#A house that was built up by so many people out of pure love.

[kassiaactuallydraws]

I'M REPOSTING THESE TAGS BC WTF YOU CAN'T JUST HIDE THAT IN THERE

wild that we got the dsmp download. but like. also. how much are we going to be able to see? does that make sense.

we can't visit lmanburg. or new lmanburg. exile's exploded but the tower is there. michael is missing. we can go to erets museum but its not the same. so much of the server is lost just by the nature of it. we can experience the after and we watched the during but. we only get the end of the story. ough. i hope this makes sense.

[blackpearlblast]

[ID: drawings of a golem animated by a palestinian flag painted on its forehead. it is seen: holding out its arms protectively in front of a crowd of children, the children also hold each other supportively; catching an air strike missile from the air and throwing it away or crushing it in its fist; turning its back so that a child can warm her hands by the earth oven built into its back, food in a pot is cooking on the fire and a boy holds a cup of steaming tea to his face and enjoys the aroma; clearing away rubble so a man can help up his wife who was buried underneath, she is clutching a baby to her chest; stooping down to look at a kitten a young boy is holding up to show it; and dissolving small flakes of clay from its finger into a glass of water, purifying it. end ID]

@fairuzfan asked people to create and share art for the strike. i wrote an artist statement and then set about trying to draw what i envisioned. artist statement below.

This golem is a protector that I wish I could gift to the children and adults in Gaza. The flag on its forehead is to show that love for the Palestinian people is an animating force for people fighting for a free Palestine all over the world, especially for those in Palestine who are trying to free themselves and their people. Love is the motivation for the call for a free Palestine, not hatred like people try to claim. It is very strong and fast and can catch air strikes out of midair and crush them to dust or throw them back in the direction they came from. It can lift all the rubble of a collapsed building very quickly so nobody can get trapped underneath. It has an earth oven in its back with an ever-burning flame that people can use to warm themselves and cook food and heat water to use to bathe themselves or make tea. Pieces of its clay can be crumbled up and mixed into water to make even the most brackish and unclean water pure and safe to drink.

The golem is always a bit of a tragic figure so I don't imagine it staying around forever once Palestine is free and it is no longer needed. I think it would use its great strength to help rebuild the destroyed houses, churches, schools, universities, hospitals, and mosques and then dive into the Jordan river and dissolve. It would clean the river of all pollution and make the water splash up over all the newly replanted fruit trees, causing them to grow big and strong. Its love for Palestine and its people can be tasted in the fruit they grow for generations.

I choose a specifically Jewish icon of protection because of how it feels to witness such horrors done in the supposed name of Judaism and the Jewish people. For many anti-zionist Jews, we feel like we are acting directly within the teachings of our stories and communities by opposing this genocide. It is difficult to understand how the very people and institutions who taught us these values now fight against them so fiercely. While obviously I would still oppose Israel were I not Jewish, the way I oppose Israel is directly informed by my Jewishness. I hope that someday, somehow, Judaism can bring as much joy and support to the Palestinian people as it has brought grief and destruction. That Jewish symbols used in the name of love and justice will bear more significance than the ones used in shows of hatred. Knowing the depth of the harm caused, I do not know if this is possible. But this artwork and everything I have dedicated myself to these past few months and continue to dedicate myself to in the future is born from this hope. I love you. Thank you for being on this planet with me. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free! And it will be beautiful.

[flokali]

♢ I own you, I love you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub/con, male m.asturbation, violence, threats, corruption, unrealistic sound-isolation, delusional thoughts, possessive behavior (from childe), childe/tartaglia lore-spoilers, canon divergence (maybe?), misunderstanding/miscommunication, manipulative behavior (from ajax) , unreliable narrator (ajax), ask to tag more.

pairing: afab! fem! reader x childe

word count: 10.7k

a/n: after months... here it is;; i'm so sorry for taking so long (tt),, i'll make it up to you !! istg (huhuh)

— 18+

You had trouble falling asleep ever since the day Ajax went missing.

It was meant to be yet another normal day, one that would blend in with all the others – muddled with other memories of childhood. Instead, it became the day your life began to change in ways you hadn’t even fathomed possible. 

It had heavily snowed the previous night, which left a brand new layer of pure white to cover the humble roads of Morepesok. Normally, after such a heavy storm, you and Ajax would go over to his house and play inside – making use of the fireplace his father had built and hot chocolate his mother would make to keep warm. You both would steal his father’s diary and read about his adventures across Teyvat, recreating the scenes in your minds with yourselves as the main characters, before sharing your dreams with one another.

You never had the courage back then to tell him your ideal adventure was a rather simple one, while you always dreamt of moving to a less snowy nation, one like Mondstatd or even Sumeru, you were content with peacefully traveling across Teyvat before settling down. You didn’t want to spend your life fighting monsters and exploring the world, you only really longed for a simple life, where you could work a safe job and create a new home for yourself and those you loved. It was fun to imagine yourself on a long, rewarding journey across the nation to complete a request, but you’d rather keep it as just that – a figment of your imagination.

Ajax, on the other hand, longed for the chance to become a warrior. While never too skilled with the blade, always too nervous to even kill an animal, his determination was enough to convince you he’d one day make a great adventurer like his father. He’d longed for the thrill of exploring every corner of Teyvat, roaming the land until there was nowhere in this world where he hadn’t been to. Meeting new people, learning about new cultures, fighting monsters and gaining the freedom that came with being an adventurer; Ajax’s dreams had been clear from a young age.

A part of you, albeit really, insignificantly small, always wished he’d never succeed, secretly hoping he’d leave those ambitions behind with age and become a fisherman or craftsman instead. You’d heard tales of men and women who’d joined the Adventurer’s Guild only to never come back, and even more about those who’d joined the Fatui’s ranks, and you didn’t like the idea of waking up one day to find out he’d passed in a foreign land. It was selfish, you knew that, but you hoped that maybe he’d choose a safer option, one where you two could live together, away from the cold winters of Snezhnaya and safe from the dangers of the world. Maybe you’d both move away from Morepesok, find a quaint town in Fontaine where you’d both settle down and continue being friends, or maybe more, with no worries for each other’s safety - only busy being happy and healthy.

While you were putting on your boots and coat, making sure to layer as many clothes as you could to avoid the freezing cold temperatures that came with such heavy snowfall, you remember feeling an odd sense of uneasiness, a queasy feeling settling down in your stomach making you feel sick and nauseous. At the time you had thought nothing of it, too focused on meeting up with your friend and the taste of his mother’s hot coco, but now, years later, you think it was the Tsaritsa’s way to warn you for what was to come.

You remember nearing his house, confused as to why he hadn’t met you halfway down the road like he always did. It was quiet, eerily so, only the sound of your boots and your labored breath as you battled your way through the snow. There were no kids out on the street, all the adults that would normally be on their way were missing, even the birds seemed hesitant to chirp.

Instead, you find his mother worriedly looking around the perimeters of their humble cabin, her normally neat appearance now disheveled. Her long, ginger hair was half-hazardly put up, her clothes were wrinkled, her coat wasn’t even buttoned up all the way, but she stood there, frantically looking around.Whenever you’d come over, you and Ajax would always bump into one another before racing home to see who’d get there first, but today there was his mother’s choked sobs where normally his laughter would ring.

“Auntie?” You asked, running the rest of the way as you saw her expression, the closer you got the clearer the worry in her face became and you felt yourself grow anxious.

“Sweetie,” she looks at you in surprise, not having seen you approaching - too preoccupied to hear your unsteady footsteps as you struggled to run towards her, you see her blue eyes frantically look behind you and you follow suit, “A-Ajax, he wouldn’t have been with you, right?”

“No…” You shake your head, the previous feeling in your stomach expanding across your body, your head felt fuzzy as you asked, “Isn’t he home?”

“I… I’m afraid not,” She looks distressed at your words, her eyes water as she ushers you inside while still trying to look around to see if she caught sight of her son’s bright ginger hair against the cold white that coated the roads, her hands are shaking as she holds yours and brings you into her home, “Come inside, come inside – it’s too cold out t-there, you’ll get sick.”

Behind you, you hear more people arrive, you’re almost certain you hear your parents as well, but you have no time to ask before the worried mother shakes her head at the curious adults that looked up at her – the atmosphere worsens at the realization he hadn’t snuck out to be with you, she tries to occupy herself by taking you inside so as to not give into hopelessness.

You’re confused, not too sure of what’s going on even as you see adults from around the village inside of the house, maps in their hands as they whisper about the boy’s possible whereabouts.

“Is Ajax… o-okay?” You ask, you start to feel afraid as you process their concerned faces, seeing all of these adults who’d always been smiling and assured look so worried and uncertain sent a chill down your spine.

Where was Ajax? Normally he’d be here, assuring you your imagination was running wild and that nothing was wrong, the empty space next you where he’d normally be felt awfully cold.

Nobody answers you, instead you’re taken to your friend’s room where his siblings were gathered. Their mom, who you've always called your auntie, kneels down in front of you, taking your smaller hands into hers and giving you a weak smile.

“Ajax will be fine, okay?” Her words are meant to comfort you but you feel like they’re more for herself in that moment, “He’s just… gone out for a while, but he’ll be back before you know it.”

You nod, not truly understanding what she meant but feeling as if that was the response she needed to hear.

She gives your forehead a small kiss, you feel a tear fall travel down her cheeks and into your hair but you say nothing as she leaves, noting how she desperately tried to conceal the tears in her eyes; You’d never seen her cry before and it’s only then, as you look at his siblings and the pained look in their faces, that you finally begin to grasp the severity of the situation.

He was missing. Your best friend was gone and no one had any idea where he had run off to.

That evening your parents came over and stayed the whole day with Ajax’s family, alongside the other townspeople who went and came as they searched for the young boy in the woods around the area. Normally, you had to fight tooth and nail to let them grant you permission to stay over but that night they’d been the ones to offer it first.

That night was the first and only time you had a sleepover without Ajax. You and his siblings huddled together in the living room, next to the fireplace as his mother looked over you all. You would wake up every so often to the sound of people coming and going as the search efforts seeped into the night and early morning.

The suffocating cycle repeated itself for three days. Three days, two nights, and one afternoon later, after countless hours crying to your parents in fear of losing your best friend; Ajax emerges from the woods in one piece, but he who returns is not the same boy.

The first thing that stood out was his disheveled hair, he was wearing the same clothes – which were in too good a condition for a kid who’d gotten lost in the woods by himself for three days –, and the hunting knife he’d stolen from his dad now dull as if it’d been used continuously for a long period of time. What shocked the men and women who’d found him was the blood on him – specks decorated his face and hands as he looked up at them from his position near the corpse of a bear, one easily three times his size, he’d somehow taken out. 

They’d found him in a clearing close to his house, the smell of blood had been what had alerted the rescue party – they’d prepared for the worst case scenario where the blood came from Ajax’s body, instead they found him to be in good shape even after three days by himself in the wild – perhaps a little too good, for it seemed he’d somehow taken down a beast by himself with his hands and his father’s old hunting knife. 

The news of his return quickly spreads, everyone gathered near his home as they awaited with bated breaths to see the young boy; you’re there as he’s reunited with his family, hugging your mother’s leg as tightly as you could.

Rumors spread about him having killed an animal, some claimed it had been a rabbit while others alleged it had been a beast the size of a horse, and you wondered if they had mistaken another kid for Ajax – he’d never had the guts to harm even a fly, you doubted he’d changed so much in the span of three days. But it seemed as if you’d been wrong.  

He doesn’t shed a tear, he doesn’t say a word. Not even a squeak as his parents coddle him; nothing at all. The only sounds are hushed whispers as people discuss the absurd situation and gleeful congratulations from onlookers as they celebrate his arrival and well being while giving his family well wishes. Instead, his blue eyes find yours and you’re unnerved at the empty look in them. Where there’s once been a warm light, you found an empty void that seemingly sucked you in and refused to let you go. You felt goosebumps arise all over your body the longer he looked at you.  Even as he’s embraced within his father’s arms, his family surrounding him as they cry from relief, it’s only when he makes eye contact with you that, the first time since arriving, he smiles.

