemen, PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR TEAM PRANCE AND PROWESS!! 

[ links : eve psyche and the bluebird's wife - choreography | unforgiven | tomboy - choreography ]

Soleil : Wow 🤩 That definitely fired me up!! 

Nami : (*runs to catch up -> was left alone because Soleil got too excited*) 

Nami : Yeah, yeah Soleil. That indeed was a badass performance, but don't leave me behind. :") 

Soleil : oooooh :0 

Nami : Well, anyways. You know else can get you all fired up with her amazing comments and reblogs on someone's post? Whose comment spam can absolutely make your day? 

Soleil : I think I have an idea about who we are talking of 🤭

*They share a knowing look*

Nami : Coming up on stage is IZZY (@/luvingshidou) to hand out THE GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR PERFECT COMMENTS. 

Izzy : I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE EVERYONE SO FIRED UP!! 🔥💯 The one who's winning this is none other than my pookie....

(*Camera cuts to Shidou, who's cheering on top of his lungs and table, essentially spoiling the suspense silence*) 

🥁

🥁

🥁

Izzy : @/rinitoshisgirl !! 

(*She instantly gets up from her seat, flipping her hair and strutting to the stage. Meanwhile the camera cuts to rin who's lip were twitching up into a smile but instantly turn into the expression of glare when the camera turns to him.*) 

Rinitoshisgirl : (*she walks up on stage and hugs Izzy before taking the award*) I really appreciate this award very much. I guess if i can't be perfect enough atleast my comments will be eyy they aer going AFTER me bro i die before them ykwim🔥🔥 (*throws her hand [with the award] in the air and does a dramatically graceful bow and struts off the stage*) 

Nami : (*chuckles*) Thanks for that @/rinitoshisgirl, seeing your comment spam on my posts literally makes my day, haha!! All your energy really does make heart swell. 

Soleil : Do you know what else can make someone's heart swell, nami? 😁

Nami : Chocolates? Sweets? Food? 🤩

Soleil : (*sighs and shake her head*) A mother's love. 

Nami : Oh. 😳

Soleil : That needs to be honoured and awarded too isn't it? 

Nami : Yeah, well...(*a little flustered*)....of course! 

Soleil : Then let's welcome on stage @/Galaxynajma to announce the honoured one who'd be taking back home GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR CARING MOTHERS!!

*A certain royal tune plays over speakers as Najma walks on stage.*

Galaxynajma : Well, we have a huge family tree today but I suppose we shouldn't forget where this all started from isn't it? The 2 mothers among us who inspired the chaos. The ones who'd be sharing this award. The mothers who are the winner for this award, none other than....

(*Camera cuts to Riri (@/riririnnn) and Billy (@/Bueris) momentarily*) 

🥁

🥁

🥁

Galaxynajma : HOOUDIE AND NAMI!!! 

(*The crowd breaks into applause as Nami makes her way around to the stage staircase, offering her hand to hooudie who just walked up and both of them walk to Najma hand in hand and smiling.*) 

Hooudie : Today as we are gathered here for this wonderful event, I wanna talk a little about my experience in this amazing team

I never thought that I would be a part of such a wonderful group full of amazing people, never thought I would laugh a lot and have fun. And now, I'm a mom for two amazing daughters; Riri and Bue, who made me realize how beautiful it is to be a mother

I thank everyone in this team who accepted me as part of it. And, of course, most thanks to Soleil; who always does her best to create the best scenarios and ideas for us to engage in. And finally, and I can't forget, most and special thanks to my bestie Nami, who thought of this award ceremony, and went out of her way to invite everyone and make the preparations so that we all can have fun. And thank you for being my friend :)

Nami : (*grinning widely*) Of course Hooudie! The way you're such a sweetheart, I should be the one thanking you, really! (*Looks at award with awe filled look and continues in an emotional voice*) This is actually such a beautiful moment for me. I'd like to devote this one to Riri and Billy for being the best daughters there is. And also to hooudie (*they both smile and side hug*) for being the best homie! Haha! I can't even describe the way my heart swelled when they wished me a happy mother's day. Being a mother is truly beautiful isn't it, hooudie? (*Hooudie smiles and nods.*) 

Nami : I always thought they were both really cute so of course adopting them bought me a lot of happiness!! And now.... getting this award....(*voice breaks a little*)....yeah. I'm just so happy for our small little family. I couldn't ask for more. I feel privileged to be your mother my daughters. Thank you so much! ❤️

 (*Camera cuts to Billy and Riri who seem happy and are cheering for their mothers.*) 

(*The crowd cheers and applauds again, the camera cuts to REO who is so hyped that he stood up and started clapping and hooting for Hooudie, while Nami walks back to the MC mic and sets down her award*) 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Stay tuned for more upcoming honorary awards. It's all barely getting started!!

[ organiser : @/someprettyname

script writing credits : @/someprettyname

proofread by : @/melodiclune

editing credits : @/soleilonthesun ]

[darkmaga-returns]

10 shocking stories the media buried today.

The Vigilant Fox

Dec 18, 2024

10 - Congress’s new spending bill TURBOCHARGES Covid-like powers for future pandemics.

This includes mask mandates, vaccine passports, expanded emergency powers, gain-of-function research, and even liability shields for mRNA vaccine makers.

This news comes as Governor Gavin Newsom declares a “bird flu emergency” in California.

Attorney Tom Renz reported on X, “Congressional spending bill is a big pharma gift extending and expanding COVID emergency powers to other pandemics and even reiterating mRNA vaccine immunity!”

9 - EX-CDC Director Calls on Congress to END The Liability Shield for Vaccine Makers

“These companies have to be able to be held liable for their products like any other company,” said former CDC Director Robert Redfield as he called on Congress to repeal the 1986 Vaccine Injury Act.

Repealing the act would strip pharmaceutical companies of their liability shield, forcing them to be accountable for injuries caused by their products. While he acknowledged the law was “well-intended” when enacted under Reagan, Redfield stated bluntly that it “doesn’t work.”

Redfield also criticized the overselling of COVID vaccines, claiming their safety and efficacy were exaggerated to compel public compliance. “The vaccines clearly were oversold,” he said, adding that they never should have been mandated, as many lost their jobs and livelihoods over them.

Senator Ron Johnson described the situation as even more “sinister” than what Dr. Redfield described, accusing health agencies of sabotaging early treatments like hydroxychloroquine and Ivermectin to protect Pfizer and Moderna’s profits.

“You can’t get an emergency use authorization on a vaccine” if an effective therapy already exists, Johnson explained, claiming this strategy cleared the path for the COVID jabs while crushing potentially life-saving treatments.

“That [the suppression of early treatment] paved the way for the emergency use authorization for the vaccines. And then it was full speed ahead,” Johnson lamented.

8 - Michael Cohen Turns Heads on CNN: Trump Is RIGHT About Media Lies

In a jaw-dropping moment on CNN, Michael Cohen, Trump’s former attorney turned critic, admitted what Trump supporters have been saying for years: the legacy media is riddled with sloppy, agenda-driven journalism.

This conversation was a reaction to the recent news that President-elect Donald Trump filed a defamation lawsuit against ABC News, resulting in a $15 million settlement. The lawsuit stemmed from anchor George Stephanopoulos’s inaccurate on-air assertion that Trump had been found civilly liable for raping writer E. Jean Carroll.

Cohen, who famously flipped on Trump, didn’t hold back as he detailed a handful of the “hundred” lies the media spread about him during his time as a Trump ally.

“Look, I was the recipient of more than 100 lies, and I understand what Trump is doing in terms of changing the way defamation cases are brought in this country.

“You may remember the allegations. I was in Prague—never been to Prague. I was in Czechoslovakia. I paid $10 million to Kompromatz. I have a house next to Putin in Sochi. None of this is true.

“On top of that, there was another one that came out as an example where I allegedly was paid 400,000 by Poroshenko to create a meeting between him and Donald Trump during the presidency. That is also not true.”

Cohen’s comments back up Trump’s long-standing claim that the media is packed with fake news aimed at smearing him and his allies.

Delivering a final blow, Cohen said, “I think that media has to do their job. They need to get the facts right.”

7 - Aaron Rodgers drops a brutal PSA on ESPN to all his haters.

“Say whatever the f*** you want about me but before you do … state your vax status … because then when you say things about me people can be like, ‘Oh you are captured by the multi-billion dollar psyop and you’re still upset about it.’”

Credit: https://x.com/TheChiefNerd/status/1869357594571358629

6 - Joe Biden Targets Pelosi and Coup Leaders in Stunning Act of Revenge

With Nancy Pelosi stuck in the hospital recovering from a broken hip, Biden is floating the idea of banning members of Congress from trading stocks while in office.

He stated, “I think we should be changing the law that we have to abide by at the federal level—that nobody, nobody in the Congress should be able to make money in the stock market while they’re in the Congress.”

However, Fox News host Jesse Watters isn’t buying Biden’s timing, saying that this isn’t about fighting corruption but “getting retribution.” He reported.

“Biden didn’t want to ban Congress from insider trading during his entire 50-year career in D.C., but a month before he leaves, he gives Nancy a little gift. This isn’t about stopping corruption. It’s about getting retribution.”

“So if Nancy wants to get rich in the House, she might have to do it the old-fashioned way, peddling influence like the Big Guy.”

While you’re here, don’t forget to subscribe to this page for more daily news roundups.Subscribe

#5 - BUSTED: ‘The View’ Co-Host May Face Criminal Investigation

#4 - Thomas Massie rips Speaker Mike Johnson as he gets another prediction right.

He writes, “People call me "NostraThomas" for accurately predicting @SpeakerJohnson would use the Christmas recess to force a massive spending bill through Congress. After claiming he would not, Johnson is embracing a D.C. tradition that's nearly as old as decorating Christmas trees.”

#3 - More Bad News for MSNBC as They Hemorrhage Viewers and Are Now Losing to NewsNation

Already dealing with sustained post-election ratings woes, MSNBC witnessed yet another embarrassment over the weekend when it finished behind the plucky TV startup NewsNation in the key advertising demographic of adults aged 25-54.

