#Me like 'I wonder how many worlds we will go to!'

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a yandere werewolf, but not just any werewolf… a bounty hunter. And he has it bad for his you. Cowboy Werewolf!

Yandere Shorts: Like I Love You

Yandere werewolf x fem reader

TW: obsession, delusional themes, abo dynamic, horror, gore (mentioned), death of characters, neglectful husband, betrayal, cheating husband, forced relationship, mention of baby trapping, and behavior that should not be romanticized

Rolfe was currently on a hunt… his target is a sickly preacher’s, one that should be easy enough. Her own husband had paid him quite the pretty penny to off her. Poor little lamb didn’t stand a chance in the wilderness of this world. Not when she had enemies close to her side such as an unfaithful husband and a conniving best friend. He almost felt sorry for his prey

He arrived a day later, his clawed fingers dragged through a lock of her hair as he inhaled her scent. She smelled… delicious. And she was so vulnerable too with her nape out that just begged for his teeth to be driven into…

Rolfe shook his head before he went back into a trance when she subconsciously leaned into his touch. His hand moved up and grazed her temple that felt as if it were ablaze. Poor woman had a fever…

“Darling? Did you finally come to me?” Her voice was a bit delirious with sickness as she kissed his hands. Each kiss made him feel as if he was her beloved. It took everything in him not to loudly whine like a dog. “I missed you so much James. I’m sorry I got sick again.”

Rolfe didn’t say a word before he continued to drag his rough palms through her hair. His heart hammered in his chest and his wolf clawed inside his brain to be released. It seemed this woman before him… was his fated mate.”

Rolfe bent down and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to deeply inhaled. Oh yes… this lassy was his for the takin.

Rolfe began to slowly nurse her back to health rather than off her. An action that made his employer question him. Why on earth would a monster nurse such a nuisance back to health? She was always near death’s door. What use was such a delicate woman in the Wild West?

“When are you going to off (your name)? She’s an easy target.”

“I have honor as a bounty hunter. It must be a hunt.” Rolfe snarled at (your name)’s husband, James, the man who dared to keep her sick due to his lack of care. Had that scrawny man have no pride as a man? The pastor made him sick.

“She’s easy to pick off right now. I’d really like this to be over and done with so I can marry Helen. This is why I hired a monster-“ Rolfe picked James up from the ground by his throat as James gasped for air.

“You are a foolish, greedy man. Are you sure you are truly a man of god?” Rolfe growled, showing his fangs. His dark, muscular form largely towered over James’s lithe frame. “You’re a pathetic man.”

Rolfe soon went back to the care of (your name). The werewolf rubbed his cheeks all over her bed and her body to scent her… he needed to get rid of James’s scent. Rolfe wouldn’t let another have her and hurt her again… he’d spirit her away.

Rolfe wondered how many pups she’d want. If they’d be pretty like her but strong like him… if she’d pepper him with nips and kisses everyday. If she’d beg him for his knot on the next full moon as he properly mated her?

“Darling?” (Your name) reached for his face and Rolfe was quick to put his face in them. A needy whine escaped his throat while he nuzzled her. She was his precious mate…

He snarled when he saw Helen enter. The woman scoffed at him in disgust.

“Ugh. James and I are tired of waiting. You have been here over a month! We want you gone beast. We’ll do it ourselves.”

“So you’re cancelling the contract?” He hummed while he continued to tenderly kiss (your name)‘a palms. “Are you sure? Did you read the fine print?”

“Yes. We don’t need your kind here, true love will prevail-“ Helen didn’t even have time to scream before a giant black wolf hybrid had dug it’s fangs into her throat and ripped it apart like wrapping paper. Blood splattered all over the floor and walls as Helen could only helplessly choke on her own blood.

“Yes… true love will prevail.” He muttered with a a satisfied hum. “My mate will be so happy.”

Meanwhile, James fled into the forest for dear life. That beast had gotten Helen! The two of them couldn’t believe the werewolf would turn on him.

James loudly leapt when he heard something large chase him through the underbrush on all fours. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel his sweat pool down his back in puddles. He needed to get to the church! A demon such as the bounty hunter couldn’t possibly enter there-

But James was knocked to the ground as an agonized shriek fell from his lips. The werewolf began to shake and mangle his leg like the bloodthirsty beast it was…

“Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do anything-“

Rolfe chuckled darkly. The black werewolf dropped his legs and glanced his beastly head at James. “Oh but she never did anything either… all she did was foolishly love you.”

“W-what do you mean? Are you talking about-“ James’s words were muffled by the paw like hand that covered his mouth. Rolfe shushed him.

“Shhh. You may have failed to pay me and cancel my contract but I had gotten something far more valuable from this transaction. Something most werewolves dream to find in their lifetimes… a fated mate!” Rolfe sighed dreamily. “You may have failed as a protector and provider, but I surely won’t! You have given me something more valuable than any coin could offer… yet you were neglectful to her. Such a shame really.”

“I… I’ll do anything! Just take her and let me live.”

“Ah but I can’t do that. Not when she still calls for you at night. No… you have to be eliminated. Destroyed, really. You can no longer exist on the same planet as her! You are in the way of my love!”

Loud screams of terror ringed out throughout the crisp night air and then it was silence.

Rolfe returned hours later scrubbed clean of blood while he crawled into the bed with his darling mate. He sighed in contentment when she cuddled him. Yes… it may take time to train her properly, but he was sure he could do it. He could make her love him. Just like he loved her.

[shallow-between-stars]

When I grew up I spent a lot of time at my maternal grandparent's home in Victoria.

It was an old, brown two-storey that's since been demolished and subdivided because that is the way of things. After Pop died there wasn't much call for a house with that much space in a gentrifying suburb and it made more sense to knock the whole thing down than try and sell land with a two storey with a separate toilet, a garden, a detatched garage and another garden after that all on it.

Hey, something something property prices.

(Something something buying land in the 1950s and selling it in 2023.)

But next door to my grandfather lived a pair of 'brothers' and their 'live-in best friend.' By the time I came into this world only one of the three was still alive - Al. He was from Germany, I think his name was Alphonse? But to everyone he was just Al. His 'brother' was Hans, I don't know what their 'friend's' name was. I remember that Al's eyes used to go dark and distant if I ever asked him about Germany, and that I learnt to stop asking.

He used to say that he and his 'brother' and their 'friend' were Australian, in a German accent so thick I could only half-understand him, and as a child I did not understand the way I do now.

The thing is, up until the day Al died, he was one of my grandfather's best mates. Pop was around there nearly every day sharing the newspaper, sharing the spoils of the gardens, chatting and fixing electronics and generally just being great friends with this guy.

This had been going on for years. My mum tells stories of Al treating her and her siblings with the same love and kindness that he treated my brother and I with. He was a gorgeous, generous, dapper man with a thick accent and the ability to slip his neighbour's grandkids their bodyweight in chocolate when their parents weren't looking.

And apparently his 'brother' and their 'live-in best friend' were much the same.

Al never told Pop that his 'best friend' and his 'brother' were not his best friend and his brother. Mum clocked it, I have a feeling most of her generation did. I never did until a long time later, but Al was the last to leave us and even he left before I was old enough to realise that the photo on his dining room table that I flipped up once of the three of them with their heads pressed together and bliss on their faces meant what it meant. I never understood the kind way in which he took my hands away and pressed the photo back down.

I don't know if he kept it face down or if it was only down like that when people were visiting. I like to think that in his privacy he would flip the photo up, but I also understand as an adult that hearts sometimes do not heal from grief.

I don't know if Pop was letting him keep a polite fiction. I do know that Pop stopped talking to Cousin Louis when Cousin Louis brought his first 'close friend' home and Pop caught them kissing in the back garden. (He didn't disown Louis, with 27 of us grandkids running around, the only one of us who was left something was my brother and that was for the sole reason that my brother was the Favourite. Everything else was given to the eight children. So none of us grandkids were really in a place to be disowned.)

I do know when I was fifteen and reading terrible yaoi manga on the couch, Pop picked up the next volume I had next to me, flipped to an unfortunate page and told me, brandishing the picture of two anime men kissing, that he wouldn't allow this filth in his house.

I do know that every single family member (including Nanna) who knew that the three men living next door were not brothers and a friend never, ever mentioned that to Pop.

And I wonder sometimes how this story would have played out differently if Al had decided he wasn't going to keep the lie.

I do know that it would not have been kind.

We, in many ways, are moving slowly into a kinder world.

But we cannot forget that the world we come from didn't use to be the way it is now.

