#I know Sun's not technically the one who does the murders... but still

[flapperfool]

[we-keep-odd-hours]

Book recs for anyone else upset that Near Dark is one 1.5 hour long movie with an almost unwatchable last ten minutes.

Below the cut, I've listed each title with an author and synopsis.

Please consider buying from your local independent bookseller. If you're not sure about any near you, or if you would like to support independent booksellers (and therefore authors!) by ordering online instead, you can search your area at https://www.indiebound.org/

I am not affiliated with IndieBound and don't get any money from sharing this link.

See more notes at the end of the list.

I Travel By Night by Robert McCammon. This is technically the sub-genre of "Weird Western" rather than horror; a Civil War soldier turned vampire wanders a strange west. Mysteries, ghosts, etc. Despite being from a major voice in speculative fiction, this is only available in digital.

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones. A First Nations vampire revenge story. If you don't know the historical event it was based off of, I'd suggest going in blind but following up your read with non-fiction: this one is heavy.

In the Valley of the Sun by Andy Davidson. Pitch-black neo-noir Texas vampire novel. Takes place almost exactly in the same locales as Near Dark, only set a few years earlier. A killer is turned into a vampire, and hides out on property belonging to a young widow and her son. Gnarly and mean, the prose is rich without being flowery.

The Coffin Moon by Keith Rosson. RELEASE DATE: 9/9/25. Family tragedy, vampires, serial killers, and western vengeance set against a backdrop of the PNW and the Badlands in the 1970s.

Lost Souls by Poppy Z. Brite. Rice is the biggest name in late 20th century vampire literature, but Brite is right behind (note: he has gone by Billy Martin since the 00's, however still prefers the books to be under this name). These guys make the Lost Boys look like The Little Vampire. A punk and shock-goth classic, this southern gothic road trip is well worth the read.

Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones. Yes, he's on here twice. A young boy travels from town to town with his aunt and uncle; they are werewolves, some of the last of their kind, trying to keep themselves safe and sane by any means necessary.

Blood Like Mine by Stuart Neville. A single mother on the run with her teenage daughter becomes a serial murder suspect as she tries to dodge cops, FBI agents, creeps, and keep her strange daughter fed. The word ''vampire'' is never mentioned, but if you're into vampires to be reading this list, this is not a spoiler.

You're Always Welcome at the Bloodridge Motel by J. Hunter Richardson. A small motel off of the highway plays host over decades to a strange family comprised of people who look like they're from different eras, don't seem to age.

The Bloody Red Barron by Kim Newman. This is #2 in the "Anno Dracula" series, and does heavily rely on knowledge of the first book. An alternate history where Dracula's arrival in England and attempt to take over Europe gets farther than he did in the novel, this one makes the list because Severen actually has a very small cameo on it.

Midwestern Gothic by Scott Thomas. Four midwestern horror novels; there's one specifically that I could see taking place in the same universe as Near Dark.

American Vampire by Scott Snyder. The first volume is told in two timelines: the closing days of the American West that Never Was, and the early days of Hollywood in the 1920s. Skinner Sweet, extremely un-glamorous outlaw, becomes the first American vampire after trying to rob the wrong train. He goes on a killing spree

The Orange Eats Creeps by Grace Krilonovich. Part Outsiders, part Clockwork Orange, and part Near Dark. Teenage ''vampires'' wreak havoc in the Pacific Northwest as they wander in their respective packs. The writing for this is unique and wild and the novel is worth it for that alone.

The Lesser Dead by Chris Buehlman. Another novel where the author went out of his way to make his vampires into monsters, crooks, killers, without the frills and melodrama of the more gothic-leaning stories. Set in NYC in the 1980s.

BONUS NON FICTION: Near Dark by Stacey Abbot. A revisit of the making of, structure, and final story of the film from a pop-culture film and television critic and historian. Part of the BFI Great Films series. Yes, it's more or less a 100 page essay about the film, but if you made it this far in the list, you'd probably enjoy it. The writing wavers between that of a nostalgia review and an actual academic dive into the film.

BONUS NON FICTION: Our Vampires, Ourselves by Nina Auerbach. VITAL reading for vampire fans, tracing the development of the vampire from the early 1800s through Near Dark (a WHOLE academic chapter on the latter!) as a mirror to our own cultural and social turmoils.

Honorable mention to The Morganville Vampires series by the late and great Rachel Caine: she managed to include an evil vampire patriarch, his significantly younger blonde girlfriend, and their leather-clad attack dog/body guard/friend. They're YA novels from the 00s and the writing reflects this, the books didn't age very well, and I'm not sure I'd really suggest them, but damn did she ever pull that off and in the process get an excuse shoved in there to refer to the head vampire as "daddy."

.......if you think I'm reaching on why I'm 99% sure the trio was meant to be the gang from Near Dark, the leader's name was Bishop, and Ms. Caine was a noted Aliens fan--her short story "Broken" actually managed to get a reference in Alien: Romulus.

ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMERS AND DISCLOSURES:

-Why these titles? Because I found a couple of them and realized that there's a hyper-specific genre of vampire novels of (mostly male) authors trying to avoid the cliches of the ''gothic'' vampire novel (at least aesthetically, if we're talking gothic as a mode of literature then nearly all of these are gothic or heavily feature gothic elements).

-I have NOT read all of these, however I DO own them all, so I cannot personally vouch for most of them. Some that I read I loved despite any flaws, others I didn't care for despite them being ''good'' and three I'm still in the middle of. Unless someone specifically asks for books that I have enjoyed, I try not to let personal opinion influence recs.

-These are all adult horror novels, please check trigger warnings first.

[enderlovez]

Bloody

Spencer Reid x Vampire Reader WORD COUNT: 737

Summary: Doctor Spencer Reid is married to a vampire.

Content Warning: mentions of blood drinking, reader can go out in the sun but it's uncomfortable, reader has red eyes, reader is immortal and a few centuries old, brief mentions of murder and stalking

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer's not entirely sure how he ended up in this situation in the first place—you clinging to him like he's an oversized teddy bear—but he knows he wouldn't want it any other way.

Having a hungry vampire with her face pressed right up against his jugular should be enough to have him cringing away. And admittedly his pulse is racing, but for an entirely different reason, as his fingers absentmindedly draw shapes on the soft, exposed skin of your hip.

If someone had told Spencer three years ago that he would be happily married to a vampire he would have laughed in their face.

Yet here he is, holding his beautiful wife in his arms, and he can say for sure that he's never been happier.

How the two of you met? Well, that's something for another day, but to make a long story short, you found him while he was seconds away from being stabbed in the back of the neck by a psycho stalker.

"You awake?" he asks in an almost inaudible voice. Spencer feels the faint brush of your lips against his neck as you nod, leaving the softest of kisses against the delicate skin. It makes a shiver run down his spine, and he knows you can hear the increase of his heartrate.

Though you don't make any noise, he can feel the cool air on his neck as you let out a silent chuckle.

"Still hungry?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his fingers pausing their tracing for just a moment.

You pull back slightly, your crimson eyes peeking up to meet his hazel ones, glinting faintly in the dim light. There's a softness there, a warmth that doesn't quite match the traditional tales of your kind, and one that only Spencer can see.

"Not for blood," you reply, voice laced with teasing affection. "I'm more interested in the genius who's letting me hog all the blankets, even when he knows I don't need them in the slightest."

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle, brushing a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear. "I think 'genius' might be overselling it. Most people would call this situation irrational, maybe even reckless."

Neither of you mention how nobody would even believe him, if he were to tell then he's married to a vampire.

"Most people don't know you like I do," you counter, resting your head back onto him, this time on his chest. "You're not reckless, Spencer. You're... curious. And kind. That's why you didn't run when you figured out what I was."

He smiles faintly, the memory of the night you met briefly flashing through his mind. It wasn't every day you met someone who saved your life and then casually admitted they'd (technically) been dead for centuries. "I'd like to think the profiling helped with that," he jokes.

"Oh, definitely," you tease, drawing lazy patterns on his shirt with your pointer finger. "Nothing screams 'trustworthy' like a man reciting the statistics about violent crime to a vampire."

He laughs softly, and you join him for a moment, the sound mingling in the otherwise quiet room. Spencer's laughter fades as his eyes drift back to yours again, his expression growing thoughtful. "Does it still bother you?" he asks gently.

You know what he's referring to without needing clarification—the sunlit mornings he spends alone most of the time, the quiet ache of being different, the things you've done to survive.

"Sometimes," you admit, your voice quieter now. "But being with you makes it easier. You remind me that there's light, even for... someone like me."

Spencer leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You're my light, too," he says softly. "Even if you do steal all the blankets."

You smile against his chest, your pointed teeth peeking out ever so slightly. "I think I'll keep you around, Doctor Reid. You're pretty good at this whole 'marriage' thing."

"Good," he murmurs, holding you tighter, "because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

"I think it's more like you're stuck with me," you correct gently, "you know, considering I'm the predator in this scenario. You're my prey."

His fingers resume their movements on your hip. He doesn't say anything, know that one way or another, you'll find a way to counter anything he says. Being alive for hundreds of years has made you good at things like that.

[willdewordeofficial]

Off Topic but the concept of the Watch being caught up in a Western Parody won't leave my head

Like, some small country made up of red-clay deserts and not much else. Technically it was colonized by the people of Ankh Morpork and falls under it's jurisdiction but for centuries no one has cared about it, and maybe 40 odd people are known to live there. And then some idiot finds gold. And people from Ankh Morpork rush to this desert to try and make a quick fortune, the places reputation as a worthless spit of sun-baked land overtaken by stories of shores spotted with gold. Of course, where theirs wealth to be found, theirs people cheating other people out of it. Or straight up robbing them. Something brings this to Vimes or Carrot's attention, Maybe a Sammy who was the Captain of the watch in the only established town in the region gets murdered and, as it technically falls under the authority of Ankh Morpork, members of the watch come to investigate... They find a mostly empty watch-house with a 15 year old as the only person still wearing a badge in the city. He nearly shoots Nobby when they enter the place, thinking they're bandits here to kill off the last of the Watch. Vimes, Carrot and the rest have to prove to this gods-forsaken spit of nowhere that the Law does reach this far, but in a region where the go-to method for dealing with criminals, licensed or otherwise, is to just string em up without a trial, can a copper bring order with just a crossbow and a badge? Or I don't know something like that. I'll admit it's half-baked to say the least. Might add more to this post if I think of more

[pippin-katz]

Edwin’s Empathy

Something I find interesting is how people, characters and the audience, react to Edwin's behavior. Specifically, the way he responds and talks. He's seen as cold and rude, lacking empathy. It's interesting because he is actually very empathetic, but shows it in ways that others don't pick up on.

For example, when Crystal is talking about her memories coming back, he asks if she remembered anything "useful". Charles indirectly scolds him by saying, "We don't have to be all business all the time, do we?"