You feel a chill travel down your spine as you realize Ajax hadn’t been the one to return that day. You unconsciously nestled closer into your mother’s coat, as if trying to hide from his unnerving gaze.

You did your best to ignore that unsettling feeling, opting to attribute it to the rumors you had heard instead of something your friend had done, you pushed it and as well as any doubts aside as you attempted to focus on the good news; he was here, home with his family and back next door to your own house, and that was all that really mattered.

Ever since then, he’d become more confident. His once timid personality completely disappeared and the days where you had been the stronger one, defending him from his older siblings’ teasing and the mocking from other kids, were now but hazy memories. The roles had switched quite suddenly, not that you minded it too much – there were times where it felt nice to be the one being protected rather than the protector, but it had been quite the surprise at first.

He’d become bolder and more protective, never afraid to throw a punch (and sometimes even more) if he felt like you had been disrespected. It came to a point where you’d sometimes grow suffocated by his mere presence; eventually it escalated to where he’d never let you hang out with anybody he didn’t approve of, afraid they’d hurt you and he wouldn’t be there to defend you, and he’d make sure to let it be known you were his friend first and foremost. Unknowingly, a set of rules had been implemented between the two of you. Rules that stated you were his responsibility to protect and care for, even if it meant it drove others away and left you two isolated from other kids your age.

There were times you missed the Ajax that’d gone into the woods, the freckled boy who was timid and polite – who’d rather be teased by his siblings than hurt even a bug the size of your pinky, you doubt that boy would have picked fights with kids twice his size because they’d made a joke or two that didn’t land too well. But you hesitated to dislike the new Ajax, after all, when it was only the two of you - it was as if that damned day had never occurred at all.

He was back to the sweet, delicate boy who’d blush at your jokes and avoid prolonged eye contact. Whose hand would grow warm from holding yours, who’d confess his feelings to you every night when he thought you’d fallen asleep. 

A few years later, once you were both older – now settled into your teen years, he ended up joining the Fatui and leaving your humble seaside village to go to the capital to train as a soldier. 

You cried the day he’d given you the news. As overbearing as he could be, the ginger had been your only friend that your parents consistently let you hang out with, you’d spent your whole lives together and the thought of being without him terrified you greatly.

You remember the look on his face, the way he desperately tried to look strong and not let a single tear get away, his hands that had once been soft were now calloused as he grabbed your own.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He’d whispered, his lips near your ear as he enveloped you in a hug.

You don’t trust your voice not to break and so you nod, letting your nose burn from trying to contain your sobs and not worry him more than he already was.

“A-and I’ll write you letters, so you better not forget me,” he continues, and even if by now he’d long since grown taller than yourself – you’re amazed at how small and vulnerable he felt against your frame, “so please… wait for me.”

“Only if you always write to me first… ‘Cause I swear I’ll leave if you forget.” You try to lighten the mood, halfheartedly warning him as if you both didn’t know it’d take death itself for Ajax not to fulfill a promise from him to you. He tightens his arms around you and you feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you wonder how long it’ll be before you can both hug like this again.

“I promise.” He laughs softly, the sound warms your heart.

“Then I promise as well.”

Ever since the day Ajax went missing, you have had trouble falling asleep. 

When you did manage to fall asleep, a task which took longer than you’d like to admit without external factors such as medicine, your dreams would be strange and cryptic, often times you’d wake up in the middle of the night with a racing heartbeat and a sense of urgency, as if you’d been in danger; you’d learned to hate the images your brain would concoct during your rest. Some nights, you’d dream about that day and what would have happened if Ajax had never been found, other times you’d open the door to soldiers grieving his death; whatever tragic scenario your mind decided to present you, it would always be so realistic you’d wake up with tears streaming down your cheeks and a devastated heart.

This time, however, your sleep had come easier than expected and there were no dreams or nightmares to haunt you. No earthly worries were present and, after such an unexpected day filled with reunions and world-shattering news, you wished to succumb to a never ending night; however, the fates had other plans for you.

As you’re forcibly awakened from your slumber you feel a familiar, pleasant hand gently caressing your head. It felt gentle, their touch delicate and sweet, as if they were afraid any more force would hurt you. If the owner of said limb wished to lure you into consciousness, their touch had the opposite effect as it almost seemed to beg you to go back to sleep and forget the world of the living.

You felt truly content as you laid there, the blanket that laid atop of you was heavy and cozy,  a foreign feeling - nothing like the blankets you were used to, and the pillow smelt like an old friend, welcoming and nostalgic. It all felt like a perfect trap set out to catch you, if that were that case then you’d have to admit it was a little too good at its job as you resign yourself to cuddling closer to the fabrics that enveloped you.

If it hadn’t been for the gentle kiss pressed against your cheek, you probably would have never gotten up. You want to complain, already formulating a sentence of indignation and annoyance to throw at the perpetrator, but the warmth left behind by the gesture is cozy and fills you with a taste full of happiness and fulfillment you don’t want to sour. At the feeling of a pair of unknown, soft lips against your skin you become more alert, slowly your consciousness begins to enter the realm of the living once more while you grow aware of your surroundings. Your eyes open timidly, the leftover fatigue from such a deep rest keeping them heavy, it takes you a second or two to adjust to the light and another few to register the man that lovingly gazed down on you.

“Ajax…?” You call out, rubbing your eyes as you wonder if it really was him. You’re almost sure you’re dreaming, as embarrassing as it was to admit, it had been so long since you’d seen him in person you may have simply gone crazy and imagined the man to be here; You’re about to ask him what he was doing here, if he were real at all, but he beats you to the punch with a smile before answering you with a gleeful tone that reminds you of summers long gone.

“The one and only,” he laughs gently as the hand that laid atop your head began to ruffle your hair in a familiar gesture – reassuring you that he was, in fact, a real person and not a figment of your imagination you had come up with to deal with the loneliness, “… don’t tell me you forgot about earlier.”

He teases you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he awaits your answer; surely, you couldn’t have forgotten. It’d only been a couple of hours and he had been sure to be as thorough as possible so that he left a print on both your mind and body, there was no way you’d forget making love with your soulmate. Just the thought of it sent jolts of anger and frustration down his spine, not at you - never at you, but at himself as he wonders if maybe he’d underperformed and disappointed you to the point you’d try and act like nothing had happened. If that was the case, he was more than willing to go again just this instant to right any previous wrongs.

“Earlier?” You mumble, you wreck your brain trying to think of what he meant but it isn’t a full minute before you realize what he meant. If it hadn’t been for his words, maybe his coat laying on you and your sore body would have been enough to eventually jog your memory. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you remember what you two had done earlier, you’d been so tired by the end you’d fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber that momentarily left you empty-headed when you woke up, but now the memories are rushing in and you doubt you’ll be able to forget the feeling of Childe on top of you for a long time.

Your embarrassed gaze was enough for him to know you’d remembered the dance you’d both partaken in earlier that day, the way your eyes avoided his had his heart swooning and a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his very soul. 

He feels himself calm down the more he looks at your flustered face, his whole body light and intoxicated on your sweet expressions; his pants felt so tight as he watched you fiddle with his coat, he wonders if he’d be able to warm you up on the ride back to his place the same way he’d done so previously.

You were absolutely adorable to him, so very weak and fragile in comparison to him – if he wasn’t such a gentleman, he would have loved to destroy you until you were too scared to leave his side. Alas, he decided that you shouldn’t be the one to face the sharp end of his blade, instead, he’ll scar your psyche and those around you so violently you’ll have no want nor need for anything else other than him.

“So, ‘slept well, my love?” He asks, his tone sweet as to never betray his darker thoughts — you didn’t have to know about how deeply he wished to break you until you couldn’t function without him by your side. You nod while suppressing a yawn, blissfully unaware of the chaos that was unfolding due to the man in front of you, and he laughs, content with your naïveté; he missed you oh so very much, “That’s good.”

There’s a warm, almost euphoric feeling that invaded your senses as you both took the time to enjoy each other’s presence; it felt different from earlier, something had changed now that you both had finally indulged in each other’s bodies. It felt akin to drinking a warm cup of tea, comforting and pleasurable, a reminder of home and the feeling of familiarity after a long period of impersonal and foreign coldness.

“Let’s get going then,” he breaks the silence, finally standing up from his crouching position, he gives you one last pat in the head before he starts making his way through your room and inspecting your belongings – or what remained of your belongings, “the carriage will be here soon, it’s only an hour long ride away but I think it’s best we take as much as we can today and send someone to pick up what remains.”

That’s when you notice he’s fully dressed, other than for his cape that was laid on you, as if he was anxiously awaiting the time to leave. You’re confused; why was he so keen on leaving and so fastly – he’d barely been here a handful of hours. Did you misunderstand his intentions? 

“What do you…?” You ask, you rub your eyes while you sit up, using the large coat as a cover once you feel chilly Snezhnayan air hit your sensitive skin. It’s then that you can finally look at the many bags and boxes that litter the floor, and the almost empty room you laid in. All of your belongings seemed to have been packed away, almost nothing remained other than old family portraits and gifts from your parents from across the years. 

“Huh?” The sight of your room packed into boxes was enough to wake you up, you instinctively try to stand up but a firm hand keeps you in place; you look up and see Ajax looking down at you. Your eyes meet and a chill goes up your spine at the look in his, they look eerily empty. You barely feel the coat slip from your shoulders, too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your forearm and the fact he, as a soldier, could easily overpower you if he wished.

“You’re still sleepy, aren’t you?” He asks, the muscles on his arm flex slightly as he speaks to you - he sounds disappointed as he continues interrogating you, “Do you really not remember?”

You shake your head, trying to wrack your brain for any indications of what he could be referring to; you remember the news about your parents and what happened after, but moving out? You have no memory of such a thing being even discussed, lest he meant —

“You agreed to marry me,” he says, as if reading your mind, your arm is finally set free as he adjusts the gloves on his hands, “and as my wife, you’ll be living with me from now on; I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay… here for much longer, considering everything.”

“Marry you…?” You echo as you watch him parade around your room, sharp eyes taking in what was left of your belongings on display. You vaguely remember his proposal during the first half of your conversation, something about how it’d serve as an obstacle for the arranged marriage – after all, it’s not as if the wife of a Fatui Harbinger’s marriage could be easily questioned or objected to. You had agreed almost immediately, even if you had your doubts about the reasoning behind the arrangement, you’d rather marry someone you knew than a stranger.

You wished you’d thought things through better, waited a bit longer before giving your answer. Clearly Ajax had made up his mind but now, after the shock of the news began to wear off, you felt like you owed your parents and yourself a discussion. Even if you felt betrayed, like their decision degraded you to an object instead of their daughter, you wanted to head their side; if only to get closure for your own aching heart.

Instead of answering you, Ajax turns around to meet your eyes. His eyes had always had the ability to suck you in like a void, they’re never clear - always muddy, like there was a side of himself he hid from you; you could never find your reflection on them. It took you a while to get used to them, to their empty, numb look that sent chills down your spine all those years ago.

The room feels small as you both look at each other, you sit on the bed naked and he stands in front of the door as if he were trapping you in, it’s silent and intimate and it makes your skin crawl. His expression is one you can’t read, maybe all those years in the Fatui had taught him how to make his enemies cower thanks to his presence alone, because the harder you tried to understand what his gaze meant, the less you felt you knew about him.

“Yes, you said you’d marry me.” He states and, even if it wasn't phrased as such, it felt more like an order than a recalling of events. 

“I know,” you mumble, “and I… I like you, Ajax, I really do, and I’d love to be with you, but… but  I can’t run away from this without hearing them out, you know?”

“You said you loved me.” His expression changes into a frown; Had you lied to him? 

He probably sounds childish, his sentences short and repetitive like that of a toddler throwing a tantrum, but the truth was he simply couldn’t believe that you’d even hesitate to marry him; his brain completely short-circuited as he tries to understand why on Earth you’d ever think of giving anybody a chance when you had him.

“I mean, I-I do,” your cheeks feel hot as you’re quick to answer, at least you think you love him, “but… mom and dad wouldn’t just do this without a reason and you know that. I can’t just leave and never see them again without their explanation, even if it’s bad… I need some sort of closure; I can’t accept they’d just do this to me for no reason.”