According to Nielsen Media Research, the liberal cable news network averaged just 17,000 viewers in the key demo on Saturday between the hours of noon and 7 p.m. ET. In comparison, NewsNation’s programming attracted an audience of 23,000 in the 25-54 demographic in that same time period.

Read More: https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-politics/msnbc-ratings-newsnation-donald-trump-b2666544.html

#2 - Peter Hotez blames “organized” anti-vaxxers for causing 200,000 American deaths by convincing people COVID shots weren’t safe.

“My estimate is 200,000 Americans needlessly perished because they refused the COVID vaccines. They were victims of this.”

“I still pin most of the blame on an organized anti-vaccine movement that targeted people, that had convinced them that the COVID vaccine wasn’t safe… But most of the blame still goes to this organized anti-vaccine movement.”

Just a reminder: Hotez turned down a $2.6 million offer to debate RFK Jr. on vaccine science, with the money going to the charity of his choice.

Instead of engaging in scientific debate, he preemptively BLOCKS anyone he disagrees with.

#1 - The Omnibus bill may be pulled off the House floor due to pressure from @elonmusk, per Fox News.

"A post on 𝕏 by Elon Musk sent shockwaves through the Capitol….One source said the bill is now bleeding support from the GOP."

Credit: https://x.com/WesternLensman/status/1869492140172333433

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BONUS #1 - Joy Behar FUMES at Trump Over COVID Lies She Still Believes

BONUS #2 - Vatican on the Brink of Bankruptcy: Report

BONUS #3 - Donald Trump’s COVID ‘Game-Changer’ Finds Surprising New Use

BONUS #4 - Ex-Secret Service Agent Warns of Major Attack on Trump Before Inauguration

BONUS #5 - Cancer Surgeon Drops Ivermectin Bombshell

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Fate Fought For

How heartfelt. This is part 19 of 20. We tie up loose ends.

Tale of the Cursed Raven: Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Knock, knock.

Crowley’s knuckles pause. He waits, straining his ear, waiting for a reply—or at least some sign of life.

His niece has been holed up in her room for the past… He has lost track of how long. The few times she has emerged, she is progressively more and more haunted. Pale complexion, dark circles under her eyes, a hollow expression.

She had stopped leaving entirely for three whole days.

He knocks again, this time calling out. His voice is thin and desperate.

“Raven-kun? Raven-kun, are you awake…? It’s your dear old uncle!”

The panic sets in when he’s met with silence. He fiddles with the doorknob, then feels for the keys dangling from his waist.

“Young lady!! I am respecting your privacy but asserting my authority as your guardian by coming in anyway!!” he crowed, inserting a skeleton key into the lock and turning.

The door swings open.

His jaw drops.

“Wh-What happened here?!”

The place is a terrible mess, even moreso than usual. Bookcases have toppled over, their contents spilling and making the floor a maze of covers and pages to wade through. Handprint-shaped ink stains paint the walls, as if a ghoul were desperately trying to claw out from the underworld. And there, in the center of the wreck, is a small body slumped over a writing desk.

Crowley rushes to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. But he sees the quill jutting out of her left hand and startles.

“R-Raven-kun?!”

“… Mmmm…”

Raven shifts under his touch. Her eyes flutter, and he sees the warm honey rings of her irises. Tired, but still bright.

“… Uncle? What are you doing?”

“That is what I would like to know!!” He jabbed a finger at her injured hand. “You’ve gone and hurt yourself, silly girl! Hold still. We must treat this immediately.”

Crowley raises his walking stick and gives it a wave. Items from a first aid kit materialize and float down.

He sets to his work, using a clean cloth to apply pressure to the injury site. Raven squeals, but plays the part of a good patient by squeezing her eyes shut and bearing with it. The blackened ooze breaks.

Then comes the water, a small sterile stream from midair rinsing off the area. A bottle of ointment uncaps and applies itself—she winces. The quill slowly unlodges, magic suspending the bodily fluids until a fresh dressing is applied neatly over top.

Raven watches in quiet awe.

“There we are.” Crowley gentle pats the bandaged hand. “Now then, would you mind explaining yourself?”

Raven blinks. “… Sometimes I forget what a powerful mage you are.”

“Hmm? Oh—well…!!” The headmaster flushes. “It’s not everyday that I receive such kind praise!!”

He stops.

“W-Wait just a minute, don’t change the subject!” He indicates the room. “What happened here last night?!”

Raven lowers her gaze to the papers at her desk. Crowley follows it, coming across a paper stained a brilliant sky blue. Hastily scribbled over it, as if written by the hand of a madman, is three lines.

But she still dared to dream.

And she lived happily ever after.

The end.

“I wrote my magnum opus with my blood, sweat, and tears,” Raven says very quietly. “The only story I know how to tell from beginning to end. Mine.”

She tries to rise from the desk and nearly careens to one side. Crowley catches her and tuts.

“You need to lie down and rest, some food in your belly as well!” he lightly scolds. “Here, come to your bed.”

Raven clutches onto him tightly. Using him as an anchor, she hoists herself up on trembling feet.

“… I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t. I have to…” She shakes her head. “There are things I must tend to first. A blue letter in my drawer that needs to be read, classmates I must talk to..."

“Not in that state, you won’t!! You'll stay put until further notice. To your bed--I'll brew you a cup of tea, perhaps that will whet your appetite. Maybe some rice porridge after?" Crowley coos, smoothed her hair down. “With sunny side egg eyes and a bacon smile!”

She peers up at him. Her cheeks are wet with trails of tears.

"Oh dear, oh dear! You're crying now?" He cups her face and brings her to his chest. “You’ll tell me what’s wrong, won’t you?”

"N-Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I just..." Raven wipes at her eyes, sniffling loudly. "Uncle, you…”

“Is it something I’ve done? Come, out with it.”

There’s a nervous, stuttery laugh.

“You really are so very, very kind. And your hands... Have they always been this warm?"

Raven leans into his palm and openly weeps.

He lets her.

She’s definitely a goner now,” a mob student declares. “It’s been weeks.“

The comment is made in 1-A's homeroom, in the hallways, in the courtyard and cafeteria, all over campus. Kon leaves his classes with a weight on his chest, pushing the breath out of him.

He doesn’t want it to be the end, not like this. Not when what he last recalls of her is an unanswered question, a hand left untaken. And a girl petrified, as if the blade of a guillotine loomed above her.

I hope she’s okay.

“Kon?”

He lifts his head. To either side of him are his friends—students from Scarabia and Pomefiore, respectively. Cyril, pale with his fluffy violet mop and Augustine, tanned and dirty blonde hair cut short.

“Something up?” Augustine asks, digging an elbow into his side. “You have that faraway look in your eyes again.”

“I’m thinking about… stuff.”

“Your missing classmate?” Cyril suggests. For as long as Kon has known him, he’s been good at reading people. Guessing, Cyril calls it—but he’s always been humble.

“This again? You shouldn’t waste your energy on that. She’s a lost cause,” Augustine snips. He’s gruffer that Cyril and Kon combined, quick to cut to the chase. “And anyway, it’s not like you were super close or anything.”

“Well, no. But it still doesn’t feel good, knowing the person you sit next to in class is… There’s an empty seat. It’s sad.”

It’s lonely.

“Accept it and move on, bro. Wherever she is, whatever happened to her, she’s not comin’ back.

“Are you sure?” Cyril squints into the distance. “… But isn’t that her right now? The one running around over there.”

“What?” Kon throws his gaze across the courtyard.

A black bundle darts from student to student, pigtails whipping back and forth. She stops before each person, her mouth a burst of movement. The girl executes a bow, then goes to the next student.

“R-Raven-san?!”

She turns in the direction of her name. Smiles, then begins making her way toward him.

Kon gulps. “You’re… okay.”

“Yes. I had to take some much needed time off. Headmaster’s orders,” she says, holding up her bandaged hand.

Her cheeks are pink, eyes rimmed red, forehead coated with a light shine. Has she been running around for a while? Kon wonders. Or… crying? Both?

“Th-That’s a relief.” He attempts to return her smile.

Raven passes a look between Cyril and Augustine. “… Oh, are these the friends you told me about?“

“Y-Yeah. Um…” Kon gestures vaguely at them. “Cy is a second year in Scarabia. August is a third year in Pomefiore. Guys, this is Raven-san from my class.”

Cy waves.

August gives a noncommittal grunt.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Raven chirps. Again, she bows. “Starting today…! I hope we can have a strong working relationship!”

The mob students stare at her. “Uh…okay?”

“You too, Kon-san!”

“E-Eh, me?!”

“Of course.” She rights herself. “You’re important too. Let’s all get along!”

With that, Raven bounds off, leaving the confused mob students. Her heart skips, matching her frantic paces. Feeling so free.

She stops whenever she spots someone. Teacher, student, ghost. An introduction offered, followed by a hopeful wish.

“Let’s all get along!”

Raven clears the Main Building, exiting into the spring time.

The air is sweet and whipped airy like a mousse. The sun is out, lighting errant pink petals on the wind.

Another day, priceless.

How pretty.

“The apple blossoms are beautiful,” a soft voice remarks, echoing her sentiments.

In the corner of her vision, a shape shifts into view.

It’s a lady with a flowery parasol, her gown a deep emerald hue. Her hair is golden, some of it done up in a milkmaid’s braid, the rest falling in waves down her back. A pearly shimmer radiates from her delicate, pixie-like features—button nose, rose cheeks, rounded eyes. One deep violet eye peers at her, the other half of her face covered by a swoop of flaxen locks.

Wow, Raven marvels, it’s like a storybook princess came to life.

“They are,” she manages as politely as she can.

“Ah, my apologies,” the lady gasps, fingers knitting over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever it was that you were doing. Student life must be so busy."

"Oh no, it's fine!" Raven stammers. She feels compelled to drop to a curtsey before her. "You must be from Foothill Town...?"