Charles associates Edwin's question with business, but in reality, it's incredibly intelligent and empathetic is its own way. In order for Crystal to find her family, she needs to remember "useful" information. She's made her desperation to find her parents very clear throughout their time in Port Townsend. Edwin asking if she remembered anything "useful" is for her benefit, not just for business. Technically, she's a client, but he's also asking her as a friend.

A different example is how he handles Susan Kesler, the sister of the mother from the Devlin House. It's longer, so it's under the cut! ↓

Susan starts off on the assumption that they already know about the Devlin Family Murders, but Crystal interrupts to let her know they don't. Susan admits out loud that it is: "still hard to talk about." She recounts the murders, and after the comment from Crystal about the father being a monster, Edwin says, "But there is no inherent supernatural mystery to the murder."

Now, Charles immediately scolds him for "bedside manner" after he says this, to which Edwin responds with, "We are detectives who solve supernatural mysteries." He then turns to Susan, and says, "You already know who the killer is."

It might seem like he's being insensitive, but Edwin is actually being more mindful of Susan's feelings than the others, and no one picks up on it.

She doesn't want to talk about the murders. It hurts her to talk about the events of that night. She knows what happened. That is not why she's consulting the detectives. She is clearly there for a different reason, and Edwin steers the conversation towards that rather than dwelling on the murders from the past.

In fact, as soon as he says this, Susan's energy goes back up a bit. She had been a normal energy level when she entered, then it dropped while having to retell what happened to her sister and her family. When Edwin points out that the murders aren't a mystery, she jumps on the opportunity to get to the real issue.

"Someone... Something is still inside the house where they died," she says. Her voice has significantly more energy.

And Edwin does not dismiss her by saying, "And you know this for a fact?" He's not skeptical when he asks the question. It's completely genuine. He's collecting as much information as he can.

Susan is even more confident when she tells him about it. "I inherited the house after their deaths, but could never bring myself to go in. Then, after I died last week, I just wanted to visit one last time." It's only when she specifically recounts the screaming that she gets upset again.

She actually seems relieved to share her experience, like it's cathartic to tell someone. In fact, we have no idea how long ago Susan actually went to the house. It was probably before the boys were even in Port Townsend.

If we pay attention to the timeline here, Susan says she died "last week". The boys have only been in town for three days.

Day One: - arrived by ferry - went to Jenny's - visited Becky's parents - found Ester's house By then it's dark outside.

Night One: - went to the malt shop - had their fight - Edwin lassoed the cat - Crystal talked to Jenny & Charles showed her his parents - Crystal told the truth & they foughtt again - formulated a plan Then Jenny told Crystal to go to bed.

Day Two: - broke into Esther's house - rescued Becky - fought Esther - got Becky home The sun has gone down when they're approached by the cat.

Night Two: - approached by cat - taken to the Cat King - Edwin got whisked off & trapped by the bracelet It's morning when he's returned to the warehouse, and that is the start of their third day.

Day Three: - fought about the bracelet - got mail from the Ghost Postman - Crystal bumped into Niko who fainted - the boys went to Tragic Mick's - doctor looked over Niko - Crystal read her mind - the boys went to their office for books - Niko woke up & Crystal talked to her through the bathroom door - the boys came back with the book about parasites - talked to Niko the first time - Niko walked downstairs while possessed - the boys went to the woods with a map drawn by Niko - found the shrine, got the vase, & fought skeletons - returned to Crystal being scolded by Jenny - talked to Niko the second time - the Sprites started to blow her up - Crystal baited them out & Charles caught them It's nighttime when they transition to after the case.

Night Three: - Crystal & Charles talked by the window - Niko came back with blonde hair & met the boys - Niko met the Sprites - Crystal & Niko talked about writing to her mom - Postman showed up with mail & told them about the line of ghosts

It is the morning of their fourth day in Port Townsend when Susan Kesler goes to them for help. She's likely been dwelling on this for at least that long, not knowing what to do about it. Susan is probably relieved to finally tell someone about this, and people who will believe her at that.

By the end of the interview, she's confident when she tells them there's something horrible still in the house, and that she can't move on until she knows her family is at peace. She's even smiling when she offers them her jar of money.

Edwin, whether he realizes it or not, actually made Susan more comfortable by being "dismissive" of the murders.

There's also small moments where his empathy is on display in more obvious scenarios that the characters in the show don't fully acknowledge.

Despite Monty immediately labeling Edwin as "judgmental" for his opinion on astrology, he's the opposite when Niko expresses her concern for going to the house. She doesn't even have to finish her sentence before he's offering her a small smile and telling her that he completely understands. When Crystal comes out of the Washer Woman's realm and says she gave her another riddle, he says, "I am truly sorry she did not get you closer to your family, but at least now we know there is some kind of sea monster." His inflection goes up at the end, like he's trying to "look on the bright side". He finds Simon in Hell, gets mad for all of two minutes, then tries to defend him against Despair, offers him his forgiveness, and helps him forgive himself, unknowingly saving Simon from an eternity of torture.

Edwin might have convinced himself back in the 1910s that he's not good with other people, but he got out of Hell and found a boy dying in an attic, and instead of walking away while Charles didn't know he was there, he brought him a lantern, talked to him, made him laugh, and read him to sleep as he passed.

Charles says in the first episode that he "forgets how to talk to people", but I think a more accurate statement would be that he communicates differently than most people.

(ko-fi)

[katerinaaqu]

what would have happened to penelope if telemachus had been murdered by the suitors? how would she have acted?

That is a very good question and judging by her reaction once she remotely finds out about the ploy she was like a tiger in a cage. First she shouted at everyone for keeping it from her, then she went into a lamenting in one way, praying with all her might for Athena to protect her son and last but not least she went to confront Antinous perhaps hoping to intimidate him into calling back his ploy, basically reminding him of his father's humiliation and basically calling him every name under the sun.

I know that I might be a bit controversial when I say this but if Penelope found out her son was killed she would fall into desperation or potentially finally break emotionally.

Penelope remained steadfast way too long. Way too intensely, for 20 years she kept on her back the entire kingdom while raising her son. For a full decade she was worrying what happened of her husband given the scarce news on the war she might have gotten including but not limited to; the intrigues, murders of people among them like Palamedes, the plague sent by Apollo etc. while having the bare minimum news of her husband. During a considerable amount of time she watched both her in-laws lose all hope (one lost his sanity, the other melted away and potentially ended her own life or at least melted away). For almost half a decade she was holding back over 100 men she knew she needed their alliance for, aka she could not reject or insult them in the face, men that disrespected both her and her authority but also her husband who was daresay almost like a father to many of them, she was holding them back again WHILE protecting her son who was underage and after she had buried her mother-in-law All of the above while she had no news of her husband's whereabouts or even one clue on where he was, away from her own home and her family having almost zero emotional support apart from the few slaves in her household that still loved her and her son. The husband she so much loved was gone and lost and all that WHILE she does receive scarce news on other kings (and many of them have had tragic fates in store for them such as Ajax, Agamemnon, Ajax son of Oileus and even Menelaus had his own adventure) while she even got news probably on the tragedy in her cousin's home when Clytemnestra not only became murderess but she was also killed by her own son but that said son also turned mad and got to self-exile potentially etc

Penelope was holding on by seer will and hope alone, against all reason that told her it was hopeless. Telemachus was the last thing she had; her only family close to her at that point given as I said her father sister etc were away and the only thing she had left of her husband (daresay a reminder of his if we think that Telemachus looked so much like his father, in one way Penelope looked at him grow and began to see something of her husband at him)

Telemachus being killed would have been the last stroke that would break the camel's back. I think Penelope would fall into absolute despair, potentially locking herself up completely (she already was at that point, technically). Potentially only mechanically continue the taslk her husband left her, aka rule the land for him, but she would see no point in anything anymore.

In fact, if I am allowed a parallel, I think Penelope receiving the dead body of her son would give me the same feeling as a Pieta piece of artwork like this one by William-Adolphe Bouguereau:

Pain would engulf her and without anyone or possibly little to no hope left that she would get her husband back, she would just draw back to her chambers possibly crying and praying all day, not being able to withstand anything more at that point. She would lose her first and only child, her little miracle, the last piece she had of her husband. I don't think she would have any more strength left to fight or seek revenge or anything

I am not saying she would attempt something against her life, she is too strong or steadfast for that and she doesn't seem the type but I think she would take way too much to recover from the sorrow and never completely unless of course Odysseus came to offer her some kind of emotional and actual support then she would definitely get some of her spirit back and also support her husband in return in his sorrow but yeah this is the first thing that comes to my mind.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Colored Seams (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: Cazador is dead and the Spawn were released to the Underdark. You and Astarion could not be happier in the days that follow in spite of the looming Netherbrain Threat. You decide to do both of your laundry when a tragedy occurs- you accidentally destroyed his blanket.

CW: Dead Dove, Panic attack symptoms, fluffy, suggestive content, no specific pronouns mentioned or character traits

Author Note: Nobody’s Fool and Floozy are going to be updated tomorrow :)

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated- thank you so much for reading 💜 pic is mine

Cazador is dead- well he’s been dead for a solid week now, but, with the nature of this adventure, that even feels like months ago.

Astarion sent the spawn to the Underdark, he remarked his grave, and his spirit seems lighter. He has a lot more pep in his step, jokes more easily, and he has been very, very into PDA. Lae’zel has even gone out of her way to remark on how affectionate he has been with you in public.

Astarion’s confidence in himself is still a work in progress, but it makes your heart sing to know that he is slowly beginning to heal and you promised, in spite of the lack of sun your future holds, that you will be by his side to support him every step of the way.

He’s been exceptionally physically affectionate- you are still sore from the last several days of him ‘indulging’ in his newfound freedom. The sheets are a mess, your clothes are a mess, his clothes are a mess, and you are not about to let either one of you go out in obviously sex stained clothing.

You had decided to wash yours and Astarion’s things while he begrudgingly helped Gale retrieve old tomes from Sorcerer Sundries- Rolan’s recent instatement has allowed for Gale to read just about every tomb in the massive magic shop.

Ever since everyone found out Astarion could use spider climb, they have been asking him for his help in various tasks- he charges everyone (minus you, of course).

Gale had actually dragged Astarion along because he is technically looking for a book on your behalf for Astarion. He doesn’t know, but you and Gale have already begun the search for a Ring of Sunwalking.

Astarion loves the sun so much and you want to be able to give it to him- you all do. You could not be more proud of him and you find you enjoy acts of services and gift giving when it comes to him. He has had so little for so long and no one was taking care of him or making him feel special. You are very thankful that you get to be the one who provides him with these experiences.

For now, you don’t have a gift so you are going to surprise him with clean clothes!