“As if that changed anything, they gave your hand away for Mora, my love” He retorts, completely bewildered at your words; they’d tried to give you away to some lowlife, they hadn’t consulted you, they were going to spring it up on you one day and expect you to get over it the next, “Does a reason even matter?” 

“It does, at least I… I think it does,” you look down at yourself and notice droplets falling down against the coat, staining the heavy leather with your sorrow, you were crying and hadn’t even realized it, “I don’t want to hate them… I don’t want them to hate me.”

He goes quiet when he catches sight of your tears. He freezes, his chest tightens and he feels himself grow dizzy – it’s the same foreign feeling he got when he first heard of the engagement, he feels his knees buckle under his weight and himself sway with every step he takes in your direction. They were beautiful, your tears, so delicate and clear, they shone like crystals when the soft afternoon light came through the window just right; he wishes he could collect them in his palm and weave a necklace to keep with himself, a reminder of your fragile heart he desperately needed to protect. 

You looked so vulnerable, naked and crying, covered only by his coat. It was an intoxicating sight, he wished he could take a photograph and engrave it on his eyelids so every time he blinked he’d see this scene play out. You broke so beautifully, it was haunting to hear your voice break into sobs and wails as you mourned the life you thought you had, but it sounded beautiful to his ears nonetheless. It makes him feel insane, it was taking too much self-control from his part not to jump on you.

He sits down once more next to you, shaking limbs trapping you in his arms as he rubbed your back softly. As you cried uncontrollably, he found his cheeks hurting from the large grin on his face; it couldn’t be helped, no matter how much he tried to will it away, the joy he felt as he saw you cry was too much for him to hide.

“It’s okay,” he makes no effort to quell your fears, instead he chooses vague words of comfort to let it fester in your heart, “you won’t need to see them ever again, you’ll have me instead.”

He feels you hiccup, too deep in your own despair to formulate words. Your shaking body clings to his, you felt so scared and alone; How were you supposed to accept such a cruel, unforgiving truth? What could you possibly do to ease the pain in your heart as you thought about your parents and siblings, who had so easily given you away to a stranger. They felt so far away from you, it felt as if your whole life had been a long dream, nothing but a fantasy you were unaware could break any second, leaving you afraid and confused as you awakened to a reality you could have never seen coming.

“Come, I’ll help you get dressed,” Ajax helps you up as he speaks, essentially forcing you to face reality and displace the fogginess in your mind, he’s gentle as he makes his way with you to your closet - you vaguely note that it was still full, unlike the rest of your room it seemed he hadn’t touched it save for a few drawers here and there -, “the sooner you get ready,” he keeps an arm around you while he goes through the rack of your clothes, making sure you stay close to him, “the sooner we can get out of here.”

You nod, your head hurts but you can’t seem to stop the tears. 

Maybe he was right, maybe it was a bad idea for you to talk to them; there was truly no excuse, was there? You doubted anything they’d say would take the feeling of betrayal away, they had treated you like an object, completely forfeiting your own personhood and giving you away to a stranger for Mora. No matter how desperately you wanted to understand what they’d done and why they’d done it, the more your head and heart hurt – it was such a cruel, heartless thing to do, to throw away your own blood to whoever bid the highest for them.

You can’t even muster the strength to facilitate the Harbinger’s task of dressing you, your whole body felt heavy as he made sure to layer on your clothes, it was near impossible for you to even stand up by yourself without your legs swaying and your knees buckling under your weight. It’s only due to the ginger’s persistence and strength that you don’t collapse.

By the time you’re ready and boarding the carriage, you’re tired and too drunk in your own misery, to question why, even as it neared nighttime, your parents nor your siblings hadn’t come home yet. Not that you cared, at least not right now, seeing them was the last thing you wanted to do.

The ride home is peaceful, you’d fallen asleep early on and laid beside Childe as he caressed your sleeping cheek and gazed out the window. Your head laid on his lap, broad thighs becoming a make-shift pillow for the ride, a blanket covering your body to keep you warm while you both made your way to his residence in the capital through the cold night.

Bored, deep blue eyes mindlessly gaze at the scenery passing by, his thoughts too jumbled together for him to admire the scenery. His thoughts stray back to your mother’s horrified face as she walked in on you together in bed earlier, he chuckles to himself as he recalls the screech she let out; it felt nice to see her so uncomfortable, but it wasn’t nice enough he’d forgive her for what she’d tried to do to you; Separate you from him.

“Ajax?” She finally gasps out, her hand points at him in an accusatory manner, “What… what is going on?” 

When did that boy come back? He’d been gone for years, the last she remembered him was as a young teenager going off to join the Fatui; what was he doing in bed with you? You hadn’t mentioned him once during all these years, she had thought you’d long since forgotten about him. So why on Earth was he laying in bed with you - naked? Had he pressured you to do so? You two had such a close relationship, there was no way you wouldn’t have mentioned him to her if you two were dating - her mind was racing with a million thoughts and all of them left her worried and confused. It’s clear she’s not doing well, her breaths are visibly unsteady, her chest rising and falling unevenly while she audibly gasped for air, she’s shaking so hard you can see her knees wobble as she tries to steady herself against the doorframe; this wasn’t something she could have ever seen in coming. 

Ajax couldn’t care less, the whole spectacle was boring and wholly unnecessary; she wouldn’t get to see you ever again, she should be grateful he hadn’t simply taken you home with him the minute he saw you. 

“I came back for my beloved,” he answers carelessly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he makes a vague gesture towards your sleeping form as if to make the point clearer, “can’t have a wedding without a bride, after all.”

“Wedding? You and her… are getting married?” 

“Yes, is it that hard to understand? Come on, ma’am, everyone could see that she and I were going to get married,” he scoffs, “you said so yourself multiple times.”

“But,” she looks visibly confused, “that was back when you two were together everyday, Ajax… you haven’t seen each other in years. You can’t seriously think that you’re getting married because you both said so when you were children.”

The audacity this woman had was near parody, clearly she knew nothing about you nor your life and it made him feel sick. She had the privilege to be a constant part of your life during all those years he was away and yet she clearly spent them doing Archons’ knows what, he was growing visibly angry the more she spoke.

“We’ve known each other long enough,” he shoots her a glare, “and I’ve known my whole life I’d marry her, whether we’ve been seeing each other everyday or not - we’re getting married and that’s final.”

“Did she agree to this?” Your mother asks, her voice rising until it was near a squeak.

“Of course she agreed to marry me!” He snaps, his tone venomous; Could she just shut the hell up already?

“Then why didn’t she mention it to her father nor myself?”

“Because we agreed to get married today,” he puts your sleeping body aside, slowly standing up and tying a loose blanket around his hips, “and neither of you were here.”

“Today?” She echos, “You came back today and asked her to marry you?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did,” he shoots her a glance as he picks up his clothes, slowly putting them on as he goes on, “and she said yes, I think you get the point by now.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled to herself, she made her way inside the room, careful as to not wake you up, “there’s no way she was serious about marrying you. You… you’re practically a stranger to all of us at this point, Ajax.”

His pants were on at this point, his blouse now balled into his fist as he tried to control his annoyance. This was starting to get pathetic on her end.

“I will have you know,” he interrupts her, turning around to make eye contact with the woman once more to make his point clear, “that not only have we been in constant communication since I left, she agreed quite happily to the proposal - I don’t understand what exactly is not clicking, ma’am.”

“Of course she’d agree,” she exclaims, her hands flying up in desperation as she continues, “she has liked you all her life; but were you two dating until this point? What even was the relationship between you two; how am I supposed to support her getting engaged with a man we haven’t seen or heard from in years. Never once did she mention you, Ajax, she never spoke of a partner much less a marriage, all her life she’s made it clear that’s one of the least of her concerns and you want me to believe her mind changed in one day because you came and had sex with her? You’re insane if you think I’ll allow it.”

He feels himself freeze, most of what she’s said up until now feels like background noise the moment he finishes processing her words. You never mentioned him to your parents? He knew you hadn’t mentioned the letters, not all of them at least - he’s asked you not to, but never once in the almost eight years since he left had you mentioned him - not even as a potential suitor nor as a lover. That hag is lying, right? There’s no way you’d do this to him, right? You loved him, you said you did when he was fucking you just minutes ago, you wouldn’t lie to him, no.

“Listen to me, I don’t care if you want to get married to her - but there’s an order to how things are done,” your mother shoots your sleeping form a glance, “you could have at least let us know beforehand you’d be coming, you… you should have spoken to us; you know we would have given you our blessing if you’d waited a bit longer. This is the first time you’ve seen each other in years, emotions are running high - at least give her some more time to think this through, you already bedded her… don’t make this harder on her - she was beginning to move on, she’d been planning to move and now you’re telling me she’s throwing it all away? For a man she’s barely seen in years no less.”

“You’re… you’re wrong.” He mumbles under his breath, “You’re wrong, we both love each other.”

“Listen to me,” had your mother’s voice always been so grating to the ear, “she might have said yes to you now but how do you know she won’t regret it? When did you ask her? Today, the same day you come for the first time to see her? You think that under all the emotions that’ll come up seeing you again she’ll be thinking rationally? Was this even a conversation you both had previously, Ajax? How are you so sure she loves you like a wife and not just as a friend?”

His movements slow down, his hands feel heavy as he buttons up his shirt; can she just shut up? What did she think she was doing, lying to get him out of the way? Insinuating you’d ever regret him, what a joke - you needed him to survive.

“I’m saying this not just as a parent but as a wife, you can’t rush into these things, you can’t spring the question up suddenly and not take the time to consider it properly! You… you immediately had sex with her and you want me to believe this is out of love and not physical attraction? You couldn’t even wait for her father and I to get home. You’re telling me that both of you are completely sure of what you’re doing, you want me to believe that? I’m not letting my daughter make such a rash decision in a day -”

“So what if it was in only a day, huh? You’re just looking for any excuse to oppose us getting together,” he’s quick to interrupt her, “because you are trying to get her to marry some old fuck for some quick mora.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“You think I don’t know, huh? You don’t care about her at all, do you? Lying to me that she’d never mention me, as if you didn’t know we were together all this time… acting like you care about her when there’s some fucking bitch downstairs you sold her off to.”

“What… What's this about selling my daughter?” “Don’t act stupid on me,” he doesn’t even bother buttoning the rest of his shirt before he’s pushing your mother out of the room and following her out the door, “I tried to be civil, but I’m getting really damn tired of you criticizing us and you keep on lying.”

She hits her back against the wall, she yelps in surprise but the Harbinger makes no acknowledgement of any discomfort he may be causing. Instead, gloved hands shoot up and take hold of her shoulders as he continues going at her; there’s a crazed look in his eyes as he keeps on speaking, getting progressively annoyed the longer the conversation went on.

“We – I, we never sold her off,” your mother pants, she looks up at him in confusion and fear, “who do you take us for?”

“I have the records,” he pushes her down, “there’s no use in lying to me, ma’am – I know everything I need to know.”

“You’re crazy,” she spits out, “you’re fucking crazy… I don’t what the fuck happened to you, but I’m sure as hell now that you are absolutely not getting anywhere near my daughter!”

“Shut up!” He picks her up and throws her against the wall, there’s a loud thud as her body slowly sinks into the ground, he corners her with his body, “Shut the fuck up, you hag.”

“Let go!” Tears are streaming down her eyes as she pleads,“Help, someone help! Please, upstairs… come upstairs now!”

“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”

“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”

“Get off of her!” 

Oh, your father was here.

It’s strange to think that at some point, Ajax would have considered him something akin to a second father - especially now as his stomach filled itself with venomous rage at the mere sight of the older man.

“I said get off,” he runs towards the younger soldier, at an impressive speed for a man his age, his hands lunge forward as if to tackle him but it takes one hydro blade’s slash for him to stop dead in his tracks, “I… what do you want?”

Your father looks visibly worried as the ginger brands his weapon, the sight of an unfamiliar vision user threatening your spouse is one that would make anyone think twice before taking their next step. 