Every now and then some discourse pops up around a queer ship consisting of a pair of fictional characters who are not blood related, but refer to themselves as "brothers" or "sisters," or are in some way, according to the fandom, "sibling-coded."

Every time I see that discourse, all I can think about are the very real queer men I once knew, who, before their deaths, lived their lives posing as "stepbrothers." The only way to avoid suspicion for being two older unmarried men living together in a rural conservative area was to pretend they were from the same family, even though the truth was that they were lovers.

They were never out in life. Their relationship was a strict secret to nearly everyone. They never knew that I knew, and sometimes it fucks me up inside that they never got to come out to me. It fucks me up that they had to hide behind a fake "brotherly" relationship for their own safety. It fucks me up to look at a gravestone that reads "beloved brother" and know what it really means, and what it could have said if they'd lived under different circumstances.

In another world, they could have been husbands, but they never had the opportunity. The world will remember them as brothers, because, even in death, that is what was safest.

The freedom to declare queer love openly is something that not everyone has. And I think more people could stand to remember that.

[muletia]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 ₊˚⊹♡

obsessed!smokescreen x human!reader

summary: you and smokescreen are trying to watch a movie, but his irresistible and constant need for closeness stubbornly gets in the way. will you make it to the end? (spoiler: you won’t.)

cw: fluff, suggestive, obsessive thoughts, unhealthy clinginess, possessiveness, very mild not nsfw dub-con, biting/marking, very light manipulation from smokey

word count: 1570

Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Consciousness drifts into another dimension, and your head slowly tilts forward further as you lose contact with reality and embrace sleep with open arms. But alas, sleep is not meant for you—not yet. Your boyfriend is keeping watch, ensuring you continue your fight to stay awake. And when he's near you, he seems unusually attuned to moments like these.

"Hey, hey, don't drift off on me now," he pleads, voice desperate, because this isn’t your first slip-up. "We just started the movie!"

"Ah, sorry," you mumble, rubbing your face to try and wake yourself up, which works. For now.

Your attention returns to the flickering TV screen in the garage, and for a moment, you really do feel alert. You're not proud of how easily you drift off, especially with company, but the day's events are catching up to you, pulling your eyelids downward. You’d promised him you’d finally finish this movie together— you’ve both tried to get through it multiple times, only to be interrupted every single time by something—or rather, someone.

That someone is none other than your personal heater sitting next to you, the primary disruptor of your small private movie nights.

And, as you catch him from the corner of your eye, it's clear he’s got a new idea for spicing up your passive movie-watching routine. His broad smile is utterly contagious, and you fight hard not to let your lips curl. It’s endearing, but you’re not falling for it—not yet. You know exactly where this evening will go if you give him your attention. After all, you’ve lived this scenario many times before.

"Optics on the screen," you chide softly. "We just started the movie, hypocrite."

"Oh, I am watching," he replies, with mock indignation.

"Not me!" you sigh. "We’re not restarting this movie for the tenth time. Look at the screen." You motion toward the brightest source of light in the room.

He knows he should listen. He’s the one who suggested the movie night in the first place. He also chose the film—one of your favorites—because he wanted to experience it with you, to watch your reactions, hear your thoughts, and discuss it afterward. All of it was just a way to interact with you, to be showered in your attention. To absorb it like the finest energon, savoring its addictive sweetness.

It’s not his fault that everything you do is infinitely more interesting than any fiction on the small screen. Sure, he likes human culture and finds it genuinely fascinating—but only because you’re at its center. You’re the one who reveals its secrets, who offers him glimpses of the daily life he so desperately wants to be a part of. Watching movies together lets him simulate that life. He knows he should use every chance to learn more about your world. The problem is, he can’t focus.

It’s not as if there are moments when he thinks of you more or less. No—he’s always thinking about you. Seven days a week, every hour of Earth’s solar cycle. During missions, patrols, recharge—even when he’s with you. It’s suffocating, overwhelming his processor, a constant need to express his untamed emotions, but with no outlet to relieve the ever-growing weight.

Having you by his side is wonderful—feeling your scent, your warmth; brushing shoulders and sharing a blanket. But, ever ambitious, he needs more. Thoughts of you provide only fleeting satisfaction, failing to meet even a fraction of his desire. They leave him helpless once again.

Smokescreen doesn’t want to be just an observer anymore, a witness to the action around him. Those days died with Cybertron.

He wants to feel, touch, and explore, even though he already knows every inch of your body—every mole, scar, and birthmark. Alien, but captivatingly beautiful. Unparalleled softness. Addictive. Meant to be worshipped and adored. It’s no surprise his servos fit your curves perfectly, as if you were made for each other—not just in spark, but in body too. No stimulant could compare to the euphoria of adoring you. No human cinematic masterpiece, no mission, no praise from Optimus Prime himself.

"You’re incorrigible," you sigh. "You just missed the most important part."

Suddenly, he realizes he’s spent the last several kliks staring only at you, fantasizing about physically expressing all the emotions roiling within him. His servos are trembling now, and he has to touch you—to prove how much you mean to him, how vital you are in his life.

Electricity courses through his frame—a signal of surpassing limits. He’s nearing a breaking point, teetering on the edge of abandoning the careful balance of your relationship. Can’t let that happen. He accepts destroying himself, allowing his yearning for you to dictate his sanity, but no scars could ever mar your soul. No matter how many he bears himself.

His trembling servos find the fabric of your shirt and gently tug at it. Enough to send a signal, not to frighten. If you pull away—he’ll shatter.

"Hey," he begins. You glance at him briefly, but your eyes quickly return to the screen. He tugs harder, practically pawing at your stomach now, desperate for attention. "Please, I don’t want to watch the movie anymore. We can finish it another time, can’t we?"

He knows he’s repeating himself, using the same lines he always does. It’s cheap and undignified, unworthy of someone whom even Optimus Prime considered passing the Matrix to. But his need has consumed him, taken over his frame and spark, which craves you so intensely that static buzzes in his audials. Every molecule of his being chants your name, begging for you.

He moves closer, exerting pressure. It’s a dangerous game, one that could easily irritate you. But he’s so desperate he has to play his cards on this gambit.

"I promise we’ll finish it next time, okay? [Name], please, I need you."

"We could also finish it tonight, hmm?" you offer.

"But I already missed the most important part."

"You’re smart—you’ll catch up on the plot." He sees your playful smile, teasing him with your intentions. But this time, he’s too overwhelmed to join in the game.

One servo continues tugging at the edge of your shirt while the other slides beneath it, cautious and precise—while he still has the control to be so.

You finally give in, unable to focus on the film any longer.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that," you warn, finally turning your head toward him.

What greets you are wide, pleading optics, shimmering with need. Begging for you. Beautiful, but deceptive. Luring you into a trap. Or maybe you’ve already been ensnared? Enchanted into letting him do more—letting his servo wander further up, finding its way to your chest.

"Incorrigible," you murmur, tilting your head slightly to one side, exposing your neck—his canvas for the evening. "But at least I’m not sleepy anymore."

"Good," he purrs near your neck. Warm, processed air brushes against your sensitive skin. "I’m going to show you how much you mean to me. I’m afraid it’ll take a very long time."

Servos press tightly to your body, while dentas leave their mark, creating art from love bites—one of his favorite human inventions. Such a pity he couldn’t bear them himself—would flaunt them proudly if he could.

"I wish they lasted forever," he whispers, kissing the bruised skin, already intoxicated by your closeness, even though it’s only a fraction of what he craves.

"And I don’t," you admit. His response is a hurt whine, but Smokescreen quickly resumes his work, moving slightly higher. His marks always came out messy, more like bites than love bites, but he was so proud of them that you couldn’t bring yourself to criticize him. At least, not directly.

"One of my friends noticed them once. She thought I’d been mauled by a wild animal."

You feel him smile against your skin because it’s an accurate description of his love. Wild, untamed.

"Sorry," but it's also unimaginably tender. "But you like them, right? I’m good at this, aren’t I?"

"You’re unmatched, love."

Not sensing the sarcasm, he holds you tighter, as if he wants to merge you both into one being. Feels his trembling spark yearning for a bond, a union with yours. And while you can’t grant him that, the mere act of sharing the most intimate, vulnerable parts of himself is satisfactory. Not enough, because nothing ever will be. Just like the love bites, the most blissful interfacing, or kisses and cuddles. They work for a brief moment, a fraction of existence. They fill the void, which begins emptying the moment you part.

"I need more," he groans. "Please. I need you."

"I wish you were this eager about watching movies."

You reach for the remote because yet another movie attempt has ended in failure. Your boyfriend doesn’t appreciate your effort to put some distance between you, even for a few millimeters. His servos hold you firmly in place, and his dentas possessively catch your neck. Luckily, you don’t have to reach far.