He usually does the laundry because you hate doing it (something he learned and just kinda picked up on). You told him he didn’t need to and you feel bad for being a nuisance, but he would just roll his eyes, kiss you, and saunter off in the direction of the wash tub or wait until you are asleep so you can’t fret about it.

Astarion is actually quite adorable in his laundry routine- he even has a bag specifically for laundry soaps and scents. The man is right- he really did miss his calling as a perfumer.

You started with both your clothes. You used herbs for scent, soap for cleanliness, and Halsin helped to dry them with Wind. You then moved onto your bed sheets.

However, you realize you made a horrific mistake after it’s far, far too late.

Astarion’s comfort blanket, his first and only item while under Cazador, was torn apart. It had gotten twisted inside the sheets and it already hadn’t been strong enough to begin with. You didn’t even know you threw it in with the rest! You would never do that on purpose! You know it has to be washed gently and carefully.

“Tav?”

You are crying, entirely unaware of the fact that Halsin is widely concerned as you stare in horror at the murder scene before you.

“I destroyed his blanket!” Your voice is strained and your eyes must look as crazy as you feel because Halsin is looking very concerned for you.

“I am sure he will under-“

You are hyperventilating- there is no rhyme or reason and it doesn’t seem to matter what Halsin says- your mind is spiraling a mile a minute into oblivion.

He is going to dump you- Gods he may even leave and that thought terrifies you more than anything else.

You feel your lungs collapse in your chest and you can’t breathe.

You just wanted to do something nice for him.

You rush back to your bed after a brief pit stop at your shared room (you were forced, Gale was tired of waking up to you and Astarion being ‘adults��)- and you have pulled out every piece of yarn you can find. The majority of the blanket is intact, but there are chunks that have been unraveled.

The yarn is a faded gray color and all you have is your favorite color of yarn and a passionate hatred for mending things. It’s thankfully the same consistency and thickness, but Withers only knows how much time and patience you have.

Back to the room you go.

It takes you a few moments to study the pattern, but you immediately begin your work. Your fingers are pricked and sore, unsteady and clumsy. You have never been the best sewer, knitter, etc. so you can only hope that it can make up for even the smallest bit of destruction.

You finish right as you hear his voice ring through the main room- he is heckling Gale about something and you feel like you may very well vomit.

You had moved your things to the corner, just in case, but you still aren’t prepared to face him. Your tears begin to fall again.

You destroyed his blanket.

You are shaking and there is a lump forming in your throat as you try to stop your tears, ready to face probably one of the worst moments on this journey thus far.

He walks into your shared room- all smiles, but his mood quickly changes when he notices all of your things are packed away and your cheeks are tear stained. He looks sick with worry and now you feel even worse.

“My love?” Astarion’s frantic voice makes your stomach turn, “my love- what did I do wrong? What is it? How can I fix this?”

He is already at your side- Astarion’s eyes are filled with unshed tears and he is going to reach for you, but you just hold out the blanket between you.

The silence in the room is deafening and when he takes it- you clasp your shaking hands together and stare at your feet.

Astarion certainly must hate you- there is no way he can forgive you for this.

“I-I was just trying to do our laundry,” you whisper, “and I didn’t realize your blanket was rolled up inside our sheets and it… it fell apart.

“I tried to fix it the best I could, but I- I already know this is unforgivable and I am so unbelievably sorry, Astarion, and I know we are definitely over after this, but please don’t leave. I don’t want you to get hurt or turned into a mindflayer and if it’s that painful, I will just leave and-“

You and your rambling mouth are engulfed in a massive hug that stuns you to your core and you feel cool lips press a gentle kiss to your temple.

You fall apart- all the fear and anxiety from the last few hours has finally hit you. You are struggling to contain yourself and self-regulation isn’t happening. Every abandonment wound you have ever had has been ripped open and left to bleed everywhere inside the room.

“I’m so sorry,” you are still a mess, “I am so so sorry, Astarion.”

“My Dear,” he pulls back, tilting your chin so you are looking at him, “it is okay. I forgive you.”

You blink a few times with your lower lip still trembling. Astarion’s smile is sad as he wipes away your tears and kisses the space around the corners of your mouth before placing one on the tip of your nose. He smiles brightly when your lips finally curve upward a bit.

“At the beginning of this journey, I think I would have been exceptionally mad,” he admits, “but, now? Well, my Love,” he smiles at the blanket in his hand, “I was considering getting rid of it- it’s a reminder of my past in a lot of ways I don’t wish to remember.

“It’s perfect now- it feels like it belongs to me again and not the person Cazador bullied me into being,” his eyes glow with happiness, “I also know you despise this kind of activity and doing laundry- I greatly appreciate you doing both for me this evening, my Dear.”

Your smile cracks open your face and your tears are now filled with relief. You hug him tightly and he holds you back- equally as relieved that it wasn’t a big deal.

And it’s not- Astarion genuinely isn’t all that upset about it. Sure it’s not ideal, but you know what no one has ever done for him before? Fix something of his they broke- or at the very least attempted to. He finds himself grinning like a moron at your clumsy stitching and he adores that your favorite color is brightening up the blanket much like you have brightened up his entire world.

Nor has anyone done his laundry! You did a really good job too.

“You are very good at laundry, my dear,” he muses, “maybe I need to have you teach me some time.”

He can hear you roll your eyes as you put away your items again. Astarion began making the bed- you in all of your panic had completely forgotten to do.

“Oh please- we both know it’s a miracle I didn’t turn everything pink again by accident!”

You had made the mistake of grabbing a red bottle thinking it was laundry soap (at the beginning of the journey, mind you) and your stuff looked ridiculous because the bottle had actually been dyed. Your hands looked like you had just come back from brutalizing someone. Astarion had been the one to help you reverse the horrid mistake.

“That is a positive,” he laughs, coming up behind you and admiring the way you smile in the mirror while he wraps his arms around you, “I am glad I won’t be in some blotchy reddish, pink attire.”

“We would be matching ALL THE TIME though.”

“That, my Love, did not make you dying my laundry pink anymore appealing.”

You throw your head back with laughter- your makeup has created lines down your neck with your tears and you still haven’t had a chance to bathe nor has Astarion.

Astarion plays with the hem of your pants and kisses along your neck.

“You know, practice does make perfect,” he murmurs against your thrumming pulse, “and cleaning another would certainly be good laundry practice.”

You hum in agreement, “that is a good point and I could certainly use the practice.”

“I would be more than happy to demonstrate- I have been told I am an excellent teacher.”

Your grin is wide and your eyes are blown wide with lust- it makes him incredibly satisfied to see you react to him in the mirror and knowing that only he can make you feel this way.

You grab his hand, pulling him towards the washroom.

“We best get started then. I am an eager pupil, after all.”

Astarion’s grin threatens to split open his face and he allows you to pull him along- throwing the blanket onto the bed so that you can mend yourselves together in a different kind of way.

[azen13]

The Lives and Losses of Lovers

Description: This is actually inspired by a post by @lum1nesc3nce, which you can find here! TLDR: Zhongli x God!Reader, where Zhongli kills his lover but they stay alive. This does have a bit more of a Yandere!Zhongli flavor, though, so be warned!

CW: Yandere Themes, Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Blood, Murder, Mild Gore,

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The patio is warm, blessed with the touch of the sun’s earliest rays. Already you and Zhongli sit in two comfortable chairs; he sips on tea, you on coffee. It is a scene that has played out a thousand times, yet one Zhongli never tires of. He never tires of seeing your face aglow, of feeling your body leaning against his, of knowing you are here, miraculously breathing life through your bones and skin.

“My dear, I was wondering,” Zhongli starts, his soft contemplative voice shattering the flimsy silence blanketing the porch. “Would you like to accompany me to Liyue Harbor to purchase some groceries?” It is a reward–he thinks as he revels in your surprised reaction–for how understanding you have been in these turbulent times. With the whole mess regarding the Fatui cleared up and a mundane mortal life ahead of him, Zhongli can afford to spend more moments with you in sweet, blissful love.

Perhaps one day it will make up for that vile scene years ago, the moment his heart became stone: your body splayed stunningly on the ground, looking like the most gilded, horrific masterpiece he had ever seen. Painted in sunlit hues, his spearhead sticking from your chest splattered with blood made of molten gold. 

Even nearly dying you looked breathtaking. 

He is still suffering from regret for the decision. At the time, the situation was looking grim; Guizhong and Azhdaha were both gone, leaving you his only close friend. He spent many moonlit nights sharing tea and hushed conversation, as well as tears and heartfelt confessions with you. Zhongli is not the god of words, but just the sight of your iridescent eyes made him want to tell you every trouble and every worry had. You were his most valuable treasure, his lover through and through. Your contract with him, to always stand by side, loyal to one another, made him so weak, so soft, so human.

But that was the issue. Everyone knew of his love, his tender affection; unbecoming of a god who wielded earth and stone as weapons. His life was plagued by phantoms day and night. When he dreamed he envisioned you being kidnapped by some evil god like Osial and being tortured. Killed. Doomed to a fate worse than death, even. In the day, every action you did reminded him of a delicate tree weathering a deluge. Your branches swayed in the intense winds and even the earth couldn’t anchor you.

So he pleaded. He begged you to stay tucked away in his private domain where no great evil could stalk after you, promising to love you for an eternity of eternities. He would love you until every mountain had become a valley. But you refused, saying you wanted to live every facet of life, turning the world like a kaleidoscope in your hands.

The mirrors shifted and the skies turned red.

Those prophecies he had dreamt, uttered to him by ghosts haunting his mind, came true. You were taken away by some pesky, lowly god, and confessed all that you knew. That was fine. Zhongli was made of stone and Cor Lapis, and even if this insignificant insect of a god knew his weaknesses–few as they were–Zhongli eviscerated them.

But the contract.

When the god was sealed away beneath the sea, Zhongli fell to his knees, mouth opened but unable to utter any words.

Zhongli is not the god of words.

It is horribly tragic, he mourns as he stares at your hollow expression, that you must face the wrath of the rock because of a ridiculous choice of words. “To always stand by his side.” You have technically betrayed him.

The earth shakes for weeks afterwards. The sudden freak earthquake is talked about for weeks on end before people move on, as life does. Zhongli does not. His memory of you remains petrified, his new specter. He will never truly love again for thousands of years. Every time he is reminded of you, a piece of his heart chips away

But then you came back. 

That day is amber, crystallized in his mind. Seeing you in the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor, so lost after centuries away from home. At that moment, Zhongli decides he will not make the same mistake twice. He would have preferred more time to draw you in carefully, but he is afraid now. Afraid that some hideous twist of fate will rip you from him again. So he whisks you away to his private domain, and drafts up a new contract, binding you to him in matrimony forever. 

Please forgive him, he begs after you sign the contract in gold, tears dripping down your cheeks. He only wishes to protect you; he has always wished to protect you. But the world is cruel to lovers, and not even the strong can uphold such a delicate thing. 