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Tartaglia laughs incredulously, “Come on, sir… I was only gone for a couple of years.”

“Ajax?” Your mother nods her head frantically as your father finally puts a name to the face of the strange man in his house, “What the hell are you doing, boy?”

“He’s going on about,” your mother gasps for air, “marrying her and - and, us selling her or something!” The awkward position she found herself in made it hard for her to comfortably speak, even so, she made sure to spit it out as quickly as possible. Her chest is heaving while she desperately tries to make your father understand the absurdity of the situation, the hydro blade in his hand was simply too close to her skin for her comfort - the power of Harbinger was nothing to scoff at and she wanted nothing more than to never find herself in this position ever again.

“We can talk this out,” your father’s hands shake as he tries to slowly approach the ginger, “there’s clearly been a misunderstanding…”

“There has been no misunderstanding, sir,” he laughs, “I know damn well what I saw and what I heard.”

“We would never -” “Yes, you would!” He nearly shouts, but he restrains himself - if only because you’re still sleeping nearby, his whole body shakes as he tries to control the volume of his voice, “And I’m getting really fucking tired of you acting like you wouldn’t, you know? Just admit it and maybe, just maybe, we can work things out.”

“We would never hurt our daughter like that, Ajax,” the older man tries to explain, “please, understand that… let my wife go and we can talk this out properly, please.”

“Talk it out?” Ajax looks at him incredulously, “There’s nothing to talk about if you won’t admit to your mistakes, sir.” “B-but we didn’t -”

“Shut up!” His blue eyes are wide open, the crazed look in them was enough to send a chill down a grown man’s body. Why couldn’t they just admit to trying to separate the both of you? Why were they so desperate to lie? He knows what he heard, he knows they were trying to ruin his chances to be with you. They were clearly trying to get in his way, they had to be conspiring against the two of you - there was no other reason as to why you’d been so hesitant to agree to his proposal, why you’d been scared to see the truth; they were brainwashing you into forgetting him, doubting him. They had to have known he’d come back, there was no way he wouldn’t have, it’d take death itself for him to give up on you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t stand to listen to your parents’ pathetic attempts at covering up their lies.

Your mother’s words die in her throat as he knocks her out with a single blow, it’s by sheer luck the impact against her skull hadn’t straight up killed her. Your father doesn’t even get to react, not even a pip can be mumbled, before Tartaglia is making his way towards him at rapid speeds, the young man’s strength was enough to tackle him down. The Fatui soldier makes sure to use as much strength as possible, all in an attempt to get his opponent to knock his head against something and pass out with as little fuss as possible. 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold - not yet dead nor mortally injured but not awake, no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold, both lying motionless on the ground, their limbs sprawled awkwardly; not yet dead but no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you, much to the former’s delight.

Footsteps could be heard from the first floor as the guests downstairs started getting worried, standing up and roaming around calling your parents’ names - too polite to dare wander into the house but too anxious about their absence to stay completely still, the thick wooden floors muffled the sounds but not enough that the commotion upstairs couldn’t be heard. One of the many benefits of Snezhnayan architecture was the isolation you could achieve in a big enough house, he’ll keep it in mind when he picks a house to start a family with you in.

Due to your house’s size, Ajax wouldn’t have to worry too much about Andrei or his parents hearing too much, meaning he’d be able to keep the element of surprise.

The Vision user knew he’d have to avoid the dining room, the place where the guests currently found themselves, lest he lose control and kill his former subordinate the minute he laid eyes on him, however his reasoning was anything but noble; Tartaglia simply wasn’t too keen on the idea of letting him get away with his crimes just yet. 

To him, death would be too soft a punishment, it would have to be a fate worse than, not just for Andrei but every single person who was involved in the scheme.

His gloved hands make their way to check their pulses, both weak but still there - good. 

With a satisfied huff he makes his way down the hall and staircase, quick to dismiss his signature hydro blades as he purposely makes his presence known with loud, rhythmic footsteps any soldier who’d served under him would recognize.

Years of hanging out under this very roof meant Ajax knew exactly where your back entrance was, which meant that he could enjoy instilling a sense of dread into the people downstairs without risking being found.

With a lazy smirk, Ajax purposely lets a couple of framed pictures and paintings fall from the wall, his hand tracing the walls and making sure to create as much sound as possible. As he approaches the dining room, he can hear the confused, hushed whispers as someone tries to peek into the hallway but, by the time the young man finally reaches the door to look around, Ajax has long since exited the house as he makes his way to recall the soldiers he’d stationed around the neighborhood.

With a wave of his hand soldiers seemingly appeared from thin air, emerging from bushes and rounding dark corners, soon the Harbinger is surrounded by men awaiting his orders.

“Is the Galkin residency ready?” He asks, making direct eye contact with a shorter soldier.

“Yes, sir.” The man nods.

“Good,” he combs a hand through his hair as he looks at your childhood home, “there’s a knocked out couple on the second floor, the rest are in the dining room.”

“Yes, sir.” A chorus of voices respond, mechanically a group of the soldiers turn around and march into the house.

“Keep it down, will you? If they scream, knock them out,” he adds half-heartedly, “she’s sleeping, so don’t wake her up.”

The leader of the group nods enthusiastically, making sure to echo the sentiment to his men before making their way inside the house.

As their operation takes place, Tartaglia turns back around to address his remaining companions; “Make sure to make it look as realistic as possible, we need the charges to stick.”

“Yes, sir.”

He asks to see the boxes full of fabricated evidence one last time. There are at least six large boxes filled to the brim, but he focuses on one. The one that holds the most damning evidence for the most serious crime anyone could commit in the land of Cryo; Treason against the Tsaritsa. Cold, blue eyes look with a gleeful glint at the falsified letters, penned to look exactly like your family members’ handwriting, there’s more; photographs, bank records, falsified shipment records, and more.

He gives one final nod, officially sealing everyone’s fates. From this moment onwards, your family and the Galkin’s would be charged with treason against the Tsaritsa and conspiracy to overthrow the Fatui. Sure, many others, perhaps even innocent people, will unjustly be implicated but he’ll make sure to pin this on the worst people he can. He’ll get rid of two birds with one stone while he’s at it.

It takes only a couple of minutes before everyone is being pulled outside of the house and led into carriages. It’s a humiliating sight, the ones who were awake were panicked, some even crying, the ones who had to be subdued needed to be carried by two or more people as they were unceremoniously dragged away.

Ajax purposely hides away, making sure to make a mental note of who was being taken and their condition. Andrei and his father are the only Galkin family members out of the four present who hadn’t been knocked out. Your parents, your eldest sister, and younger brother are knocked out - your elder brother, and your other sister are the only ones awake. There are a couple of other people, their partners, and a few he didn’t recognize immediately. In total, there were 16 people taken from your home.

Tartaglia made a point to only reveal himself as they finally dragged Andrei out, the final person out the house. His hands were bound behind him, a confused look clear in his eyes as he desperately tried to understand what was going on. His green eyes finally make contact with Ajax’s, they widen.

“Sir? What is going on -” He’s cut off by a harsh shove from the soldier walking him, he stumbles.

Ajax almost feels bad at the sight, Andrei was a good man - if only he didn’t try to get with you. He was young, unlike the idea he’d planted into your head, Galkin had only recently turned 27 last month, and he’d been a promising soldier until he was honorably discharged after a failed mission took the lives of most of his troupe. However, if you found out about his closeness in age to yourself, you’d probably not have reacted as poorly - maybe you’d even think about giving the fucker a chance. After all, people like Andrei - honorable young men who sacrificed a part of himself for his nation - were always appealing to the masses. But never as appealing as Ajax was to you, he couldn’t be.

The Harbinger turns around on his heels, not even sparing another glance to the arrested individuals, before making his way inside your house.

It’s filled with strangers, their serious faces evident as they set up the scene - their movements calculated as they did their best to create the image of guilt. Even though there were easily five or more people in every room, the whole place felt eerily empty. In a way, he almost feels as if you two were the only people in the world - you, the sleeping beauty waiting for him to arrive.

There’s a spring in his step as he pushes the door to your room open, his eyes immediately find you buried within his coat. He’s not surprised you had managed to sleep through it all, you’d always been a heavy sleeper even during your youth. 

He ushers a soldier in with a bunch of empty boxes, signaling for her to start packing your things up.

“Wake her up and you’re dead.” He adds while he makes his way towards you, a cheeky smile on his face as he makes himself comfortable next to you.

The soldier nods, making sure to be as quiet as humanly possible as to not anger the man in front of her - at this point, everyone in the house knew that he was not exaggerating when he said such things. When it came to you, the eleventh Fatui Harbinger knew no bounds. She turns around, making sure not to look too much at either of you in fear of upsetting him.

He patiently waits for the woman to finish packing all she could fit in the boxes. By now, he’s cuddling you in his arms, never allowing you the chance to so much as squirm away from him. It’s a suffocating, possessive hold he has on you, like he was scared if he let you go even for a second you’d leave him.

“Good, thank you.” He doesn’t even look at her - too focused gazing lovingly at your sleeping form. She says nothing but bows before leaving, desperate to leave the room as soon as possible.

The minute she closes the door he pulls himself away from you, making sure to not wake you up with any sudden movements - a concern he seemingly hadn’t had before when he’d been tormenting your parents.

He’d done his best to conceal himself but the truth was that the minute he saw you again, he felt himself growing hard again. Your naked body was hidden enough he didn’t feel the need to kick the soldier from before out, but he knew - he knew that beneath it you were still dirty with him, you were bruised from his handling of you, your neck filled with his kisses and bites. Just knowing that was enough for him to get dizzy, as if all the blood that was meant to flow to his brain had been redirected to his dick. His white pants were tented up, it almost hurts from how erect it was - just the memory of you taking him inside had a wet patch forming in his underwear.

“Look at what you do, baby,” he moans, his voice breathy as he pulls his zipper down, slowly freeing his hard-on, “ah… hah, I want to be inside you again.”

Just the cold air hitting his bare cock is enough to send a jolt of electricity down his spine, he just wants to feel you again, it’s all he wants - to be inside you again and to fuck you until all you can think of his your future husband’s cock. He takes your hand, so much smoother than his battle-worn one, and cautiously shoves two of your fingers into his mouth as a make-shift gag. 

He keeps one hand there while the other one slowly caresses his slit, his touch almost a ghost on his skin as he makes sure to tease it until a glob of pre starts to form from how sensitive he already was. He takes a small amount of pre-cum and uses it as lube, making sure to spread it slowly across his tip and down his shaft with long strokes.

He’s trying his best not to bite down on your fingers but it was so hard not to, instead he occupies himself by sucking on them in sync with his hand. 

“Mhm!” He accidentally touches his vein, the thick bump was extra sensitive against the cold air and your scent, his whole body twitches.

He can’t stop his hand from gaining speed and force, the longer he’s here with you the more his hand moves. It just not enough, his hips thrust upwards as he gives into himself, fucking into his balled up hand. His tongue laps at your fingers, his lips wrap tightly around them as he tries not to bite into your flesh; he can’t stop his hand from tightening against his cock.

He continues like this for a while, humping into the air like a bitch in heat, making sure to not cum - he didn’t want this to end too soon, he wanted to continue feeling like this next to you. In your room, a place that smelt so much like you it was overstimulating him, the taste of your lips against his tongue was intoxicating - he didn’t want today to end.

“Hah, mhm…” He chokes against his moan; it’s starting to get too much for him.

It’s then that he makes the mistake of looking over to you. Just the sight is enough for him to cum, it takes just a few strokes for him to finally spill.

“F-Fuck!” He can’t stop the moan that leaves his lips, he takes your fingers out of mouth in fear of hurting you but he refuses to let it go, gripping tightly while he lets himself ride the wave of pleasure he feels.

It takes him a second or two until he finally calms down, his dick growing sensitive as he slows down his strokes until he finally stops. His chest feels heavy as he pants, his heart beating painfully loud - he wonders if maybe you could hear it even in your sleep, a part of him hopes so. His whole body is on fire but he thinks this is the best he’s ever felt, just being near you was enough to make him feel like a God.