"From beyond that," she says mysteriously. "I've come to see someone. An old acquaintance, one might say--but they aren't expecting it. I know them, but they do not know me."

Raven tilts her head. "That’s a strange conundrum. Do you need help locating them? I may not be the best with directions, but I’m certain I could at least escort you to a help desk.”

She giggles. “They needn’t be aware. After all… I have already been watching from afar for quite some time.”

“You have?” A vague sensation trails along Raven’s back. Light taps, as if her spine is a xylophone being played. “What changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They did.” Her single violet eye shuts. “… It was not the ending I was expecting. They defied my expectations of them.”

There is no fire to her words. No ice either. She is devoid of feeling.

Raven doesn’t know why, but she shivers in the middle of that spring day.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asks hesitantly.

The stranger tilts her parasol down, shielding her expression from view. “It is simply ‘a thing’. It would not be wise to invest too much of oneself in what is only a story.”

A story?

Raven’s ears perk, her eyes blowing wide.

“… What did you just say?”

But when she looks back at the stranger, they are already gone. Vanished without a trace on a warm wind.

Raven clutches her heart. She has not noticed until now—it is at a gallop.

“Who was that…?”

In the midst of judging the wildflowers cut for the lounge, Vil is called away from his work. He turns away from the crystal vases and moving to receive the surprise guest.

The rain had come in the afternoon. Not a sprinkle, but a downpour. Hard and rhythmic against their pointed turrets. If the lack of appointment didn't deterred visitors, then the weather most definitely would have.

The double doors open to reveal a small figure. She is drenched to the bone, her feathers and hair sodden, flat with water weight.

“Shetland potato.” Vil’s hands find his hips. If he has sympathy for waterlogged animals, he doesn't show it in his stern glare. "It has been some time. What brings you to Pomefiore, hmm? Are you looking to resume your etiquette lessons with me, since it seems you haven’t the manners to know it’s highly inappropriate to appear unannounced?”

“U-Um…! I know it's rude of me, but could I possibly come in? I'll be quick--there's something I'd like to tell you and Rook-senpai--and Epel-san too, if he's around. Then I'll be out of your feathers."

Vil looks at her long and hard.

Finally, a sigh.

"... Quickly, you said? Then make it quick. And you're going to catch a dreadful cold walking around like that. I'll call for a towel and hair dryer."

"Here you are, Roi du Poison!" a chipper voice pipes up, producing the items he had requested.

"Thank you, Rook," Vil replies nonchalantly, accepting them. The dorm leader ignores Raven's gaping mouth and hand-waves her inside. The huntsman moves to close the door after her. "He has excellent hearing," Vil explains, "and comes promptly when summoned. Spend enough time with him and you'll get used to it."

("Bonjour, mon petit oiseau!" he whispers.)

They herd Raven to a stool ("Not on the couches! You'll get them all wet!") and proceed to dry her off, as promised. Ruffling fabric and the low hum of the dryer fill the lounge, shutting off only when Vil is satisfied. Throughout the entire process, Rook hovers at a distance as if he is a theatre patron watching a show.

Finished, Vil passes her a mirror, granting her a few merciful moments to admire how he has blown out her curls. She oohs and aahs at her reflection.

"... Now then, what is it that you wanted to say?"

Raven almost drops the mirror. She's thankful that she's able to get a strong grip on its handle. Seven years of bad luck, avoided.

"Oh! Er... I-I wanted say thank you."

Vil lifts a brow.

"For everything you've done for me," Raven continues anxiously. "I don't think I've ever had to chance to properly express my gratitude.

"So thank you. Vil-senpai, for giving me pointers on how to be more ladylike. Rook-senpai, for your support when I was going through a hard time. I'm... so grateful that I can be here with everyone."

"Oh la la!" Rook throws both of his hands up. His expression is one of alarm, but not displeasure. "Mon petit oiseau, I had sensed that something was different about you from the moment you strode in. Could it be...?"

"E-Eh?!"

Raven is rugged off the stool, swept up into his arms. Rook pulls her into a twirl, letting her feathers fly. She dizzies, her feet tangling--but he steadies her, catching her hands.

"It is!" Rook declares giddily. "You've been freed--found yourself at last. I know it."

"You're going to make her motion sick," Vil warns pointedly.

The huntsman gives a musical laugh. He doesn't release his grip on her. Instead, he lowers himself, peeking into Raven's confused amber eyes.

"You still have someone else to speak with, non?" Rook says it like a suggestion. A secret, shared between the two of them. "Go to him. Let him know how you feel."

"... Yes, I'll do just that." She squeezes his fingers. "Thank you again for everything, senpai."

"Fufufu. Please, don't mention it." He pulls back. "I wish you nothing but the best."

Vil is silent as he watches Raven drift for the exit. She pushes the door open, and sunshine spills inside. The sky is blue, and he hears faint birdsong.

The rain has stopped.

Raven doesn't look back as she closes the door behind her. Her vision is focused only on what lies ahead.

"... You're fine with letting her go like this?" Vil asks of Rook. "Surely a huntsman would fight tooth and nail to keep ensnared prey from fleeing the trap."

"You're mistaken, Roi du Poison." He raises an arm, as if performing to a stage. "There is joy to be found in witnessing the ones we love at their happiest. Raven-kun now knows where that happiness lies--and I am content with that."

Vil frowns. "You're truly an incomprehensible man."

[itacats]

Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: trauma, war themes, nightmares, hospital environment, feelings of guilt/failure, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Guess what? Part 6 has officially dropped! Yep, the saga continues. Grab your favorite snack, settle in, and dive right back into the story.

Read Part 1 here! Read Part 2 here! Read Part 3 here! Read Part 4 here! Read Part 5 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here! Read Part 9 here!

Part 6: Shadows and Whispers

The hospital walls loomed around me, stark white and cold, a reflection of the sterile life I was now confined to. The air was thick, tainted by the scent of antiseptic, but beneath it lingered something else—something unspoken, lurking in the unasked questions of those who passed by my room. The doctors, the nurses, they all had the same look in their eyes, a mixture of pity and hesitation. As if they wanted to ask what had happened, but knew the truth would be too ugly to face.

Recovery wasn’t a straight path. It was jagged, like the shards of my shattered mind, each step forward dragging me through the broken pieces of myself. The physical wounds—they could heal. The bruises would fade, the scars would form, but the deeper wounds—the ones carved into my psyche—those would linger, festering in the dark corners of my mind. Each night, as the world outside the hospital drifted into slumber, the nightmares came, relentless and unyielding.

In those nightmares, I saw them. My captors. Their faces twisted into grotesque masks of cruelty, eyes gleaming with malice. Their laughter echoed through the recesses of my mind, a haunting, mocking sound that made my skin crawl. They had a way of invading the darkness, warping it into a cage that I could never escape. Each scream I heard, each cry for mercy, was my own voice thrown back at me, distorted and alien. And no matter how hard I tried to claw my way out, I was never truly safe.

The nights stretched on endlessly, an unbroken chain of torment. And yet, amidst the suffocating weight of my memories, there was one constant—Simon. He was always there, a shadow standing guard at the edge of my consciousness, his presence a faint whisper against the roar of my fears.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

He would come at night, slipping into the sterile confines of the hospital room like a ghost—fitting, given his name. The first few times, I thought I was dreaming. His form, tall and silent, would materialize against the backdrop of the dim, artificial light. His skull mask, which had always seemed so imposing on the battlefield, now felt like an anchor—something solid to cling to in the storm of my mind. Simon had become my tether to reality, a lifeline pulling me back from the abyss I so often found myself teetering on.

There were no words between us. No explanations or reassurances. He would simply sit, his presence a quiet comfort in the face of my unraveling. The chair beside my bed creaked under his weight, the sound somehow grounding in the stillness of the room. And as much as I tried to hide it, he knew. He could see the ghosts that haunted me, just as I had glimpsed the ones that followed him. We shared the same burden, carried the same scars—though his had long since healed into the hard, unbreakable armor he wore every day. Mine were still raw, still bleeding beneath the surface.

There was something in the way he sat there, unmoving, his silence a mirror to my own. It was as if the two of us had entered into an unspoken pact, one where words were unnecessary because we already knew the truth: *we were broken*. Not in the way that could be fixed with stitches or bandages, but in the way that only time and shared pain could begin to mend.

I would lay there, eyes closed, feigning sleep while the memories clawed at the edges of my mind. I felt his presence, his steady breathing in the silence, and it became the metronome that calmed my racing heart. It was strange, how someone so scarred, so hardened by years of battle, could exude a sense of peace that nothing else could. Perhaps it was because he, too, had fought the same war—both within and without. He knew the demons I faced, because they were the same demons that haunted him.

And then there was the grief—his grief. Though he never showed it, I could feel it hanging in the air between us, heavy and oppressive. It clung to him, wrapping itself around his silent form like a shroud. He had lost people—just like I had. He had seen the same horrors, felt the same crushing weight of failure. But where I crumbled beneath it, he stood firm, a silent sentinel against the darkness.

There were nights when I would wake, drenched in sweat, heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. The nightmares clung to me like a second skin, suffocating me with their weight. And in those moments, when the world felt too heavy to bear, I would open my eyes to find Simon still there, his gaze unwavering, as if his very presence was enough to push back the shadows.

It was during one of those nights that I finally spoke. My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence that had settled over us like a heavy fog.

“I... I see them,” I muttered, my throat tight, as if the words themselves were strangling me.

Simon didn’t respond, didn’t even turn his head. But I knew he was listening.

“They’re always there,” I continued, my voice cracking under the weight of the memories. “Laughing. Mocking me. I can’t... I can’t get away from them.”

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the only sound the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside my bed. And then, in the quietest of voices, Simon spoke.

“You will.”

His words, simple and without fanfare, cut through the haze of fear that had enveloped me. There was no promise in them, no false hope—just a quiet certainty that, somehow, I would survive this. Just as he had survived his own ghosts.