In Zhongli’s private domain, wicked things like time and fate are nonexistent. Zhongli is the only god that rules these lands. He is a benevolent god, if a little possessive. After being deprived of you for so long, he craves your presence, he claims. Day and night, he tries to spend every living moment with you. When he cannot, you are ever-present in his mind–a living, breathing thing instead of the dead spirits that once terrorized it for all those years.

Some days you seem despondent, craving room to spread your branches far and wide. But Zhongli simply chuckles and kisses the top of your head; he smells the gentle scent of your shampoo, knowing this is what is best for you. He whispers it quietly, lacing sweet nothings and honeyed words into his voice as he pulls you into his arms. You haven’t tried to fight him on this in years, either. It’s part of the reason why he has proposed going on a  little trip to Liyue Harbor. Perhaps if all goes well, he’ll allow more trips out of the private domain. All supervised by his watchful eye, of course. After a few moments of stunned surprise, you finally have the courage to speak. “I-I’d love to. Thank you, Zhongli,” you say quietly. Zhongli smiles, leaning to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

“You are very welcome, my treasure,” he whispers, a hand reaching to cup your face; his thumb reaches to brush your lips tenderly.

He can tell that you are still afraid of him, fearful that he will hurt you again. No matter. One day, Zhongli hopes, you will shed your fear like a caterpillar in chrysalis, and emerge into a glittering world full of Zhongli’s love for you. 

[djpepitaqueenforpresident]

𐦍༘⋆ Mnemonics - B.Barnes

‘The air could not be filled with Winters vocals, but his ears worked better than fine, and instead of hearing someone he could not remember the name of beg in his skull, he listened to you.’

Summary: In which Bucky walks the path of regaining his memories, and he has to figure out wether you are real or just an apparition of hope his own mind conjured up to help him push through the hard ways of Winter.

Warnings: Ptsd, blood, violence, guns, swearing, murder, sad Bucky

A/N: guys is this story even understandable. like do we get the switch from flashback and present? does the timeline and storyline even make sense?. i do not know my own brain sometimes.

English is not my first language!:)

III

‘Helen, Helen, come home;

There was a Helen before there was a war,

but who remembers her?’

“Why do you always eat like The Last Supper,” Sam said from across from them, cheeks still stuffed from his pancakes. “Your food ain’t going nowhere, man.”

“Maybe not right now, no,” Bucky sassed back, shoving another piece of bacon in his mouth. “Wasn’t always that lucky, birdbrain. If you can recall.”

“Oh, we’re still milking that?”

“Yeah, we’re still milking that.”

“Well, you’re starting to drool, so slow down, terminator,”

“Shut up, bird-“

“How is it i’m the youngest here, yet, the most mature?” Steve interrupted from Bucky’s left, accompanied by a sigh and an eyeroll.

“Technically, I’m the youngest, and you two are the grandpa’s, but whatever.”

Technically speaking, Sam was right, but Bucky would rather choke on his one egg he still had left than admit that.

Attempting to change the subject, Steve spoke up again, “Did Amadeus recover any of those missing files, yet.”

“He’s still working on it. He only found the same documents on the drive that we already have on paper,” Bucky responded, discarding Sam’s smug look with a last glare. “Said it was like the person didn’t even really try. Just deleted them manually and then fried the whole thing with a billion watts.”

“So, our person isn’t really that technically advanced,” Sam joined in, “Like Stevey here.”

“Or,” Steve give him a mock smile, before replying in an unamused tone. “They’re lazy and careless. Like you.”

The bell above the glass door chimed, two times in a row, followed by a bellowing greeting to the bald owner who had taken a seat on one of the barstools behind the counter. A permanent residence for the man it seemed, for every time Bucky came here - which was a lot, considering it was a part of his daily routine to sit and write in the farthest back boot - his behind was glued to that same chair. Bucky pondered if his chubby hand had molded into an everlasting deformity from constantly having a cup of coffee in his grip.

“Natasha’s going to the second base tonight, somewhere in the Alps,” Sam continued, pulling Bucky his frown away from the owner.

“I want to visit the Alpine mountains, see the snow from in between the earth,”

“She’s taking Barton with him, despite his many protests. Nat’s not too worried, though, and suspects they should be back by the day after tomorrow.”

The waitress stood awkwardly in front of their table, balancing their now empty plates while she patiently waited for Steve to down his last bit of tea, since he didn’t want her to walk twice all for one cup.

“Shit, am I glad we got the one here,” Sam laughed, watching the brunette girl strut away. “Don’t wanna freeze my toes over there. Knowing HYDRA, they build their stupid evil lair in the coldest top of the mountains.”

“At least it’s not in the sun,” Bucky grumbled.

“What?”

“Well, that’s- y’know. Bad things are less rude when they happen in the winter, ‘cause…” he shrugged, not finishing his sentence.

He didn’t know what he wanted to say, anyways.

They weren’t his words.

“Lay off the coffee, man,” Sam chuckled, his tone teasing but a slight star of concern blinked in his dark pupils. “You’re yapping things again. More than usual.”

He shook his head and let out a huff instead, leaning back in his seat but avoiding eye contact.

Bucky didn’t even dare look to his left. His blond best friend had puppy dog eyes that could better be categorized as a death stare, because Bucky felt his heart stop anytime he caught that worried gaze.

“Hey, you okay?”

And there it was. Bleeding though his voice, there was that penetrating, inescapable attention of his childhood best friend.

“Hmm, yeah, I’m fine.” Bucky knew Steven wouldn’t be satisfied with any answer that was less than the truth, but how does one explain shadows at the edges of your vision, without actually knowing if they are your shadows? “Just having some trouble sleeping again.”

If these glimpses, these apparitions were real, they surely weren’t Bucky’s.

There was still a lot to unpack from Winter’s life, and Bucky didn’t even know if he wanted to open that bag. With all the erasing and reprogramming that the terrorist organization did, there were still new details making themselves known about dreams he thought he had already processed.

And, who is to say everything he comes across in his in brain is true?

Who is to say he is true?

Someone is living in his mind, and it isn’t him.

Despite the growing whispers his mind was giving him, he still didn’t know who you actually were. A silhouette, dancing around in his skull. He couldn’t even see your face, was only allowed a tempting blur, just out of his reach.

Either, his mind is actually at its end, or you are just another wiped piece of him, erased to better Winter, keep his focus on only the important stuff.

HYDRA had no use for distracted weapons.

Then again, it appeared the Winter Soldiers weren’t the only weapons HYDRA was putting their money on.

And if you really were one - a mutant - it would have increased the chances of Bucky meeting you. Working with you even, perhaps. He trained the five most dangerous super soldiers to possibly walk the earth, what were a few mutants?

Although, ‘a few’, was maybe the wrong wording, since he only hears you.

If you were real, that is.

Sitting crosslegged in a green field under the sun wasn’t exactly something his former handlers let him do.

A dream, then?

Bucky wasn’t sure Winter could dream.

“So, you still haven’t found anyone that could hold a possibility of being your mystery person?”

“No.”

“But, there are files missing, so there still is a chance they are very real.”

“I guess.”

“Perhaps, you question their realness, not because you doubt your own mind, but because you think you don’t deserve that glimpse of peace in between all the horror that you endured.”

He looked up again and sighed, shifting on the grey couch under her observing eye. Bucky hated being observed.

Of course, Dr. Reynor had a point. A point Bucky wished with all his heart to miss.

“From the things you have told me, James, this isn’t some delusion you are experiencing,” Reynor continued, ignoring his overdramatic eye roll. “Your brain is - no matter how much you don’t believe it - still very much intact.”

“Then why can’t I remember them?”

She looked at him for a few seconds, like she always did when she was reading him. It was childish of him to put up such attitude, he knew. Especially when, - despite all his denials - the conversations with his psychologist have actually helped him. It just so happened Bucky didn’t like talking.

“They’ll come. Give it time.”

Now more then ever did Bucky wish he didn’t have an age repellent serum coursing through his veins. Unfortunately, time is all he is.

“Why don’t you tell me about last night? You said you were dreaming again.”

He shrugged, looking out the window and keeping quiet. Raynor’s office was too high up to gaze down at the road, so all Bucky had were clouds. An occasional bird, maybe, but they didn’t bother staying long enough for him to know them.

She didn’t push, just waited. It made him uncomfortable, and pushed the bug up his lungs that forced him to fill the silence.

“‘T was, uh…” he started, not sure how to explain the curves of the ever growing river that swirled through his sleeping consciousness. “It was a different one. A dream. Not nightmare.”

She crossed her legs, left over right. The bottoms of her black colored heels were faded from long use. He thought he could see a faint outline of a dragon in the worn out sole, but then she shifted a bit, and he lost it.

“I don’t know exactly were it was, but it was outside.” Maybe if he could see better, remember more, he might be able to make out the city, or at least the country. “It was warm. They were talking.”

“Can you make out the date? Was it before or after HYDRA?”

“Not before,” he shook his head. “But not after, either.”

She made a face, waiting for him to give some clarification.

He couldn’t give her any.

His arm was starting to give that ache again. Her eyes followed his movements when he brought his right hand up to rub his shoulder.

“It was just a dream,” he shook his head again, convincing himself of his own words. A memory would be tainted with red.

“How are you sure?”

“Because it was peaceful.”

Amadeus Cho was a genius.

So much so, that he barged into Bucky Barnes’ assigned working room in the tower to throw a unthinkable thick map onto his desk, without regard for privacy. Bucky had already learned from Peter that teenagers just didn’t really have a tendency to knock.

“I got it!” he announced, an impossible gleam of pride in his dark brown eyes. “It was a fucking drag, but I got it!”

Bucky picked up the stack of papers (so heavy that it immediately flopped down on the one side he wasn’t holding), starting to feel a sense of urgency at Cho’s encouraging smile.

“Explain,” was all he muttered at the young genius, leafing very carefully through the map, like it held the secrets of the world.

For Bucky, it did.

“These are the exact documents they deleted,” Cho started, coming to stand behind Bucky to take a peek over his shoulder. “I checked with the box you guys took from the base, and these aren’t in there, either.”

“They took the papers ones, too? Why only these,” he was muttering to himself, eyes skimming over the words printed out.

Weapon fourteen. Alkali payments. Tests. Missions. Success.

He closed it again and focused his blues on the child wonder.

“Leave.”

At first, Bucky had wondered where Stark had gotten the courage to hire a literal child, wanting to ‘broaden this generation’s perspective on science with the privilege of working alongside a legend aka the Tony Stark’, but like seeks like Bucky guessed.

“Hey, I uncovered these for you,” the boy protested. “I wanna see where I threw away two whole nights for.”

“If you don’t leave, you're going to lose a whole lot more sleep.”

Amadeus didn’t know exactly what the super soldier was threatening with, but he did know it was wise to listen. And so he back paddles with his hands up in surrender. “Alright, fine, I’ll leave. Don’t need to thank me, or anything.”

