#I liked when the priest beats people up and gets high

[llycaons]

yeah im just going to say it. the great (2020) is legit one of the best television shows I have seen in my life and I’m really glad I picked it back up. if you like ahistorical comedy-dramas in a period setting, complex characters/relationships, and don’t mind gore and sudden, graphic violence, I’d recommend it

[plutoswritingplanet]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intro Dialogues

a/n: some slightly flirty dialogues for suggested characters from Mortal Kombat 1 (and 11), reader is a blood mage, adjacent to "Unpunishable"

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Obscure References, Poor Attempts at Comedy

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung: Liu Kang is squandering your potential.

Reader: I trust his judgement completely.

Shang Tsung: You were made for so much more.

...

Reader: You want me to make a deal with the Devil.

Shang Tsung: All I ask in return, is your soul.

Reader: It's too high a price!

...

Shang Tsung: I lay before you my eternal heart...

Reader: There is no love with you, only ownership.

Shang Tsung: I dearly love all of my possessions.

...

Reader: I must believe there's good even in the darkest corners of the world

Shang Tsung: Finding it in me might turn out to be a futile fight

Reader: I don't give up easily, Shang Tsung

...

Shang Tsung: Have you ever thought to say "stop"? "If you love me, you would stop?"

Reader: Not in a thousand years.

Shang Tsung: I see now, why we're destined for each other

...

Reader: The things you've been doing in your laboratories are vile

Shang Tsung: I've used the same magic, as the one coursing through your veins

Reader: Liar!

Liu Kang

Liu Kang: Empress Sindel has approved your application to study Outworld's medicine.

Reader: I'm honored by her trust.

Liu Kang: You'll do a splendid job as Earthrealm's ambassador.

...

Reader: I fear the pull of darkness overpowering me.

Liu Kang: I will guide you, until your mind is at peace.

Reader: What if it never ends?

...

Liu Kang: In the previous timeline, you were my close friend and adversary.

Reader: And in this timeline?

Liu Kang: I'm inclined to say the same.

...

Reader: Doesn't it get lonely, being a God?

Liu Kang: I'm devoted to protecting Earthrealm and its people.

Reader: You didn't answer my question.

...

Liu Kang: Beware Shang Tsung's honeyed words.

Reader: You've said we were destined for each other in all timelines.

Liu Kang: And your union always leads to your suffering.

...

Reader: You knew I'd reject Shang Tsung's offer? Fight him every step of the way?

Liu Kang: I had faith, you would make the right choice

Reader: Honestly, do you have music playing in your head when you say garbage like that

Johnny Cage

Johnny: Let me just say, there's no other place I would rather be, than right here with you right now.

Reader: I can change that very easily.

Johnny: Why so serious, sweet cheeks?

...

Reader: No, Johnny, I won't be playing in any of your movies, ever.

Johnny: Can I ask why?

Reader: Why I don't want the job that makes your brain explode?

...

Johnny: You might wanna reconsider your rendezvous with the Sorcerer.

Reader: Which one?

Johnny: Oh, you are a bad woman.

...

Reader: Don't be such a baby, it's just a scrap.

Johnny: And I need a hot nurse to patch it up.

Reader: Why do I even… You're impossible.

...

Johnny: You have experience with emotionally fragile men, right?

Reader: You're self-aware today.

Johnny: I was talking about Kung Lao...

...

Reader: Okay, Ninja Priest was actually kinda good.

Johnny: YES! I knew you had a thing for the clergy.

Reader: That's not what I... You're such an ass!

Kung Lao

Reader: Do you think Liu Kang has destined us to become friends?

Kung Lao: Obviously, I'd never choose this for myself.

Reader: He could've made you less of twat...

...

Kung Lao: It's way too dangerous for you to travel Outworld alone.

Reader: I don't need a babysitter, Kung Lao.

Kung Lao: Prove it, then.

...

Reader: If you buy me dinner at Madame Bo's, I'll heal your arm.

Kung Lao: I see your time with Shang Tsung is rubbing off on you.

Reader: See, now I gotta hurt ya.

...

Kung Lao: How does it feel, being in the center of the Snake's attention.

Reader: Fuck you man, I didn't ask for this.

Kung Lao: Not good then.

...

Reader: Come on, I paid for dinner last time.

Kung Lao: I'll be happy to pay... Once you beat me.

Reader: You can be an ass sometimes, you know that?

...

Kung Lao: You know I only meant it as a joke, right?

Reader: Let me show you just how funny I think you are

Kung Lao: Bring it on, Nurse.

Bi-Han

Reader: You betrayed everything your clan stood for.

Bi-Han: You have no moral high-ground here, Healer.

Reader: I don't need it.

...

Bi-Han: Join the Lin Kuei, and unleash your true power.

Reader: Not while they're under your command, traitor.

Bi-Han: Your pride will be your downfall.

...

Reader: I can feel your blood run cold through your body...

Bi-Han: It will boil while I destroy you.

Reader: You'll freeze to death, then.

...

Bi-Han: Your aversion to power is your greatest flaw.

Reader: Should I follow your lead, then, and betray all I love for a promise of greatness?

Bi-Han: Is it wrong to want more?

...

Reader: Maybe I can beat some sense into you…

Bi-Han: I will crush you, little girl.

Reader: Great, a quip about my height, so original.

...

Bi-Han: We meet again, Blood Mage.

Reader: I knew you couldn't stay away, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han: Let's see if your training has progressed.

Erron Black

(am i the only one devastated he wasn't included in mk1?)

Erron: What's a pretty lookin' thing like you doin' in a place like this?

Reader: Holy shit, you even talk like a cowboy!

Erron: …Nevermind.

...

Reader: If I win, I get to wear the hat.

Erron: You'd look mighty fine in it, I'd wager.

Reader: Don't you pull your punches on me now, Black.

...

Erron: There's quite the price on your head, sweetheart.

Reader: And you'll do everything to collect it, right?

Erron: I could be persuaded against it, with the right motivation...

...

Reader: Do you flirt with all your targets?

Erron: Only pretty little ones, like you, girlie.

Reader: Well then, let's dance, Cowboy.

...

Erron: I wouldn't mind giving you a ride around town, little lady.

Reader: I'd rather beat you where you stand.

Erron: Be still, my beating heart.

...

Reader: I know who sent you.

Erron: Someone who's eager to get their hands back on you.

Reader: You can both keep them to yourself.

[bengiyo]

The Uncertain Melancholy of Our Youth

I’ve been sorting out how I feel about the end of Our Youth, and I’ve yet to arrive at something concrete that I want to say. I’ve been reading reactions from others to see if someone else could vocalize what I’m feeling, and in the process realized I wanted to talk about Our Dating Sim again. 

Like many others, I’m left with a feeling of melancholy from this show. I feel a lot like @small-dark-and-delicious in that I think this ending felt very realistic for them, because Minase has never had friends he can count on, especially the “bespectacled demon” (@chicademartinica). I find myself empathizing a lot with @asiandramas-takeover about how bleak the future feels for them.

With this series overall, I’m a bit frustrated thematically. I was glad to have @wen-kexing-apologist offering insights about the manhwa while we were watching, because, like @worm-priest, I don’t think we did much with the different kinds of people theme. 

However, I am left with some genuinely warm feelings for the characters and the actors. I loved mj’s post reflecting on how Hirukawa connects for people who dread becoming like their parents (@forcebook). Like @memiaatanonymous, I really enjoyed Motojima Junsei in this; I especially loved the way he managed his physicality and expressions when Minase had to flee Hirukawa’s house before the dad began beating Hirukawa again. 

I also agree with @delasaria-blog that Minase in the special does a lot to close out this story; I don’t think I’d feel as positively as I do at the end of this without the effectiveness of the special episode. The implied growth of these two into a relatively stable couple (@incandescentflower) worked well for, especially because Minase was left with separation anxiety (@lurkingshan). I also really liked the way the show approached a closeted couple’s feelings about marriage as an inevitability (@jemmo).

I think it was @theside-b comparing this to the disappointment I know I felt at the end of Love is Better the Second Time Around that got me thinking about Our Dating Sim. In that show, we spend the majority of our time in the present with Shin Ki Tae pursuing Lee Wan again after Lee Wan abandoned him at the end of high school. Our journey with them is about how Lee Wan hurt Ki Tae and himself, and the consequences of Lee Wan's decision. We focus there on how Lee Wan has to grapple with the fact that Ki Tae was open to his feelings.

I think most of why I’m feeling a bit unfulfilled by this project is that I had hoped we’d spend more time in the present. The opening sequence had me waiting in anticipation for their eventual reunion and reconciliation. I had hoped we’d spend the bulk of the show on that, like in Our Dating Sim, rather than on the events leading to their separation. I think I set myself up for this because I brought too much of that to the table. 

Reflecting on what the show did or didn’t do, I don’t think there was much for me to gain from seeing Hirukawa and Minase’s separate montages, though I think it would have been interesting to see Minase getting lonelier and see where he and Hirukawa lost touch over the phone incident. I personally feel like I’d have liked to see more of them getting back together and rebuilding trust, because I felt myself pulling away from this show as it spiraled over Hirukawa’s life getting worse in the middle. There was almost a really great moment of Minase trying to step forward and use his voice only to be silenced by the adults and friends in his life. 

Final Verdict: 8, Recommended With Reservations. I’m not sure how I will feel about this show in the long term, and I want to thank everyone linked above for sharing their thoughts, and all the gifmakers included for their creations. There is a useful kind of melancholy here that I personally enjoy as a person who absolutely loved All of Us Strangers (2023) last year. I am always the type who, even though I know we’re seeing marked improvement in many categories, cannot erase the scars I carry from what I survived. I struggle to find a solid coherent thought I feel coming from this one, and I hope to read more compelling reflections in the weeks to come. 