I looked at him then, really looked at him. And in that moment, I saw not just the soldier, not just the mask. I saw the man beneath—the man who had walked through the same fires I was now trapped in, who had emerged on the other side, scarred but still standing.

He was my Ghost, yes. But he was also my reminder that even in the darkest of nights, there was always a way back to the light.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed him.

Read Part 7 here!

You made it through Part 6! Thanks for sticking around and following along. Keep an eye out for the next chapter, along with a new story starting up tomorrow!

[high-priestess-house]

𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖙 𝕯𝖊𝖈𝖐 𝕭𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌

NOTE: you do not have to do this. however, if you're looking for a tarot deck blessing ritual, this may be for you.

Materials Needed:

• Your tarot deck

• A white candle

• Incense (such as sage, lavender, or frankincense)

• A small dish of salt

• A small dish of water

• A crystal (such as clear quartz or amethyst)

• A piece of cloth or a special box for storing your deck

• Optional: Essential oil (like lavender or frankincense)

Steps:

1. Preparation:

• Find a quiet and clean space where you won’t be disturbed.

• Cleanse the area by lighting the incense and walking around the space, allowing the smoke to purify the environment.

2. Create a Sacred Circle:

• Place the candle, salt, water, and crystal at the four corners of your space to represent the four elements: fire, earth, water, and air.

• Light the candle and place it in front of you. This represents the element of fire and the light of your intention.

3. Center Yourself:

• Sit comfortably and take a few deep breaths to center yourself. Close your eyes and focus on grounding your energy. Imagine roots growing from your feet into the earth, anchoring you.

4. Cleanse Your Deck:

• Pass your tarot deck through the incense smoke, visualizing the smoke removing any negative or stagnant energy.

• Sprinkle a small amount of salt over the deck, symbolizing purification and grounding.

• Dip your fingers in the water and flick a few drops over the deck, representing emotional clarity and cleansing.

5. Invoke the Elements and Spirit:

• Hold the crystal in your hand and place it on top of the deck. Visualize the crystal’s energy infusing the deck with clarity and spiritual insight.

• Say a prayer or invocation to the elements and any deities or spirit guides you work with. For example:

Elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water,

Bless this deck with your strength and clarity.

Spirit guides and guardians, lend your wisdom and protection.

May this deck be a tool of insight, truth, and light.

6. Set Your Intention:

• Hold the deck in your hands and close your eyes. Visualize a bright white light surrounding the deck, filling it with positive energy.

• Speak your intention aloud. For example:

I bless this tarot deck with love, light, and divine guidance.

May it bring clarity, wisdom, and insight to all who seek its counsel.

7. Store Your Deck:

• Wrap your tarot deck in the cloth or place it in the special box. This protects the deck and keeps its energy intact.

• Keep the crystal with the deck to maintain its energy.

8. Close the Ritual:

• Thank the elements, spirits, and guides for their presence and assistance.

• Blow out the candle and allow the incense to burn out naturally.

• Take a moment to ground yourself by touching the earth or a grounding object.

Your tarot deck is now blessed and ready for use. Remember to periodically cleanse and recharge your deck, especially after heavy use or significant readings.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

C/W ::: Sorta sleepy oral M->F, cum // piss on face, piss play (??) heed the warning, please. And planning // prep for more piss play. Over use of italics as usual. What. I like them, ok?

F!reader married to Dilf!Bkg (in his early 40's), v. established marriage // 7 years, 1 kid at Mitsuki's house for the weekend,

Katsuki wakes up first. The sky is bright as he peeks out of his sleepy eyes. He lays there for a few minutes, just staring at the outline of your curves under the light pink sheet. It's already hot. Probably 85 outside by now despite it being only 8 or so in the morning. He hasn't looked at the clock yet. He can't seem to take his eyes off of you.

You shuffle in your half-asleep state and roll onto your back. He smiles at you when you open your eyes to see if he's still there. But in your heart, you knew he would be.

"Good morning," he whispers to you and moves over to kiss your shoulder up to your neck. It's slow and lazy. The kind of affection that didn't know the rush of everyday necessity.

"Hey, you. What are you still doing here? I thought you'd be long gone by now. You think you'd be getting breakfast after the dessert I gave you last night?" You tuck your chin and giggle as the 2 day growth on his face tickles your bare chest. His hair is wild against your face as you try to push him away.

"Oh my god, you perv! Are you trying to shove my head down to your cunt again? Jesus fuck. I go down on you last night and you think it's all I'm good for? You think you deserve it? You're somethin' else, ya brat." He grabs your hand and holds it above you, against your pillow and scoots over so he's between your legs.

He hooked his arms under your knees and raised them up to your chest, his hands rest on the mattress next to your hips. "Mm, I gotta pee real quick. Lemme up. I'll be right back."

"You weren't even that good at it, ya loser." You spit back. He stopped and looked you dead in the eye, "That's not what you were sayin' last night. You goddamn liar. You wouldn't shut the fuck up, 'Oh Kats, don't stop Kats, holy shit Kats. You're God's gift to women, Ka-'…"

You slapped his flexed bicep, laughing. "I would never say such lies. I would never wish you on anyone. Man or woman. You're terrible. You're a terrible, horrible, filthy person."

You tried, and failed.

"Yeah? Gotta piss, eh. Well, you should've thought about that before you sassed off to me, fuckin' brat. Now, lemme see if you can keep that smart ass mouth of yours shut while I give it to you again." He leaned down and started to lap at your clit. You inhaled sharply, unable to get anything out of your mouth but a desperate whine. "K-Kats, really. I - h- oh fuck, th- fuck that's good. You're stupid good at eatin' pussy. And I promise I'll come back to you after I use the little girls room. Ge-get up, p- pl- … Kats, you're gonna make me cum and it's not gonna stop at that. It's not gonna be pretty."

He wouldn't let up on your clit. And it was so fucking hard for you to make him. It felt so good, very first thing in the morning. His fingers found their way inside of your hot and dripping pussy, sliding in and out easily. He knew just where to hit you and when. He knew exactly what buttons to push. He knew your body almost as well as you did and it was so good.

Katsuki looked up at you, his eyes hooded and his mouth slick with your juices, "You're so fuckin' cute when you whine for me to stop. However … not gonna ... stop. Not until I can feel your cum dripping down my chin and your legs are shaking aroun' my ears."

You laughed and dropped your head back onto your pillow. "I'm warning you. You have been warned, you stubborn shit." Resting your forearm over your eyes and anchoring your other hand in the hair just above his undercut, you gave in to him. And relaxed, while trying not to relax everything too much.

And, so you did. You quit your bitching and relaxed into his mouth on your cunt. It was warm. His tongue running between your folds wasn't much in contrast to how the rest of you felt; it was wet and hot, too. But when he doubled down, sucking on your little bud of nerves and delving his fingers into you, it was nearly more than you could handle. His nose sliding over your clit when his mouth wasn't on it. You could feel yourself quickly approaching that crossroad.

He hummed approvingly when you melted under his touch and raised your hips to match the ebb and flow of his ministrations. He was sloppy, his slurps and soft moans only egged you on more. "What are you so - hohh shit - happy about? Nothing about this is going to end well, Katsuki." He let go of your clit with a pop and told you to quit yer bitchin', let him do what he enjoys doing and does best. "Fine. But you're changing the sheets, shit ass." You laughed at his response to that; He buried his face even further into your hot core and doubled his efforts.

"Hm-mahh, Kats, nuh-uh, nonono oh fu- holy shit! I'm g- I'm gonna fffuuuccckkk, Katsuki!"

Your cheeks turned rosy pink and you felt the sudden urge to have the fan on. "Kats - hot, I'm h-hot." He grumbled into your cunt, "Fuck, I know y'are. I know, baby. So fuckin' hot. Cum for me, c'mon."

Your body tensed up and your knees snapped shut as your orgasm hit you like a runaway semi. The hot liquid - not much of a surprise to you - caught your husband completely off guard. Despite your many, many warnings, he still didn't anticipate the release of such bodily fluids.

"Hol- … holy fucking shit, babe! Did you … did you just … piss?" He yelled. You had never been so grateful that your kid was at their grandma's house and not there to hear their dad yell at their mom about pissing the bed.

"I-I- YOU!!! I fucking told YOU!! And your dumbass just pushed and pushed and poked and sucked on me. And now? Well now, you have to change and wash the sheets." You looked at him with a smug look on your face that you had not earned but felt like he deserved to be at the receiving end of.

He laid there. Half stunned and fully hard. "Babe. I'm … you … fuck. That was so hot. I mean, I'm sorr-sorta sorry. But fuck. You just came so hard you pissed. I have never made you cum like that." He stood and walked over to where you were standing, dripping onto the hardwood floor. Cupping your pussy and rubbing it with the palm of his hand and fingertips, he leaned down to kiss you. "We're doing that again. I'll get the shit we need. You do whatever you need to do. I'll be back and serving up some drinks after a bit. Be ready for me. I love you, peeps."

"Peeps?" You tilted your head in confusion. "Oh, yeah. 'S my new nickname for ya. You like it?"

Laughing, you tiptoed the rest of the way to the bathroom to clean yourself off. "Whatever floats your boat, baby. Whatever floats your boat."

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl // @bakubunny (Yes I know. But just in case you somehow missed it and because of the conversation we had about his little kinks the other day ; )) @thenamesmiz (if you only wanted kiri stuff lmk!) @callm3senpaii (are you still out there? Lol) @arlerts-angel

[lowcountry-gothic]

A poem for each EnneaType.

By Melissa Kircher, transcribed from @enneagrampaths.

A poem for EnneaType 1

and failure isn't failing it's actually an event creating space for new life to burst into wild reality

A poem for EnneaType 2

the soot and ash a charcoal facade behind which two eyes, glowing watch out she burns hot

A poem for EnneaType 3

I think poetry might be inside you the words there ready to tumble out I think the stars shine only for you tonight and the earth turns to keep you on it

A poem for EnneaType 4

if I let out the pain I said it will shatter galaxies that's fine she replied I made lots of them you can break a few

A poem for EnneaType 5

stay anchor in the depths every drop in the ocean sings for your presence here. now.