He shuffled out the door, mumbling things Bucky couldn’t hear, but was certain was about him in a not so kind way.

“Thank you.” But the door was already closed again.

A. Cornelius.

Strucker.

Hot. Bare feet and dirty clothes. Crumbs between your teeth like ticks, sucking you dry, not letting you go, never alone. Hot, always so hot.

Light goes on, light goes off.

Thumping next to you, an elephant pacing. Shutting your eyes but you can still see.

On, off.

Your veins are dancing, blood is singing.

On, off.

From one room to the next, from Autumn to Spring to Summer.

Winter is there all year long.

The shining hurts your eyes but the red star moves. Loud, messy, deathly. He never shuts up.

On, off.

God rings the universe and a plate with food comes. Just for you.

Again you change rooms. There is a metallic sting in the air as you glide past the iron woods. Never in your life had you seen a red mop before, or was it black? Peculiar.

The sun hurts worse in these walls. You see the red star more often now.

They keep sweetening you up. Brave thing, good girl, success. Meine kleine Blitzschlag.

You tell it to keep quiet, but it never listens. It’s never silent, they are always scraping across your skin.

When the light goes off, so does your headache. It only settles as a dull graze. When the red star comes marching back in, is when its at its worst.

You screamed it at him once, but he only looked at you like a crow. Sharp eyes, head cocked. Hollow.

The lights went off with a bang, a meteorite falling for your extinction. There was no more dancing, no more grazing. Finally, silence.

He had screamed back. But it was on the ground, now. Suddenly, the star looked less menacing.

Hunched above it was a shadow, a silhouette of a man. The moaning continued, but the star was quiet now, no more than a piece of the sky, like everything else. It was nothing without the dark that it orbits around.

You had seen it as a good thing, a peaceful act. “But it is silent. All I ever want is for it to be silent.”

You sobbed when their anger struck you, punishing the dog for going after the rat.

Next day? week? and the star was back on its host again. Loud and messy and deathly.

[violetjedisylveon]

Final answer: the Horrific Thing was the burning of FFM. Mac would never but didn't have a choice but the monkeys didn't know that. They just saw one of their kin, their protector, their Other King, setting fire to the home he had worked so hard to defend. He stopped the worst of fires and saved most of everyone during the initial burn but after being captured and spelled, he was forced to go back and finish what he had stopped.

Maybe Wukong had to watch or listen, or Mac was forced to tell him all of it in excruciating detail while force feeding him the peach.

Also, I love protective Wukong but I also vibe with the idea that Mac is ready to go nuclear at the drop of a hat. Wukong is unfortunately used to hearing all the shit people will throw at him about his mate. He hates it and will happily maul anyone who decides they wanna find out, but he has been hearing it for over 1700 years and is, technically, capable of responding in a reasonable manner. (He never does though. As far as Wukong's concerned, only select people are allowed to even say his mate's name in his presence, or at all).

Macaque though? Macaque, who loves this man so much and is learning to love and care for him all over again? Macaque, who is slowly realizing just how much his mate suffered while he was imprisoned in his own mind? Macaque, who has heard the unkind things people say about him and his mate for centuries but all he could was smile and laugh along with those people? Macaque, who is now Free? Free to love and care and cry and feel sad and, most importantly R A G E.

The first time he hears someone talk shit after being freed, it's... A Situation. He may or may not kill someone on spot and drop the rest of them into the shadow realm to suffer agonizing torment and mental anguish. Everyone is Shook, including Mihou. Wukong, who was ready to go off on the guy before his mate had literally shoved him back to get to the the idiot first, is simping so hard. He's red faced and starry-eyed and so lovestruck because "Awww his mate killed someone for him 😍😭🥰🥹".

(MK is torn on how to feel about seeing his maybe-dad murder someone. The dude had it coming but that's still... a crime?? But then again so is being mean to his newly-happy mentor...🤔🤔).

Long story short, everyone is suddenly reminded of the fact that the Six Eared Macaque is a powerful warrior that was on level with the Great Sage, and is Very Loyal to His King. (Maybe if the fight with Azure becomes well-known they might even start fearing the extremely powerful being who even the former emperor acknowledged as having absolute power over the mighty Sun Wukong. Those six ears hear an awful lot and many, many people have quite suddenly stopped talking).

Have I mentioned I love this AU btw? Because I love this AU.

Good guess but nope! Think eviler.

There were only two victims of the Horrific Thing™, and Wukong was forced to watch it. (If you want a hint, try looking for a pair of sisters in the epic au ;)

Jade Emperor thought FFM was fully burned to the ground and the majority of its inhabitants killed, (because Erlang lied to him about it), and he needed to eliminate the two victims anyway, why not make Macaque do it?

Macaque was surprised by his reaction the first time someone insulted him, he hasn't felt anything that strongly for thousands of years.

MK is shocked that his maybe probably dad reacted so violently, but it makes sense.

The only thing holding Mac back from bloody murdering at anyone who dates to say anything bad about his mate is that it's bad for the baby (MK) to see violence like that. He definitely drops people into shadows and if they land in a volcano, that's not his fault. Wukong shit talking suddenly drops to near zero.

Wukong is absolutely smitten as hell when it happens. He loves his mate so much.

Everyone now knows about what happened to Macaque, a lot of people are impressed/fear him, but some idiots think they could use him for the power he has over Wukong, they would have to get through his wildly protective family to do so.

There's only two people who can insult Wukong or Macaque to their faces and survive, they don't fear death.

Why would they? they've already died.

Grinning Shadow AU Masterpost

And I'm very glad you like this au so much! 😊

[theallianceofcelestials]

Hi there!

I saw that you are/were friends with the creators of Stellar Remnants and as someone who knows one of them irl and has heard their non-stop yapping about your stuff I took it upon myself to ask what that little rat is too scared to ask!

What would the SEA Family’s reaction be to the relationships developed within Stellar Remnants?

Also, to give some relationship breakdowns that I actually do surprisingly have permission to share from CoastxlWater’s themself:

You don’t see much of the celestials in the main fic, but from my friend’s rambles about the what-ifs and oneshots series the Remnant Family do infact think about the celestials a good bit to where there are technically relationships

Eclipse hates moon basically, but a good chunk of that hate stems from fear and the knowledge of knowing Moon won’t give up. Since as we know, Eclipse was infact once Moon and so he knows how the bot would act.

Solar Flare would infact do the same thing it did to KC to Moon if it ever gets its claws on him, you don’t mess with Flare and especially not its father.

Bloodmoon wants to basically harass everyone in the celestial family. But due to Eclipse’s creative threats and tracker planted in them they haven’t tried anything yet, or atleast that is what Coastxl has told me about the upcoming prompts.

No one in the Remnants family hate Sun so to say, but no one exactly likes him. Eclipse and Bloodmoon with their distrust of the sunny animatronic and Solar Flare carries its own opinions on Sun.

Eclipse still cares about Lunar, and Bloodmoon does as well but neither would say they like Lunar, because they don’t. Surprisingly it’s Flare to have the major problem here, because from what Coastxl has told me Flare doesn’t appreciate the kids actions. Flare apparently has strong opinions on why Lunar was wrong to turn on Eclipse, especially because Moon’s own treatment of Sun. So Flare is the one who mainly dislikes Lunar.

Surprisingly no one in the family have strong opinions on Solar, and apparently one line Coastxl does have planned for a future chapter is, “Solar? I don’t care for Moon’s little lap dog, I mean yeah he helps Moon and all but they are family who usually treat each other right so it’s understandable, though Solar is a pushover. People pleaser, even.” - Eclipse

Same as Solar no one has strong opinions on Earth, they all kind of just ignore the cheerful ‘sister’ and only plan for Moon, Sun, Solar, and Lunar ever finding where they are. Or really Eclipse is the only one planning and worrying, Bloodmoon and Flare are just trying to get Eclipse to stop worrying.

One thing they all have in common though is a hatred for Monty, and yes that does include Bloodmoon. No one really likes Monty.

I think their relationships with KC are shown well enough in the making fic, Coastxl said they might try developing the hatred and fear more through more night terrors and maybe even a few complete group hallucinations, so they do have a deep fear of KC is all I’m saying.

And before you ask, “how do u know u have permission to say this if they don’t know about you having all of their socials and links to the stuff they like?” Well, they said and I quote: “hm? Oh yeah you can spoil it if you want it’s not like it’s some huge surprise or anything- oh your asking this for possible future blackmail huh? Well fuck you I could give less of a fuck about you spoiling this, HAH”

I dunno if we're on friend levels yet, though tbf I don't really do any of these online friendship things often thanks to crippling anxiety 👍

Also they didn't shut up about my stuff? :0 Somehow I'm still surprised people seem to like my stuff, haha

Also, if anyone tries murdering me in my sleep because of this post, I'm throwing you under the bus <3 /silly

Weeeeeeeell, SEA and SR are pretty different relationshipwise, which would be a surprise to the SEA family.

Solar Flare and Eclipse wouldn't be able to imagine a father-son relationship between themselves, though Solar Flare would understand Flare's attachement to Eclipse, because it's also pretty attached to its own. Even if differently.

Killcode would be greatly saddened there's such a shitty version of himself, and he'd be torn between trying to fix their opinion of him and staying away, if only because he knows more now about trauma and those sorts of things. He too wouldn't want to see the people who caged him and his family in, so he can understand why the Remnants family would want to stay away. Doesn't mean he wouldn't be very tempted to change their opinion tho

Bloodmoon would find how Flare is so much younger an amusing difference they'd use to tease their own brothers. It's too good an opportunity to waste. They just have to do it.

Lunar would be freaked by the dislike of that Solar Flare, used to his brother being reliant, protective, quietly loving and most importantly, patient and always there. He wouldn't know what to do with a version of them that's more hostile with him.

Moon would once again be surprised while also not about just how much he sucks. He wouldn't blame the family though, because he knows he's awful. He would feel more comfortable staying away.

Sun would take one look at it and shrug. He can't do anything, it's none of his business, if those people want something they'll approach each other and work out their issues. He's more than aware family can be complicated and there can be lots of resentment and hostility and dislike, especially with everything that's going on. He also wouldn't be offended by someone looking down on him, because he's aware at first glance he really does appear pathetic.

Over all, the SEA family is surprised, sad and disappointed by the state of the Stellar Remnants dimension, but not like they can do much about it. They have to decide to change their relationships if they want to be something different. Although they'd prefer if these people didn't try murdering each other

(Also, SEA Eclipse thinks the four arms are cool and wishes he was built like that too. Everyone else is just glad the sleep-deprieved fuck doesn't have another pair of hands to overwork himself with)

[yuri-is-online]

@karmablacks I'm technically studying law so I got too defense brained thinking about this :/ right anyway. When accusing someone of murder you must consider, did they have the means? The motive? The opportunity? Of the five persons of interest MC finds listed, I think all of them made that short list because they have the means to have committed a murder. That leaves motive and opportunity, which leads me to be comfortable excluding Alan, wanting more information on Jiro, Towa, and Ed, and ambivalent about Rui.