[yan-lorkai]

Hello , i hope your doing great . Would you please do a scenario for yandere undertaker and yandere sebastian (separately) x fem reader. Reader doesn't want to marry them so she tries to run away away at the wedding day but fails and gets captured ? Thank you ❤

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, fem reader, kidnapping, implied murder, threats.

Marriage is nothing more than a union between two people before God, so for Sebastian this does not carry the same meaning. For him, marriage only symbolizes what in his conception is already true: that you are his in every way and now the marriage certificate proves it. Even if you oppose to this marriage, Sebastian doesn't care.

Although he would love for you to give your opinion on the decorations or the type of cake you would like have at the wedding, he knows you are still in denial so he plans everything himself. From the hanging chandelier, to the flowers in the bouquet, to the dress you're wearing that he sewed himself, every little detail meticulously planned to be perfect.

He knows that humans like to be surrounded by their parents, relatives and friends on a special day like these, and if you had behaved they would all really be here. But it's better this way, just you, him and the priest who officiated the ceremony. That way he doesn't have to kill your parents and friends in front of you when you shout and scream about everything you've been through with him. Even though part of him wished this had happened, with no one else out there waiting for you, looking for you, praying, you would have only him. Only him.

Maybe he would kill them and return to your side, blood dripping from his hands and face as he kisses and touches you. Maybe he would even tell you what he did and how he did it to observe your reactions. If you like to act like he's the biggest evil in the world, maybe he'll give you a reason to hate and fear him. Maybe, but he won't act on those thoughts if you don't force his hand. The same hand with which he fixes your hair and makes your makeup, circling you to get a view of you from all sides.

"I will wait for you at the altar, my dear," His tone was soft, but there was an implicit promise of death in his eyes, a bloodthirsty glint that you had been able to witness many times before. Just for a second longer Sebastian stands there, looking at you through the mirror and then he smiles and leaves.

Your heart beats quickly inside your chest, it beats like it has never beat before. Your nerves are on edge, but you have to calm down and take a deep breath. You know what Sebastian is, you know how strong he is, but you know that an opportunity like that is unique and you must take advantage of it. You must escape now.

Running away isn't hard, well, actually it is a little, because you're wearing a dress and high heels but you kick them all and hold them hem of your dress up. And you run. You run as you never ran on your life. You know Sebastian is busy with tons of things, plus you are supposed to come a little late, as you are the bride. But you clearly underestimate him.

He may not be with you physically but as a demon he has his ways of knowing where you are and how you are, he can feel your heart beating, he can taste your fear and apprehension. And he loves it, he loves knowing your fear him, to know you are opposed to this marriage, given time he knows you come around.

But for now he enjoys the chase. He excuse himself for a moment to go meet you halfway through your attempting escape. You can hear his beautiful little laugh, can see his shadows but when you look behind your shoulder there's nothing there. He is playing with you, getting you even more frightened before trapping you in his arms so tight not even air can arrive at your lungs. His hand closes on your throat as he look at you, eyes red with animalistic excitement. "Dear me, look what we have here." He muses, watching you breathe hard, beads of sweat running down your forehead.

"Sebastian... What a pleasure to see here." Your reply is sarcastic, weak. But it makes him smile as he caress your face lovingly, as lovingly as a demon can, though you feel dirty at every touch, at every moment you're trapped under his creepy stare.

"You run away like a little lost mouse so I've came to get you back right where you belong. Don't make things harder than necessary, darling." It's his final warning. You know, you can feel in your bones that if you are to try anything again he would retaliate.

He has been doing a great job at keeping his demonic tendencies in check even when you snarled and yelled at him those past few weeks. But there truly nothing you could do? There was nothing you could try? His hand held yours, guiding you, the oppressive silence making you even more uncomfortable.

And when the priest asked "do you accept this man as your lawful and only husband?" All you could do was stare at him, tongue numb, members tired before answering. "I do."

And like a mouse, you were caught in Sebastian's trap. One you could never escape.

⠀⠀

Marriage. What a strange concept. Why people get married, that's what Undertaker thought when checking humans' memories. They all got married, they all had children, they all had their ups and downs together, yet they loved each other. Is love really that essential for humans? He didn't know, but he had a lot of questions to ask. And many of them answered themselves when you appeared in his life.

You had recently lost someone and like a wounded bird, you walked into his funeral home. It was like destiny. It was like a lever had been pulled in his brain, like he could finally see colors and feel the warmth of the sun on his skin after so long without those things. He was drawn to you, enchanted by your words. And everything else was history.

Undertaker knew that humans are fragile and fearful, and he tried to woo you the right, human way. Giving you flowers, walking with you, hearing you talk. And everything would have worked out if you hadn't discovered that he wasn't human, that he was a Shinigami and desperately tried to get away from him. He didn't want to kidnap nor threaten you but he grown desperate. He didn't want to lose the feelings you gave him, he didn't want to let you go. So he did what was necessary, he gave you a new home, he gave you books and lines for you to sew and weave if you wanted. He gave you everything you wanted but your freedom.

A marriage was bound to happen because he wanted you to experience this little enjoy. But also because he wanted to tie you to him even more, to make you his wife and be able to truly calls his wife. The ceremony is not as beautiful and organized as Sebastian's, but he supposes is the thought that counts. He buys you a really cute white dress and make-up, and he lets you get ready alone. As the bride and the groom can't see each other till they're both on the altar or something like this, honestly he doesn't understand this saying. Why can't he see you? He wants to see you!

But he controls himself, he has to. He stands on the altar with the priest at his side. He hums and waits impatient. Meanwhile you is running away so hard that everything else turns into a blur, people, voices, sounds, smells, everything is a blur as you run and pray for someone to save you. Anyone. Tears flow from your eyes when in the distance you see his silvery long hair and dangerous green eyes staring at you. You tremble, biting your lip so hard not to scream that you can taste blood on your tongue, you force your legs to work more than they can handle, you're sure later on your feet would be filled with blisters but you don't care about it now.

Though it's not enough. It's not enough and you hated it. You hear him mumbling while he catches up with you, a part of you is surprised he isn't actually going to pull his scythe from wherever he keep it and reap your soul right here and now. The part of you who is still in love with him wavers for a second, you think only for a second if it's worth to try, if you actually can win against him, if can actually escape and your hesitation is all he needs for him to close his arms around your body tightly. He breathes hard, warm air hitting your neck as you feel him still against you, afraid of losing you. Afraid of losing everything.

"Why did you run, sugar? Wasn't I good enough for you? Didn't I treat you right?" He was whispering right at your ear. And that was much more scarier than having him screaming or having him threatening to hit you. "Don't you love me anymore? That can't be, right? You must be a little scared, oh sweetheart I know marriage is a big step but everything's going to be fine. I can take care of everything, leave all the work to me."

As if to made you pity him even more, you could little tears streaming down his face and onto your back, timidly, slowly. A sour taste lingers on your mouth. You can't escape now. You can't escape now that he is so on alert, every little move you make would be under his eyes. You can't escape now but you certainly can play your card right. And the right thing to do now was surrender yourself. Surrender and wait for an opportune moment.

For now you let him fix your dress and hair carefully, and then drag you to that damned altar. It's suffocating, insufferable. And there's nothing you can do about it. He holds your hand as he slips the ring into your finger and look at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"I do." You say as you stare at him. In the future your attempt would be successful but for now you may entertain him.

[randomlyblues]

Yandere!Zane x Librarian!Reader

TW: Kidnapping not beta read

You didn't understand how you ended up in this situation. The High Priest of O'kasis was here at your doorstep demanding information that you don't have.

"I don't take lightly to people who waste my time, so I will ask you again. Where is the information about the Divine Warriors! This can't possibly be all the information that you have!"

"Again Sir, I don't have what you seek! They have burned all the knowledge about them years ago."

You felt a pinch of fear when his eyes widened a little at the tone of your voice that was directed to him. You didn't mean to raise your voice at someone with a high status as you but he was getting on your last nerves not getting the hint that this is all that you can offer him. You have heard stories about how he uses his status of being this 'religious symbol' to cover up his cruel actions and even take part in executing people, if they deserve it or not.

Zane was quite impressed with you. He's lucky that his mask is hiding the grin that was starting to form on his face.

He originally wanted to come to the village library hoping to bump into you. The first time he took notice of you was when he had to wed a pathetic couple. They wanted him to take a days trip just to get them married at a village with the name 'Phoenix Drop', making him stop with is work. That is when he saw you in the crowd speaking with an excuse of a Lord that they call Aphmau. The conversation was lighthearted but nothing worthy for him to pay any mind until you started to mention Lady Irene and how his name was in the mix of the conversation. The way you said his name made him feel a sort of way. Zane found himself wanting to hear it again. He kept a note to himself that you may be valuable to him, drowning the weird feeling he got from his name being spoken.

Later in the evening he caught notice of your snappy attitude and how you tend to be more to yourself yet also spare a kind smile to people. Zane doesn't understand why you have caught his attention, he found himself tracking everything you did. To him you were just a normal pathetic thing with knowledge he can use, yet here he was admiring the power he can see that you hold. He just wants to break it. No not break it. Absorb it. Make it his. Make you his. He wants not only the power of your knowledge but you. So here he was, after the celebration had ended, in your little library admiring the audacity you had to talk to a high being in such a way.

" Of course, my apologies for speaking to a lady in such a rude manner," he bowed to you. You raised your eyebrow at his apologies, you didn't take him as a man that would do that.