A poem for EnneaType 6

opening like petals rooted like pines woven back whole one thread at a time stretching up, out, down new rhythms like rhyme mothered soul tender finding child eyes dancing forest wild tasting deep like prophets wise

A poem for EnneaType 7

the sun hanging by a thread details that weigh mountains I want to find you again the girl in the tutu that sparkled and when I do pulling you into my lap I'll whisper you already knew the wisdom of the Universe

A poem for EnneaType 8

strong is two feet solid in the soil toes curled into the loam strong is letting pain sweep through your branches and losing some leaves strong is allowing the shadows to surround you to change you and then gently letting them pass

A poem for EnneaType 9

what could I do? these were my people so I went I entered their anguish I felt their relation and then I understood the spectrum of my own heart

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 42

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC's POV

Words: 6,008

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12   Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20 Part 21 

Part 22 Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26 Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39  Part 40 Part 41 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47

You knew instantly when your vessel breached the waters of Asshai. An ominous air hung heavy over the near pitch black waves. The sky had now been painted in a dark gray with even darker clouds rolling by. It made the bottom of your stomach feel heavy with lead. Legends of this land did not disappoint. Exactly as your mother had told you.

Ahead of you was the sharp outline of the Shadow City. A few ships already docked bobbed lazily on the harbor docks. Latilth seems to vibrate against your leg, the scales around her neck puffing out as she hissed. Brushing your hand over her head you could feel her wariness. Even Latilth didn’t know what to make of it and not knowing scared the mighty beast.

“This is it.” Melisandre’s face is numb as she stares out, her hands tucked inside of her long, scarlet sleeves. She didn’t appear to be too excited about the notion of returning home.

Even Inniros stood at a distance, one blue eye blankly gazing upon Asshai’s shores. What exactly had you gotten yourself into?

Unconsciously you start to worry chew on the inside of your cheek. You had been through a lot since leaving Westeros, yet nothing quite prepared you for something like the Shadowlands. Yet it was something like a vague dream to you.There was a certain familiarity that startled you. Like you had seen it all before, felt the same chill in the air long ago.

Was this from your past life? Remnants from Azor Ahai?

Ray was the only one to maintain his cheery smile. “My word, won’t this be fun!”

For a moment, Rhiannon glances at him with an incredulous expression before tightening her hood around her head. Mumbling something under her breath along the lines of “Crazy priest.”

Weapons already secured to his back, Weles joins you and heaves a sigh as if preparing himself for the trials to come.

From the upper deck of the ship, the captain announces to you that the ship would be pulling up to the docks in a matter of moments. A seasoned master of the seas, Captain Magahl wore the bright, warm colors of the Servants of R’hllor. He was the one who ferried the red priestesses across Essos to do missionary work for the temple. From their drop off destination, they would travel on foot to various cities.

Heavy waves stilled to a gentle roll coming into the harbor. The ships that came into view appeared abandoned had it not been for a few masked workers aboard. Unloading their wares from tough voyages to the wooden boardwalk where they were hauled away. Great spiked towers became more prominent, red glows from windows telling you that there was life present. There were littered among the towers round roofed buildings yet only one home out of ten seemed to be used as a home. The rest of the land was eerily quiet. You feared even to breathe for it might be too loud.

A relentless fog carried you in as the ship’s crew starts to throw ropes over the edges and climb down them. You watched them as they scurried to tie down the ropes until the anchor was fully released.

To the side you hear Weles and Magahl speak to one another. “We’ll stay within the Ash Sea, but I can’t stay in these harbors. It doesn’t feel right.” The captain had whispered with a scowl. “My men aren’t comfortable.”

Weles grimaces but knew there was nothing he could do to assuage him to stay in reach. It would make getting back to the ship would be difficult.

The matter would have to be dealt with when the time came. One obstacle at a time. At least the captain would be leaving a rowboat behind. That meant only a few would be able to go while the others would have to wait until the ship returned.

You went down to your quarters to hastily pack a bag that would have enough provisions for you until you reached the Shadow Hills of the darkin. Not possessing many belongings to begin with, you made sure that Latilth would have plenty of cured meats if she was unable to find any prey.

A small voice inside you worried that Latilth would become disoriented in a new environment and fly away.

Your fears were put to rest when your group finally disembarked and set foot onto the wooden planks of the harbor docks. Latilth didn’t seem too eager to leave your side as her side is constantly pressed into your leg. You thought at one point you heard her hiss her displeasure. She had grown accustomed to blue skies filled with clouds for her to dash through. Asshai’s sky were the color of soot and the air was heavy.

“Try not to look around too much.” Inniros instructs you as he passes by. “Keep your gaze forward.”

Weles covers your left side while Rhiannon keeps to your right. Behind you were Melisandre and Ray, there to protect your group’s blind spot as Inniros takes the lead. The pace was steady and while you tried to keep your eyes trained to the front, they wandered relentlessly. Hungry to look at this once land of the forbidden. The architecture was shiny, sharp and unforgiving. Looming over you in a dominant fashion. Every so often your heart would leap into your throat when you thought you saw a shadow wiggle and move.

Passing by an orange-hued window, you caught a glimpse of someone standing in their doorway. Their mask is what made you gape and hastily avert your gaze. A gold mask with pitch black eyes seemed to stare at you. You had forgotten that most people in Asshai wore masks when they were outside. Feeling vulnerable, you tug at your scarf and tried to pull it over at least the bottom half of your face.

Inniros kept your group continuing down the road, growing further away from the harbor and salty air of the ocean. In the middle of a street was an odd statue made from obsidian. Atop of a smooth stone podium was a cloaked figure; their face covered by a heavy hood. The tip of their nose peaked out, accompanied by lips that looked to be whispering a secret. Carved hands are clasped together. More unsettling was the fact that the figure appeared to be on their knees, begging for forgiveness.

For a moment, Inniros stops to look upon the statue before making a right turn. Buildings were thinning out, becoming a barren path that could only produce weeds. Empty shacks littered either side of the road. Ahead of you were the jagged mountains that were growing closer.

The city disappears behind you. Twisted trees littered the rolling gray dirt of the land. Bare of any leaves or fruit. Truly, Asshai was a wasteland. Inniros had warned them ahead of time that the walk from Asshai to the Shadowlands would not be an easy one. Especially when you had to hike into the valleys of the Shadow Hills. From the valley there would be a secret tunnel that only the darkin were able to access.

When you finally reached the mouth of the valley, your feet were burning from exhaustion. Your knees nearly buckling from the exertion you were demanding from them. Not letting on to how tired you were, you were using Latilth now basically as a support.

From the mist came a female’s voice. “You bring strangers to our land.”

The low spikes on Latilth’s spine tremble in aggravation. Latilth’s actions made everyone quickly position themselves for battle, including you who immediately had Lightbringer unsheathed although it wasn’t covered in flames. You still had yet to call them to you on command. The shine that came off the Valyrian steel sword was menacing enough. In the center of the road, a pool of black was forming from shadows that were making their way lazily to join the others. They crept from boulders and crevices alike. From the pool, a head covered in blue hair emerged slowly until she was physically standing before you. Your arms lowered an inch at this odd beauty. This darkin’s hair was painted in a hue of crushed sapphires and her kohl lined eyes bore into the naked soul. The straight line of her eyebrows endowed her with regalness the likes no one in Westeros has ever seen. Shadows trailed down the top of her head and to the ground like a morbid veil. You had never seen such a color of hair, not even from the many Tyroshi you had seen during your travels. She was a lovely creature with a golden diadem that encircled her brow.

Everyone holds their breath, waiting for an attack. Inniros doesn’t see her as a threat though. He has made no move whatsoever. “How long have you been back in Asshai, Loviisa?”

“A few months. The shadows kept urging me back to the Shadow Hills.” Her voice dripped like honey and the more you looked at her, the more you thought that she could give Cersei a run for her money in aspects of beauty. “You’re lucky I was the one to find you here and not Master Batur.”

“Batur is the very man we wanted to see.” Inniros casually replies, ignoring Loviisa’s scrutinizing blue eyes that roamed over your group. Distaste lit her eyes when they fell on Melisandre, Rhiannon and Ray. It was easy to pick out the clergy of R’hllor. The red articles of clothing gave them away.

“And who is ‘we’, Inniros?” Loviisa kept her face composed, not a wrinkle of her brows nor twitch of her eye gave her away. “You’ve forgotten your manners since we parted ways.”

By his voice, Inniros sounded bored by the whole interaction. “If you insist we do this here. Loviisa, this is Azor Ahai reborn. (y/n).” He shuffles to the side so you were in complete view of Loviisa.

You greeted her as Inniros had instructed. Closing your eyes and bowing your head until she could see the crown of it.

“A little girl with an even smaller dragon.” She murmurs.

Her barb slides off of your shoulders. Cersei had called you worse things. You maintained your smile although it lost it’s original shine. All darkin at first meeting were surly, it appeared. Inniros had the same demeanor as Loviisa did now.

“I never took you as stupid, Inniros.” Loviisa scolds him. “You really believe that this girl is the real Azor Ahai reborn? And let me guess, you plan on telling Batur this.”

Inniros nods. “Nice catching up with you, Loviisa. Now let us pass.”

Shadows writhe around her, having an almost tentacle-like appearance as they stretched down the path until it threatened to brush against Inniros’ feet. “You’re willing to risk endangering your own kind? Look at who you have brought. A fire priest, two priestesses, and what I can only assume is a guard for whatever temple she came from.”

Latilth lifts her wings in an aggressive posture when even she spots the shadows’ approach. Her mouth opens partially to reveal the tips of her sharp teeth. Between the gapes were sparks of orange. She was feeling threatened enough to actually use her fire.