"We’ll manage next time," he promises, though the absent tone of his voice makes it clear he’s lying. You know he won’t last. He’ll falter at the start, trying to make up for lost time by showering you with affection, though it’ll only be a fraction of what he wants to give.

"Hard to believe that."

"Mhm, love you too," he mutters, utterly enraptured by your closeness.

[mother-giselles-hat]

Do you think Emmrich keeps a little notebook. Do you think when he was an uncertain young boy, terrified of the dark and the gloom and the inescapable inevitability of death being so very in front of him so shortly after a devastating loss, he needed an outlet? And perhaps an older, kinder Mourn Watch member who themselves did not choose their path but rather stumbled upon it gave the gangly youth before them a small collection of pages to work through his racing thoughts in?

I'm picturing clumsy doodles of flowers from graveyards that as one flips through the years of journals kept neatly on a personal bookshelf turn into masterful sketches worthy of publication in a scientific journal. Rough strokes with lots of pressure behind them, intent on getting the repeatedly written rituals correct so that he no longer has to reference a cheat sheet. Maybe even a list of names, pages upon pages worth crossed out until at last, underlined so strongly the pen tore through paper, we find the name Manfred.

And I like to think that he goes through at least a journal and a half while getting to speak with so many companions from so many parts of the world he has previously never dreamed of traveling to himself, not when there's so much to be done at home. Recipes are scrawled out in Bellara's and Lucanis' handwriting and pasted into the back. There are attempts at drawing the anatomy of Assan, a list of what snacks Halla like best courtesy of Davrin. Even a carefully curated, bullet-pointed selection of topics that seem to work best when trying to get Taash to let down their guard. And of course, a cross-sectioned diagram of the Yam-And-Jam-Slam.

And then, permit me if you will, the opportunity to ruminate on human Emmrich, on a day yet to pass, in which a romanced Rook that never violated their love's privacy finally feels brave enough to go through some of his untouched belongings to see what they want to keep, and finding such lovely records of their first months together. And despite the ache in their chest and the tightness in their throat, they don't stop at the first sign of something more, a little scribbled observation about how much sadness this Rook has in their eyes for someone so new to the field. And then they find the portraits, the loving detail put into the light of the fade reflecting off their cheekbones, their eyes. The carefully crafted notes on what sort of jewelry might do them justice, small scenes of a man, his beloved, and a skeleton strolling across sandy beaches, through shadowed forests, across snowy mountain peaks and through bustling city streets. Until they blink, wipe the tears from their eyes, reach the end of the last journal in what feels like mere minutes (but in all reality is probably something closer to hours).

The handwriting is less structured, the pen doesn't press quite so insistently as it once did. But the sentiment, the sincerity, of the final entry could only be his.

Death is not so frightening knowing how fiercely I have lived. Nothing it could take is greater than all I have been given.

Idk. Just wondering.

[kedreeva]

There are good things in this world still

The Holidays have had me busy the last few days, so between my last Good Things post and this one:

My brother flew down to surprise my sister with a visit for Christmas.

My elderly, ill bird (Aurora) started showing fast improvement once we switched medications for her!

I spent an evening with my in-laws, who are lovely folks. There was good food, good company, good cheer. I received an adorable homemade sticker from my nephew, with my farm name in the Jurassic Park logo style!

It lives on my computer now so I can look at it whenever I want. They also gave me a laptop cooling pad, which not only cools my laptop, but allows me to tip/raise it only my lap so I'm no longer hunched over to write and game!

I stole all of the wrapping paper and boxes, to be shredded for rodent bedding/nesting materials; they will highly enjoy all of the novel scents and textures!

I made spinach artichoke dip for the christmas gathering, except I completely forgot the artichoke. On the one hand, I felt bad not having a viable dish, but on the other hand, I mixed in the artichoke when I got home, and put it all into a mini-crockpot to heat up and eat at home. Worked great! I've been wondering about the effectiveness of the mini crock for a while (Can I Make Just One Cup Of Soup??), and it seems fairly viable for keeping stuff warm at least- GREAT news for making a small amount of hot mulled cider for cold nights.

I finished two scenes for my next chapter of story, after not having the spoons to write for a while. I also caught myself daydreaming about Final Pack again, so I will be renewing efforts to get the first book cleaned up!

I candled the eggs from my wild type celadon project, expecting that none of them would be growing (because the eggs get too cold in the winter), but there are FIVE of them! growing!! They've got ten more days to go, so we'll see how many actually make it out. I am STOKED to see what the first babies look like.

I baked sugar cookies and frosted them with my partner. It was very fun, and I have enjoyed giving cookies to people (and eating them, myself) since.

There are good things left in this world, however small. This is your opportunity to reblog this and share your good things with each other, or check the notes if you need a reminder.

[queer-ragnelle]

hi I was wondering what your opinion is on how to deal with anachronisms in arthurian legend. so many stories include jousting—which didn't exist in early medieval wales. which historic kingdoms do you chose to include, and from which period, and what if two kingdoms sound really cool and you really want to mention them both but one existed in england circa 500ad and one existed around the norman conquest? thank you!

Hey!

I could've sworn I answered this before but I must've been thinking of a conversation in my writing group. Anyway the short answer is:

Do whatever you want! Anachronism is a feature not a bug! Harness it!

The fact is, all of Arthurian Legend is anachronistic and it's great. We don't even have concrete proof that Arthur, as we understand him, existed. We don't have written sources from the era Arthur supposedly lived in, only artifacts. There are some sporadic texts throughout the early Medieval period which mention Arthur, then the majority of what we understand as part of the Legend began with the work of 12th century authors. When Chrétien de Troyes was writing his stories, he depicted the world he lived in. The same goes for Marie of France and Wirnt von Grafenburg and Sir Thomas Malory and of course the many many Anonymous authors throughout the entire Middle Ages. They wrote about knights as they, personally, perceived them, as if the Saxon conflict took place in the 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, etc centuries. After that, modern authors did similarly, while keeping the setting Medieval.

I have found that reading the forewords, author's notes, and letters of modern writers tackling this same dilemma has helped me tremendously. I have a deep respect and admiration for John Steinbeck, both his The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights and his other novels captivated me, so I cherish his philosophy regarding the creative process. In letter to his editor, he wrote:

He gets it!! Everyone is writing for their audience. Themselves, too, but with special attention to the current era and what that looks like.

When it comes to the nitty gritty stuff, you'll drive yourself crazy if you focus too much on what's "possible." Now Persia Woolley and I have our creative differences, but in her author's note at the start of book 1, Child of the Northern Spring, she wrote:

This makes a lot of sense to me. She has adopted a similar method as J. R. R. Tolkien did regarding the stories "coming out of Middle Earth." No, a Hobbit may not have called the circular green thing covering the entrance/exit to his home "a door," but that is the name of the object as the reader understands it, so that is what the author or "translator" has decided to call it.

In the end, you'll just have to sit down and make decisions. If you intend to use the names as they were in the era Arthur lived, it'll be more historically accurate, but unless you also provide a map and name key as Edward Frankland did in Arthur The Bear of Britain, you risk confusing your readers who only comprehend these locations in their Modern form. On the other hand, if you use exclusively Modern names, there's a chance it could break the immersion of your readers who perceive the story as Medieval.

I personally like to have of Medieval and Modern terms as well as technologies and cultural aspects. The fact is that we simply don't know enough about history to ever be 100% accurate about anything, so breath easier and offer yourself some allowances. I haven't scanned this book yet, but in the author's note of Phyllis Ann Karr's The Follies of Sir Harald, she wrote:

This is especially funny considering I don't recall any mention of a specific year to which the "historical accuracies" could be compared, but I assume she means the 12th century, when Chrétien de Troyes lived.

It comes down to what sort of story you want to write. Is it going to be Historical Fiction as Edward Frankland, Persia Woolley, and Bernard Cornwell wrote? Or will it be more loosely "Medieval" such as Cherith Baldry, John Steinbeck, and Phyllis Ann Karr wrote?

It really comes down to your own point of interest which kingdoms you include. I generally tried to stay accurate to the 4th-6th century, a huge 2 century window, which gave me enough wiggle room to pick and choose some names that made clear what I was talking about. Most if not all ports and islands retained modern names for ease of comprehension: Beirut, Isle of Wight, Mainland Orkney, and even Drake's Island, which is named for Sir Francis Drake, who wasn't born until the 16th Century, simply because its older name, St. Michael from the 12th Century, was not only too recent to be "accurate" anyway, but may have caused confusion with the giant of Mont St. Michael, which was of more importance to me than the impossible accuracy of landmasses in the Plymouth Sound. I did away with wooden longhouses in favor of stone castles; some I "built" on top of abandoned Roman forts that can still be visited today, others I invented completely from scratch, each brick and syllable original to my work. Many aspects called for improvision, so I did the best I could to make it all appear cohesive, even if historically those names or practices or fashions or whatever weren't actually as synchronized as my writing would have you believe.