"It's nothing," you brushed it off not noticing the way he looked at you as you begin to look for a girdle it can be easier for the man to carry them.

" I am guessing that you will be purchasing instead of returning since you have such a ways trip?"

"Can't spare to give them for free?"

"Will you have my head if I don't?" You said ,not meaning for it to sound appalled by his playful tone. Zane started to laugh at your statement causing you to tense up. Oh this beating heart of his is making you less and less annoying than other people. Oh is he going to have fun with you.

"Why would I do such a thing? That is a sin in the eyes of our dear Matron." You took notice at how his smile reached his eyes when the whole night that never seemed to be the case when other people approached him. Maybe the stories about him aren't true.

"Yeah you're right that was stupid of me to even say"

"Don't worry about it, it was a nice joke. What is your name?" It was a useless question to even ask since he already got his guards to find out for him a few minutes prior in order to find this place. You tell him your name.

" That is such a lovely name."

" Why thank you High Priest," you bow. Oh did he enjoy that. A weak thing like you bowing to him and looking at him like that. What he would do is just for you to look at him with those eyes for all eternity. Yet the way you say his status instead of his actual name caused him to make an unsatisfied face.

"Would you like to accompany me to my ship to help me?"

You took a moment to think about it. It wasn't an unusual request from people so you didn't know why you were so hesitant. It was probably just the tales about him that have stopped you or maybe the fact he has guards that could do that for him. Realizing you have taken a while to reply you tell him yes and follow.

After helping him with the books you tell him about his payment.

"Oh yes of course."

Before you knew it, you were knocked out quickly. Zane looked down at your unconscious state. Oh how pathetic and vulnerable you were, don't worry he would take care of you.

Part 2

[decentishoutsidersthoughts]

hi!! do you have any favorite hcs for each of the gang members?

I have a few headcannons! If anyone wants to hear more about these I’d love to elaborate!

TW for child abuse in Steve and Johnny’s parts, and thoughts of suicide in Johnny’s first headcannon

ℙ𝕠𝕟𝕪𝕓𝕠𝕪 ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤

My guy is honestly lacking in friends at school. Most of the gang either dropped out a long time ago or are in a completely different grade. He gets along with people on the track team and stuff but most of them kinda just see him as ‘cool enough’ and not really a friend

One time one of the guys from the team held a party and nobody told him about it. When he found out he tried to act like it didn’t matter to him but it still stung. He didn’t even want to go, it was just the idea that nobody bothered to invite him

He’d be that one kid in college that didn’t have a lot of freedom during high school and just goes absolutely crazy. It takes him a semester to learn how to use his free will responsibly. I actually have a lot of Ponyboy college headcanons if anyone would be interested in those.

When he learns to drive he’s actually a pretty good driver, and people trust him to take them places. The only problem is that he seems to be a magnet for terrible drivers. Like he gets on the road and suddenly nobody around him remembers wtf a turn signal is.

He definitely curses out people when he’s driving. Darry has straight up given up on trying to correct his language behind the wheel

𝕊𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕡 ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤

I’ve mentioned this one before, but he cannot STAND people being angry with him. Like he will just agree with whatever the gang asks to keep peace. It’s a lot of the reason why he hates being pulled into arguments, because he can’t avoid upsetting someone.

Sometimes when Darry and Ponyboy are going at it he’ll just straight up leave without being noticed. He honestly started pushing how much he could get away with it until he eventually did get caught after he was still gone at 4am. Darry felt too guilty to even be able to lecture him.

Because of his aversion to conflict him and Darry hardly ever argue, but when they do it’s UGLY. It’s like a whole world war breaking out in the living room. It’ll almost always end with Soda sobbing and Darry usually just has to like, leave for a while. One time they didn’t talk for three days. People don’t even try to get between them because it always makes things worse. In the end they always manage to talk it out though, sometimes it just takes a while.

Less angsty one, Soda makes people go on walks with him in the middle of the night. Usually it’s Steve, but he’ll take Ponyboy if there’s no school the next day. One time he even made Dally come with him by threatening to go by himself if he didn’t come lol. As much as everyone complains about it, they never tell him no.

In school he had detention like every single day. All his teachers absolutely despised him and he would’ve had to redo his junior year if he hadn’t dropped out.

𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕤

During high school he’d get really pissed when his Soc friends beat up Greasers. He actually got a couple of them to stop completely, but others just learned to do it without getting caught. They all knew better than to mess with the gang, though,

Speaking of high school, he just straight up wasn’t welcome into most of his friend’s homes. Only Paul’s parents actually liked him, and only like two other people’s parents even pretended to like him.

Darry waited until after his parents funeral to cry so that his brother wouldn’t see him. The priest came and sat with him for a little bit while he just sobbed hysterically.

Sometimes he sits by their graves and asks for advice. He doesn’t get any, obviously, but he always leaves with his mind a little more clear than it was before.

𝕁𝕠𝕙𝕟𝕟𝕪 ℂ𝕒𝕕𝕖

When the Socs jumped him, he honestly thought he was going to die. That scared him, but that scared him even more was the fact that he wasn’t that upset about it. It wasn’t until the gang showed up that he realized how much he really didn’t want to die now, but in the moment it almost felt like a nice release.

For a couple weeks after the Curtis parents died, he’d come over every day and just do chores and cook. He didn’t feel like it was a lot, but to Darry who had to do a million things at once while barely being able to get out of bed it meant so much.

Sometimes he’ll sit by the train tracks, and whenever a train rolls by he’ll think about jumping on it and just running away from everything. But he can’t stand the idea of leaving Ponyboy and Dally, so he doesn’t.

Him and Steve don’t talk much, but they have the common ground of coming from shitty home lives. Sometimes they’ll just come to eachother to get an injury taken care of or just to breathe for a minute, and then they’ll just never mention it again.

𝔻𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟

Tulsa was supposed to just be a temporary stop for him until he met Johnny. Then he decided staying a few weeks wouldn’t hurt. Sometimes he still tells himself he’ll leave eventually, but he knows that’ll never happen.

Before the Curtis parents died part of him looked up to Darry and the way he took care of the gang. That went away after the Curtis parents died and everything started falling apart, but for a while he saw Darry as what he used to want to be.

Him and Tim Shepard have an unspoken agreement that one can piss the other off when they want a fight. At this point it’s basically a challenge to see who can make the other angrier. Dallas won when sold Angela drugs for a party.

Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda will constantly be dragging him to incredibly sketchy parties. They claim it’s for protection but really they just wanna hang out and they know he can’t say no if he’s worried about them getting murdered in a back alley.

𝕋𝕨𝕠-𝔹𝕚𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕨𝕤

He met Darry when they were in elementary school, and they’re best friends. He’s also been a designated babysitter for as long as he could remember. Him and Darry don’t hang out a ton anymore, but they’re still the first person eachother go to when they need help.

Idk if yall have seen that video where they’re making a drink without knowing what everyone else put into it, and everyone is putting in mixers cause they don’t trust Ali. And then at the end Ali shows up and pours in like half a bottle of ever clear. Ali is Two-Bit.

Him and his sister are insanely close. They’re constantly having tea parties and gossip sessions. He made Soda teach him how to do hair just so that he could do hers.

𝕊𝕥𝕖𝕧𝕖 ℝ𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖

One of the most loyal motherfuckers you’ll ever meet. He doesn’t actually like a lot of people, but he will literally kill for the people he does.

Evie isn’t allowed in the Curtis house anymore, not because they don’t like her, but everyone just got sick of watching Steve and her make out. She’s unofficially banned from the DX for the same reason. (Something Steve found very unfair because Soda and Sandy were just as bad the second Darry was gone)

His dad used to be really violent when he was younger, but as he got older he also got stronger and his dad got weaker. Things aren’t bad anymore because his dad knows that if Steve gets scared enough then he WILL kill him.

Absolutely loves speeding down the road in the middle of the night. He’ll drag Soda and Evie on VERY illegal joy rides. Tbh even when he’s not breaking road laws for fun he still drives like an absolute maniac. 

[groversimp]

each word we spoke, the wind blew away - part one

writers are crafted through pain, and only some (the lucky ones) find love through that. think of the greatest writers: how many of them never bled? zero. because without knowing how bad the suffering is, you cannot know how good the joy is. and, we often find that joy in that suffering (though it can often turn into deformed lust).

^^^ moros is not a writer, but this is a sentiment I think he would agree with when it comes to Reader.

OLETHROS IS MOROS’ MAIN EPITHET MEANING “DESTRUCTION” (though it typically carries a positive connotation, representing renewal and the natural cycle of ending & beginning. yes this is relevant to the plot).

warnings: angst, reader keeps dying. no beta, no editing, we die like men.

You’re the embodiment of love. You’re the definition of light. He’s always been the dark, perpetually sad and hurt. His heart has failed to beat his whole life, but it awakens when he’s with you.

Your hands could breathe life into anything. With a brush of your fingers on the porous limestone, you shaped creations and gave birth to new life.

The statue stared back at you, and you cupped his face with one hand. The other hand holds your chisel, and you lean in as you form his lips. Moros, doom incarnate, appreciate this offering.

When you place the sculpture in the temple, you grin up at it— dust covering you, sticking to your face.

He was beautiful, carved to perfection. The outline of his eyes, the shape of his body. The statue could bring a warrior to his knees in worship. This is who high-priests spoke to, mortals feared. This is your creation, and you bask in the pride that swells in your chest.

You come back a few days later, only to find a strange man staring up at your statue. You blink at him, taking in his form— his grey-tinted skin, his long hair.

The rich fabrics of his clothing that did little to actually cover him, his full abdomen exposed. This couldn’t be some random traveler, too beautiful and too divine.