You calm her with a hand atop her head, though she did retain her posturing. You wished you could do the same for the rest of your group. Rhiannon tenses up, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag while Weles was already preparing to attack. Then Inniros began to speak. The worlds that tumble out of his mouth were odd sounding. Melisandre moves out of the group formation to pace to the front. Her own red lips spoke a similar vocabulary as Inniros. The female darkin scowls at Melisandre’s intervention but waited as the red priestess spoke.

Loviisa walks forward, speaking to Melisandre in the same foreign tongue. The deep crease that had been worrying her brow softens a small measure. She heaves a sigh before nodding. “Alright. Keep to your word, priestess.”

Melisandre gently nods her head, a brief movement before she goes back to Ray and whispers something in his ear. Ray merely crossed his arms, keeping his features leveled.

Waving for your group to follow her through the valley, Loviisa weaves your group up to the mountain. On the side, there. Is a large boulder blocking a possible entry tunnel.

Inniros explains “Past this Boulder is the way to the heart of the Shadow Hills. The only way to get past is to walk through the shadows to the other side.”

Weles bristles. “Only you two can walk through shadows.”

“Not necessarily.” Loviisa’s dark veil of shadows springs to life and runs down her back like water. When she raises her arms the shadows hang off her arms. Pitch black drapery. “Darkin who are strong enough can wrap the shadows around other people so that they may cross with us. But while under our blanket, you will be unable to see anything and it will cause you great nausea.”

You really weren’t looking forward to more nausea. You thought once you left the ship you would be through with it.

“But the more you do it, the less sick you will become each time.” Inniros added, wanting to reassure your group.

No one appeared to be in a rush to get to the Shadow Hills. Rhiannon and Ray were the first brave ones who stepped forward. The young red priestess murmurs “Lets get this over with.”

The darkin explain that they could each only carry one at a time. Inniros gathered Rhiannon close to his side before materializing a thick blanket of darkness. It crawls up his legs, spreading across his shoulders as he hunches over Rhiannon. They became a black blur as they disappeared. Loviisa did the same with Ray, leaving you, Weles, and Melisandre alone.

“Nyke year dark has bisa.(I don’t like this.)” Weles whispers, his fingers itching for his weapons. Being blind and disoriented wasn’t something member of the Fiery Hand were used to. They were all ways in control.

Melisandre takes Rhiannon’s place next to you. “Gaomagon said urneptre nakostobaves issue naejon hen ilva kosh.(Do not show weakness in front of our champion.)”

That was enough to shame Weles into silence as Inniros and Loviisa returned for two more. Weles insists that he go along with the strange darkin. He wouldn’t trust you to anyone he didn’t know. At least he had spent much time with Inniros on the ship, even if they didn’t really speak to one another.

You watch them leave the same way Rhiannon and Ray had. Very softly, you grab onto one of Latilth’s horns to draw her close to you. You vaguely hear Inniros telling Melisandre that he would be back for her over the loud drumming of your heart.

Inniros placing his fingers delicately on your shoulder makes you jump. “Are you ready?”

No. . . I need Jaime here with me. We’ve been facing dangerous obstacles together for so long. . . I don’t want to do this alone.

“Look down at Latilth.” He quietly instructs you.

When you do, you find her calm as she’s sandwiched between you and Inniros. She turns her long neck to look at you. She didn’t seem as bothered as before.

“See how she’s not afraid?”

Latilth bumps her horn against your palm that was resting on it. You smile and find a pillar of strength. “Okay.”

You close your eyes when Inniros has to draw you a little closer to him. The sudden contact made your chest flutter, not having been held like that in so long. A shameful thought that you were prompt to shake out of your head.

Inniros shuffles before you feel a sudden chill run through your body. That same odd sensation when Inniros had captured your shadow during your first encounter. You felt Latilth’s side bump into a few times as Inniros guides you into the shadows.

“Just keep walking like you normally do.”

You almost tripped when you suddenly felt weightless. It scared you, but he kept his grip firm on you and kept giving you encouraging praises. That’s when your stomach felt like it was being pulverized by a mallet. You definitely did stumble once your feet came into contact with solid ground, the chill passed yet it still left you feeling cold. If it hadn’t been for Inniros anticipating your stumble, you would have fallen painfully onto your hands and knees.

“Easy (y/n). Keep your eyes closed until the nausea passes.” You heard Rhiannon tell you.

Inniros hands you off to someone else so he could retrieve Melisandre. You did as Rhiannon suggested and kept your eyes shut tight, waves of nausea rolled over you. Eventually it passed and you were able to open your eyes. Rhiannon smiles at you, an orange glow cast over her from the torches on the either side of the tunnel walls. Your eyes widen and gape as you take notice of the stone floor and high vaulted ceiling of the tunnel. There were actual wooden support frames.

“This tunnel was built during Azor Ahai’s time.” Loviisa comments, eying you slightly. “There wasn’t always a boulder there.”

She left it at that when Inniros appears with Melisandre. She shudders before disentangling herself from the darkin. “That was as unpleasant as I thought it was going to be.” Melisandre leans on the rough wall of the tunnel, breathing heavily. Her face was as white as a sheet. But her scarlet eyes were alert and roved around her. "So this is the entrance to the Manor of Shades."

"Indeed." Loviisa nods and resumes her role as leader. On wobbling knees, you stand up and check on Latilth. Unphased by having just shadow danced, Latilth is already back on her feet, using the tips of her wings to assist in walking. Rhiannon playfully bumps your arm with hers.

"We lived." She comments with an easy smile.

Your eyes shine when you look at her. "We did! And if we can survive shadow dancing, then maybe we can even survive this mission." You wanted to get back to the temple as soon as possible so you could tell Tyrion and Jaime what had happened. They would never believe you but at least you had several other witnesses to this crazy feat. Like the stuff out of fairytales. That's the life you were living now. How crazy it was compared to your quiet, docile life as a lady of blue blood. Maybe in the Lannister case it would be gold blood.

"Don't let your guard down, nuha kosh." Weles warns as he urges you and Rhiannon to start following the others as the two of you had stayed behind. The tattoos on his face appeared to glow in the torchlight. "We haven't even made it to their fortress yet. Who knows what trouble we can meet on our way their."

Rhiannon rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "She knows that already, Weles. Let her have at least a moment of happiness."

The captain of the Fiery Hand frowns and trails behind you while reminding Rhiannon "You should be taking your duties more seriously, Rhiannon. You are a red priestess of the temple after all. Take notes from the Lady Melisandre."

His reprimand managed to make her quiet. Weles meant well, but he could be strict most of the time without even realizing it. Rhiannon told you once that many people at the temple always compared her against other people, especially Thalina. They would say she wasn't as talented as Thalina or as powerful as Melisandre. It especially hurt when they compared her to Thalina. She wasn't even scholarly. You liked Rhiannon the way she was though. Her attitude was bright and her snorting laugh always brought you joy to hear.

The tunnel eventually started branching out in different directions, Loviisa skillfully choosing the correct path each time for it didn't take long to come up to an iron framed door.

Loviisa turns to your group. "Behave yourselves, all of you. The Manor of Shades is not used to visitors. Especially those that follow the Lord of Light. Keep close and don't touch anything. When you meet Master Batur keep quiet until he addresses you. He has little patience."

"Sounds like he hasn't changed much." Inniros actually smirks when Loviisa glares at him.

Her back to you once more, Loviisa opens the door and steps aside to watch each one of you go in. Your group filed out to a large hall with black columns that supported an iron arch across the ceiling. Hanging metal lamps were tethered to the ceiling by strong chains. Tinted stained glass made multiple colors fill the room. You could make out the exquisite metalwork lattice produced designs for the light to form through. In awe, you unconsciously follow the group along as Loviisa's skirts swept across the cold black stones beneath her feet. In the distance was a faint humming. She starts to ascend a narrow stair case when you fully turned your attention back to where you were going. In a neat single file line, she leads up to the next floor where immediately you see two figures sparing in front of a massive fireplace.

They stop when they sense your presence. The taller, much older man merely stands and stares. His companion was a younger man with blonde hair and an equally pale complexion as that of Inniros'. His dark eyes look curious as he glances at his master. Who else could the older man be but Master Batur? The closer he got you noticed how his eyes were heavily lined with crow's feet accompanied by a sharp beard that had gone completely gray. He didn't look happy to be seeing his old student after so many years.

His voice was raspy and deep with an admonishing undertone. "You have brought strangers into our home, Loviisa."

Batur hadn't even acknowledged Inniros' presence. That wouldn't go by Inniros. He pushes past Loviisa to glare at the older man. "They have come here to escort Azor Ahai so that she may meet you."

"She?"

That's when all eyes turned to you and Latilth. You take a deep breath and approach Batur. His cold eyes remind you of Tywin's. Always disapproving. "An honor to meet you, Master Batur. I am (y/n) Targaryen, Azor Ahai reborn."

"Of course he will not listen to anyone." Inniros explained to you one night when you ask him for tips on how to convince Batur that you were Azor Ahai reborn. "Fighting him is unavoidable."

You groan and lean over your hammock. "I was worried you were going to say that. You really expect me to fight a darkin master?" Latilth was sleeping comfortably underneath your hammock. In a few more days she wouldn't be able to fit anymore. She was growing fast with the open sky and sea nourishing her.

Everyone else in the cabin was dozing so you and Inniros had to whisper. You knew Rhiannon was possibly pretended to be asleep to listen in.

"The fire of Lightbringer will at least make him consider our words and let us stay."

"I don't know how to do that either."

That's when you felt Inniros' single eye on you in the dark. "You will. When the time is right you will. Just trust in your instincts. If you are Azor Ahai reborn, then his instincts are your instincts now. Channel them."

You never pegged Inniros to be an optimist but he made you feel like you could indeed rise to the occasion when the time came. Moving your eyes back up to Rhiannon's bunk, you imagine that if she is awake, she's agreeing with Inniros. "Okay. Anything specific I need to know when fighting him?"

"Take the advantage of knowing that he will underestimate you greatly. So, just show him what you're made of."