Excluding Alan

Alan specifically says he thinks that he killed Dante during the Clash, unless Dante was the victim of the One Eyed Sleeping Beauty Murder (which I will henceforth be abbreviating as OES murder because fuck typing all that) then I see no reason he would not have said as much during Episodes 2 and 5. If he started the Clash then I think that would factor into his guilt and weigh on him immensely, it would be something he thinks about regularly. Dante does not only have one eye, he's got four and we know from Haku that multiple people went past the point of no return during the Clash. We are looking at a murder that specifically started a war, not one that resulted from it.

Profile Jiro

We know the least about him out of everyone on the list, but there is just enough to understand why he's there. He was in a coma for a very long time and still hasn't healed, if he is on the suspect list presumably he was not in a coma during the murder but might have entered it after. His combat skills are good enough to protect Yuri who has none, he has multiple wounds on his body that aren't closing, and he outright refuses to spar with Luca on the basis of it being a "bad idea." I am very comfortable with him having the means to commit a murder, the question is whether or not he would have seen it as a murder. One of his first voicelines is about "giving them death because that is what they wanted." If he did kill our victim, there is a chance it was a mercy kill that other parties disagreed on, hence the Clash.

Also did you catch the bloody gloves he's holding in the teaser? I did, it made me wonder if we will learn more about the murder in the next Episode.

Profile Towa

He would have been a first year during the Clash, meaning that while he might not be new to life he was new to Darkwick and we have all seen how he acts towards new people he doesn't like. Haru felt the need to tell him not to use lightning underwater, he's not exactly the most familiar with how to treat things gently and with care. Sure, Towa is currently interested in romance and love, but Ed accuses him of not always being that way and refusing to see anything weaker than him as having value. We don't know why that changed, and until we do he remains someone who wouldn't necessarily need a specific motive for murder and has the powers to kill someone. The main problem with Towa is that if he was the person who murdered the victim, his method would be very easy to identify. He controls the weather and likes poisonous flowers, we need to know how the victim died before we can determine how strong or weak of a suspect Towa is.

Profile Ed

This bitch has been technically undead for 400 + slutty slutty years, and the one time he stopped watching tiddy streamers to help Rui with a mission he leveled an entire building. Chances are pretty good he's killed someone before and wouldn't have a problem doing it again. This is where we look at motive and opportunity, Ed is really only ever active at night and claims he cannot go out into the sun. Was our victim murdered during the day? Then that makes it less likely to be Ed. There is technically a difference between just killing someone and murdering them, murder implies a degree of intent. You wanted that person to be dead, who would Ed have enough of a vendetta against to actually want dead? And was our victim someone who would fit that description?

Ambivalence about Rui

Rui kills people by touching them and draining their life force. Based off of what we see he does to Ed and the butterfly on the homescreen, it looks like this causes them to disintegrate. While I have no doubt that Rui has killed people on accident before, is this case really one where that's what could have happened? From what we have seen of him I don't think he is someone who would have the motive to murder someone. Means and opportunity sure, not motive. But again, as with Towa, how can he be under the same level of suspicion as the others if his would be method of murder is so specific? I could see him as the murderer if it was an accident, and it's one of the reasons he feels the need to repent. Which rounds out my thoughts and brings me to:

What I Want to Know

I want the name, year, and age of the victim, when they died (estimated), and the suspected cause of death. Also why is this murder called what it is, why did it cause the Clash, and most importantly:

What could have possibly happened to that body that your suspect list has such a wide variety of possible murder methods, or are Darkwick investigators just that dumb and afraid of ghouls that they immediately accused who they think are the five most dangerous (in no particular order) without taking any of that into account? And is that murder what Taiga, Tohma, and Alan all are talking about when they say there is a spy intent on making the ghouls look bad?

[avalonbards]

and then the one and only, arthur!

gonna answer this one first because i'm having arthur feels and i'm so happy you've given me a chance to talk about my boy, dear~

favorite thing about them: i mean, he's king arthur, what isn't there to love about him? haha but i think it's just how he keeps going no matter what, always pushing forward following what he believes is right and good. i know that's not exactly unique to the arthuriana, but something about how arthur does it has stuck with me the most. maybe it was the burden of kingship being forced on him from a fairly young age? i can sympathize with feeling like suddenly everyone has unrealistic expectations on you because of something out of your control. plus he wants to be good. he wants to be a good king, to show he's not just a ruler because of a magic weapon in a magic rock and some fuckhead wizard said so. arthur wants to be what his people need him to be.

least favorite thing about them: he's too willing to be the nice uncle when he should actually discipline his nephews when they need it. had he actually stepped in, stepped up and not let gawain get away without any consequences with his very obvious murder of pellinore, so much later grief could have been avoided. but arthur is too desperate to please his family, so he would turn a blind eye and at most just, weakly, said that all of pellinore's bloodline were under his protection. which uhhh didn't exactly work out now did it arthur?

favorite line: this bit from vulgate lancelot part 1 is so funny to me and i can't explain it. bisexual disaster arthur confirmed.

brOTP: is there really any choice besides with his own foster brother cai/kay? well, i guess also i really like arthur and guinevere being friends honestly. and naturally arthur and all his family members are one big brotp technically! i even like him and morgan to have a bond, however strained it may become.

OTP: unsurprisingly to anyone who follows me, it's bedivere/bedwyr x arthur. the beauty of the most loyal knight being in love with his king who loves him in turn but it must all be kept private? in a way it's kind of a mirror of guinevere x lancelot but i have a preference for arthur and bedi's relationship being one guinevere approved of and encouraged.

nOTP: any form of incest, i don't care which of his family members it's with i don't want it keep it away. aside from that? lancelot x arthur if it's not done as lancelot being a pining loser with one-sided feelings.

random headcanon: arthur looks almost exactly like his mother, even down to having a similar height as her, igraine was fairly tall for a woman in my writings but still this makes arthur pretty slight in comparison to most men his age. still, he's got a definite beauty to where only a few traits similar to uther show, the freckles across his cheeks when he's been in the sun for a while, the shape of his eyes, and his nose being the main features.

unpopular opinion: while i like the vulgate i dislike the way it opened a path for arthur being "villainous" or basically just there to be hated on by readers in later narratives. i prefer arthur to be a flawed but ultimately noble and good man who cares deeply about his kingdom and people and especially his friends and family.

song i associate with them: god okay so technically it's two songs so the first is "the moon will sing" by the crane wives (specifically this cover by annapantsu) because "Tell me once again / I could have been anyone, anyone else / Before you made the choice for me" is so arthur with his quiet resentment towards myrddin and even britain itself despite how much he loves britain and its people, which matches the rest of the lyrics. the other song is "flowers" by hana hope because of the lyrics "What else shall we let go / To live our lives the only way we knew / The birds are soaring in the sky / So high above us all, we who cannot fly" really suit him i would think.

favorite picture of them: these little doodles i did of my arthur! i'm actually working on another picture of him but for as much as i love him i don't draw him much kjfdnhb

[general-kalani]

Trope Talk - Seeds

Trope Talk - whatever you feelin

{ Prompt from here }

Seeds - John Ax-Crazy - An "ax-crazy" character is someone who is psychologically unstablenote  and presents a clear and present danger to others. They are capable of extreme violence, whether carried out with a Slasher Smile, insane laughter, speaking in a Creepy Monotone and/or Word-Salad Horror, or out and out murderous rage; and with no way of knowing just what will set them off, this makes them extremely frightening to deal with.

Come onnnn you can't look at John and NOT see him with a knife, tattoo gun, etc and not think of him being a crazy mf with a blade. I mean he tries to DROWN YOU casually. He beats Jerome if you don't say yes, he throws a TABLE ON ITS SIDE if you don't say yes. I think it fits!!

Seeds - Joseph Gold And White Are Divine - In many Western and European societies, the colors gold and white are associated with goodness and divinity. White and gold invoke images of Heaven and angels and embody purity and incorruptibility. White shines brighter than any other light, and in modern times we know it to be a pure combination of all other shades, while gold never tarnishes, rusts, or corrodes; is associated with the sun; and of course, is one of the most valuable minerals on Earth, especially in ancient times. The color white is also associated with the other big precious metal, silver.

... Ok with my interpretation of Joseph this one doesn't really need to be said about why or why not LMFAOOO I mean the books in game are gold and white, Far Cry 5 in general has a bunch of white for references towards divinity imho.

Seeds - Jacob Names to Run Away from Really Fast - People make a big deal out of names, and writers are no exception. Even if they eschew Theme Naming and other Naming Conventions they'll still use names they think are cool and dignified, powerful and appropriate, or sinister and fearsome.

I JUST REALLY, REALLY THINK this trope works a lot with Jacob. It also does with the other seeds but it works ESPECIALLY best with Jacob since he's the 'most villainous' compared to his brothers. I know TECHNICALLY it doesn't fit but it gives that primal fear of 'oh shit I got a big, terrifying guy on my ass, I gotta run" sorta thing you know??

Random last one Red Baron - Sometimes a character is so badass that that character doesn't have just a name but a rather special nickname, one that is so badass that those who hear it will crap their pants in fear. If these characters occasionally show up, be prepared to hear this nickname spoken repeatedly whenever they rescue someone.

I like to think "Red Baron" goes quite well with Artemis! Spoon? Not so much. But Artemis is definitely not her REAL name but she's badass, she can hold her own, had killed many soldiers before without a worry, etcetc.

[astridthevalkyrie]

chand ko chakor dekhe, tujkho naseebo wala (the bird looks at the moon, a lucky one looks at you) | hawks x reader | chapter 4

“You’ve died twice? From clocks? “I know you’re not blind to the rocks and debris flying literally everywhere! The world would be better off without you in it!” you scream at the villain. The machine is even louder as it breaks and jams into the ground. “Flying building pieces or something, I don’t know—one hit me yesterday. The first day I got knocked into a wall, and then I woke up hugging my body pillow. Same thing the next day. And the next, and the next. Did my number three pro hero partner save me? No, he let me get stuck in a fucking time loop!” Or, you’ll do a lot of things with infinite time on your hands, but falling in love with Keigo Takami isn’t one of them.

a/n: wow i really like this chapter

warnings: reader tells hawks to kill himself nonseriously, lots of murder and death and different ways of doing it, blood, reader is technically a serial killer now, nudity again

1 | 2 | 3

KILL GANG ORCA. KILL GANG ORCA. KILL GANG ORCA.

“He killed you?” Hawks asks, in the exact same tone, with the exact same concerned expression.

“Yes! Three times!” You hold up three fingers on each hand, so it looks like six, but if this doesn’t permeate the birdbrain’s skull nothing else will. “Three times he has put me into the ground!”