In your thoughts, his gaze flickers to you. You don’t notice the unsureness in his look before speaking, nor the slight awkwardness in his form.

“Hello, Mortal.” He speaks. You would’ve expected the mans voice to be cruel, cold and unforgiving. But the steady flow of his warm tone brings a smile to your lips, and as you get a closer look at him, visuals of mythos and tales flash before your eyes.

“Olethros.” You greet him, your voice ringing out as you offer a graceful bow. When you rise, you come closer to him. “Do you like the sculpture, my lord?” The note of hopefulness in your throat makes him swallow, and the look in your eye is almost ethereal— pure beauty.

But Moros has never been one for beauty. All he brings is doom, and doom is something sinister. Beauty is a form of righteousness, you cannot be good nor strong without that beauty, which then brings grace. If he dooms everything he touches, why would he touch anything beautiful? Beauty, love, is not made for him to doom.

“It’s quite nice.” He replies, and you beam. The light you exhibit could rival the sun, and he’d become like Icarus. A madman tearing his hair out as he flies towards you.

He only nods in response, because he is not deserving of such things, no trace of you can be found on him because it would only make you bleed.

Moros stays with you for a little while that day, until he is called back up to his sisters, he has more people to doom.

As he excuses himself, you reach out a hand to stop him. Moros backs away, but you ignore that. “You know you’re welcome anytime, Lord Moros. My door is always open.”

Again, he only nods in response. But, an understanding fills his mind: he won’t ever come to visit to again.

Two weeks later he finds you slaving away on a new sculpture.

You turn with a curious glance, and look victorious when you see him. “It took you long enough, Olethros.”

Moros approaches you, eyes set on the new sculpture. “Who is it?” He asks. You turn and return to your work, a quiet giggle escapes your lips. “Adonis, my lord.” You answer softly, almost wistfully.

He stays with you till his sisters call him back, when he leaves you invite him over again, and you swear you see a small smile on his face. Once again he nods, disappearing to wherever he’s been called.

Months and months past, and your relationship shifts. From god and worshipper, to (slightly hesitant) friend and friend.

It was when you were adding finishing touches to a sculpture of Aphrodite that you first touched him. You stood on a nauseatingly tall platform, when it began to shake from beneath you. You thought nothing of it till the planks creaked and you decided to get off.

In your struggle, you gripped Moros’ shoulder and helped yourself down. At the feeling of your touch, he stepped away, his eyebrows furrowed.

”Y/n—“ Moros says your name, you smile at him. “What, Olethros? Afraid of a small touch.” You reach out again, hand on his bicep, he pushes your hand off of his arm.

“I do not fear you, Doom. And I will not shy away from you. Do you hear me?”

“I hear a fools words.”

You grin at him, and only take a step closer, your chest brushing his. Moros scoffs, “you create your own ruin, you doom yourself—“

“And I will happily do so. Gods know it’s what fate has in store for me.”

Moros thought of the Fates, his sisters. Ever-lovely and so far away, his fingers twitch. They would like you, that’s not a good sign.

Moros, beautiful and terrifying to any other mortal, only bows his head. Conflicted. He leaves with his head bowed as well, throwing you a glance with a glimmer of a small smile, one you’ve become accustomed to. You grin back at him, coughing at the dust that floats through the air.

He comes back two days later, only for his soft smile to fade. You aren’t in the foyer, your Aphrodite statue is long-abandoned. With his eyebrows creased, he searches the temple and your private living spaces. Your name is the only thing on his lips, having found its home there within the past few weeks. Finally, he proceeds to check the last room— your bedroom.

You are laid motionless and cold on your plush bed. And there’s a moment of hesitation before he’s at your side, his hands hovering over you.

“Y/n.” He says, voice echoing in the dark room. “Mortal.” He says again, louder. The notes of panic in his voice is something foreign. He was doom itself, he had nothing to fear.

Accept the loss of you.

When he returns to his sisters, he asks how you died— what had happened.

“Pneumoconiosis.” Lachesis answers him. Dust in the lungs. That was your doom.

So, Moros continued on. Mortals were born, mortals died, and still he doomed them with his hands. The hands that aided in your death. What else could’ve killed you?

There’s always been a shadowy crook within Moros’ soul— made not to love or be loved, but rather he is made to be evil. Because he is tainted with blood, and blood is anything but pure— and is evil not the absence of purity? This crook has never been important or dark enough to be fully recognized. But still, it follows Moros everywhere. A cut that always bleeds, a bruise that is too stubborn to heal. That crook, that wound, consumed him at the moment of your loss.

[lucifersresources]

taylor swift // the tortured poets department : the anthology rp meme part two. part one here.

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!

the black dog.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

old habits die screaming.

i move through the world with the heartbroken.

my longings stay unspoken.

i may never open up the way i did for you.

do you hate me?

i pledged and i still mean it.

now i wanna sell my clothes and set fire to all my clothes.

i wanna hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons.

i wanna hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons, even if i die screaming.

imgonnagetyouback.

i can tell when somebody still wants me.

i'm gonna get you back.

i'm gonna curse you.

you were never not mine.

i can take the upper hand.

i might just love you till the end.

we're becoming something new.

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

we broke all the pieces but still wanna play the game.

told my friends i hate you.

i love you just the same.

pick your poison, babe, i'm poison either way.

the albatross.

wild winds are death to the candle.

a rose by any other name is a scandal.

they tried to warn him about her.

cross your thoughtless heart.

only liquor anoints you.

she is here to destroy you.

one bad seed kills the garden.

i'd visit in your dreams.

they tried to warn you about me.

devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger.

she's the death you chose.

you're in terrible danger.

the devil that you know looks more like an angel.

i'm the life you chose.

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus.

you just watched it happen.

i loved you the way that you were.

tear my world apart.

you said some things that i can't unabsorb.

you turned me into an idea of sorts.

you needed me.

you needed me, but you needed drugs more.

i couldn't watch it happen.

i crashed into you like so many wrecks do.

too impaired by my youth to know what to do.

can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses?

it just didn't happen.

will i always wonder?

how did it end?

we hereby conduct this post-mortem.

our maladies were such we could not cure them.

a touch that was my birthright became foreign.

how did it end?

we were blind to unforeseen circumstances.

we learned the right steps to different dances.

the death rattle breathing silenced as the soul was leaving.

my beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree.

i can't pretend like i understand.

so high school.

tell me about the first time you saw me.

look at you.

no one's ever had me, not like you.

you knew what you wanted.

i hate it here.

tell me something awful.

tell me all your secrets.

all you'll ever be is my eternal consolation prize.

now i seem to be scared to go outside.

i don't believe in good luck.

i hate it here.

i will go to secret gardens in my mind.

nostalgia is a mind's trick.

only the gentle survived.

i dreamed about it in the dark.

i felt like i might die.

i'm lonely.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

this place made me feel worthless.

in my fantasies, i rise above it.

thanK you aIMee.

it was always the same searing pain.

all that time you were throwing punches, i was building something.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

but i can't forget the way you made me heal.

it wasn't a fair fight.

i built a legacy that you can't undo.

i built a legacy.

but when i count the scars, there's a moment of truth.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

in your mind, you never beat my spirit black and blue.

i don't think you've changed much.

i look in people's windows.

i had died the tiniest death.

i'm afflicted by the not knowing.

what if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

the prophecy.

i got cursed like eve got bitten.

a greater woman wouldn't beg.

please, i've been on my knees, change the prophecy.

change the prophecy.

who do i have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?

i still dream of him.

even statues crumble if they're made to wait.

i'm so afraid i sealed my fate.

someone tell me it'll be okay.

cassandra.

burn the bitch.

do you believe me now?

i was in my tower, weaving nightmares.

what doesn't kill you makes you aware.

what happens if it becomes who you are?

they knew the whole time.

when the truth comes out, it's quiet.

peter.

forgive me.

is it something i did?

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

you said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

promises oceans-deep, but never to keep.

are you still a mind reader?

are you still a natural scene-stealer?

i've heard great things, *name*.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

underneath the same moon, in different galaxies.

i won't confess that i waited.

i let the lamp burn.

as the men masqueraded, i hoped you'd return.

love's never lost when perspective is earned.

the shelf life of those fantasies has expired.

lost to the 'lost boys' chapter of your life.

forgive me, *name*, please know that i tried.

please know that i tried.

please know that i tried to hold on to the days when you were mine.

the bolter.

we must stop meeting like this.

as she was leaving, it felt like breathing.

she liked the way it tastes.

she just knows she must bolt.

there's escape in escaping.

robin.

you are bloodthirsty.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

you'll learn to bounce back.

the manuscript.

now and then she rereads the manuscript.

now and then she rereads the manuscript of the entire torrid affair.

i'm not a donor but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

but soon, it was over.

everything had been above board.

the years passed like scenes of a show.

write what you know.

looking backwards might be the only way to move forward.

the tears fell in synchronicity with the score.

at last, she knew what the agony had been for.

the only thing that's left is the manuscript.

the only thing that's left is the manuscript, one last souvenir from my trip to your shores.

but the story isn't mine anymore.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Is It true that Lebon gathered musicians to play music during the executions in Arras?