Batur stares at you for a long time, those chilling eyes of his drilling you to the ground. You sneeze such utter resentment readjusting off of him. Perhaps not personally toward you, but more so for the fact that you associate yourself with those of the Lord of Light.

You purse your lips together, knowing that you sounded crazy even saying that out loud. The time you spent at the temple had made you acknowledge. Certain things going on in your life. While you certainly didn’t feel like some champion, you knew that there were too many fantastical things going on as of late. You were able to stop a darkin dead in his tracks with a sword of fire. You walked into a pyre and came back out unharmed with a newborn dragon. Maybe you weren’t worthy of the title of ‘champion’ quite yet, but you were on your way.

His eyes gradually slide over to Latilth who does nothing to hide her immediate dislike of these strangers. She kept obediently close to you despite her trepidation. Batur moves on from Latilth to the red haired darkin Inniros. You worry about Inniros. This was the man who had purchased him at such a young age after the death of his mother. The way Inniros has spoken of Batur, you knew that he had abused him when he was a boy. His master had claimed it to be the Rite of Courage and Cowardice. He had been equally brutal with young Loviisa as well.

Batur spoke in that language which Melisandre, Inniros and Loviisa had spoken in earlier. Sharp and biting was the tone of his unknown words. You imagined them to be insults toward Inniros who passively stood his ground, his arms crossed as he listened before interjecting with his own even words.

Then Batur mockingly snaps at you “Well where is your flaming sword, Azor Ahai?” You barely prevent yourself from flinching at his tone. Weles nearly releases a loud snarl, begging to fight this disrespectful man. A vein in his arm twitches and you mentally praise him for his self control.

Your gait is stiff as you walk to Inniros’ side and slowly unsheathe Lightbringer. The Valyrian steel sword, while undoubtedly beautiful, shined with no flame around it. As much as you pray for it to go aflame, nothing happens and you blush in shame. Dread makes your chest heavy with lead and you can’t bare to meet the darkin master’s eyes. He scoffs at your display. “Just a fancy sword. What makes you think this girl is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai? Did those red maniacs manipulate you into thinking that?”

Melisandre mutters a curse in Valyrian underneath her breath. The malice that the darkin held toward servants of R’hllor may well ruin any attempt at speaking with this man. You were only comforted by Inniros’ passive expression as he stares at his former master. His voice is smooth and even. “She has been unable to summon the flames on her own but I’ve seen it. Felt it stab into my shadow.”

“You’ve always been a stubborn boy.” Batur shook his head, shame hissing out of him. “But you were never stupid. What did they do to you while you were made their prisoner?”

For the first time since arriving, Inniros turns his face away from Batur to look at you. His head motions you forward and you knew you couldn’t just remain in the background as a silent character.

You take a deep breath and look into his unwavering eyes. This man would definitely not believe in anything you had to say. He was a man of action. “Test my blade out for yourself, Master Batur.” The only times Lightbringer managed to catch flame was when you were truly put to the test. First with Inniros and then the pyre that hatched Latilth.

The young man who was next to him actually chuckles, earning a glare from his elder. His hands began to move oddly, gesturing toward you and back to Batur for more hand movement. He didn’t speak, but from what the young man was doing, Batur understood him.

“Ulian is right.” Inniros nods to the acolyte. “Let her show you.”

“Very well. Those in red though must be restrained.” That meant your friends behind you. Understandable, but they were not going to be happy one single minute being held still by the shadows. An unpleasant experience you remember all too well. Such a coldness coats your insides. “And if you fail to even produce a spark, I’ll have all of you executed.

Against the darkin, you didn’t know if your group would survive. Their powers were too great in their home. When you look at Rhiannon, she gives you a warm smile, mouthing “You can do it”, but the others appear slightly unsettled by his threat.

Ears warm, your booming heartbeat deafens you. You were scared. Lightbringer somehow began to soak it away.

Weles and Jaime had taught you well. This wasn’t your first fight with a darkin, but Inniros was no master. Who knew what skill level Batur was at. You didn’t have to beat him, all you had to do was invoke Lightbringer’s flame. There was no strategy you had come up with. You would simply improvise.

Ulian, the young darkin in training, smiles at you and gestures for you to follow his master toward the sparring ring where he had been previously. Now that you were closer to him, you noticed a dash of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His large, dark eyes inquisitively examine you. He reminds you of when Latilth was first hatched and how curious she was of everything. Momentarily you cast a glance at Latilth who has her head tilted sideways, wanting to follow you her wings flap a little until Rhiannon pats her horned head which seems to soothe her. Latilth chirps out helplessly but trusts in Rhiannon’s gentle hand on her head.

Batur stood opposite of you, his own sword already gleaming out in the open. A short sword, you figured darkin mainly used their shadows instead of actual weapons. Inniros had only had his obsidian dagger when you fought him. You were easily able to shatter it. Batur’s sword wasn’t black like the forged volcanic glass. A steely blue color gave his short sword a bright sheen.

“Come on then, Azor Ahai. Show me that fire of your’s.”

Your fingers tightened around the hilt, not liking having to be the first one to make a move, You dash forward.

That cold sensation of darkin controlled shadows crept wooing your spine but you were faster and got out of reach. Batur was waiting for you to become distracted by his shades as he struck out at you in the blink of an eye. You brought up Lightbringer to bear the brunt of his attack, feet forced to dig into the ground from his harsh impact. Clenching your back teeth together, you throw him off of you and untangle yourself from his shadowy touch. You had to keep moving. If you stayed in one spot for too long, it was easy for Batur to grab onto your shadow. Fighting a darkin was a slightly annoying task.

Only mere seconds ticked in the process of Batur switching sword hands to wield another weapon; a black dagger much like Inniros’. You rock back on your heels, the jagged edge of the dagger snips at your knuckles on the hand that was holding Lightbringer. Reeling your arm back with a hiss, you didn’t let it stop you from advancing toward Batur. He could cut you up as much as he wants.

Each slash you bore from the dagger was little compared to what his sword might do to you if he caught you in his web.

There was no way to avoid close combat with him. Alright, that was fine by you. Inniros thankfully prepped you ahead of time for this occasion.

You managed to grab the sleeve of his robe to throw him off his balance. The surprise of your action gets Batur for a moment, that was all you needed. In that moment you grab his hand that was holding his dagger and flex it in a way that Weles had taught you. His fingers pop open making his blade fall to the ground. Batur grunts from the pain but proceeds to try and fend you off with his short sword. For an older man he was strong and initially resisted the pull of your other hand until you threw your body into him. He wraps his arms around you and suddenly you can’t see anything. Everything is dark , your insides freezing each second of blindness. Before you know it, you’re thrown against the ground of the arena. Your head spins uncontrollably but you stay steady on your feet to brace another shadow emergence.

Instead he attacks you with his short sword. You went to bring your Valyrian steel sword to shield you, anticipating his strike. The clash makes your bones ring inside of you. Sliding against the sharp edges, your blades slide away from one another. As he moves his shoulders for another offensive jab, you are already slicing a horizontal arc toward his torso. Hastily, he attempts to bob away from your assault but you catch his shoulder with Lightbringer, slicing clean through the material of his sleeve. Grimacing, he melts into his shadows. Anxiously you slow down your breathing so you could listen for his movement better. Out of nowhere pain radiates in your leg. You grit your teeth and twist around to slash at him, but he is out of your reach and promptly melting into shadows.

He was goading you on. Taunting you. From wherever he was hiding, Batur was still able to manipulate the shadows to try and freeze you.

Before anything else you hear the flapping of wings and then an unholy shriek. Then flames. A new kind of blindness strikes your eye from the sheer ferocity of the fire. White light makes your pupils shrink and you hear Batur yell, the shadows spitting him back out. Batur’s hand was covering his eyes before he angrily shakes his head and squints them open. His left hand tightens around the hilt of his short sword. The blinding light had come from Latilth who was flying above you. Her mouth was menacingly open. Latilth's name rings as your friends try to coax her back. Latilth would not obey them and instead hovered above Batur like a hungry vulture.

She gave you the perfect opening though and moral support that boost you hold Lightbringer close to your chest and close your eyes for a moment. Tightening your fingers around the hilt made the cuts on your knuckles burn. Pain was nothing new to you.

In fact you were beginning to find it very useful. Pain was fodder for your anger. And that anger flickers alive into a small spark.

That spark was enough to ignite an inferno inside of you. Rippling out into so much vibrating energy that it nearly tore you apart. Using Lightbringer as a conduit, you channel it through the steel. There's a 'whoosh' that accompanies the vortex of swirling reds and oranges around your sword.

Batur, recovering from the shock of being forced out of his shadows, thrashes towards you with dagger in hand until he saw your blade. Not a second after your sword lit aflame did Weles and Inniros jump into action to make sure the fight was over. You had won. Now Batur had to hold up his end and not kill you all.

Safe behind the figures of Weles and the red headed darkin, Latilth finally glides down to earn a scolding from Rhiannon.

"She has produced the flames you so desired." Inniros points out to his seething master. "Now you must listen to us."

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9/? Luo Binghe is SO NORMAL about Shen Yuan

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (here), 10

Read up through even numbered parts on Ao3

Migrane + Wedding is why delay :) Enjoy!

It was another vision, which should have been obvious even before the System popped up with:

[Quest Complete! User reward: Luo Baixiao backstory fragment]

Luo Binghe followed behind the Original Goods. Luo Baixiao couldn't have been more than fourteen, though with his adult mind, Luo Binghe honestly thought of anyone under twenty as a baby. Was he himself only twenty-five when he died? Yes. Did that change anything? No.

"Not this memory again," came Meng Mo's voice.

"Then don't watch, Old Man," Luo Binghe shot back. He flexed his power and the demon was locked away behind a partition in his mind.

That the Original Goods dwelt on this memory was good information. The fact that Luo Baixiao was clearly heading toward the Bamboo House was even better. Even though Luo Binghe was clearly making progress with Shen Yuan their past was an anchor around his neck.