“I… I love you,” he pants, his fingers almost leave a dent in your hands from how tightly he’s gripping it, “hah… I love you so, so much…”

Almost a little too much.

[xjulixred45x]

This is my last request and I hope you enjoy your holiday. May I request for more Yandere platonic Nanami wherein he yells at their darling one day and so they decide to hide from him inside the house and Nanami foolishly thinks they escaped. They only come out after hearing the commotion

Ohhhh great! More characters! I like this, thanks for the Request!

Platonic Yandere Nanami and Reader: Hide and seek

Kento had had a bad day, a pretty bad one, leaving him irritable and definitely not wanting to do much. Simply arrive and spend time with (Reader).

But that was no excuse for what happened next.

(Reader) had already become quite accustomed to the... lifestyle that Kento forced made them maintain for their safety and protection, however they was still a young person, they was still learning things--

So there was no way they knew that resuming a small argument they had earlier and that they WANTED to finish(about the sorcery academy, above all.Even after the events in Kyoto and Geto, they wanted to return to the academy when what was the point? Those from their year had been expelled. Did they expect them to be sent alone? no way) would have been the straw that broke the little calm left in the man. Ending the interaction with a single, forceful scream at them.

Kento didn't mean to yell or sound abrupt, but all the built-up tension of the day, the overtime, and the fact that he just wanted to rest and not deal with anything else made him not realize that Reader was not only startled, but was made backwards, in fear...

no again...

Kento had already been through this at the beginning, when he first brought them home, how they would stay away from him, how they would be startled when he tried to get close or give them affection, how many times they tried to escape from home...the punishments that followed--

Everything had been worth it until now, they were finally accepting him as a father, loving him back, seeing him in a similar way to when he supervised them at the academy--

and he ruined it.

and now he paid the price.

He promises himself that when he returns from this shift, he would make it up to them for yesterday (already hoping that they would want to leave their room by that time) and thus fix things and not start from scratch again.

What he didn't expect when he returned was to realize that he had left the door unlocked... and he felt the little color he had in his face drain away...

He quickly entered and checked readers's room, it was open, there was no one, he went to his room, nothing, he left his bed, nothing, there was no one in the kitchen or the living room, he removed everything, he made a big mess and nothing.

and since they had behaved so well he had turned off the security cameras for a while. so if they had left he had no idea where they went....

Reader had fled, all because of him.

All the possible scenarios began to appear in his head, what would happen if they ran into some curse? They had gotten too used to fighting because they were living with him, they would be defenseless! They hadn't even properly healed from the events of last year! or being alone out there, in Japan, hungry, cold, with all the depraved people out there...

Should he ask the other sorcerers for help? But what happens if they see the relationship he has with Reader in a bad way? Or what if Gojo found out that he was keeping them locked up when he told him to stay away from them? What if he told the normal authorities? They would misinterpret everything and want to take them away from him! Or worse! Return them to the academy where they would run more danger!

Kento started to panic, he got on his knees, pulled his hair and, like yesterday, let out a scream of pure frustration at the situation, but with many more emotions than just anger.

despair, sadness, fear, uncertainty--

That's when he heard it.

like something was moving in his room.

Even if he searched for Reader in depth throughout his entire apartment, he did not search in places that, out of mere habit, he did not see because they were obvious, such as the closet. and now he heard someone walking from his room to where he was (the living room, in a mess) and when that person appeared he realized... it was Reader.

They stared at him before letting out a small "I heard a lot of noise..."

Nanami was perplexed, but tried to compose himself quickly and act "normal" as he stood up and walked towards them with a slow step. He scared them once, he wouldn't do it again.

Kento was amazed that Reader had decided to just hide. Had they realized that the door was open? Was it some kind of plan? Or was it sincere? It didn't matter now.

Nanami could hardly hold back his tears when he got closer to their level to give them a hug while whispering what he feared most "...I thought you were gone...".

Fortunately, as they hugged him back, he realized that he wouldn't have to worry. They wouldn't leave.

He got them used to depending on him a lot, they love him, he knows it, deep down they love him as much as he loves them, they know that it is better here, that he does this for their own good, like a good father would. They won't leave him because they know there's no point in doing so...he will find them sooner or later...they didn't go through so much misery together to stop now...

They will be together.

He would make sure of it, from now on, no matter what happens.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober - 04: Kidnapped

John Price x gn! reader

Warnings: murder, mention of torture. Kind of strayed a little from the prompt I feel

It's pure luck that you notice, headphones catching on your laundry and pulling them from your ears just as the door bursts open. You know John isn't supposed to be home yet, not for a few more weeks. Freezing for a few seconds you strain your ears, already dialling John's number as you make out masculine voices from the foyer.

The confirmation that, yes, people have just broken into your house snaps your body into action. You lock the bathroom door from the inside then close it, running as quickly and quietly as you can to the bedroom.

The call goes to voicemail and you internally swear, dialling him once more. Again you don't get through and you try not to fume at John for working when you're about to be killed. There’s no point calling the police, they won’t arrive in time, you just want to hear your husband's voice one last time. 

You work your way through his coworker's numbers before surprisingly, it's Simon who answers. He doesn't even get a second to speak before you're hissing at him.

“There’s Russians in my house!” If your life weren’t in mortal peril you’d probably have laughed at the usually collected man’s brief moment of panic. “At least two” You’re already answering his unasked question, years of being John’s partner leaving you slightly more prepared than the average civilian. 

Whilst you're listening to Simon on the other hand of the line you've managed to rifle through the bedside drawer until you pull out a long serrated blade.

A knife meant you had to get close, but it was quiet, and far more readily available than the gun. Closing the drawer quietly, you rush back to the door. However, instead of closing it, you keep it open, hiding behind the wood and waiting for an opportunity.

You white knuckle the handle, trying to stop your body from shaking as the sound of the bathroom break-in attempt filters down the hallway.

You barely register that it’s John in your ear now over the blood roaring in your ears, a mix of adrenaline and terror leaving you shaking. He’s asking questions, barely concealed panic tinging his every word, but you’re far too scared to answer in case you’re heard. 

Heavy boots thud against the floor as an irritated voice filters through the hallway, one of the men is coming closer and it takes everything in you not to cry as John assures you that help is on the way and will be there soon. 

You both know that’s a lie.  

He’s out of the country, and even if his colleagues can contact the police it will likely be far too late. You want to tell him you love him, want to wax lyrical on how he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you. At this moment you have so many regrets, so many unvoiced thoughts that you can’t verbalise because it will give you away. 

The door you’re hiding behind creaks slightly as it’s pushed further open and silently you slide sideways to avoid acting as a human doorstop. You see a broad back, and in a stroke of luck, there’s no tactical gear to protect any vital points. Likely in an attempt at anonymity, but it doesn’t matter, you know to go for the throat. He walks towards the closed closet doors, smug triumph in his voice as he thinks he’s found you. 

You step towards him as quickly and quietly as possible. As you get within striking distance he turns, but unfortunately for him, you’ve already built up momentum and are witness to the surprise on his face as the serrated blade slices through the skin of his neck like butter. 

You know better than to stab, you don’t possess the strength, the downside though, is the torrential spray of blood that gushes from the violently slit throat. 

His blood covers you as the man makes guttural choking noises, unable to do anything else with his ruined vocal cords. John’s screaming on the other end of the phone, demanding to know what’s happened but you’ve frozen in shock. 

Those few frozen seconds prove to be your downfall, you’ve forgotten there are two assailants, and the other man has busted down the door of the bathroom and found it empty already. 

“Drop the knife!” It’s a command, and after looking up at the furious Russian man aiming a gun at you, it’s one you quickly follow. A whimper escapes you, frightened tears finally pouring down your cheeks as you await your death. 

John’s still begging you to answer him and with courage you didn't know you possessed you manage to whisper one last ‘I love you’ before your phone is grabbed and crushed beneath the man’s heel. 

“Sorry ‘bout this.” The man sneers and you barely have the time to think that he doesn’t look or sound very sorry before the butt of his gun meets your temple and the world goes black. 

From the moment Simon had burst into the room interrupting his meeting with Lawell, phone in hand and panic in his widened eyes John knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. 

He’s up from his chair so quickly that it falls over, and barking at Simon to update him in on the situation. The phone is snatched from his lieutenant's grip and placed against his ear as he tries to get you to respond. 

He hears your shaky breaths and some vaguely angry shouting in the background but you never respond. He hears your fear, hears the telltale gurgles of a dying man but his heart doesn’t stop until he hears those three words. 

There’s a resigned finality to them and Price has tears in his eyes as he repeats the words in a desperate chant, unable to do anything more than listen as you scream and the line goes dead. 

He must’ve blacked out temporarily after that, because when he came to a few seconds later Simon was holding him up and the man’s phone was shattered into pieces on the other side of the room. 

It’s not until hours later that he gets an update. The police had arrived to find a man dead on the carpet of your bedroom, throat violently slit, but no sign of you. 

The following week was torture. He barely ate and didn't sleep until his body physically gave out. The boys were worried, and on more than one occasion he’d snapped. If it wasn’t for Simon’s interference he might have even hit Soap simply for trying to get his captain to rest. 

It’s another week before they finally get any news, and it comes in the form of a bloodied box containing a USB. Immediately John knows what it is and even as his men beg for him not to watch, even as the horror floods his veins and the bile fills his mouth he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the screen in front of him. 

You’re chained to a chair, soaking wet, bloody and shaking. He watches as a man runs a knife down your collarbone and you scream, crying and begging for John. 

It’s a warning. To back off, or you’ll die. 

The video cuts off with another one of your screams and a mocking accented voice letting John know that this is all his fault.

[woundgallery]

I don't submit many poems for publication, but I am truly delighted that this old piece found a home in a beautiful volume of Prairie Schooner. I wrote this in April 2016, when I was re-emerging from the most deadening period of my life. As much as this poem, on the surface, is about heartbreak, it is much more about the gift of opening myself once again to communion with others and communion with the mystery of our fragile, interconnected world. The person I wrote this for took me by the hand and--with gentleness and understanding--helped me put aside weariness and remember that the world was a place that could still surprise me with a beauty that surpasses explanation, that cannot be neatly explained and shut away. Though it's been years since we have spoken, I am forever grateful for him.

And, as spring quickens in New York City, I am grateful once more to reflect on all I would have missed if I had not made it through the gauntlet of 2015. I would never have met my cat (and love of my life) Willa who wakes me each morning by wildly purring, head butting me like a baby goat, and nibbling my cheeks and nose because she’s just so happy to see me; hiked on Orcas Island with Michael and found a surprise lake which we named Lake Ineffable (because no name was beautiful enough for it) where we stripped off our clothes and swam and embraced each other, blissfully alone and dazed by superfluous beauty; found out that George Washington National Forest may have more fireflies than anywhere in the world; grown into my vocation as a social worker and been blessed to sit in communion with my clients for eight years; built a beautiful relationship with my parents based on mutual respect, affinity, and humor; seen my friends’ babies discover the world; slept beneath a meteor shower sky on a NYC beach in the arms of a man I was suddenly and entirely falling in love with; discovered Eric Rohmer; discovered Wim Wenders;  moved to Laramie, Wyoming where everything looks like the abandoned set of a Western film where the paint has flaked off but he extras are still wandering around despondently; moved to Montana where I remembered that I am part of the whole, not just a body in passing; woke in Missoula to the cold air seeping through my window—still half in a dream of Oregon in October—and stirred, deliciously alert beside the boy I loved, craning toward his sleepy, freckled back, to clutch him closer, the brisk quickening of fall making my body a new thing—wild and tender and alive; swam naked in the ocean; had the chance to work with my best friends and fall even more in love with the people they are based off the kindness they showed our clients; had my best friends, in turn, respect and love me more based of what they saw me showing clients; sat by a lake at night and felt an earthquake swell like a heartbeat beneath my body; drove from Missoula to Washington, Ryan’s van weaving through a forest fire zone until we reached the pure, amnesiac sweep of the Pacific; discovered Simone Weil; been, not only forgiven, but embraced by the person I most wronged after six years of estrangement; made up a silly-serious shared mythology with Steven about a vulture God named Hamm who watches over us with a severe equanimity; backpacked through Olympic National Park with Michael and seen and been seen by the strange shaggy haired deer and rabbits who looked at us without fear; discovered Agnes Martin; read poetry with my sage & strange Mara; discovered Olivier Messiaen; discovered Mary Ruefle; discovered Ana Mendieta; realized that I like the color yellow; moved to New York City; discovered Carol Rama; learned how to enjoy dancing to music other than punk rock; seen a moose in the wild; spent a summer in that yellow shotgun house with the overgrown yard and the porch overlooking the river where we made dinner each night listening to recordings of bird calls; experienced the delights of solitary sunbathing on Brooklyn roofs; encountered places named Hellgate, Bitterroot, and Rattlesnake; recited The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock at 3 AM, wading in the waters of the Long Island Sound; realized I am capable of keeping houseplants alive; heard the thrumming ecstasy of the grouse's wings; learned the name of those clustered, mustard-colored flowers that grow on the Oregon coast; grew grateful for beauty again, remembering the world is not a place I can neatly explain, cannot fold in linen and shut in a drawer; and, most of all, remembered the daily ways we concede—plainly, without theatrics—to live.