The the best source mentioning any such thing I’ve got so far is a letter from Armand Joseph Guffroy to Robespierre dated 18 floréal (May 7 1794), published in the former’s Les secrets de Joseph Lebon et de ses complices, released a few months after the fall of latter:

To relax, and to be consistent, you must this evening, or tomorrow at the latest, have Demeulier and his three companions freed from the Madelonnettes, to know for yourself the truth of what is happening in Arras. Listen and remember; these are Patriots oppressed by a Priest, who has been locked up like a madman, and who, when he could no longer be fanatic and superstitious, became a fanatical patriot through avarice, and caused patriotism and virtue to be hated by his extravagant conduct; or should I say, by his atrocious conduct. Know that, placed on the balcony of the comedy, on the fish market, (today Place de la Revolution), with his nose on the guillotine, he spoke with passion about the execution, and he ordered the tune ça ira to be played (il a fait jouer par la musique l’air ça ira). […]

Guffroy was Lebon’s archenemy, so this information should of course be treated with some caution. We know Guffroy was not an eye witness to this (but also that he did have contacts with people that could have been, such as Antoine Buissart and one Solon), that his goal with the letter is to get Robespierre to recall Lebon, increasing the chances he would lay it on thick in describing what he’s been up to (or could it instead be argued he would try to be as truthful as possible in order to get Robespierre to see how bad it really is?) and that stories about representatives on mission taking pleasure in watching the executions take place hardly is something unique for Lebon, and in some cases can be disproven (such as in the case of Collot d’Herbois, who almost certainly did not personally witness the shootings of condemned in Lyon).

Besides that, I found the following two testimonies from possible eye witnesses, both cited within this great blog post. The two are however written both 1, way after the fact, and 2, by people hostile to Lebon, making it hard to rule out the possibility their stories are embellished or even build on what Guffroy wrote in his report (although in the latter case, the part about the music is a very tiny detail among almost 500 pages, so it still seems a bit strange they would all pick exactly that detail to copy):

When any of his colleagues passed through Arras, [Lebon] always proposed their joining with him in a "partie de Guillotine", and the executions were perpetrated on a small square at Arras, rather than the great one, that he, his wife, and relations, might more commodiously enjoy the spectacle from the balcony of the theatre, where they took their coffee, attended by a band of music, which played while his human butchery lasted. A Residence in France during the years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795 (1798) by Charlotte Biggs.

Penetrating the crowd, which was thronging in the dark and winding streets, I soon reached the fish-market. Then the first object which struck my sight was the guillotine, raising its blood-red boards above the silent multitude. An old man, whom they had just tied to the fatal plank, was the victim; suddenly I heard the sound of trumpets. On a high place which overlooked the orchestra, was seated a man, still young, clad in a Carmagnole of black and blue stripes. This person, whose appearance announced monastic rather than military habits, was leaning carelessly on a cavalry sabre, the large hilt of which represented the Cap of Liberty; a row of pistols ornamented his girdle, and his hat, turned up in the Spanish fashion, was surmounted by a large tri-coloured cockade: I recognised Joseph Lebon. At this moment his mean countenance was animated with a horrid smile; he paused from beating time with his left foot; the trumpets stopped; he made a signal, and the old man was placed under the blade. A sort of clerk, half drunk, then appeared at the side of the " avenger of the people," and read with a hoarse voice a bulletin of the army of the Rhine and Moselle. At each paragraph the orchestra sounded a chord; and when the reading was concluded, the head of the wretched old man was stricken off amidst shouts of "Vive la republique!" repeated by the satellites of the ferocious Lebon. I shall never forget, nor can I adequately depict the impression of this horrible sight. I reached my father's house almost as lifeless as the miserable being whose agony had been so cruelly prolonged; and then I learnt that he was M. de Mongon, the old commandant of the citadel, condemned as an aristocrat. Memoirs of Eugène Vidocq (1829)

[bunnedoesart]

Introducing: Angel/Angelica

Quick overview:

After my last PC was tragically lost to the plant people deep in the march forever (I lost the save file) I started Angelica. She's got solid grades, loved at school, and very athletic. Spends any time she doesn't need to keep those up at the Temple, an angel through and through. Although she's almost universally loved by people that know her she's in fact extremely sadistic, and holds between distaste and straight up hatred for the "sinners" around her all the time. In combat/sex she prefers to assault and degrade participants, making them relent under unceasing beatings and insults.

Outside of the game head canons:

Instead of the Orphanage I hc she was abandoned at the Temple as a baby, who saw her as a good opportunity to raise their next "saviour" from birth. As such she's grown up surrounded by the Temple's propaganda and influence, leading to her superiority complex and religious passion. After she grew up and began displaying her angelic form she was sent to live at the Orphanage to spread the Temple's influence and "save" the other people living there, the allowance from the Temple going to paying Bailey. Her wings come and go at her whim, but the halo always hangs above her head and gives off a slight glow, which often leads to her getting stopped in the street by temple-goers to talk.

Interactions with NPCs/LIs:

Angel's main love interest is Sydney, naturally. She likes Sydney's faith and devotion to the Temple, but can get quite territorial when priests start showing Sydney too much interest, and so uses their relationship to keep Sydney and her faith in check, stopping her (Sydney is female in this save) from getting too much attention.

Angel also interacts with Whitney a lot, often butting heads as two high profile blondes at school. Angel has respect for Whitney as serving a purpose, and their understanding is generally that Whitney gets the fame and reputation of "dating" the school's angel, and Angel uses him to keep the delinquents in line so they cause less trouble at school.

Teehee that was way more writing than I thought but hopefully anyone interested now has a good idea of this horrible bitch that I love a lot. Feel free to ask questions/draw her/write about her/etc I'd be honoured if she was recognised in the community.

[miamochi-writes]

Always on My Mind

A/N: Hi! Been awhile since I posted Wolfwood x reader. I was inspired by a Wolfwood art piece made by @usuallynana​ ❤️ Please check out her beautiful work! Hope you enjoy!

You hated that cockiness. You hated that smirk. You hated how smug he was. You hated how he looked at you. You hated how he teased you. You hated him, yet he made you feel things you had never felt before one night. That person was Nicholas D. Wolfwood, who lived rent-free in your mind.

Meeting Wolfwood was a happy accident. The gang was driving past the desert dunes into the next city. All of you were lost in your thoughts until something hit the van. One minute, everyone was panicking about nearly killing a passerby. The next minute, he was fine and walking on his own two feet.

Your first impression of him? A mysterious person that knew how to smooth talk his way out of any situation. He was the kind of person that was nowhere near your type. He lied about being a priest, wore a shit-eating grin, and held many secrets. Plus, he carried this high-tech cross weapon that could annihilate a gigantic sand worm or human life at any moment. Any time you tried to dig any information out of him, he would either reply with vague anecdotes or tease the living daylights out of you. 

Whenever you found yourself in sticky situations or fought with pesky enemies, Wolfwood was always there to alleviate or take care of things. Some people can say he was helping you, but the thing was you never asked for his help. You were competent enough to diffuse any fights and beat up some baddies. Despite your efforts, Wolfwood always had to come at you with the nickname he gave you no matter the situation.

“You looked like you needed some help, Your Highness.”

“Careful there, wouldn’t want to see yourself get hurt, Your Highness.”

“On your left, Your Highness!”

Oh how that name irked you. Every. Single. Time. You don’t know where he came up with that nickname for you, but you were far from a spoiled brat. You can fight just like him and Vash with your gun and fists. You made sure everyone was taken care of before even taking care of yourself. So who was he to go around and call you that nickname so matter-of-factly?

Anytime you fought bandits, police, military, sandworms, or anything getting in your way, you made it a point that you were capable of fighting on your own. Sometimes, you would knock out one of the enemies for Wolfwood if he wasn’t careful enough.

“Just thought you needed a hand, Nico~” you told him one day. Oh did that strike a nerve for him. You could see he was red with rage as you laughed at his reaction.

“That’s Wolfwood to you, Your Highness!” he yelled. Sometimes, the teasing between you two would start silly competitions such as “Who could finish the fight faster? How many enemies can you knock out?” Meryl and Vash never heard the end of it with the constant teasing and bickering from you two. It didn’t matter where you two where or who was there with you, but one of you had to had the last word. Eventually, Meryl and Vash would get used to it or they would:

a. Break up the incessant arguing (Vash always resorts to this).

b. Someone will threaten to stop or swerve the van (that someone is always Meryl).

Option B only happened when Wolfwood was fighting recklessly to where he got injured multiple times. When you saw how bad he looked, you ran to his aid immediately once you took care of the men shooting at you. Before you could apply first aid, Wolfwood refused your help. He kept turning you down and said he didn’t need treatment. You two practically yelled at each other until Meryl halted the van. She couldn’t take the fighting anymore, and locked the two of you inside until someone gave in. Eventually, Wolfwood explained why he refused your help when you saw his wounds disappear. He showed you the ampule he took and disclosed a bit of his past to you. You saw his more vulnerable side, and appreciated that there were less secrets between the two of you. From that day on, you held a bit more respect for Wolfwood and the teasing toned down...a little.

~*~ Fast forward to many weeks of fighting and visiting new cities ~*~ 

Vash and Meryl were resting at the bar after a long day of fighting off bandits and police in the city. Overwhelmed by the loud cheers of drunken men and how stuffy the bar was, you decided to get some fresh air. Welcomed by the cool crisp air, you smiled at the fresh breeze. Plus, the moon looked beautiful tonight. You wanted to take advantage of the scenery, and how peaceful outside was. That was until you picked up the faint smell of smoke. The universe really said you’re not getting 5 minutes of peace. You were about to tell the person to quit smoking until your eyes landed on him.