Luo Baixiao was allowed in, though he clearly hadn't been expected. Shen Yuan took him into his side of the Bamboo House and Luo Baixiao went and prepared tea without being asked.

Luo Binghe frowned at the scene. Luo Baixiao's uniform was ill-fitting, too small. the belt was tied loosely in the front and the collar was wide open, showing off childish collarbones. When Luo Baixiao sat opposite Shen Yuan, alarm bells started ringing for Luo Binghe.

But there was nothing he could do when Luo Baixiao coquettishly splayed his legs to the side rather than sitting properly.

I really don't like where this is going.

It only got worse from there. Luo Baixiao leaned into the table and pulled his arms back to pull the collar even further open. He fluttered his eyelashes and tilted his head to look at Shen Yuan through them.

How dare this unfilial brat! Did Luo Binghe have similar aspirations? Perhaps, but he was both an adult and not actually Shen Yuan's sworn student. What kind of shotabait trash was this? Did Snowball write this? It certainly wasn't in the novel!

[Answering Host: This System used all available resources when instantiating Intricate Rituals with my Shixiongdi.]

I'll take that as a yes, then. Writing it and refusing to post would explain some of the pacing issues and weird cuts. Luo Binghe's stomach turned just watching the scene.

Shen Yuan sipped his tea calmly, not having noticed the show being played for his benefit. His eyes were on his desk across the room; it was piled high with scrolls and letters.

Luo Binghe could only watch in slow motion as Shen Yuan noticed his disciple had sat across from him.

Shen Yuan choked on the tea and coughed, even as he covered his eyes with one delicate hand. "Baixiao!"

That was interesting. Shen Yuan had once called the Original Goods so intimately?

"Baixiao just wants to serve Shizun," he crooned. He was a child.

Luo Binghe held back the urge to gag. What the actual fuck was going on?

[User requested character backstory. End scenario?]

No! I need to see what else this idiot did!

Shen Yuan threw a handful of talismans at the Original Goods. One stuck to Luo Baixiao's forehead, one to his mouth and one to each of his shoulders. Shen Yuan jumped to his feet and audibly gagged, clutching the hand over his mouth until his knuckles were bone white.

He took a few steadying breaths and glanced at his disciple. Even though Luo Biaxiao was frozen in place by the talismans, his robes were still indecently open. Shen Yuan reached into his sleeve again, pulling out an outer robe, but before it could leave his hand, he changed his mind and shoved it back in. He left the room and returned a moment later with a paint-stained drop cloth that he threw over Luo Baixiao's torso.

Shen Yuan's hands shook as he stared at his disciple, trying to decide how to proceed. Eventually he nodded to himself and left the room again. Luo Binghe tried to follow, but since it was the Original Goods' memory he couldn't see beyond the door frame.

Shen Yuan returned with an enchanted box. He opened it with a drop of his blood and a seal formed with both hands. He removed a vial from inside before resealing the box. He tipped Luo Baixiao's head back with his closed fan and then peeled the talisman off of his disciple's lips. Shen Yuan then poured the contents of the vial into Luo Biaxiao's mouth.

"Shizun!"

"Enough! You'll say nothing but the answers to this Master's questions." Shen Yuan snapped his fan open and covered a majority of his face. "Disciple Luo is not possessed, so he will explain what brought this on."

Luo Baixiao attempted to make himself look wronged, but since he could only move part of his face and even that was obsured by the talisman stuck to his forehead, the effect was lost. He seemed to notice because his eyes tightened in frustration and the muscles in his neck visibly tensed as he fought the paralyzing talismans.

After failing in his struggles, Luo Baixiao resorted to crocodile tears. "This Baixiao just wanted to show Shizun his appreciation."

"This master has never once intimated he would be amenable to such 'appreciation.'" Shen Yuan sneered the word with such scorn it was once again unclear whether or not he was related to Shen Jiu. "No child comes up with such ideas on his own. Who told you to do this?"

"No one told this Baixiao to-" The Original Goods choked on his words and tried a second, then a third time. When he failed to speak, his eyes widens in alarm.

"This Master has administered a truth serum. Now, who is giving Disciple Luo orders?" Shen Yuan looked cold and deadly. His eyes were narrowed and looked entirely black over his fan as he towered over Luo Baixiao.

Unfortunately, Luo Binghe couldn't even appreciate it. The reason for Shen Yuan's disgust? Having this idiot baby try to offer him sexual favors. Luo Binghe bared his teeth at the moronic half-demon and paced.

Given Shen Yuan's silence, the truth serum clearly had some element of compulsion that they were just waiting for.

Luo Baixiao growled, every muscle in his face and neck taut as he fought the potion, but eventually he slumped forward, held up only by the talismans on his shoulders. "Linguang-jun."

[xx-blueboy-xx]

Oooooh Gabriel’s guide to Sam Winchester I must know 🥺

WIP Ask Game!

Sooo!!!

The title is a reference to "Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy" - and there is a reason for it!

Here is a little synopsis of the fic I have:

Gabriel, in a last ditch effort to save his life - goes careening through space and time. Searching for his one and only: Sam Winchester.

Sorta.

He really should have told the hunter about his feelings, before he went off and nearly died. Now, he is stuck jumping through universes and alternate-timelines, until he manages to discover the soul his own was anchored too.

So: basically, the plot is season-13 divergent where as Gabriel is being stabbed by Alt!Michael he tries and does his "fake death" trick but due to a lack of grace (and Alt!Michael's doing) something goes awry. Anddd, so, instead of ending back with OG!Sam in the bunker in the OG!Supernaturalverse he crash lands himself straight into an AU!

The fic follows him hopping between universes as he attempts to track down his Sam - meeting a bunch of AU!Sams along the way! And each chapter is titled realted to something he knows about Sam/learns what is different about the AU!Sams he meets! (and are numbered like a list)

I was planning on finishing it for GBB but, life happened and I didn't get around to it + had to drop out due to a lack of time. It is currently sitting at about 23k words with 4 complete chapters!!

Which are, because i genuinely love this fic and I will finish it someday (there is 2-3 more chapters I have planned and a lit of editing)

1. Sam Winchester is Not A Coward

- which is taking place in the world where Dean visted during his jinn dream! Lawyer!Sam who because of OG!Dean's visit entire timeline was set astray... (so the supernatural still exist in this world he just didn't know about it obv - because all the ppl they saved died)

2. Sam Would Die For Dean

- this is also taking place with Lawyer!Sam

3. Sam Likes Two Spoonful of Sugar in his Coffee

- in this one Gabriel meets a coffee-shop no real monsters Sam! Who is a huge fan of the books "Supernatural" (but they feature the Ghostfacers as the two brothers)

4. Sam Winchester is Warm

- Still with coffee-shop Sam! And it features Gabriel meeting his own alternative (who is basically just Richard Slieght)

5. Sam Winchester is Not An Evil Son of A Bitch

- the unstarted chapter but !! It's BoyKing!Sam :) and Gabriel meets his own alternative from this world too!

6. Sam Is Perfectly & Beautifully Human

- Gabe ends up in a Reverse!verse and meets angel!sam and hunter!gabe (unstarted only plotted)

7. Sam Is A Survivor

- Sam is dead. That's it. That's the world. (plotted only)

8. Sam Is Everything

- Gabe finally makes it home!!! 🎉 To his Sam!

I am like spoiling the whole thing but it has veen a while since I touched it so, jt's nice to explore it again/think about it once more. Life just got soooo busy when I was working on it.

Anyways! Have an excerpt because, well, I have a lack of self control!!

(From Chapter 4, the last few hundred words of the WIP)

“I don't owe a traitor anything. All you need to know, dearest little brother: is that you are never getting home. And that I am tired of being nice. I tried my best to give you a happy ending. But, perhaps, I should show you one of the bad endings, hm? Maybe that will make you appreciate my gifts more.”

“Bastard! You know over the millennia, you would think someone would have managed to remove that stick from your ass!” he screams at nothing hearing his own voice echo off the walls, and spiral down the staircase: his true voice is leaking through a bit as well. Ever since Asmodnoues he hasn’t had such good control over it as he used to. Having spent hundreds of years in a vessel had made him a master of control. He doesn’t receive an answer to his quip, feeling the world tilt before it swirls. Melting around him, the walls and ceiling dripping. Feeling as if he is being thrown by an invisible hand he finds himself stumbling into an entirely new environment. His vision swims and he feels his grace flare out around him defensively only for it to be - locked. Not gone. But locked inside of his body. He feels shackles around his wrists and his blazing golden eyes snap to them. There are Enochian runes carved into strange flickering-smokey bracelets. They vanish, but their effect is as strong as ever.

He has been bound. To what, or who, well that’s to be seen. Gabriel flares his wings out feeling them stir the air around him from their incorporeal state. He doesn’t fly. His shoulders slump in defeat and he finally starts to take in where he is. In some kind of grand throne room.. It looks nicer than it had in a long time, there is a strange familiar touch to the layout. Every ruler of Hell loved to reshape the place. Large black-marble columns, very Greek in style around him lining the long-hall. Beneath his feet a plush red carpet was rolled all the way to the base of a massive throne, carved from bone. Human skulls line the top of the throne, placed delicately upon spikes, hollow eye sockets glaring with small red-burning fires in them.

The archangel feels like he has lost the ability to process as his gaze first finds the shining black-dress shoes upon the man sitting in the throne. Gabriel’s eyes reveal the long-blue tail whipping behind him, deep-red spikes lining it, and he can see carefully folded leathery-wings behind his back, the spiked tips blood red while the wings themselves fade from black into a navy blue. Two long-horns protrude from the man’s head of wavy-brown locks spiraling straight up in spires. On earth, these kinds of things would be unseen on the vessel. But not in Hell. Blazing yellow eyes glow as they take in the sight of the archangel, who finally processes the face that bares the sharp-toothed grin being sent his way.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in?”

The Boy King, steps down from the throne of Hell.