This applies to characters too.

I refer to the main character as Gawain, although he claims it derives from the older name Gwalchmai. Other Mabinogion characters retain their Welsh names, such as Owain, Morfydd, and Bedwyr. Yet others take after their French names, such as Kay, Perceval, and Mordred. I even sometimes use both names, such as with Welsh Cynon/French Calogrenant, who was named the former at birth and referred to as such by Morfydd, but then Christened as the latter, which is what the majority of the cast call him. The Vulgate gives Yvain, son of Urien and Morgan le Fay, a bastard half brother called Yvain the Bastard. Because I had already changed the first character's name to Owain, so too has his brother's name been changed to Owain, as well as introducing a moniker of his own to more clearly identify him as a separate character without constantly referring to him as a bastard. They are from Rheged, but Owain the Bastard is known as FitzEden, as he was born in his mother's house near the Eden River. If you look it up, Rheged/Cumbria are the same general area, so I've linked the character to it through a name I made up for him. Owain FitzEden he now is. Did people use the term "Fitz" in the 5th century? No, they didn't have surnames. Was the river called Eden at the time? Probably not. But I did it anyway because I'm not writing in the 5th century, I'm writing now, for you, for me! And because I like the character enough to "bend the rules." It's not like historical Owain mab Urien had a pet lion, anyway!

It doesn't matter if these characters have "era appropriate" names or come from locations which didn't exist until recently. Say Lancelot is from Brittany or Less Britain or Gaul or France or Benwick or the Lake Kingdom, who cares! I've seen them all in one book or movie or another and they all register the same to me: Across the channel. Foreign. A new guy.

I had to do all of this twice, once for Medieval Britain and again for Medieval Persia. So trust me when I say it's time consuming. You're going to take a lot of notes for your own reference that your readers will never see but will help you keep an internal consistency once you decide what kingdoms and names to keep and what to avoid. The key is to stay accurate within your own world. Even if two kingdoms didn't exist at the same time, if you want to include them, do so, but then you have to follow through with that. Your readers will figure it out so long as you avoid giving the same area too many different names or accidentally changing a location's name between scenes. Locals may call their village something the outsiders don't, that's cool for worldbuilding, but every time you do it, you're making a bid on your reader's ability to hold all that information. So do so sparingly and with good reason.

Reading helps a lot. All the books I've mentioned do a good job of this and would be useful tools for understanding what your preferences are and what the vibe of your story will be. I hope that answers your question and gives you a bunch to think about! Take care. :^)

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

GINGERWREN'S PAYNELAND RECS 2024!

I can't believe we have had Charles and Edwin for less than a year. Even still, we've had a lot of fun! I wanted to share some fics, art, and gifs that made this year worth it for me personally. I was talking to a friend recently, and we noticed recent rec lists seem to be short, tag based lists with no real input from the list writer. Many of them also seem to rec the same few fics. Sometimes I feel left out as a smaller writer, and I know my favorite fics also don't always make it onto these lists either.

So, gentle reader, I will not be making a list of tags and summaries. You can read the tags on the fics and the art work, should you choose to view. I will be telling you why I love the works themselves. This is the best way I can think to recommend work to you.

Without further ado: the list is below.

WRITING

sweeter than honey from the rock - @dearheartdont

This lives rent free in my head. Literally in my mind this is like a lost episode or something. I do not want to spoil it or anything, but some of my favorite things in it are the world building (there are delightfully sympathetic clients, and witty antagonists), Charles does... exactly what one would expect Charles to do in order to help the client and protect everyone, and he makes things temporarily worse for himself. Rest assured though, there is a very, very satisfying resolution. Really, this is such a wonderful fic.

Winter Bloom - @skinnybritishdudes

PINK!!! EDWIN!!!! NOW!!!! This was my request for our server's Christmas exchange and it blew me out of the water. Genuinely, the magical mischief PLUS the subtle horror PLUS the absolute tenderness at the end?? Was everything I wanted, and more than I expected. Friendship ended with my own pink Edwin origin story. THIS is Pink Edwin now. Run don't walk for this one (as you can see, I still have not calmed down I am so excited about this one).

Nothing Left to Hide - @roseganymede95

I know I need to say more than "spider jar" but there's a point where I just start crying softly and going "spider jar" while I am reading. Honestly I'm sure if I said that to you, you would probably know which fic I'm referring to. It's this one. It's brilliant. It rewired my brain early on and I haven't been the same since. I found a spider jar pin because it may as well be canon in my mind. They call each other mine in the fic what more do I need to tell you to get you to read this? Join the spider jar cult with me.

right. never finished it.- taableclofh

A classic. Charles tries to save Edwin from Hell. He figures some things out in the process. (This is canon divergent in the best possible way and was a real balm on the soul, somehow).

molliculi (soft little things)- @williamvapespeare

This was made in a lab to make me cry specifically. The first time I finished reading it, it was two in the morning. I stared at my bedroom wall for like twenty minutes, bleary eyed, and then finally managed to type something to @williamvapespeare (who was really gracious about whatever mess I sent, lol). God fuck. It's a character study on Edwin. It's a history of living and dying in 1916. It's wondering what it means to continue on existing, but never have lived on with your peers. It's an outsider's perspective on Charles' trying to figure things out. Go. Go now. Suffer with me.

All Rights Reserved- @phoenix-soar

Do you like possessive Charles? (There's one right answer and it's yes). This fic is the fic. This also lives rent free in my brain. I wish I could say something more coherent but honestly I do not know how much I can say- well there is this lovely description where Charles compares Edwin's eyes to the sea on a stormy day (ao3 is sadly down, I cannot pull the full quote, but it was gorgeous). The rest... 🌶️🌶️🌶️

The Case of the Omegaverse Portal - miraworos

Omegaverse, as specified in the title. Also a very well written casefic, and some really satisfying feelings revelations. Once again: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

ART

Kiss (Blue) - @ent-is-indecisive

Genuinely A I am just amazed by how lovely all the kisses you draw are. Like they come out stunningly, over and over. I have no idea how you pull off this wizardry but it is amazing. Anyway I picked the first picture we ever talked about but I am also genuinely blown away whenever you drop something in LOMA

Collab Gifset For Payneland Week- @mellxncollie

I know you have all seen Olly's gifs. If you haven't, what are you even doing? (Maybe you're new here. That's okay). It's something special when Olly makes a gifset for your fic. Genuinely, sometimes I just go back and stare at this one because WOW THOSE ARE MY WORDS. BUT ON A GIF. Genuinely thanks for making my first year in the fandom special Olly.

Pink Slip- @arisprite

Ari was super great during the flash sketch commissions and we had a blast. Now this reminds me of ongoing convos that @majorlb @deadboyslullaby and I have (and perhaps one day we will do something more with those) but the point here is Ari is great. You all should go and appreciate the wide range of payneland she has made. Her fem!payneland is dazzling, and so is her sad boy Charles (which I think is the first piece I ever fell in love with).

RITUALS - @deadboyslullaby

THE RITUALS ARE INTRICATE. This was a collaboration with @likemmmcookies . @deadboyslullaby worked really hard on the inscription around the edges for this one and I am forever in awe of all the little details here. I want more of them doing strange, arcane stuff together always.

ORBWIN IN CHARLES’ RIBS- @jube-art

This is absolutely what I think is going on when one of them is orbing and the other isn't. No I am not taking feedback. Once more, this was a piece of art that re-wired my brain early on. Ribs are for lovers.

BONUS:

Feathers and Fur - merle_p

Super secret rare pair that rewired how my brain works forever. I love you catcrow. I love you Monty that's a little bit depressed a little bit of a masochist. I love you Thomas who can't help but take in strays but still has teeth and hasn't been declawed in this fic. This fic is just... so... gorgeous*chef's kiss*. I won't spoil it for you, but I implore you to read it so I have more people to talk about this pairing with.

These were all my recs for now. Thank you Dead Boy Detective fandom 2024! We may have had some bumps in the road, but here's to a strong and healthy 2025!

[ledesaid]

Billy has a fever🌡️

♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-

Well, it's official. He doesn't have much luck today. Well, he hasn't had much luck in recent years. He was barely eleven years old (ten years and seven months) and was delirious, alone, in his small corner of the world.