Despite how dark it was, you could tell it was Wolfwood as he was lighting up his cigarette. The light from his cigarette highlighted Wolfwood’s calloused hands that carried the heaviest weight. Yet, those same hands were delicate enough to protect the fading embers from the night’s cool breeze. Furthermore, that light highlighted and accentuated his facial features. You never knew how well-sculpted Wolfwood’s face and jawline wer until now. The way his dark brown eyes met your e/c eyes gave you goosebumps. Finally, once he realized it was you, he gave you a small smirk that you knew all too well. Anytime you were with him put you in an irritable mood. Yet, the way he looked at you tonight felt different. His gaze made your heart race, and his smirk made your stomach do cartwheels.

“Fancy seeing you here, Your Highness,” he spoke. When did his voice start to sound so sultry and make your cheeks flush? Was this the same Wolfwood you traveled with that Meryl and Vash were familiar with? 

“Hey, Earth to Y/n? Are you going to answer me? Or let me guess. Cat got your tongue?” Wolfwood asked as he cocked his eyebrow at you. His smirk grew slightly as he asked you those questions. Your head was spiraling, and you needed to act fast.

“As if! You know how I feel about smoking, and you calling me that nickname. It’s so appalling, I can’t think properly,” you argued and pouted at him.

“There’s that feisty spirit of yours. So what brings you here to join me?” he answered with a hearty chuckle. He then blew the smoke away from you as the cold breeze carried it away.

“First off, it was too stuffy inside the bar. Second, I didn’t know you would be out here. So don’t flatter yourself,” you explained. He chuckled again at your response. He then closed the top of his lighter and put it away in his breast pocket. Since when did he have such defined pe-

‘SNAP OUT OF IT Y/N! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING THERE?!’ you screamed internally.

The more you looked at him, the more disoriented you were with your thoughts. You managed to look away and stare at the moon to gather your thoughts. What in the world was happening to you?

“Hey, Y/n,”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

You don’t know why, but you reluctantly looked at him again to see his hand approaching your face. You panicked at what he was planning to do, but you froze at his touch. His fingertips gently brushed your cheek as you held your breath. You couldn’t look away from his eyes as he was focused looking at you. Finally, he pulled his hand away from you as you exhaled away the tension.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“You had a stray eyelash. Make a wish,” Wolfwood answered with a grin as he held it before you. The way the moonlight shined on Wolfwood left you speechless. You were nervous all because he was trying to remove a stray eyelash on you. What has gotten into you? You shook away your thoughts and blew away the eyelash. At least you managed to do that.

“What did you wish for?” he asked.

“I’m not telling you, or else my wish isn’t coming true,” you replied. Then another cold breeze hit you. You regretted not taking a swig of beer to warm you up before leaving.

“Bet you wish you had something warm,” Wolfwood teased as you scoffed. Then you felt something on your shoulders. You turned around to see Wolfwood smoking but with his button-up only.

“You need it more than I do. Hate to see you catch a cold anyway,” he continued talking as you looked at him. He then started walking past you as he put his arms behind his head.

“I’ll be inside taking a shot before calling it a night. You can keep that for tonight. Just make sure to give it back in the morning ‘kay?” Wolfwood added as he winked at you. You didn’t say anything, but nod your head at him. You could feel your cheeks turn a tinge of red as he continued walking.

“Don’t do something I wouldn’t do Y/n,” he waved off without looking at you. You slowly slid down to the ground once he was gone from your peripheral vision. Your knees were close to your chest as you held onto his clothing. It smelled just like him and cigarettes. Your heart raced at the thought of him. 

The way he looked at you. The way his hands carried the Punisher. The way he was always next to you in battle. The way he grinned at you. The way his fingertips touched your cheek. The way he winked at you. The way he spoke to you just now was overwhelming. After being alone in your thoughts, it hit you. Your eyes widened at the realization as your face flushed. Despite no one being around you, you covered your red face with both hands.

“I think I like him,” you said out loud.

@invisible-imaginary​

[lyledebeast]

Dirty Fighting and Slanted Storytelling

I would venture to say that one of the most aggravating things about The Patriot for Jason Isaacs fans is the narrative's refusal to acknowledge what we can all see: Tavington is objectively the best fighter in the story. He just is. He defeats every foe who crosses his path in the river scene, including the one who shoots him. He beats Benjamin Martin to his knees after being wounded by him numerous times. Martin only wins because he's the hero (and because he is nearly pelted with helpful props!)

It's especially grating when the heroes are held up as martial paragons in spite of their conduct. It seems the audience is meant to judge their combat tactics by their morality even when those tactics are dirty. During the fight in the woods after the British take Gabriel, Martin knocks a British soldier down and tomahawks him in the face while he's trying to get up. After he stabs Tavington's horse out from under him, he fires a shot at him while he's disoriented and empty-handed. But when Tavington sucker-punches him during hand to hand combat, the camera moves in on Martin's pained expression, inviting the audience to sympathize with him. Poor man. Who could've guessed that choosing violence would put him on the receiving end of it?

A particularly good example of this reading is the river scene in Stephen Molstad's novelization, which is as much an interpretation of the film as this meta. He describes Tavington as being so rattled that the priest is reloading his weapon as fast as he is that he spills his powder and later fleeing on his horse in terror after he stabs Gabriel, looking over his shoulder in expectation of being pursued. And yet between the moments so described we have Tavington, wounded in the side, lying perfectly still with his back to his assailant waiting for him to approach so he can flip over--from the ground, mind!--and stab him, like this is something a jumpy coward could manage. Tavington has balls of steel to match the buns the camera so lovingly frames in these shots.

Of course, Molstad does not write this scene from Tavington's perspective. He describes this part in third person as follows:

Tavington suddenly flipped himself over and drove the point of a sword into Gabriel’s gut, stabbing upward toward the heart. It happened so suddenly, the young man never had a chance to defend himself.

This sentence immediately follows a paragraph from Gabriel's perspective where he contemplates whether he should butcher Tavington alive the way his father did the Cherokees and French at Fort Wilderness. He briefly considers that he may be "too good a man" for this, but when he considers what his wife must have felt perishing in a burning church with her family and community, he decides he's justified. This scene not only frames Gabriel's choice as Tavington's fault but suggests that blame for Martin's gruesome actions also lay with his victims. That Tavington is framed as the aggressor for defending himself from such a fate is the cherry on top of the reality-averse sundae.

Gabriel and Tavington's deaths are often connected by people who see the second as making a right out of the wrong the first represents, but what we see on screen indicates that Tavington wins both of these fights by being stronger and more resilient than his opponents. But that does not matter because he's a bad man. That Martin regularly brutalizes men who cannot defend themselves, and Gabriel attempts to follow in his footsteps, is treated as equally irrelevant to their status as good men.

What this reading fails to account for is how satisfying it is to see Martin's dirty tactics fail. When we compare his first fight to his last one, Martin looks less like the noble hero and father and more like a high school bully who has been beating up seventh graders to take their lunch money and now has to fight the captain of the boxing team. It is euphoric!

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @the-golden-comet and @wyked-ao3!

Silent Sunday Tag🚀

Rules: Write something without any dialogue. Inner dialogue, aka thoughts, is allowed but that's it. Thoughts and actions, to keep the scene/snippet/whatever you wish 'silent'

I mean Anarac is just perfect for this, all his scenes are silent. Here are his initial thoughts on his crew mates!

In the latest hours of the agreed-upon night, when the others slept in the superfluous way of the dead, a clear tenor voice occasionally rang out from on high. Anarac secretly listened as Faalgun ran through countless bar ballads and sailor’s laments, with even a few of what might’ve been classical pieces mixed in. Sometimes, Anarac would even tap his foot in time. The young star sailor had quite the voice, especially in the ears of someone who hadn’t heard music in a very long time.

However, as much as he enjoyed Faalgun’s songs, it was the other three he actually saw the most of. Mostly, Anarac hid when they were around. He was curious about them, yes, but also wary of getting too close. As a compromise, he watched from a distance. That way, he couldn’t hurt them and they couldn’t get close enough to accidentally snap his fragile self.

Such observations were… intriguing. For most of his existence, all Anarac had possessed were observations, so he was quite good at them. Or, he supposed he better be, otherwise that was just seven thousand years in the bin.

Nyda was the one who stuck out the most to him. That had to be a purposeful state, he assumed. What else were the green mohawk and dozens of piercings for, if not to draw eyes? She was quite begrudging about it, but she did perform the cataloging duties needed for the start of the voyage. Unlike Kaulakri, she didn’t seem all that interested in getting into the science of what they were doing.

There was another piece that stuck out to him. Anarac wasn’t terribly familiar with Nabafyrian traditions—the people were old enough to have existed when he had lived on Illaros, but it wasn’t like he’d traveled to their forest with his, as he best remembered, middling salary. However, he did recall later instances. Flashes of dark rain and a monstrous form he beat at, trapped from within. A forest damp with blood, like a storm of red rain. A swarm of green-haired berserkers his shadowed, taloned hands swatted at like gnats.

Anarac swallowed down a distant echo of nausea as he felt the sticky blood coat his palms. When he blinked, he found himself sitting, huddled up behind one of the crates. How long have I been sitting here? Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter much.

Pushing through, Anarac recalled the odd braided belts the Nabafyrian warrior-priests had worn. Some had been decorated with tufts of what looked like hair. Nyda wore a similar belt—two strips of brown leather stuck through with tiny braids of green, red, brown, and black. He wondered what the significance was. She had seemed put out by Pash’s assumption that she was a guard, though, then again, she seemed put out by most things.

Pash was another odd one, with odd energy. Nyda had called him fae, Fair Folk. Anarac knew little of such things—he’d seen the elusive folk occasionally pass from their realm into this one when he’d existed on high. End hadn’t been too concerned with them, though, so neither had he. Now that he was himself again, Anarac wondered where the Fair Folk actually came from when they dove in and out of their pools of moonlight.