Today I am thankful for those who love me and those who allow me to love them.

[howling-medic]

I have had no Adderall and too much caffeine, and I have been thinking. A dangerous combination, but a very fun one. I have reached many conclusions about many things, but the thing I have become most convinced of is that almost every single character JRRT has ever written is some form of little shit and/or chaotic gremlin. Here are a few outlined. Please add more:

* Aragorn: *gestures wildly at the entirety of the Prancing Pony chapter* *points emphatically at the houses of healing exchange with Merry* need I say more? The man may be Isildur’s heir, but he is a little shit. I love him for it.

* Gandalf: my man straight up just had no real reason for choosing Bilbo to be the thief for thorin’s company. He could not explain himself even once. Then there’s the whole Beorn debacle. Then there’s the dramatics with how he returned to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Chaotic gremlin. Little shit.

* Merry and Pippin: they’re getting clumped together. I don’t think I need to explain.

* Sam: he may be the most sane of all of these fuckers. Truly. He’s the most pure hearted and least chaotic. He still was trimming the verge a little late, and he was in cahoots with Merry and Pippin. Chaotic gremlin adjacent

* Bilbo: do I need to explain this one? He used the One Ring to hide from annoying relatives. Little shit and chaotic gremlin are his defining characteristic traits

* Legolas: danced atop the snow while everyone was drowning in it. Declared he would attempt to get the sun to come help them. Let Aragorn listen for horses he could literally see and describe. Built his own boat 120 years after the last one sailed and BROUGHT A DWARF

* Gimli: his entire personality is silver tongued snark with a large side of intelligence and violence. He was going to be mad at Merry and Pippin for dying because of the energy he put into finding them. I’m pretty sure he proposed counting kills to Legolas.

* Frodo: chaos. Thinks he’s going to just venture off into the woods by himself. Little shit. Thinks nobody is going to realize something is up. Love him. He’s bad at both

* Boromir: tries to oppose the wisdom of people literally over 150 times his ago. Kinda little shit energy, but he didn’t do it to be contrarian, so it’s the weakest entry so far

* Faramir: let’s talk about henneth annun. Let’s talk about the way he let Sam freak out only to start laughing. Dude is a little punk, and I love it

* Eomer: declares Aragorn not Strider but Wingfoot. I can’t explain his placement on this list really. He’s just chaos gremlin vibes

* Eowyn: my sweet horse girl. My caged warrior. She is chaos gremlin incarnate as driven by wanderlust and desperation. Truly my kindred spirit. I will die for her. You know she was wonderfully insufferable and a pain in her brother’s ass - in the best way.

* Melkor: literally the original little shit. Everything started going sideways because he was a petulant child and then it got worse the more jealous he got. Because the OG chaos gremlin. It just so happens that there are cosmic level consequences when he acts out

* Denethor: falls more under petty bitch than little shit or chaos gremlin. My man was so threatened by Thorongil that he was glad when he left and turned men against Gandalf because Aragorn counseled that Gandalf should be trusted. Just….fuck Denethor…with a cactus.

* Saruman: the ploy with Radagast to get Gandalf to Isengard was 10/10 chaos gremlin energy. Evil chaos gremlin energy, but chaos gremlin energy nonetheless

Alright, with that, I’m out of ideas. I’m certain I can come up with stuff for Galadriel at the very least, but I lack the requisite focus at the moment.

[canonsinthehead]

Naruto Modern AU/Hollywood pt.1 - The Uchiha Family & Sasuke.

All types of reasons have led certain people to the level/status of celebrity. We will explore it in this Modern AU of Naruto. Oh yes, starting a new project (regardless of all the stuff in the drafts) as a means to share my lore and practice digital art.

They are your typical influential family/lineage/clan in the world of celebrity-dom and Hollywood. Taking their root foundation in Madara Uchiha who made a lot of money exploiting the land’s abundant minerals along with Hashirama Senju when they created Konoha. He built the foundation block of the Country’s central bank and police department. Yes, Madara lost most of his wealth through the years to the sin of gambling and failed business ventures. To this point of being a historical comedic fact of the past, his descendant Fugaku Uchiha had to rebrand and start with a "fresh foot" in a different industry; Technology & Scientific Lobbying/Investing. Along with ownership in the industrial prison complex but he’s not telling you the second part.

Finances magazine "The Ryô Treasury" loves to paint Fugaku as a self-made businessman who worked hard and won the investment lottery. These types of publications love to omit to the public the fact that anyone in the Uchiha clan born after Madara is technically a trust fund kid/nepo baby. Fugaku included since like most of his close and distant relatives were born into the higher class regardless of the money Madara lost throughout the years.

Many historians and the media do their best to conceal the depth of the influence Madara had on the country of fire and cover it up with the "billionaire gone broke" narrative because he had controversial political and social views that led to his fall apart from Hashirama Senju centuries ago.

Many industries go to the higher clans like the Hyuuga, Uchiha, Aburame & Senju for funding since they own a lot of the country’s resources and various entities. It’s hard to tell because it is well concealed on purpose like how the cheap wine you buy at the grocery store comes from a vineyard owned by a Senju who operates under a different surname.

With all that status and money, Fugaku married Mikoto (from an unknown background) and created the main and most popular unit of his clan with his two sons: Itachi and Sasuke.

Let’s Start with Sasuke:

He lived, along with his older brother, the typical luxury childhood with a large main mansion, a cottage summer home in France, maids, going to a 7-star school no one can find on Google Maps &, etc. The intense security of such a sheltered childhood created a rebellious fire in him. So, out of the blue at 18yo packed his bags and left his parents' house without warning. He settled on the rough side in the major city of Konoha to reinvent himself. After discarding his surname and blow-drying his hair, he dived into one of his hidden passions; music. With his dad’s funds, purchased a few guitars and started to compose music. Not only for pure love for the art form but in the hope of making a name for himself, to stand on his own feet and not hide in his brother’s shadow anymore. The fact that Itachi’s career was taking off around that time was pocking at his justified sibling inferiority complex (but he’ll never admit it).

After many trials and errors, he was able to befriend a few people while still refusing to disclose his identity. Like a random young guitarist coming up from the struggle, he created the punk rock band Taka along with Suigetsu (2nd guitar), Karin (bass), and Juugo (drums). They went from performing in small clubs to selling out large venues and becoming the most recognizable punk rock figure of their era and sending them on tours across different cities and countries.

Keep in mind they were able to pierce the market in Iwagakure due to the large rock music scene bringing a new sound standing out from the traditional heavy metal of the country of stone. They couldn’t say the same about other large cities like Sunagakure and Kumogakure who were at that time close to the outside musical influences until recently.

Sasuke took pride in his achievements accomplished without his father’s connections. The band was extremely popular among teens and young adults for their good music, edgy aesthetic, and participation in the punk/emo subculture.

 Let’s not lie, a lot of their female fanbase was in love with the handsome lead singer Sasuke. He was an iconic punk/emo fashion icon for his legendary smoky under-eye makeup and spiky hair. All the members rocked some type of spiky haircut as well who were immensely popular at the time. Regardless of the focus on Sasuke, many of their fans love Suigetsu with his unique looks, great sense of humor, and certified crowd-hyping skills. Karin, the one and only e-girl punk girly, and Juugo, the sweet muscular teddy bear drummer who composed a lot of the band’s songs along with Sasuke. Their sound is akin to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus’s Don’t You Fake It and early day Paramore.

Unfortunately, the band disbanded 5 years later for many reasons. First, punk rock’s popularity fell by the wayside and was outshined by rap & hip hop from Kumo (this era was short-lived). Also, Sasuke realized that all the members were growing apart in different ventures for their lives:

- Sasuke: By mistake, his family name was discovered. Somehow, he avoided the fraud accusation but realized he didn’t want to be a singer all his life. He outgrew it Also his father finally reached out to him and promised to guarantee his son’s future career venture if he came back so they could play into the "influential family" unit image Fukagu wanted to create (think of the Kardashians). Being interested in modeling, Sasuke complied.

- Suigetsu: Always wanted to do something in his hometown (Kiri). He kind of went off the spotlight, rumors say he is working with artists from Kiri and is a DJ wearing a full-face helmet, so we might never know…

- Juugo: Always known he had a talent and passion for photography, so he pursued it as a career. After putting a few portfolios out here, he was recruited by the renowned fashion, designer Orochimaru and it’s in his circles where he met A-List fashion model, Kimimaro. They are now engaged.

- Karin: She is now a bass and guitar instructor at the most prestigious music Academy in Konoha. The breakup was tougher on her for many reasons but the fact that Sasuke started dating and is now married to the professional wrestler and fitness influencer Sakura Haruno played a huge role in it at the time but she’s now comfortable with their relationship, and she became the godmother of his daughter.

All these things happening at the same time made the disbandment a little smoother to digest for them but was a huge shock for their fans.

Sasuke is now a model operating under Orochimaru. His handsome looks, talent, and father’s connections allowed him to make a name for himself. He keeps lending juicy contracts left and right. For some reason, he has regained pride in his family name and wears it publicly. Despite his efforts, he is back to being the Young brother in his parents’ eyes, but he doesn’t care anymore. Him and Itachi are 2 distinct entities at this point and get rarely mentioned together in most professional settings.