Billy had been proud of having avoided getting sick until this point because he already knew what would happen next: he would have to turn himself in to social services so they could take him to the hospital and then he would escape again. Complicated. Not many had luck in that last part of the plan; he had friends who, after that, couldn't escape the system again.

The problem was that he barely had enough strength to move an arm, he couldn't get up, much less go out into the streets in search of a police officer or a precinct. This left him with two options: call the League on his communicator or use his chalk to open a portal.

The cold December wind whipped against his window hard enough to drown out his thoughts. But one broke through strongly enough to make him decide.

How was he going to bring one of his colleagues to the little hole he tried to call home?

Well, is the portal.

Billy had an emergency circle that would take him to a beautiful island hidden somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Titan Gaia had entrusted him with that place if he fell ill, and now was the time. He could barely distinguish the symbols the chalk left behind, but he was sure he had written beloved caretaker of green life. What he wasn't sure about was if he had properly delimited the spatial jump.

Maybe that's why he was looking at a redheaded woman before passing out instead of a thirty-foot-tall humanoid mountain.

"Well, this isn't something you see every day... Who are you, kid?"

Billy can't respond, and the next thing he knows is that he wakes up in a warm room, fortunately without windows being battered by intense snow. Very clean, clear walls, drawings of plants on the walls, but it wasn't the hospital.

Then he notices that he was in a bed shaped like a giant bunny, no, it really looked like a giant bunny plush with a mattress in the middle of it. A little madness.

A soft, warm, and fluffy madness.

By this time, Billy notices his fever has disappeared. Yes, his head hurts slightly and he has an IV connected to his arm, but he feels strong enough to patrol for a couple of days.

"How do you feel, little fern?"

Billy: Little fern?

"We've taken care of you like a fern, and Harley wanted to nickname you that until we knew your name."

Billy: Thanks, I'm Billy.

Pamela: Good, I'm Pamela, and soon you'll meet Harley, she's my wife. She's a bit energetic, so I apologize in advance for the noise, but that's how she shows her affection.

Billy doesn't know quite what to do or say. If the portal had failed and brought him in front of this woman, it would be hard to explain how it was possible, and escaping would be a bit complicated until he could call the captain.

A wonder indeed was his situation.

Pamela: Don't think too loudly, Billy, we're not going to turn you over to social services or the police.

Billy: Really? * he said a bit confused * Why?

Pamela: We're not exactly lovers of that side of the law, but we know how to recognize a kid in trouble who needs a hand.

Billy grabbed the soft, fluffy sheets that covered him tightly. It was time.

Billy: Thank you very much, really. If you give me a couple of hours, I'll be gone and you'll never hear from me again. I promise.

The woman raised an eyebrow in disbelief, possibly, Billy wondered if he had said something wrong, but he didn't understand exactly what. Was a couple of hours too much? He could really leave in just twenty minutes.

Billy: But I can leave earlier if...

Pamela: Sorry, kid, but it's too soon for you to get out of bed. You came to me with a 103° fever, delirious...

Before Billy could ask about what he might have said, a door was heard slamming not far from the room where Billy had slept and, a few seconds later, a sing-songy and shrill voice made them look. Blonde with a high ponytail, the one and only Harley Quinn. Billy finally put the pieces together, so that's why the names and appearances seemed familiar. Don't blame him, he didn't associate Pamela with Poison Ivy, maybe because he associated the color with Martians... it was strange. He was so exposed to extraordinary and impossible things that he was indifferent to being excited by mere skin color or an ex-supervillain in front of him.

Harley: I'm glad you're okay, little lost boy.

Billy: Uh... Th-Thanks.

The black-haired boy was being hugged tightly by the blonde woman in one of the sincerest embraces Billy could ever remember.

Pamela: Let him breathe, love, Billy still has the IV...

Harley: Oh, right! Sorry... Is your name Billy? Hi, I'm Harley Quinn. Do you want a big plate of waffles with ice cream, toast, strawberries and cream, and maple syrup?

Maybe it was the residual effects of his fever, the hunger of possibly four days, or the warm hug, but Billy nodded his head in affirmation, feeling that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn't be able to avoid crying in front of this warm couple.

[burningcheese-merchant]

PLEASE MERCHANT LISTEN TO ME

I started watching Burning Spice Cookie's flashback in the game and suddenly I started thinking "is that all? How stupid" because there are characters older than him and who apparently haven't had this problem of "boredom from "same old thing" so he leaves the Burning Spice Cookie thing as childish. but then I started thinking, what if I developed this? You see, if a person doesn't have a proper childhood they can develop psychopathic traits (more or less what I've seen in Burning Spice Cookie) so what if he and the other Beasts didn't have childhoods? We are not given any clue that they have grown, which gives us to understand that they appeared among the common cookies as adults.

Imagine that you barely have time to know your own name and suddenly you are thrown into... (I don't know, a battle?) expecting you to help calm everything down. What if, as soon as Burning Spice Cookie was born, he began to be burdened with many responsibilities and having to fight to unify Beast-Yeast into one nation? It would be a good reason why he "got bored" with everything, since some psychopaths have that trait of enjoying causing harm or hating monotony and social rules (it could also be an explanation for your au's Burning Spice Cookie).

I am SO glad someone else sees the problem with Burning Spice's "boredom". We have a million immortal characters in this universe and not a single one has had this issue with their lives. The Ancients live forever thanks to the Soul Jam, and they don't seem bothered by it at all (hell, look at Golden Cheese. She is actively pursuing immortality, for herself and especially for her loved ones). The Elementals are immortal, and they have zero complaints about it. Millennial Tree and Sugar Swan are older than the world itself, do you see them crying about it? Nope. They live and carry out their duties happily. You don't even see this with the ones that actually WERE mortal once. Fire Spirit? He loves who he is now, he's said so out loud in cutscenes in Ovenbreak. Sherbet? Though he misses being with Cotton, he otherwise loves being free to travel and see the world almost entirely unburdened, the way he always dreamed. Frost Queen? She adopted her role and upholds the balance of nature with grace. Life and immortality are only what YOU make of them. The Beasts are a bunch of stupid, selfish babies. The end.

"Not having a childhood" IS an interesting point to raise, though. You're absolutely right: having a tumultuous youth can and often does lead to psychological issues of all kinds, big and small ask me how I know lol. And for all we really know, they WERE born adults right from the jump. How Cookies are born and how they age are SUPER weird in this series and neither is ever explained properly besides "baked in oven", so... What's keeping anyone from imagining characters just born fully grown right away?

With this in mind, and with the points you've raised, we can maybe look at the Beasts like this: people who were brought into the world without being asked (although no one is), and burdened with nigh-impossible responsibility right away. Immediately told to sacrifice themselves for people they do not know or care about, who do not know them or care about them. To uphold a balance they may not understand, nor did they create themselves. Never having been allowed the chance to live and grow as all sapient beings are entitled to; to go out and have fun and be foolish and make mistakes that they end up learning from. They were born abnormal, and they never never allowed to escape that abnormality once. They live only for others, never for themselves, not even for small things. One has to wonder if they even counted as people at all in the eyes of those they fought for, or if they were just archetypes whose faces and actions were used to placate and justify whatever anyone wanted them to.

... Yeah, that sounds pretty shitty when you put it that way lol. It just goes to show how the Ancients are the true rightful owners of the Soul Jam, in my opinion. They EARNED that power, it was not given to them on a silver platter. They were able to live life as regular mortals for a while, then actively sought out that power and proved themselves worthy of it. Hollyberry united an entire region of warring houses. Dark Cacao tamed dragons and brought peace to a long-devastated land. Pure Vanilla endured the many arduous trials of the Sugar-Free Road in pursuit of truth and enlightenment. These are all things that require hard work, dedication, humility, and a certain wisdom that you gain from experiencing life in general. Wisdom that the Beasts may or may not have possessed, because they may or may not have ever been able to attain it in the first place.