It didn’t seem to be a harsh place, judging by Pash. The young man had an easy-going air and softly manicured hands. His clothes were fairly nice, indicating he’d been able to make a decent living as a musician. However, just like with Nyda, there were details that stuck out to Anarac.

Whenever he slept in the hold, Pash always remained facing the door, his back to a wall. He wasn’t overt about it, but he always kept the people around him in the peripherals of his view, never allowing them completely behind his back. And, of course, there was his slit throat. That was not the wound of a musician with the right sort of friends, Anarac decided. He felt a stab of concern for the kid even now, knowing it was far too late to change his fate.

Kaulakri, out of all of them, concerned Anarac the least. He’d met many like her—he imagined he had, at least—in his time. Well put together, slightly frazzled, ferociously organized. Always thought of as a little stodgy or odd, but no organization could function without them. He’d say he was glad to have someone so unflappable aboard, however, there was that slap to consider….

A moment of fury in a whirl of confusing circumstances, or a sign of some deeper instability? Anarac was hard-pressed to say. He sighed as he began to do something he hadn’t done in a very long time: he began to pace. All these new faces had his energy up. Almost, his legs felt like they recalled how pleasurable exertion could be.

I'll tag @somethingclevermahogony @lostcryptidinthewoods @kuebiko-writing @mysticstarlightduck @willtheweaver and anyone else who wants to play :)

[ednito]

pleasepleasePLEASE tell me about your riddler?? the religion stuff has piqued my interest and i gotta know-

Hell yeah I'll tell you about my riddler!! I'd love to talk about him!!!

Tw: religious themes, suicide, abuse, gore, sexual themes, and some others that again I'm blanking on so read with caution! And again I'm posting this on mobile so I don't know how to put the keep reading thing on LMAO

SO, before forming Quandarism and becoming the riddler and things like that Ed grew up in a very abusive household, most of the abuse coming from his father, physical and mental abuse as well as neglect. His dad was well known in the small town he lived in and was apart of the small church that was formed there too, though his father was also a raging alcoholic and again raged on Edward and his mother. Ed's mother on the other hand was a sickly woman, a stay at home wife who loved her son to an unhealthy degree. She'd depend on him for love and attention that her husband would give her, venting her frustrations on him, trauma dumping, ect, but she genuinely loved Edward with all her being as conflicting as it was, she'd often take the abuse for him. Edward on the other hand worshiped his mother, he loved her so so much- he's never loved a person as much as her.

In school he was of course the smartest kid there, graduating earlier then others, but surprisingly he wasn't bullied for being so smart! He was actually pretty respected by his peers because of his fathers status but around high school he slowly lost some respect as he started questioning his belief in God and he was also starting to act out because of the abuse and trauma he's gained. After failing an important test though things started falling downhill, his father was caught cheating with multiple women and after hearing this his mother was in hysterics. Eventually one night when his father was gone she tried to convince Ed to come with her so they could both kill themselves, ed being half asleep brushed her off and in the next morning he found her dead.

After that things were never the same, once he graduated from high school he was given a bunch of offers from many colleges, most he was disinterested in but one he liked was Gotham university, he didn't grow up in the east coast so he was perfectly happy with this, but his father grew angry at this decision as he wanted ed to follow his family traditions and wanted him to work with him and in the heat of their argument ed broke one of the wooden chairs and beat his father to death with the leg of the chair. At this point most if not all the town has lost respect for their family so he knew no one would care if his father died, he took his time cleaning and getting rid if the body as he waited for university to roll around.

Once in university he was doing pretty good actually, he started getting therapy and was doing extremely well in school. At that time he was going through a existential crisis about himself as a person and things like that. He them formed a club that would be the beta version of Quandarism. Ed was studying a lot of things in university, psychology being one of them- he learned how easy it could be to manipulate people and things like that and after graduating he started the group of Quandarism.

Ed has EXTREME bipolar and horrible anger issues, he's easily angered and often doesn't know how to handle it so often times he uses violence as that's the only way that can calm him down other then sex. Speaking of which he gets a lot of it (LMAO) he formed a small group of women that act as a harem for himself, most having little traights that remind him of his mother (hair color, personality, height, ect) but he doesn't really hold any romantic feelings for them (unknown to them), again only really having them for sex- he also does have sex with other women but they're different from his harem. I usually draw him in a green polo shirt and dark brown pants but he has a lot of expensive clothing, his priest cloths are the most extravagant shit you'll ever see lmao.

Here's a list of little tidbits about him that I wasn't sure how to put into this

He's always taking things in the extreme and thus reacts extremely, when he cries He's straight up yelling, red wet face, snot and droll coming out, he's pathetic really

He's EXTREMELY stubborn and has a hard time taking no as an answer

He's pretty selfish, like EXTREMELY selfish.

He could be a father of millions but once he finds out that someone is pregnant he immediately forces them to get an at home abortion, most lead to death and others they end up not being able to children anymore.

His sermons are extremely weird, he always has the rooms temperature at a specific heat, no windows, bright light, and other little things. It can make people delirious

Because him and scarecrow are semi partners he also uses fear toxin on the cult members or even new recruits

Speaking on scarecrow, he's tried asking for the ingredients to make his own version but it never works

This man HATES my penguin, he hates him SO much. Not as much as his father of course

Theres more to him but that's like the jist! He's straight up an asshole and I love him teehee

[amybizarre]

Priest (Room For Rent P1)

(No angst in this one. Priest is just being a wholesome guy, who's always happy to help a college student. :)   ) ________________________________________

You were both: Distraught and angry. Perhaps you were also greatly disappointed in society and the people you were supposed to call superiors. It has been proven to you, that even ididots can make their way to high-ranking positions. Through an epic failure of course.

Perhaps the biggest failure in all of college-organizing history. Well, your personal history at least.

You had applied for a college course in literature and creative writing in this town. Which meant you had to move out of your parents' house. Buuuut you didn't have the money for an apartment yet, so a dorm room at college would have to do.

Except some useless twat had fucked up your papers and the organization. In your acceptance letter they had promised you a dorm room at campus. But when you had arrived at your new college, luggage in tow and excited to start the next day, the staff had told you there was no room available under your name. First you had thought it was a simple spelling mistake, which rendered them unable to find your name. Sadly that hadn't been the case. They downright forgot you. And all dorm rooms were full. No capacities for you.

Now here you were. In a strange town, on the street with your heavy suitcase. Not enough money for a hotel room. And the sun setting behind the buildings.

Honestly, you wanted to cry. Instead you forced yourself to stay calm as you called your mom for advice. Otherwise the poor woman wouldn't understand you through your histerical sobbing and call the emrgency hotline for you. The phone rang a couple times, before she picked up.

"Hey honey! Did you arrive well? Is your college room nice?"

"No! These idiotic fools forgot to give me a room!" So much for staying calm.

"What?"

"I'm on the fucking street, mom-"

"Don't fret, love. Get a hotel room for tonight," she advised.

Unfortunately you had thought of that already.

"I already called the open ones in town. They're all too expensive." Your voice wavered a little, threatening to break.

"Oh no-," was all she could say, followed by a beat of silence. You heard her fumble with a few things.

"Honey, there's a church in town, right?"

"Yes..?" You were unsure about where this was going.

"Try ask them for assistance. They're usually very hospitable."

Your jaw almost hit the floor. Of course she would suggest the church! She always had been a very religious person.

"I'm sorry, what? The church is probably closed by now! I'm not gonna find them-"

"Now, now, honey. Each church has a rectory. If the priest isn't in the church, he'll be there."

"Is that, like... His home then?" You felt incredibly awkward just thinking about knocking on a stranger's door, asking for a place to stay.

Your mother hummed in confirmation. "That's right. A rectory usually holds the offices and living quarters for the church staff. Try talking to someone there. If they can't help you, call me again and I will pick you up and get you home."

"Ermmmm... I dunno about this one, mom..." You chewed your lip nervously. You rathered her to just pick you up either way. 

"You'll be okay honey. Give it a try now, before it becomes too late. Love you." With that she hung up on you.

You lowered your phone and stared at it in disbelief. Okay, not the best thing your mother has ever done. You sighed in exasperation.

What now? Should you actually follow her advice? Church staff usually is very friendly, right...?

Thankfully you wouldn't have to search for long, because the local priest was coincidentally strolling down the street you were loosing your mind on. He was just on a casual evening walk, when he saw you on the other side of the street, suitcase by your feet.

He wondered why you seemed so distressed. Being the helpful citizen and responsible priest he was, he crossed the street to talk to you.

Noticing a stranger approach you, you looked up alarmed. You eyed the man cautiously, subconsciously grabbing your luggage just in case. He was dressed entirely in black. First this was alarming to you, but then you noticed his dress shirt had this typical collar priests wore. Plus: There was his golden necklace with a pretty elaborate looking cross on it. You raised an eyebrow at him. He however just smiled patiently and introduced himself.

"Good evening, my dear. My name is Wally Darling. I'm the local priest."

Yeah, you kinda guessed that, based of his appearance. Then again, you could never be sure, if you ran into a fraud or not. Trying your best to be polite, you also introduced yourself. Mr Darling nodded and smiled.

"You have a wonderful name, dear. It suits you well."

You smiled back at him. Maybe he wasn't so bad. "Thank you, sir."

"I noticed you were looking a little stressed out here. And I thought I'd come over and talk to you to see if you need any assistance?" He tilted his head slightly, a worried crease appearing between his eyebrows.

You sighed before telling him about your dilemma and how you would like to strangle the collage staff right now, guesturing along to your explanations. He only got more worried as you did so. Especially at the strangling part.