He places his hands over both of yours, placing them down in a single placating motion. “Have you considered you deserved it?”

“Whose side are you on?” you question accusingly, narrowing your eyes.

“On, undeniably Gang Orca’s.” He has that Hawks-esque grin on his face that you want to smack off and package and sell to his fans like gamer girl bath water. “He’s the victim here, it’s just that he’s a successful victim.”

“Yes, and I’m an unsuccessful perpetrator!”

No sympathy. No sympathy at all. Tell me everyday Nightingale I’ll help you Nightingale I loooove you Nightingale your ass. If you can’t count on your partner best friend Birdbrain-in-Chief, then who else is supposed to help you commit these murders? Tomura Shigaraki? Do you have him on speed dial? No. Does he know you? No. Do you think that the fake-hand-over-face thing is kinda hot? Not publicly. Have your lost your train of thought? Yes.

It’s not your fault. Today, Hawks has brought you to a karaoke bar of all places, and someone is finishing an admittedly good cover of California Gurls whydidn’tkatyjustspellitgirlswithani so you can barely hear yourself over the hot sun kissed skin that will melt all the popsicles. 

“And next up, we have pro hero Nightingale!” the announcer announces (no shit), pointing towards you.

“We do?” you respond, brows pinched, wondering how much you’ve started to lose track of things already until you see Hawks holding in his laughter. “Did you sign me up?”

“Uh huh.”

A growl rumbles low in your throat. “Which song?”

“And our beloved hero will be performing a very well known song called Poker Face!”

“Kill yourself,” you hiss at Hawks, standing up. He has tears in his eyes.

Still, he’s the only one who claps after your sour but still sexy performance, in which you don’t look at the words on the screen because you could sing them in your coffin, and you end up adding a few boom and crash noises with your mouth because the song doesn’t feel right without them. It goes a little something like oh whoa oh oh SHKKK oh oh oh I’ll get him hot CHGGGGGGRRRRR show him what I got THCCCK oh whoa oh oh.

“Beautiful,” your partner comments when you finish, wiping a fake tear. You’ll give him real tears soon enough.

“Let’s see you like it when you get stuck in a time loop. I’ll make you listen to Judas five million times an hour and then I’ll have you write a dissertation on the history and etymology of every lyric and then I’ll print the song out and choke you with the paper.”

Hawks nods, lips pursed in extreme interest, with his chin in his hand. MURDER.

“I still have no idea how to kill Gang Orca.”

“Creative juices not flowing after that song and dance routine?”

“No. Just more of an eagerness to kill the number ten hero, so then I can get to number nine, then eight, seven, six, five, four, and would you look at that? Three!”

One would think just the prospect of his own murder would make Hawks falter. But instead his smile turns sweet, and he tilts his head all birdlike. “If it helps, I don’t think you’ll have to try so many times with me. One day will be enough.”

“Yeah?” You cross your arms, not buying it. “You really think I’m that strong?”

“I wouldn’t fight back,” he responds simply, and that tingly sensation that only pops up around him and sometimes Fatgum travels up your stomach and settles in your chest. “If you told me, it wouldn’t matter, and if you didn’t, I’d assume you had a good reason. And yeah,” Hawks shrugs, “I do think you’re that strong.”

Goddammit. That’s like, exactly, the type of motivation you need.

He looks kinda cute when he’s telling you he’ll let you kill him. 

—————————————————

Cleverly, so cleverly, you stay on the ground this time. You think the whale bitch just sees anything hovering in the air as a threat. God knows how many flies and bugs and shit he’s killed. Wait, hang on, you don’t like those either, they fly into your mouth when you’re in the air. 

“Mr. Orca!” You wave, REMAINING AS FRIENDLY AS POSSIBLE OH GOD YOU’RE SO SCARED. “It’s an honor to meet you, I’m a big fan!”

He grunts almost nicely, raising a hand in return. You don’t step away after the compliment. He blinks at you a few times, as though waiting for you to say more.

Jesus, where’s the man’s mouth and where does it meet his neck?

Whatever. Not your problem.

Maintaining eye contact with him, your fingers subtly activate Gust, but this time, you focus all your energy under him instead of you. By the time Gang Orca feels the lightness, he’s already up in the air. With wide eyes (just scleras, really), his arm lunges for you, but there’s no point jumping when one is already in the air, loser!

As soon as he’s out of reach, you increase the wind pressure, and send him up, up, up, following when he looks like an ant floating above. Someone is screaming, and you so don’t care. You’re just glad no other heroes are around. 

With a snap of your fingers, you turn aerial off under him, and send him plummeting.

But that’s not enough. Not after three whole extremely painful deaths. 

He’s still conscious when you fly above him, reeling your hand back. “I really am a big fan,” you confess, balling up your fist, “and, uh, sorry, I guess.”

Then you turn Aerial on again and knock him rocketing towards the ground as fast as you can.

His body doesn’t crack as loudly as you thought it would, but a tremor still travels up your arm, making it shake as you land on top of him. It’s painful, even though you didn’t have to lay a single finger on him. 

Blood pools under his head, trickling out so fast it quickly becomes a puddle.

You just killed someone. 

Shit. This is just a bit more heavy than you anticipated.

The sirens of the police cars reach your ears first, and after seeing you staring in such a dazed state staring at Gang Orca’s body, one would think they would know you’ll come without a fight. But you know the curse better than that, and you raise your arms and face them, bracing yourself.

But as bullet after bullet rains upon your body, a thrill goes through you anyway, because finally. Finally, you killed the stupid hero. Finally, you made it to 4:24 PM.  Finally, something different, besides total nihilism. Even giving up isn’t satisfying.

So you whoop as you’re shot, hoping you traumatize everyone who sees. 

—————————————————

“Should I buy him a beer?” Hawks muses when you regale him with your victory. “Can whales even drink beer?”

You put your hands on your hips. Leave it to a pro hero to be more concerned for a man who isn’t even dead in this life than for you who had to die three times and remember it before you were able to kill him. “Can birds?”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest, pretending he’s shot against the wall. “KO’ed, Nightingale!”

What a loser. 

—————————————————

Ryukyu bites you in half during your first attempt at killing her. Like. A. Magic trick. 

—————————————————

It’s not as easy to fight with wind when Ryukyu can also fly and ALSO is a whole dragon? As if this isn’t hard enough? Her wings beat hard enough to counteract any air bursts you throw at her.

She attempts to reason with you at every single attempt, and where Gang Orca probably hadn’t even recognized you, you’ve met and worked with Ryukyu several times. 

“Nightingale!” she cries, beautiful even in dragon form, “stop this! What’s happened? Talk to me, I can help!”

Please, this isn’t you. That’s the argument she always falls back on. Meaning she would really not be happy to fight you if you actually went rogue. You know she’s one of the kinder pros, but this is a bit much. Especially for someone who’s been actively kicking your ass for a week straight.

“This isn’t personal!” The two of you have flown up so high that it’s actually a little hard to breathe. Her voice is less shaky than yours, but you still sense a tremor, meaning the thinning air has an effect on her too. “It’s just, you know, fun!”

“FUN?” she roars, and oh great, now you have an angry overgrown lizard on your hands.

At the very least, since you’re not a whole different species, your body moves much more gracefully and much quicker than her’s, so you can go down and rise up faster. You discovered this after trying to do the hand on snout thing like the kid from that movie, the one who loses his leg at the end. She didn’t appreciate it even when you brought a dead fish to offer her.

Sucking in your breath, you jet yourself up, with her biting at your heels. Every inch you get closer to the clouds, the more lightheaded you get, and the more you physically feel yourself leave the upper atmosphere. You’d only ever tried this once as a kid, and regretted it severely when you were left with a headache that didn’t go away for days.

This time, you don’t really care about that. Shoving enough wind, and by proxy oxygen, into your throat, you force yourself to go faster still, until the sky goes from blue to black. 

By the time Ryukyu halts, it’s too late. You force her up, and watch with a mildly apologetic expression as the final breath leaves her lungs.

You’re. A bad person. Just to alleviate the guilt, you open your mouth and try to breathe in space.

—————————————————

“JudA Juda AH AH! JudA Juda AH AH!”

“Give it up for Hawks!” you yell cheerily to the horrified crowd. “He somehow managed to sing and dance terribly! We’ll be here all night, folks!”

(You’re not. At 4:14 PM, someone gets so sick of Hawks’ weird ass hip thrust dancing and your screeching that they actually take one of the centerpieces and bash you over the head with it while you’re taking a champagne break. As you bleed out, you hear them try and go for him next. Yes, random stranger! Avenge your destroyed eardrums!)

—————————————————

WhateventheflippingfuckisYoroiMusha’squirk. You kill him, first try.

—————————————————

Crust is hard. It doesn’t take you more than two tries, but both battles are ridiculously long. 

Half because he keeps THROWING SHIT AT YOU and half because he keeps monologuing your ears off about shameful behavior from a hero! and you scream back is that what you’re worried about right now? and he says yes! and you say oh okay sorry to bother but you do keep trying to kill him.

Right now you’re in a bubble of sorts, just trying to blow away all the pieces of his crust (get it?) away, but each throw is really precise and a lot of them break through your own shield and cut your skin. You should be used to getting hurt by now, but it’s not like you’re immune. It still stings like a bitch. 

As you circle him in the air, he sends flying discs, one after the other, trying to knock you down. It reminds you a little of the clock bitch, which doesn’t help your mood and resolve to murder.

There’s a crowd of people watching for this one. You put on a show. “Wasn’t she with Hawks just this morning?” someone shouts. You were! Didn’t you look cute? The cutest in the world? 

Technically you could kill Crust the same way you killed Gang Orca, but you’re trying your best to be original. And after searching up stuff that definitely had the HPSC monitoring you closely but not close enough muwahahaha, you had some ideas. Some that are a bit easy with a hero who’s so focused on virtue signaling at you.

“I think I’ll go and attack someone else now!” you inform him, turning on your heel and zipping away. There’s alarmed screams all over, but none louder than his as he chases after you. 

“Stop! Stop in the name of justice!”

“I’m not stopping but I’m especially not stopping in the name of justice!”

“In the name of love, then! How do you think Hawks would—”

A truck rams into him, exactly as you planned. He’d been so focused on getting to you that he had actually ignored you leading him out onto the road (it’s not by any means easy to kill these pros, but they’re a little more stupid than they ought to be, it’s only slightly concerning). 

And what had he been about to say? How would Hawks react? Something about love? You’re sure he’ll love it when he picks up your phone call and you tell him that you’d like a boba before you see to your prison sentence and that you expect a five star delivery service from the fastest man in Japan. Lifetime, you’re sure, if they don’t shoot on sight again.