As for my Yandere AU Spice... Yandere Spice is well and truly a psychopath (all the Yandere Beasts are). It's the thing you see often with actual stalkers: he's more in love with the IDEA of Golden Cheese than the woman herself, as she actually exists. It's all about what HE wants, what HE needs, what HE expects from her. Pure, utter selfishness, projection and delusion, as psychopaths are fundamentally incapable of empathizing with others (that's what marks them as psychopaths in the first place). With the Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese one, he's the same, but A) leaning a bit more into his bloodlust/enjoyment of harming others (which is also common in psychopaths, like you said), and B) him actually being clever/manipulative enough (at least to some degree) to know how to play into Golden's wants and feed her ego in order to sway her (Golden in this AU is also just kind of a fucked up person on her own, independent of Spice, so it's an unlucky combination). She's not "boring" like everything and everyone else is. She captivates him, she surprises him, she keeps him on his toes. He "loves" her. Therefore, he owns her and vice versa, and he will do whatever it takes to have her all to himself, up to and including hurting and killing innocents (it's not like they mattered, anyway). What caused him to be this way ultimately does not matter; maybe it's that overwhelming burden of responsibility and lack of a choice or a chance to live life that we addressed earlier. Perhaps he was just born broken. Whatever it is, he's a bloodthirsty, selfish, uncaring monster and it is Golden Cheese that he has chosen to make pay for it, unfortunately.

TL;DR Not liking immortality is a skill issue. The Beasts are dumb little crybabies. Yandere Spice is disgusting and should face a wall. I like writing deranged people far too much. I enjoy engaging in meaningful conversation with others about things. Thank you for the ask, I vibe with your thoughts and ideas, I hope you find lots of money on the ground today

[genderqueerdykes]

I see so many people getting so upset about syscource and I have to wonder how many of them are even systems themselves. Numbers alone it seems like a lot of these people really should be minding their own business.

you hit the nail on the head, most of them are not. most people who engage in this behavior are doing it strictly to be assholes and to try to prove a point and look like they're more accepting of neurodivergence. it's like how the anti-ace discourse that's been going on on this website for a literal decade at this point is being perpetuated by people who don't identify as aspectrum at all. like most people who argue about syscourse literally just are not systems, and if they are, they're heavily misguided.

generally speaking i hear the most anti endogenic sentiments from non plurals. and to me it feels like people attempting to suck up to plurals for brownie points. as if people with dissociative plurality asked them, personally, to attack endogenic people because they're somehow a "threat" to us. i cannot stress enough that in the early days of the internet, dissociative plurals and non dissociative plurals existed alongside one another in the exact same communities with no issues.

this is just ONE example of plural spaces i was in at the time, but i was part of a forum called healthy multiplicity for years and they accepted any and all plurals, without question. i did NOT see ANY of these conversations happening at all in the various plural communities i joined before tumblr. NOBODY was concerned about origin labels. NOBODY was asking other systems to divulge their trauma. none of this was happening. literally none. like i cannot stress that this just was not happening back then.

like idk who told these people that dissociative and traumagenic systems need to be stood up for against endogenic and natural plurals but we literally don't. we're not being hurt or attacked or offended by endogenic plurals. the human brain is way too complicated for us to ever fully understand. we can't claim that we know every single mental experience that can exist. there are always going to have experiences that we can't define or haven't seen before and it's fine.

dissociative & traumagenic plurals never asked anyone to start attacking other plurals on our behalf. never. this doesn't benefit us, it just divides the plural community, which makes us weaker. dissociative and endogenic systems getting along will not be the end of the world. it will make us stronger as a community and help us understand how broad the experience of plurality really is

[pricetagofficial]

Day 25: Christmas

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff and Jason is a slight menace here

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! If you don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Holidays and if you don't celebrate anything, Happy Wednesday! I hope you all have a great day! Here we are on the final day of this challenge, and I can't thank you all enough for supporting me this last month. Maybe I will do another in the future? Header by me, and divider by @cafekitsune

Masterlist

It had finally arrived, it was Christmas Day.

You and Dick had stayed over at Wayne Manor the previous night because he really wanted to spend the holiday with his family. It was a rare sight to have everyone under the same roof, including some other friends.

Of course, you had the normal residents like Damian, Cass and Bruce, plus Jason and Tim and Duke who frequently dropped by. However, there was also the extended family, like Stephanie, Barbara, and even Selina.

The day was going to be special, you just knew it.

Everyone was old enough to not believe in Santa, but everyone still made stockings for each other as part of their gift exchange.

Every year, everyone's names would be thrown into a hat and then drawn. Whoever you drew, would be the person you got a special gift for, and help stuff their stocking,

This year, you were lucky enough to get Dick.

The man may be a certified genius and world class detective, but he was still dumb as hell.

In fact, you did quite a bit of his Christmas shopping in front of his face and he was none the wiser.

Wrapping yourself in your robe, you and Dick slowly made your way down to the kitchen for the first cup of Christmas coffee. Alfred already had pastries, and other sweet treats galore ready to be eaten.

Wrapping an arm around you, Dick pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas, Dickie." you smiled, pecking his lips.

"You have to do that here? I think I'm gonna hurl."

Dick looked up to see Jason, fake gagging into his coffee with a donut in his other hand.

"I will kill you," Dick paused. "Again,"

Jason laughed as he took a bite of his donut. "Many a goon have tried wonder pants, and many a goon have failed."

Dick just glared. "None of them are me, so shut up."

That's when Duke showed up and pushed Jason out of the room before he was murdered again. "You'll thank me for this later,"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a plate, and filled it before joining Dick on the couch by the tree and the fireplace.

Everyone was gathered, idle chatter filling the room as Bruce came in with Selina at his side.

"Merry Christmas, everyone." he smiled, taking his seat as Selina sat on the arm of the chair.

Gifts were passed around, stockings were dumped, and paper was ripped open. Exclamations of excitement were all around as everyone was in awe at their gifts from each other.

Getting up, you grabbed Dick's stocking and his present from you. Looking to your right, you saw he grabbed your stocking and a small box as well.

What were the odds that you got each other?

Sitting back together on the couch, you handed Dick his stuff and watched with a smile as he opened it. You had gotten him new hair care stuff, a personalized watch to go on his wrist and even a cheap Nightwing mug for him to take to work everyday, at the police station.

Dick chuckled as he went through is stuff, before getting to your bag that you had wrapped for him.

Gently he pulled out the paper, and saw that it was a framed poster from a long time ago.

You had found one of the last Haly's Circus posters that featured himself along with his parents, and framed it.

If you didn't know Dick so well, you would've missed the slight tear he expertly blinked away. Instead he surged forward and pulled you into a tight embrace.

"You are amazing, how the hell did you find this?"

Scooting closer, you looked at the poster with him.

"Read the bottom,"

Dick looked a little confused until he looked.

It's been a while kid, I'm glad to hear you're doing great. When your girl came to me asking if I had anything, I knew just what to give you. This is the last one I owned, keeping it safe for a moment like this. She's real special, Dick. Don't do anything stupid, you hear?

Love your old friend, Haly

Dick turned to you in astonishment. "You found Haly and his circus?"

"You talk about him all the time, so I wanted to get you something really special. He just so happened to be in Midwest City last month, so Wally and Barry helped me get down there so I could meet him," you explained.

"Haly really is a great guy, I can see why you loved his circus so much."

Dick hugged you tightly, not letting go.

"This is the best present I have ever gotten, thank you, baby."

Beaming up at him, you smiled. "Your welcome, Dick."

Rubbing the back of his head, Dick handed you your stocking and present. "Now I feel kind of lame, with what I got you."

Taking his hand, you smiled. "Nothing from you is ever lame, Grayson."

Dick smiled, holding you close as you emptied your stocking. It had new bath stuff, complete with a bath bomb, soap, body spray, and a candle all in your favorite scent.

Getting to the bottom, you pulled out a pair of fuzzy socks that had the Nightwing logo across it.

Letting out a laugh, you leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Now, I will always have you with me,"

Dick smiled, watching as you opened the little box.

Inside was a custom designed necklace and earrings. They had a beautiful gem on them, in his signature blue.

"Oh, Dick. This is gorgeous," you exclaimed taking it out. "I love it!"

Dick took the necklace as you turned, to help you put it on.

"It's amazing."

"An amazing gift, for an amazing girl."

You leaned up and kissed him softly.

"Merry Christmas, Dick."

Merry Christmas, my love."

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Azel: Good evening. I've been wanting to see you, you know?

When I came to, I was here again.

In this rose garden full of buds, there’s a man with an otherworldly appearance, resting his hand on an oak table.

I have a strange feeling like this has happened before, or maybe it hasn't.

(Somehow, only the presence of this Living God feels strangely vivid.)

Emma: ...A dream, right?

Azel: Oh? There's no way to prove which is the dream and which is reality.

Azel: Human wisdom hasn't progressed enough to unravel the mysteries of dreams.

Azel: It's possible that you being here is actually reality, and vice versa.

(I kind of understand, but I kind of don't.)

Azel: By the way, are you good at cooking?

Suddenly switching from a mystical topic to a realistic one, it took me a while to grasp the meaning.