"That's a.... Very infuriating situation to be in," he admitted after you were done, shifting his weight onto the other foot, "And your mother advised you to ask me for help?"

You nodded with a solemn expression. "Yup. Sooo... Got any ideas on what I can do-?"

He thought for a moment, tapping his chin. "Mh... In terms of theoretical advice... Not really. In terms of practical help? Maybe? Depends on how comfortable you are with my suggestion."

"Go on..." You prompted him, honestly growing a little desperate to get out of this misery of a day you were having.

"I have a guest room at my house, that's always free for people in a pickle like you. It's not much, but cozy. You could sleep there for tonight or as long as you need to."

Housemates with a priest, huh? Sounds like a reality show waiting to happen, you thought to yourself.

Naturally you weren't keen on sleeping at a stranger's place. Then again, what other options did you have? Going back home and missing the first days of college? Hell nah. You were way to excited for this course.

Mr Darling noticed your hesitance and quickly held up his hands. "Look, I know this sounds a little sketchy. How about this? I can show you my home and said room. You can take a look and back out at any time you'd like. I promise I won't feel offended!"

You squinted your eyes at him. He seemed to be genuine... With another sigh you agreed to his offer. "I guess taking a look won't hurt."

He smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"Wonderful, dear. Come now, it's not far." He began leading the way.

You grabbed your suitcase and followed him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw you struggling with it.

"Ah, my bad- Here, let me help." He offered to help you with your luggage, which you accepted.

"Thank you, Mr Darling."

"Oh dear, please! Don't call me that. Wally will do just fine."

He had to assure you multiple times, that it was okay, before you reluctantly gave in.

After roughly 30 minutes of walking, the two of you reached a cozy looking house. Sure, it was a little "old-timey" and on the smaller side, but definitely had its charms.

Also, the church was right across the street.

Okay, noted.

Wally went up the steps to the front door and fumbled around with his keys. You found yourself wondering what a priest's house would even look like. Would there be religious items in every room? Or just a couple?

Your unspoken questions were answered soon, when Wally unlocked and opened the front door for you. Helping you with your suit case once more, he beckoned you inside.

Curiously, you entered his home. The interior was as old fashioned as the exterior. (Meaning it reminded you of your granny's house.) The dark, wooden floors and floral wallpaper, coupled with vintage furntiture and plush carpets however, gave off a very homely feel.

You liked it.

Didn't seem to be the kind of house, where people got kidnapped in-

"Your house is very nice," you complimented the space, while taking off your shoes.

This made Wally very happy. He practically beamed as he closed the door.

"Thank you, dear. I'm glad you like it. This house has been in my family's care for generations now. Not every visitor is appreciative of its style. So, I'm relieved that you are!"

You smiled back at the happy priest. Behind him, you saw a cross right above the front door. Ah, there's the religious decor you've been wondering about. He followed your gaze and chuckled.

"Yes, this house is protected by our loving God. Home."

"Home?" You asked in return. "Haven't heard of him yet."

"Ah, no shame in that, dear. We are a fairly small community after all." Wally waved it off. "I could tell you all about him though, if you're interested?"

You shrugged. "Sure why not? Just... Later, maybe?"

He nodded. "No problem at all. I should probably show you your room first, hm?"

Wally brought you upstairs, where the bathroom, master bedroom and guest room were. You stepped into the guest room and inspected it, with Wally watching you curiously from the door.

The room's style fell into the same category as the rest of the house. All complete with a bed, bedside table, lamp, desk, closet, a plant and a shelf. The window looked out at the church. Perfect opportunity to stalk the church goers on Sunday mornings, you noted with a chuckle. Another thing you noticed was the lack of religious decor. Probably to keep anyone comfortable, who wasn't religious.

"What do you say?" Wally asked after a few moments.

"I like it." You admitted. "And it's really okay if I stay here for now?"

Wally smiled once more. This time with a warm glint in his eyes. "Of course it's okay, dear. As a priest, I am always happy to help those in need." He told you, placing a hand on the cross around his neck.

"Right. There's just two last things I'm worried about." You glanced at him sheepishly.

He nodded, a bit more serious now. "Tell me about it. I'm sure we'll be able to find solutions to each problem."

"Well, first of all, I'm not religious at all."

"Oh."

"And, uhm, I'm not sure if that poses a problem to you..."

He scratched his neck. "Well... To me it's not a problem. I cannot and will not force you to participate in my beliefs. I will however carry out my usual prayers and routines in my house. I guess the question is if you have a problem with that?"

You quickly wave your hands in front of your chest. "Nono! Not at all! I'm fine with that!"

"Then we don't have a problem, dear." Wally concluded.

You were relieved.

"The second thing I'm worried about is rent. How much do I have to pay you per month?"

Wally hummed. "How much would your dorm room have cost you?"

"1.200 bucks a month."

His eyes widened. "1.200?? Per month? For one measly room?"

"Yep. And it would have been a shared room, so the college would have earned  double per room and month," you deapanned, making Wally shake his head.

"That's hardly acceptable!"

"Tell me about it."

He sighed. "I'd say we keep it simple, but calculating this won't be simple for me. If you want to stay here, we just split the bills and I'll be happy."

"Soo, that means means half the costs for electricity, water and food?" You asked to make sure.

"Yes. And you help me with household chores every now and then."

You pondered the offer for a little, before nodding. "Sounds fair to me. I'm in."

Both of you shook hands and it was a deal. You officially moved into a priest's house and were his... Roommate? Housemate? Housemate. You were his housemate now.

This surely would be an interesting experience to make.

[weishenmewwx]

Stars of Chaos 杀破狼

Vol 2, Notes 6, pages 263 - 333

This novel is really too beautiful.

"Adoptive father" is usually the guy who takes care of you after your own parents die; but here, the "adoptive father" is someone that the young people took in to take care of in his old age.

I like how in the Chinese formatting, Priest just ends the previous paragraph with "... ..." and then starts the next one with "Until the easterly winds of change..."

This sounds weird to say, but I really like the formatting and syntactical style of all the Chinese novels I've read.

... 一条漆黑的阶梯舌头凭空垂下来...

I got confused with "staircase unfurled", since staircases don't move.

The end of the staircase is likened to a tongue, 阶梯 舌头, and, of course, tongues unfurl.

More translation confusion: in Chinese, 阶梯 doesn't distinguish between a solid staircase and, say, a rope ladder; and the (online) text 凭空垂下来 translates to "hangs down, out of nothing," kind of like "appears out of thin air" except it's hanging, so, "from nowhere."

矿物. I had the worst time trying to translate this. It is, officially, "ore," but Violet Gold is a liquid whereas "ore" is a solid.

I gave up and just wrote that little note that 矿物 means "thing that you have to mine out of the earth," regardless of its physical state.

I really liked those paragraphs that aren't in this version.

So, those 7 paragraphs:

Everything metal that was on Gu Yun had been taken away, but that didn't mean that Gu Yun was at the end of his tether / didn't have options available.

He had a secret skill -- when he and Shen Yi were little, they used to play a game in the marquis's compound, "who can steal pieces off the puppets the fastest." Two wild children -- when they had nothing else to do they would get together to study how to disassemble the puppets guarding the marquis's entrance. There was one time when Shen Yi didn't dodge fast enough, and when he was being naughty the puppet mistook him for an enemy and hit him so hard that he was thrown up to the roof and his little life almost ended. Of course, Gu Yun was not able to escape a beating from the old Marquis.

The blood-lesson (beating) did not help Gu Yun gain any memory (learn from his mistake), and instead he became even more bold. The two of them repeatedly studied for a long time -- they were sure that there must be a special/secret/expert method, to be like those slight-of-hand pickpockets and pull a piece off the puppet as they passed by.

In the end, they discovered that, yes, there were pieces that could be taken off, but only parts of the mask or the piece on the elbow where the label/mark was, those types of non-critical parts, so Gu Yun's unrivalled skill had never had a chance to be demonstrated.

But, now it looked like it could be used.

The first day that the puppet delivered food, Gu Yun stealthily (eyes quick hands fast) reached out his hand, hooked and pulled, and easily removed the rusty label-plate from the puppet's elbow ----

He sharpened that plate on a rock, used it pry open his handcuffs, then finally did a big lazy stretch. Afterwards, he cut a piece of his bedsheet and braided it into a rope, caught a little rat, and at every meal he would save two mouthfuls of food to feed it, and play with it when he had nothing else to do.

top: More edited-out lines :( If Priest didn't want us to fall in love with these lines, why did she give them to us in the first place :(

"...resist heaving a sigh and spinning the metal plate he was playing with like a pinwheel."

bottom:“ 他还不如每天嫌我给他捣乱呢。” which the translators did a fine job translating, but I like "giving him trouble" more than "getting on his nerves". 捣乱 is, literally, "pound/beat disorder," so you can see how it suggests more "messing things up."

I find it very interesting that a typical (I think? I'm not really that well-read) form of address for a high-ranking Senior Official is 爱卿, which I think translates better to “My dear Senior Official ..." rather than "subject".

一视同仁 "treat all alike." Which means that the old marquis treated his dumpling-sized son the same as he treated everyone else (though he did finally relent to hold his little son's hand).

"谁要是这时候给我热俩烧饼，我就把谁娶回家” In Chinese, it's really easy to avoid numbered and gendered language. In this sentence, the word "谁" "whoever/someone" works in both parts of the sentence.

top: A little bit was added.

bottom: Same as last time. The Chinese is very symmetrical: "Whoever is afraid to die is the first to die."

We are getting close to the end.... :)

My DanMei Literary Adventure Masterpost

Stars of Chaos - All Notes Links