Sasuke is now busy and married with a daughter named Sarada. He can’t let these ideas get to him since he has a relatively good public image and enjoys his privacy (he doesn’t share too much about himself or his family with the public). He has blatant rudeness towards paparazzi, interviewers, and anyone talking to him. Pretty privilege allows him to be labeled as an introvert and keep it pushing.

next part

[nbmudkip]

was thinking out loud about act 5 earlier, here’s a snippet from discord dms that my friend encouraged me to post

siffrin made a wish and fell so deep into despair they gave up on their wish. but his wish had SO MUCH energy behind it. not only did he follow the correct rituals, but it got merged with the pure combined intent of an entire country's population wishing for the country to be saved. hundreds of thousands of peoples’ aimless wishes had combined with sif’s own wish, creating a reality-bending amalgamation of desire, stuck building up more and more power with each new cycle to sustain itself. it looped again and again and again and again and again for all the infinite tries both wishes demanded, and for all the times one or both failed, using a disgusting amount of craft in the process which just kept growing.

and see, there was an essential difference between loop!siffrin’s timeline and our siffrin’s timeline. loop made their initial wish, and then went through the loops so many times that they fell into total despair. they did a very special kind of giving up on their wish and channeled all the excess wish craft into a) utterly destroying themself and b) making their new wish. siffrin made that same initial wish, and then went through it all so many times that he too started to lose it. they overheard their friends decide to leave them behind and started to give up, and that's when the world started breaking apart. reality around him began to splinter because he had taken the first step to give up, to give in, barely holding onto "belief" in a lie he was knowingly telling himself in a futile attempt to keep going. and then later, after mal du pays, after facing their own sadness given form after all their deaths across timelines, they were right there, on the precipice of total despair. they did that same very special kind of giving up. they let go.

but just as he did, his friends arrived, because loop led them to him. and his friends refused to let him fall, refused to let him destroy himself alone and unhelped. they’d still already gone too far. they’d still already given up on their wish, still already let go. yet the wish was now unable to destroy siffrin themself, because their family was acting as an anchor, something to keep them from willingly disappearing. loop hadn’t had that. loop hadn’t had someone who was aware of what was going on, to get help to them before they could destroy themself. siffrin did.

despite that, reality had already been breaking from siffrin starting to give up earlier, from the sheer power of this wish that was starting to slip out in those few terrifying moments where siffrin briefly lost control of himself, stopped repressing everything for just a moment. beating the king, being surrounded by his friends…that wasn't able to fix anything, because when the journey ended everyone was still going to go home, and siffrin knew that. they were feverish and delirious and exhausted and could barely think, let alone stand, but they knew that, and the wish knew that it was going to fail yet again, and they were getting closer to the point where it all falls apart. more wish craft starts to leak out. reality starts fracturing more. the splinters widen into chasms, spreading outside the house into the skies above. siffrin’s delirium makes him less able to contain it all inside himself.

and then the head housemaiden lets those words slip. "your journey is over. you can all go home now." and siffrin. he’d been half consious this entire time, trying to process the fact that his friends didn't despise him, that they came despite his disgusting behavior the day before, that he was loved. their mind had been distracted enough to keep things in a fragile balance. but when euphrasie says it out loud, right in front of him, there's no dodging the truth anymore. it's an immutable declaration, to both siffrin and the wish, that they have failed once again. and all that power? all that craft, built up from days, weeks, months of repeating the same doomed days over and over and finding the same failed conclusion every time? all that raw energy, which had already started to escape that morning as siffrin entered the house alone? it had to do something. it had to go somewhere. but it couldn’t destroy the person that brought it into the world. his family had reawakened his desire to live, and he was clutching desperately to them like a lifeline. so instead, it spilled out and out and out until the entire world went from fractured to ravaged. reality started collapsing in on itself as siffrin and the power of their wish combined into a being of pure desperation and power and need, of yearning for an impossible conclusion, and made one final desperate anguished call to stay with them

it's like odile said. sif loved them all so much he was subconsciously willing to trap himself in an insanity-inducing cycle over it. he loved them all so much and wished so fervently to stay together that his love and his wish almost destroyed reality itself, that it split open the heavens with a radiant hue that pierced everyone's minds despite them all having forgotten how to see it. whatever force or wish or being erased color from the world, it must have been incredibly powerful to perform such a drastic change on every human on the planet. but when siffrin’s wish folded in itself and started destroying everything? when it brought red into the skies? it went up against that other force, and it won. it managed to bring a color back into the world with the sheer amount of destructive power built up within itself and its cycles of failure. and that must have been a genuinely terrifying amount of power

[mama-qwerty]

Wade's Bedroom

Okay. So, in the trailer for the Knuckles series, we see Knux take out a bounty hunter in what appears to be Wade's bedroom. I'm thinking this is his bedroom at his mother's house, so when he was a teen.

You can tell a lot about a person by how they decorate their personal space. And since I love Wade and am on my knees begging for better characterization, I wanna see what they put in the guy's bedroom.

Let's break it down.

1 - Little Robots

I can't tell exactly what robots these are, whether they're action figures from games or movies, or some model kits he's built himself. If they're models it shows Wade spent a lot of time on his own, and had the opportunity to focus on building something that required attention and patience.

2 - Books

There are a lot of books on his shelves, and the ones especially between Knux and the bounty hunter look like a series. Obviously we can't read the titles, but Wade strikes me as someone who'd enjoy manga, and the Choose Your Own Adventure stories.

3 - A Little Rainbow Sticker

This may indicate he knows someone who is LGTBQ+, or possibly he himself is. Or maybe he just likes rainbows.

4 - "Pistol" Pete Whipple poster

I'm not exactly sure how Pete is related to Wade, but I'm going under the assumption that Pete is his uncle. (Cary Elwes is 20 years older than Adam Pally, so while it's possible he's a brother, it's unlikely.) Here's this very impressive and 'famous' Whipple, who everyone looks up to and admires. (I'm assuming.) Wade feels so unimportant, he has this poster to remind him that he's related to greatness, and maybe he too can be important some day.

5 - Addams Family movie poster

I'm pretty sure this is the first movie, and Wade likes it because it shows people who are strange, people who don't look or act like everyone else, people who have odd hobbies and interact with the world in their own unique manner. And yet they love each other, Gomez in particular would do anything for his brother. Considering the nonchalant way his sister and mother behaved when he was yanked off the porch in the trailer, maybe Wade never really felt a connection like that.

6 - Robin Hood Prince of Thieves movie poster

The most famous example of helping those less fortunate than you, and being a hero to those on the receiving end of that help. Wade wants to help people. He wants to stand up for those who can't. I have no idea what his relationship with his father is/was like, but maybe the whole 'stand up to a corrupt authority' resonated with him for personal reasons as well.

7 - Speed movie poster

Maybe he wished he was Keanu Reeves, the hero with a calm head and always knew what to do. Maybe he always pictured himself as Sandra Bullock, an average person pulled into something dangerous and assuming an important role that helps save others.

8 - Ren and Stimpy poster

Okay, so he's a teen boy in the 90s. He's gonna like that gross-out humor.

9 - Total Recall movie poster

This movie is about an average joe who discovers he's actually someone Very Important. Wade has always thought of himself as a nobody. Deep down he wants to be someone Very Important. At least someone competent who isn't brushed off as a joke.

10 - TMNT bedsheets (and he was wearing a TMNT shirt under his robe before he's dragged down the street)

Obviously he's a man of good taste. But again, a group of teens fighting bad guys. The man just wants to be a hero so badly.

Based purely on the way he acts as an adult (and I'm trying to look past the "oh boy isn't he dumb!" pathetic characterization the movies have so far given him) I see Wade as a lonely man. He's likely never had many friends, always feels like the odd man in every situation, and just isn't very comfortable in his own skin.

In the trailer scenes where Knuckles decides to train Wade, there are posters and notes tacked all over the room with encouraging messages to himself regarding working out. Maybe he's trying to change his image because he thinks that will make others like him more. Maybe he's just trying to get a date. Maybe he's wrestling with his own self-worth.

Whatever is going on with Wade, I think pairing him with Knuckles is a good way to have them both realize things about themselves they'd never known before. Wade will help Knux realize that it's okay to let his guard down and enjoy himself, and Knuckles can help show Wade that there's more to him than anyone (including himself) thinks.

Maybe I'm waaaaay off base with these. Maybe I'm thinking way too hard about it. Wouldn't be the first time. But I love Wade and I really want to understand him, and hope to see him grow and become more confident by the end of the series.

[calisources]

A   SONG   OF   ICE   AND   FIRE   &   HBO'S   GAME   OF   THRONES.   sentence   starters   taken   from   both   the   source   books   and   the   hbo's   adaptation   of   a   song   of   ice   and   fire   from   george   r.r.   martin.   change   titles,   names   and   pronouns   as   you   see   fit.

 "Tell them the North remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey."

"Leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe."

"I'm not a lady. I never have been. That's not me."

"Nothing's more hateful than failing to protect the one you love."

"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

"An unhappy wife is a wine merchant's best friend."

"What good is power if you cannot protect the ones you love?"

 "So we fight and die or we submit and die. I know my choice."

"I thought if I could make something so good, so pure, maybe I'm not a monster."

"Power is power."

"I'm not going to stop the wheel, I'm going to break the wheel."

"Do you understand? I'm no ordinary woman. My dreams come true."

"It's not easy to see something that’s never been before: A good world."

"I believe in second chances. I don't believe in third chances."

"As long as I'm better than everyone else I suppose it doesn't matter."

"When enough people make false promises words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies."

"If you only trust the people you grew up with, you won't make many allies."

“Winter is coming. We know what’s coming with it."

"It is a big and beautiful world. Most of us live and die in the same corner where we were born in, never get to see any of it. I don't want to be most of us."

 "I wonder if you’re the worst person I've ever met? At a certain age it's hard to recall. But the truly vile do stand out through the years."

"Know your strengths, use them wisely, and one man can be worth ten thousand."

"Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you."

"I try to know as many people as I can. You never know which one you'll need."

"No one is very happy. Which means it’s a good compromise."

 "Men decide where power resides, whether or not they know it."

"Give us common folk one taste of power and we're like the lion who tasted man—nothing is ever so sweet again."

"But it's you and me that matters to me and you. Don't ever betray me."

 "I want to be the queen."

"Any man who must say, I am the king, is no true king."

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention."

"Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder."

"A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is." 

"Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word." 

"If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. "

"When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives."

"People often claim to hunger for truth, but seldom like the taste when it's served up."

"Every man must die, Jon Snow. But first he must live."

"We look up at the same stars and see such different things."

"I need you to become the man you were always meant to be. Not next year, not tomorrow, now." 

"It's a neat little trick you do. You move your lips, and your father's voice comes out. "

"Tell me something, Varys who do you truly serve?"

"They’re dragons, Khaleesi. They can never be tamed."

"Love is the death of duty." 

"Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one of us. Let's end this the old way."

"I Am not beholden to my ancestors vows."

"Robert's rebellion was built on a lie."

"We're children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair."

"With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission. I am a King."

“The world is one great web, and a man dare not touch a single strand lest all the others tremble.”

“Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth.”

“In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.”

“There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man.”

“Every man should lose a battle in his youth, so he does not lose a war when he is old.”

“I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.”

"The war continues, Davos Seaworth, and some will soon learn that even an ember in the ashes can still ignite a great blaze.”

 "He has a song. He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.”

"The only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid."

[bubble-popping]

day 29 :0 almost a full month that's so crazy... still the dream^2 au

Oh, he'd say so much if only he could. They'll be confused? He's fucking confused! What the hell was this place? Why'd this guy have his name?? Why couldn't he speak like normal!? So many questions and no way to ask them, much less get an answer. Well, it wouldn't help to stay in this random forest and he had no idea how things worked here. All he could do was nod and play along with this over-enthusiastic version of himself. (At least, that was his current working theory.)

"Awesome! Follow me, then," the human Dream said before turning away. Pulling his cloak tighter around his body, unable to remember a time it looked this clean and whole, he did just as told.

Strangely, as they walked and human Dream rambled about nonsense (When did he stop doing that? Talking at length about the things he enjoyed. Probably around the time people stopped listening to him.), he noticed how they didn't use any specific path. This Dream was just moving, not even paying attention to what's in front of him as he gestured and spoke. (How could he be so relaxed? So carefree?)

None of this made any damn sense.

But, since the man had saved his life--and just his luck, owing a debt the minute he entered a new, foreign server--he must be at least somewhat capable. He had a fit physique, seemingly built more for speed and endurance than pure brute strength. He recalled having the same build, all that time ago when his server was young, when he was young.

He liked to think he still was. His exact birthday escaped him, as did how much time passed while stuck in that box, so he couldn't be sure how old he really was.

Soon enough, a building came into view as the forest transitioned to a vast plains biome. A simple house of oak, spruce, and cobblestone, glass windows, and standing two stories tall with a balcony on one side. Some farm animals grazed around the outside of the fence that protected the perimeter.

It looked quaint, cozy. It looked like a home.

Dream's heart ached.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but this is the safest place on the server by far. I mean, of course it is, I live here," Human Dream said as he unlocked the fence gate. "You stay here while I get the guys together. I can't wait to see their faces!" He had a mischievous grin and giggled before entering the house, leaving the door wide open behind him.

(Had he been that reckless back then? That energetic and unaware?) It'd be so easy for Dream to walk in and-

Something bumped against his side, distracting him from his thoughts. He looked down to see a brown calf peering up at him with big hazel eyes, an innocent tilt to its head and ears flicking. It mooed quietly, like a question.

Cautiously, to avoid spooking the little thing, Dream slipped his hand out of the cloak to pet its head. The calf mooed again, this time louder as it jerked into his touch.