Emma: I wouldn't say I'm good at it, but I can make decent food.

Azel: That's good. Actually, I've been interested in the local cuisine of Rhodolite.

Emma: ...Why are you suddenly bringing this up?

Azel: Because I know what will happen in the future.

Azel: When the time comes, you'll understand my intentions.

(It's hard to believe, but I guess that's how Gods are.)

Azel: By the way, I haven't had dinner today.

Emma: Eh? Are you feeling unwell?

Azel: No, it's due to various circumstances.

Azel: You're supposed to be a kind-hearted woman. You wouldn't do something cruel like leave a God on the verge of starvation, would you?

Emma: ...Rather than a prophecy, it feels like you're blatantly pressuring me to "come and cook for you."

Azel: Not at all, not at all. I'm just telling you that I prefer hearty meals to sweets, but I have no ulterior motives.

(I feel like there's nothing but ulterior motives.)

Azel: Besides, "you" over there hardly remembers what happened here.

Azel: There's no point in pressuring you, is there?

Prince Azel smiles mercifully – and the world begins to distort.

Azel: Ah, I'm looking forward to it.

Azel: –– ...I just happened to need a slave.

-

I woke up with a start, drawn by the light, and found myself in the guest room that had been given to me yesterday.

(I think I had another dream.)

(...It was a dream with the Living God in it.)

As usual, my memories crumbled away.

What remained today was the puzzling information "hearty meals, not sweets," and a chilling, inexplicable pounding of my heart.

(It wasn't a nightmare, but... how strange.)

-

Emma: There's something I've been wondering about...

Emma: Owner, what's that?

The city surrounding Tanzanite Castle was even more lively than Rhodolite.

The reason was obvious; everywhere I looked, there were tourists who seemed to have come from foreign countries.

Some people were enjoying food bought from stalls, while others were browsing souvenir shops selling pottery and textiles, which were local specialties. But what drew the most attention was the statue of the Living God, sitting majestically in the center of the city.

(I only passed by yesterday, so I couldn't get a good look at it...)

(Looking at it now, it's a spitting image of the real thing.)

Akatsuki: It's a tourist attraction. It's famous as a power spot where wishes come true.

Emma: Ah, that's why so many people are praying.

Akatsuki: You want to go too?

Emma: No... I'll pass.

(My wish is "to fall in love," so somehow I feel like I shouldn't pray to this statue.)

(...Really, it's just a feeling.)

Emma: So, what are we doing today?

Akatsuki: We're delivering an item that was requested.

Emma: So the Living God wasn't your only client?

Akatsuki: I have about 100 business partners in Tanzanite.

(That many...?)

Akatsuki: Sometimes I sell books, sometimes I exchange them for other books.

Akatsuki: Watch and learn.

Emma: Yes! I'll do my best to learn.

(This is completely different from looking after the shop. I have to work hard.)

Renewing my determination, I chased after the Owner's back as he walked ahead.

But I soon stopped in my tracks.

Akatsuki: ...Seems like something's happening.

Emma: ...!

The crowd gathered a short distance away was different from the others; they were buzzing with commotion.

Thanks to the Tanzanite soldiers, people were already starting to disperse, but through the thinning crowd, I could see a man with a swollen face.

Emma: He's badly injured. Was it a fight?

???: Something like that. It's been happening a lot lately.

(Ah, that voice...)

When I turned around, I saw Basil carrying a large amount of luggage, and Kamal, whose beauty, as always, was attracting attention.

Basil: I suspect a diviner misread the divine oracle.

Emma: What do you mean?

Basil: Divination in Tanzanite is considered to be the interpretation of the divine oracle, which reads the will of God from the stars.

Basil: Since Prince Azel is a God himself, his words directly become divine oracles...

Basil: Diviners are required to be skilled in how well they can interpret the will of God.

(Speaking of which...)

*flashback*

Azel: The basis of divination in our country is astrology.

Emma: Astrology...?

Azel: It's what you call astrology. What's popular here is unique to Tanzanite.

*back to present*

(Unique, so that's what he meant.)

Basil: However, it seems that many diviners have been misinterpreting the divine oracle lately...

Basil: Customers who are angry about the blasphemy against God sometimes lash out like that.

It was a logic I couldn't understand.

(I think divination is something that can be right sometimes and wrong sometimes.)

Emma: ...Are mistakes not allowed?

Basil: Well, divination is something that can change a person's life.

Basil: In this country, to call yourself a divinator, you need to have a certain level of resolution or preparedness.

(I guess I don't understand because I'm from another country.)

Basil: The idea that Prince Azel's thoughts are something that a mere divinator can read is preposterous.

I felt a shadow fall over Basil's face as he pushed up his glasses.

(Basil also has something on his mind, and that's dangerous!)

As he touched his glasses, the balance of his luggage was disrupted, and the Owner supported it with a speed invisible to the eye.

Basil: Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Thank you very much.

Akatsuki: Don't mind it. But, is this for a feast?

(I thought so too.)

The contents of Basil's luggage were a large quantity of groceries.

It was such an amount that it seemed difficult even to walk while looking ahead, and at least I wouldn't be able to carry it.

Basil: No, it's just an errand.

Basil: It certainly feels like there's more than usual, but I'm sure there's some noble reason for it.

("Noble reason" means it's an errand for Prince Azel, right?)

Only Basil was running the errand; Kamal was empty-handed.

When our eyes met, his long, beautiful fingers pulled out a letter.

The envelope was presented to the Owner.

Akatsuki: An additional order?

The Owner, who opened the seal on the spot, furrowed his brow at the letter he took out.

Emma: ...What's wrong?

Akatsuki: It says they found a clue to the book I was looking for.

Akatsuki: ...But it's suspicious.

Emma: Isn't that a good thing?

Akatsuki: If they were willing to tell me like this, they could have told me yesterday.

Akatsuki: Yet they deliberately contacted me later. And they're telling me to come and get the clue.

(...Indeed, I wonder if there's some intention behind it.)

Basil: Well, Prince Azel also apologized for that.

Basil: He said, "I accidentally forgot to tell you."

Akatsuki: .............

Akatsuki: In the first place, I don't have time to go get it for a while.

(I'm sure he has appointments to meet with his clients after this.)

(...But I think the information about the book is something the Owner desperately wants...)

(It might be rude to refuse the goodwill of a God.)

(Alright, this is where the assistant comes in.)

I raise my hand and volunteer to the Owner, who has a grim expression on his face.

Emma: Shall I go and get it?

-

Azel: My apologies… I am truly sorry.

Prince Azel warmly welcomed me when I visited his residence with Basil and Kamal, after parting ways with the Owner.

The way he emerged from the building with such perfect timing, as if he had foreseen everything, made me truly believe that he possesses some extraordinary power.

Azel: Thank you for your hard work, you two. Please bring the luggage inside.

Basil was frozen with his eyes sparkling, saying "H-huh..." Kamal grabbed him and pulled him inside.

(Now it's just the two of us.)

Emma: I've come on behalf of the Owner. I heard that you would give me a clue about the book...

Azel: Yes. I will give you a map.

Prince Azel turns his back to me and starts walking.

His eyes urge me to "follow me," so I follow him, but he's fast.

(Are his legs long, or is he just unusually fast...!)

I desperately chase after him, and as I follow Prince Azel through the uniquely shaped entrance---

Emma: ………… Huh?

I stop involuntarily, blink a few times, and pinch my cheeks.

It hurt like normal.

Azel: What's wrong?

Emma: No...

(Wh... what's going on here!?)

It was a shock, as if I had stepped into another world.

Unlike the weathered exterior walls, the interior was so neatly maintained that it didn't feel like it had 1000 years of history, and there was no sign of the precariousness that made it seem like it was about to collapse.

It's hard to say it was a brand new building, but the description of a "castle" truly suited it.

(I initially thought it was a solitary castle in the desert, and maybe I wasn't far off.)

Emma: The atmosphere is quite different from the exterior.

Azel: Of course, I can't just live in a 1000-year-old building as it is.

Azel: It's under major renovation right now.

Azel: The right side is mostly finished with renovations, so there's no problem, but the left side has partially collapsed.

Azel: If you happen to walk around here, never go to the left side.

Azel: If you do happen to enter it–

Emma: ...If I do?

Azel: Hehe.

(I'll be careful not to accidentally wander in there.)

Azel: Please be careful where you step.

Prince Azel goes up the stairs and proceeds to the right.

While chasing after him at a running pace, I casually glance to the left, and even though the sun should be directly overhead, it seems like a dim darkness lingers there.

(...I wonder if it's because the renovations aren't finished yet.)