—————————————————

Throwing one of the clocks back at Clocksucker, you stick your tongue out, waggling your fingers by your ears. “Hey, have you noticed?” Hawks knocks (ha, rhyme) him down, catching the next clock you throw. “I’m looking left right now. Does that make you think of anything?”

The hero’s eyes narrow immediately, and you have no idea how he catches on so fast on the days you haven’t even told him yet. “Nope. Is it supposed to?”

“I’m repeating the same day over and over and depending on which way I look you ask me different questions and I’m trying to figure out why and you never tell me, so please please please please—”

“You’re repeating what—?”

—————————————————

You’re so close to giving up when it comes to Edgeshot. 

Is the searing—SEARING!—pain of a single sharp point through either your stomach, head, or throat really worth the mild joy you will get when you get to see him lifeless?

He takes the longest. A whole month before you have a single shred of luck.

Unfortunately, it means you won’t be using your quirk. And you’re going to be a little more manipulative than usual.

“Help me! I’m dying!” Rolling around on the ground like a madwoman, you let the grass dirty your cheeks with stains, making you look even more ill. You’re not sure which illness you can appropriate without being canceled, but then you remember that it’s not like anyone will demand a ukulele apology out of you, they’ll just forget. 

“Stand back!” Oh, his voice is sexy. That’s been the best part of this month.

Edgeshot kneels down besides you, one hand seeking your heartbeat in a practiced manner. “Nightingale,” he recognizes, and the thought of his incoming doom makes you shiver pleasantly. “Tell me how I can help.”

“Edgeshot,” you whisper, with fluttering eyes. “I…I…”

The theatrics are technically unnecessary. They don’t add anything when you unsheath the dagger in your cloak and stab him through the heart. Eye for an eye, ninja man. 

—————————————————

“Hey, answer me one thing.” Hawks pokes your cheek with his index finger. “Your quirk. You technically control oxygen too, right? Because the particles mix?”

“Uh huh.”

“So instead of losing so many times, why don’t you just, you know…” He points to his throat, miming pulling something out of his throat. It makes you think of how goofy of a circus performer he would be. He’d probably be a juggler, if anything. Hawks looks like he’s good with balls. 

Back to the point. “Cut off their oxygen? Yeah, I know. I could do it if I wanted to. I made a pact to myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t, though. I haven’t gotten desperate enough to break it yet. Let’s see how long that lasts when I get to the top three.”

“You might need it for All Might,” he teases, nudging your shoulder, “but you won’t need it for me.”

Birdie just never stops when he’s grinding, does he? It’s okay to take a break from making you somehow experience a different emotion on a day that you have lived countless times. What a workaholic. Go on vacation. Fool.

—————————————————

The first time you try to kill Jeanist, he chokes you with your own hero outfit. 

Kinky. You always knew he was a little freak. 

—————————————————

The next time he sees you, he does only blink once, but it’s still a major victory as far as you’re concerned. 

Because you get to see ladies and gents’ man Best Jeanist stutter in his movements when he takes in your naked body.

“Yeah, weren’t expecting that, were you?” Your jeering is interrupted by a flurry of threads headed your way, but you blow them all back. “Gave you pause, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he replies calmly, not faltering. The threads circle you, almost crushing you until you fly above them, barely missing your skin being whipped like it’s done something naughty. “You’re…Nightingale, right? Why are you doing this?”

Ugh, you’re so not in the mood to be Ryukyu’d. Not that you ever are in the mood. You don’t even bother answering the question, instead choosing to focus on the way he has fibers in every which way, creating a maze that will undoubtedly trap you. Best Jeanist is known for his strategy, not his speed or his brute strength. Fighting him is like playing a game of chess.

Well. You’re a checkers master.

Copying Edgeshot’s moves, you swerve through the threads, dipping under and over them, knowing that he won’t send too many at once because that would be like sacrificing the queen or some shit. Is that when someone’s at checkmate? Fuck if you know, man.

“Does Hawks know about this?”

“Who cares?” The final burst of wind is not for the threads, but for him, and you successfully slam Jeanist into the wall. “He’s next, anyways.”

“Lover’s spat,” is the last thing Best Jeanist says that day, because you smash his head in.  With wind, with your fists, you can’t even tell the difference anymore. You can feel your sanity drained, with each further punch and crack and splurt of blood that coats your knuckles and your stomach and even your breasts.

“Fuckin’—” You finally pull back, cursing a plethora before settling onto the ground, breathing heavily. “Lover’s spat…s’though I wasn’t about to kill you, denimhead. What a—what a stupid thing to say…”

You’re not even angry. Just slightly annoyed and slightly apprehensive. What does Best Jeanist know that you don’t? No, no. Sometimes people kill their partners (and others) because they’re going through a time loop that has cracked their psyche in an alarmingly short period of time, God, not everything is about romance!

—————————————————

No karaoke bar today. Maybe Hawks is feeling introspective, or maybe you’re tired, not just emotionally, but physically. Your muscles are strained, even though your injuries don’t carry over from the previous day. Something hurts. You don’t know what it is, but whatever it has the two of you back on top of the bridge, sitting side by side. 

Your eyes feel droopy as you rest your head on his shoulder. When is the last time you’ve slept? It’s just wake, die, repeat. 

Still, if you fall asleep now, you risk a specially painful death, though there can’t be anything that you haven’t already experienced yet (which you think everyday, but the universe finds new and disturbing ways to torture you).

“Hey,” Hawks murmurs, kissing the top of your head, “it’s 5 PM. You made it.”

Closing your eyes, you turn off aerial. Better the butterflies you experience this way.

Then you lean back, and fall.

Wind roars in your ears as gravity takes you, and your legs flop uselessly, and you know nothing will defeat this. This time, death is calling. It doesn’t need to send you something. You know you need to sleep. You’re just making the curse’s job easier. Maybe it’ll appreciate it and go easy on you tomorrow.

When you open your eyes, Hawks is reaching out for you, wings flapping furiously against each other as he shoots down. With his sunglasses off, his golden eyes gleam so pretty in the pre-sunset light. For a split second, you want him to catch you, and then doze off in his arms, comfortable and safe and protected.

But all you get is a brush of his fingers on yours before your back hits the ground, and you die.

—————————————————

You decide not to kill the number three hero for no real reason, no big deal really, it’s not something you thought about too much, the idea didn’t keep you up at night (3 PM) it didn’t make your stomach twist unpleasantly at all, no man is worth the aggravation that’s ancient history been there done that, besides isn’t it better to conserve your energy into fighting the top two heroes, there’s only logic in this decision, thump thump thump, lalalala you’re not listening, goodbye, see you tomorrow, Hawks.

[quinloki]

I have tried to share a self-insert and an OC three times now, but every time I write it out it looks like an essay. And I've rewritten this four times now and I can't seem to make it any shorter. This is my last-ditch effort to try this, with just the OC, the self-insert loses.

My OC is actually my mom-figure for my self-insert. Her name is Shura and she's 6'5 with long red hair kept in a high ponytail (the shade is similar to Kid's but less crimson and more fiery). Her bangs are parted in the middle technically but they sweep to each side and obscure her eyes: left bangs are platinum blonde & right bangs are mid-lavender. Her eyes, which she keeps obscured on purpose, are so pale grey they almost look clear—hence hiding them because her eyes creep EVERYONE out including herself if she looks in a mirror.

My favorite thing about her is she always has my back. Whether I need comfort or protection or wisdom, she never fails to show up and be there. She helps me work through things and also encourages me when all the other narratives in my head are negative, she shines like the sun and pushes them back.

Her worst trait is easily her temper. She's more of a grievously maim you first then interrogate you later if you survived kind of gal. I think it's a redhead thing. They're just feistier.

Don't know about her and foods.

I've had her since March 2021, so she actually predates One Piece for me. I didn't begin watching One Piece until March 2023. Shura came about during my Kuroko no Basuke (KnB) phase (which I'm still in, never left it) where she was still my mom-figure for that anime self-insert but there she was a normal human (and a badass basketball/volleyball coach). In One Piece she's not even human, she just masquerades as one.

Who do I ship her with? Four very different people yielding in four very different outcomes.

Sir Crocodile + Shura = Divorce. It's inevitable. Her temper just isn't made to jive with his ego or his desire to rule a freaking country. They definitely got divorced pre-Alabasta and while they definitely didn't work out as a couple, they remain tentatively amicable with one another and even remain allies once Crocodile sets up the Cross Guild. But she won't ally with him pre-Cross Guild. Wasn't even upset he got sent to Impel.

Doflamingo + Shura = Variations. Some days she's a one-night stand that yielded offspring and he couldn't care less or he wants to manipulate said offspring. Other days they are in love with each other, and sometimes it's an arranged deal that sours. It depends on what I'm feeling/need at the time.

Borsalino + Shura = Happily Married. He's laid-back enough to not be perturbed by her temper or morals. The government makes it hard for them to stay together so they go their separate ways but never divorce. Borsi uses his rank to keep his family hidden from the government and even hidden from Akainu (Kuzan knows but keeps his mouth shut—too lazy to snitch). If his family secret is ever exposed, he may or may not walk from his post as a Marine (don't know him well enough to make that call accurately at this time).

Sakazuki + Shura = Murder. Who didn't see this coming? The one time it worked as a loving marriage, I had a fever from Covid and so it was quite literally a fever dream. Sakazuki always murders Shura, every time without fail. They start off madly in love but as he devolves more and more into his Absolute Justice philosophy, she pushes back against it because his philosophy isn't hers. He has no tolerance for naysayers and ends up murdering her. Her sister Ayako hides the offspring from Sakazuki until the child is grown and capable of making her own decisions.

Shura does not have a devil fruit but she is fire-based in her own abilities. If she is stripped of her power, she relies on her sword which is lovingly named Firebird. Shura's nickname is Redbird.

Shura is heavily based off of my own Mom. Her nickname is from the real-life heroine of medieval China. Her appearance is heavily based on Shura Kirigakure (no, the name isn't from this Shura, that was one hell of a coincidence) of Blue Exorcist—obviously with modifications. While Kirigakure is snake-based my Shura is Phoenix-based and I pulled from mythologies as well as a TCG called Legend of the Five Rings. One of the clans in that game was the Phoenix clan and I've based Shura's lineage to the Dragon clan of the same game.

😳

Oh wow! You’ve really got thought into her - I love that! It’s definitely good to have a reliable mom figure who is fierce and supportive for you and your self-insert - especially in the One Piece where mothers are suspect at best and dead at most ^^;

Though to be fair, mother is a statistically dangerous vocation, so I can see why.

I love the design too, you describe her very well; and I love the eyes. Oh man the PAIRINGS are something else too, poor gal has a type and aside from, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, Borsalino her type is not kind to her.

Well, I guess the Croco pairing is also mostly good too, since they didn’t kill one another and were able to keep things amicable.

I LOVE the details though - thank you very much for sharing!

(Shura from Blue Exorcist is really cool too!)