Memories began to resurface the longer he pet short brown fur, those simpler times when wild animals were seen aplenty on the SMP. Living alongside him and his friends. But as more buildings and people joined, so too did the animals retreat to far out lands, avoiding civilization.

"I mean it, you guys, no peeking! This is a surprise! You're gonna love it!"

"This better not be another Mooshroom or pink sheep, Dream. We've seen those before!"

"It's not! I swear this one's really special!"

The voices startled both of them, and caused the calf to retreat to the side of its mother. Several people followed human Dream out of the house, all of them with their eyes closed and all of them people Dream recognized.

He should've figured it really, that the friends human Dream talked about would also be his friends--well, ex-friends. Maybe a small part of him did realize, and the rest of him just hoped that wouldn't be the case.

Especially when he saw him. The Warden.

[jpeg-dot-jpeg]

jpeg my beloved i am here with questions for the ask game!!! and also with love and hugs and some flowers for you xoxo 🌻🌹🌷🪻🫂💕🫂🪻🌷🌹🌻

6, 7, 11, 17, 24, 27, 29 or any variation between, please!

Guess who forgot this was sitting in my drafts!

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

Tim's Tiny Cock by WeirdAlterEgo is perhaps the funniest, most feel good fic/series I've ever read in my life and it brings me pure delight every time I read it. Can not recommend it enough. It's goofy, it's heartwarming, it's sweet, it's HILARIOUS. Everyone should read this right now and bookmark it for later.

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

Okay so excluding all wips that have already been started, I've got 70 ideas bulleted in my notes app plus half a dozen odd ideas bouncing around in my brain at any given time. The ones in my brain I kind of just keep around for daydream material.

11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics?

Not really, no. Sometimes, I'll pick a song on youtube then just let an automatic mix run, but music isn't a regular part of my writing process.

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

The extent to which I studied the process of how the human body produces blood for To Bite or Not to Bite so that my silly vampire lore would make sense from an evolutionary standpoint....

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

I was a bit nervous to post Cool Down because at the time of writing it, I had basically no experience with recreational drug use and was afraid it would be really obvious to anyone who did have experience. Fortunately, if anyone has found that fic unrealistic, they haven't bothered to say so, and there have been so many lovely comments that make me less nervous to write similar works in the future <3

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

I wrote 3k words of this porn-with-feelings work before tossing it in the scrap pile, but after skimming through it to find this snippet, maybe I'll fuck around around post it 👀

This language only the two of them speak is gift and affirmation and time and touch and service all at once. There just aren’t enough words in any of the dialects either of them know to properly convey how intertwined they are now.  And maybe their houses are built too close together to avoid both of them burning down if one catches fire. Maybe if someone cuts down Tim’s tree, Jason’s will fall too. Maybe they’re messy and reckless and insane. But don’t fucked up people deserve love too?  Aren’t mosaics made out of shattered glass?

[melrosing]

As your not a big fan of fantasy books in general. What drew you into loving asoiaf? What got you hooked?

now that I'm invested in asoiaf I do genuinely like the fantasy elements of the story, but the stuff that really pulled me in was the human drama and political intrigue etc. I love the character work, almost all of the POVs feel fully realised and subvert typical tropes in really interesting ways (imo). I like the inter-generational drama (the reasons I like succession are v similar to the reasons I like the Lannisters), like if I want to understand Jaime and Cersei and Tyrion I can look to Tywin, and if I want to understand Tywin I can look to Tytos, and if I was to understand Tytos I can look to Gerold, like it's a russian doll of intergenerational trauma what more could a girl want.

and on that note I really like the scope! GRRM obviously feels this need to account for all details minor and major, so that even with everything that's already on the page there's room to extrapolate so much more. i mean here I am writing who knows how many words about a fake 20-episode long robert's rebellion tv series lol like this all happened before the series even starts and yet I hardly need to make anything up bc there is so much to draw on just based on all the random little details we've got here and there from characters reflecting on the same events from different angles, and trying to piece together portraits of the people who died based on the recollections of those on the page who remember them..... it is so fun)

and yeah usually I prefer to read about that kind of thing on a smaller scale but the drama that plays out in AGOT is so engaging that upon initiation I didn't find it so much of a chore to keep track of all the various houses and lands etc in order to understand the full implications of each thing that happened - it felt like it was worth the effort. generally it's the 'keeping track' of it all that I find grating about fantasy bc I really want to just get on with the story rather than keep on top of a hundred magic systems and sub-species of pixie.

and obvs asoiaf is low fantasy rather than high fantasy, i.e. there aren't intricate systems to the magic and or complicated genus for each of the creatures, so that made it feel a lot more accessible for me as someone who just isn't very interested in those kinds of details. Dany's magic is made up as she goes along, it's never explained, and that's the same for pretty much all the fantastical elements - it's very show don't tell. and even though when you count it all up there are quite a lot of fantastical features and subplots, taken together with the rest of the story it's more like.... seasonings I wouldn't usually choose but ended up liking just fine in this overall dish lol

and finally asoiaf just really appealed to me from a fannish perspective! I really hate when you're trying to dig deeper with a work and you quickly start to realise that the writer(s) just weren't thinking that hard. it feels like striking concrete with a spade, like it's a one-sided conversation rather than something both the writer and the reader are participating in. I think some fans are perfectly fine with that and good for them - who cares if the author built the work to sustain your analysis if you're just having fun doing it - but for me it's a complete killjoy, I end up v frustrated and like the work isn't worth my time

so here's GRRM who is so fixated on the finer details that he's churned out a history book like 700 pages long and a bunch of short stories and also another history book just to add a bit more texture to the main story. and I don't have to worry about network input or co-writers or actors' intentions or whatever other external conflict or influence cos for better or worse it's all his story. and that just suits me better lol, it's one guy and his shitty computer, and me reading the shit he wrote with it. pure and simple living in the moment no phones in sight

also jaime and brienne are everything to me xo

[jpitha]

Once Kelly and Panemi got together, they were inseparable. Their class would joke that they were no longer two people, but just one person temporarily in two bodies.

They did everything together they possibly could, and when they day was done they continued to talk and chat on their pads from their own houses. Kelly's parents met with Panemi's familial group and discussed their relationship. Both parties agreed that it was a good thing and that they were a fine match. Figuring that it was a typical intense teen romance, they all agreed to keep it at arms length and let them work through it on their own.

Incidentally, the parents hit it off, and got together without Kelly and Panemi on numerous occasions. Making friends is difficult as adults, and they all shared a love of art and film. They had movie nights as well as touring the art on the promenade.

Kelly was able to get her K'laxi earring put on her ear. The piercer was used to both Human and K'laxi physiology and with a few deft bends of the metal, it wrapped elegantly around Kelly's ear and hung down just enough to jingle gently when she shook her head. This kicked off a minor fad of Human kids and young adults wearing K'laxi jewelry for a while and soon it was pretty normal to see the long silver earrings on human ears as well.

One afternoon, when school had finished, Kelly ran up to Panemi. "Did you hear? Someone's cat had kittens! Let's go see them!"

"Cat? Kittens?"

"It's an animal originaly from Earth. They're not allowed on the colonies because they'll hunt the local fauna, but some starbases allow them for pest control. They hunt things like mice and rats. An office here got some recently, and one of them had a litter of kittens! baby cats! Let's go look at them."

Panemi flicked an ear but said "Okay, sure."

Kelly led them down the promenade and off a side street to an office built into the wall of the Starbase. A rough sign stating the office was home to "D&E Imports" was hung haphazardly over the door. At the door was a smaller, handwritten sign that said "check with El'ana before knocking"

After calling El'ana and verifying it was okay to come in and see the kittens, they went in. Inside was a small office with two desks, a few filing cabinets, and a box on the floor. In the box was a very tired looking all black cat and 6 small puffballs climbing around her. They ranged in color from dark grey to pure black with one in a tuxedo pattern.

"Ancestors they are so cuuuuuuute" Panemi squealed. "These are cats? They are so adorable and fluffy! Do you think they kind of look like us?"

Like many humans, Kelly was a little embarrassed when the K'laxi pointed out they had a native pet that kind of looked like them. "You think? I guess, I can see it yeah. I think you look much better though." Kelly said, blushing.

"Aww, that's so sweet." Panemi replied. She looked over at the K'laxi at the desk "What are their names?"

El'ana looked up "The mother is named Inky, but we haven't named the kittens yet. We're not sure what we're going to do with them. The mother was pregnant when she came onboard, we weren't expecting kittens. Starbase says that they can be given out to others that want them, but that they have to be "fixed" so that they can't breed anymore."

"Fixed?" Panemi asked

Starbase chimed in at this. "It's a small surgical procedure to prevent them from being able to breed. It also reduces aggression in them and helps them to live a longer life."

"Surgery?" Kelly asked. "Do we have a vet?"

"Not currently, no. But I've linked a beacon back to Earth; one has volunteered to be posted here temporarily to assist."

Panemi couldn't stand it any longer. To El'ana she asked "Can I pick one up please? Please?"

El'ana flicked her tail and chuckled. "Okay, but be gentle, they're only a couple weeks old. Their eyes just opened and they should be socialized with people anyway."

Kelly and Panemi sat down near the box, and the kittens started to crawl out towards them.

"Look at their little triangle tails!" Kelly laughed "they're so wobbly."

Slowly, the kittens made their way over to Kelly and Panemi and slowly and gently, they picked them up and petted and held them. After a few minutes they'd put them down and they'd wobble back over to their mother who was watching them warily the whole time.

"Ancestors, I want one!" Panemi announced, after they had said thank you to El'ana and left.

"My parents already said no." Kelly said sadly. "I hear there are so many requests for the kittens they're doing to hold a drawing for them."

"I'm going to enter the drawing!" Panemi announced and then thought for a second "So long as my familial group approves."

[westeroswisdom]

Matt Smith spoke with the Los Angeles Times about Daemon Targaryen. He's particularly insightful on the way Daemon and brother Viserys relate to each other.

“There’s a lot going on with his brother that he’s coming to terms with,” says Smith, who noted that scenes with Considine really helped him define the character. “Viserys ostensibly brought him up, and for Daemon it’s either try to piss him off or impress him.” So it’s more Freudian than just plain pervy when Daemon corrupts, and almost seduces, underage Rhaenyra? Or is he truly in love with her, as it often seems? After all, Daemon even marries Rhaenyra years later (when she’s played by Emma D’Arcy); typically, he murders at least one of his other wives in the interim. “Well, in the land of the Targaryens, it’s more commonplace to be with your immediate family,” Smith explains with a slightly nervous laugh. “I think he’s quite a solitary creature, really. But he’s also quite a political one. There’s a sense that his brother and Rhaenyra particularly, are the two people he would go to war for. It’s like he’s got this very weird sense of loyalty. To him, sometimes he’s doing the right thing even when he’s really doing the wrong thing.”

Matt had to get lessons on how to be a proper Targaryen.

Much more than locating the man inside the monster went into creating Daemon. It takes the better part of each morning to get the Targaryen clan’s identifying silvery-blond, chest-length wigs on just so. There were lessons in horsemanship and broadsword handling. Smith also learned multiple dialects of Valyrian, the Latin-like language Westeros nobles use among themselves, which he often employed to bring out Daemon’s more thoughtful dimensions. And of course, there was dragon riding. Daemon has his own flying fire-breather: Caraxes the Blood Wyrm. “They built this huge plinth that you have to get up on, then they move you around by remote control,” Smith says of the dragon rig. “Last year, they did it on a volume stage, which is like a reality stage [it surrounds actors with immersive sky visuals as opposed to blank bluescreens]. It’s quite high in the air and it’s like a bucking bronco, essentially. You’re sitting on what looks like a massive motorcycle, a low-slung Harley-Davidson.”

Like many GoT and HotD characters, Daemon is complex. A word Matt Smith often associates with Daemon is chaos.

“Daemon sort of thrives on chaos. There’s an element of him that’s walking on a tightrope made of glass, and he loves that he could fall off at any time. He operates on his own sort of strange and often violent plane. But to him, the violence is not gratuitous. He’s not doing it clumsily, he’s doing it with purpose and precision. Now, whether that’s right or wrong is for other people to debate.”