After passing through the entrance hall, there's a corridor, which is also beautifully repaired.

At the end of the corridor where Prince Azel strode purposefully, there was a door.

Azel: Now, please come in.

Even though I was out of breath, I entered through the open door without a shred of suspicion... and found myself not in a guest room, but a kitchen.

(...Why?)

In the tidy room, the large amount of luggage that Basil had been carrying was carelessly placed. As I picked up a fruit that had rolled out of a bag, question marks popped up in my mind one after another.

Emma: Prince Azel... is the map in the kitchen?

Azel: Of course not, you idiot.

(!?)

(What? I just heard him speak like a different person...)

The door slams shut.

Prince Azel leaned against the closed door, blocking my escape route, and the corners of his mouth lifted.

Azel: Now, it's time for collection.

Emma: C-collection?

Azel: Here you go.

A letter, seemingly produced from thin air, is thrust in front of me.

Emma: This is...

I rub my eyes and look again.

No matter how many times I look at it, I can only read it as a "divination fee invoice."

Moreover, the numbers lined up on it were of an exorbitant amount that I had never seen before.

Emma: ...Is this addressed to me?

Azel: Yes, it's addressed to you.

Emma: I'm sorry, but I don't recall this.

Azel: Don't tell me you thought a God's divination was free?

Emma: ...Eh?

Azel: Wow, how rude. Don't underestimate me, okay?

(The divination from yesterday, it wasn't free!?)

I hurriedly pulled myself together as my senses started to fade.

Emma: But you said it was a thank you gift...!

Azel: There are many people who want to receive my divination but can't.

Azel: The thank you gift is the "right to receive divination."

Emma: You didn't say a word about that!

Azel: Well, it's common sense.

Emma: I don't know any such common sense!

Azel: Don't blame your ignorance on me.

(This is a scammer's tactic!?)

The me of yesterday, who thought he was a merciful and kind God – it seems I was seeing an illusion.

(Maybe this is his true nature.)

*flashback*

Clavis: But it's surprising. You're the current "Belle," and you're good at seeing through people's true nature, right?

Clavis: ...No, that's not right. Or rather, is it that impression precisely because you "saw through" it?

Clavis: Hmm, very interesting. I wonder if it's me who's seeing the illusion, or you.

*back to present*

(–That's what he meant. How pathetic of me, even though I'm Belle.)

Azel: Ah, but please rest assured. I'm not so cruel as to say "pay now."

Azel: We have two payment methods available: cash or labor.

(I can't feel assured at all.)

Azel: You don't seem to have any money, do you?

Azel: To repay this amount, you'll have to work like a slave...

Azel: Good luck.

His benevolent smile fueled my anger.

(Everyone's been deceived.)

(This person is not a merciful God at all. Rather...)

Emma: You, evil God!

Azel: Oh my, are those insults? As expected, a foreign girl is quite spirited.

Azel: But you see...

As I glared at him, Prince Azel grabbed my chin with his large hand–

Azel: Shall I show you what happens if you defy me?

.

.

.

Letter

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[moonedman]

All other sagas done in previous or future posts

Underworld Saga

this is probably my favorite saga. and also probably one of the most important, fundamentally. i think i filled five notebook pages on these three songs.

The Underworld

“I no longer dream” what my friend was once saying about how the screams he hears are real since he’s no heard them and knows what they sound like

“Past seems close behind” it’s catching up to him

Ough his crew asking “when does a man become a monster”

Ok so whatever the spirits are saying is the last thing they thought, meaning Odysseus’ crew considered him a monster, Polites is still upbeat and bright, his mom will wait for him

“Nothing is as it seems” possible that he’s just hallucinating this OR he doesn’t want to believe any of it.

I’m insane about Mr. Jorge Rivera-Herrans’ voice acting

Reminder! Greet the world with open arms! Don’t turn evil!

I know he’s not evil

HIS MOM

The realization finally hitting him that he’s been gone twelve years he’s lost and missed out on so much and he needs to get home

I’m going to blow up

Just. like. The beginning of realization

I’m going to blow up!!!!!!!!

No Longer You

“There is a world where I help you get home, but that’s not a world I know” opening us up to that no longer you idea

“Past romance” past is really interesting because he’s still married but it connects to the no longer you part

“Sacrifice of man” Previous sacrifices and also warning of future sacrifice

“Portrayal of betrayal” Scylla and Thunder bringer, but also in mutiny. Also when the wind bag was opened.

“Brother’s final stand” Eurylochus in mutiny, maybe Polites in Survive

“On the brink of death” well yes

“Man who gets to make it home alive/but it’s no longer you” he’s changed and lost so much that there’s like no way he’ll ever be the same king and husband and father. Also in the odyssey story Odysseus has to disguise himself as an old man so he can win back his wife

He also kills all the suitors i hope we get to see that

Denial is a river in Egypt your men are doomed

“Palace covered in red” please please please be the suitors dying but also those suitors are violent in general (I am so grateful my prayers were answered)

“I see a wife with a man who is haunting/a man with a trail of bodies” “WHO”

a) he’s haunting her. His leaving haunts her because of the men in her house, telemachus and his whole “no dad” thing, and just not having your husband around. His absence affects her just as greatly as it does him

b) odysseus doesn’t realize it’s him. He’s got the trail of bodies. He’s so absorbed by the thought of penelope.

“Past romance” [again] oooohhh their marriage is fucked. It’s so different now

Backing vocals of future things [“Siren’s call, Scylla’s throat, mutiny, lightning bolt, Poseidon, kill the suitors for love”]

That’s so cool I’m INSANE

I hate him

Monster

“How has everything been turned against us” …hmm. I wonder.

“Do I need to change” YOU ALREADY HAVE but now he’s considering doing it on purpose

You’re in the underworld of course the souls are around you

“I’m the only one whose line I haven’t crossed” and you’ll keep crossing them!

“What if the greatest threat we’ll find across the sea/Is me” BLOW UP [he’s like rethinking but also plotting? Like what if he was the biggest danger?]

Remember remember

“Too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves” he’s realizing he’s realizing he’s self aware he’s going to treat his men unfairly

All the foes he’s encountered are all doing what they can to protect those they love and odysseus is starting to see the similarities between them [and also the ones he wants to protect gets fewer until it’s just him almost [because he needs to see his wife and son so he needs to live]]

Plotting to keep his men safer by being more cruel

Anything for them

He’s willing to lose all morals in order to get home and keep as many people alive as possible but accidentally loses those base morals in the process of doing so

The animation i watched in the playlist i found showed a hallucination of Penelope taking the headband Odysseus took from Polites and that’s such a cool detail [throwing away the morals of being kind and keeping an open mind all for his wife]

I based my current DnD character off this song.

I’m so insane about the Ithaca saga do you tumblr people want to hear my full analysis of each song to celebrate

[completeoveranalysis]

[5]

You're right, that does sound bad.

Absolutely fascinating that the powers of the feathers collecting together is making Sakura glow like that, like she's evolving or transforming. Except she's not even in there really, which is still awful.

OHO HERE WE GO.

Honestly the tension behind all this is pulled off REALLY well. They really make it LOOK like there IS enough power built up here in Sakura to pull that off. Especially when it essentially comes down to a power that relies upon the cumulative experiences of everything the readers have gone through to get to this point, which is a lot, and means that it's the reader's memories themselves that make this all the more powerful of a moment.

IT'S NEAT.

AND ALSO - ELDRITCH HORROR SAKURA? THE WINGS UNFOLDING WITH SO MUCH POWER THAT SAKURA IS A FORCE WITH ENOUGH SHEER POWER TO RIP APART THE FABRIC OF THE UNIVERSE?

PEAK.

And all in the service of wanting to bring people back to life.

Which, in hindsight, makes it really really funny that the Beetrain anime did their own plot so badly that it broke the purpose of the entire story to begin with, but oh well!

ALSO I'M HAVING A MOMENT OF SUDDEN CLARITY. In the cover for Chapitre 212 I was talking about how there were 14 little water droplets causing ripples that we could see, and how that was kind of the same number of worlds we visited. I never thought about it before but SAKURA'S WINGS ALSO HAVE 14 STRANDS IN THEM.

AND LIKE it's not about the number of physical feathers, because there were a bunch more of those, but Evil Wolverine's plan hinges on travelling to a number of Worlds specifically - and we went to 14 of them. And there are 14 parts to Sakura's wings. So it was always 14! They showed it to us all along! It was a concrete plan!

At least from a planning perspective anyway! I don't think it's a solid RULE that there were only 14 worlds they went to, since it's left pretty open for them to have visited other worlds inbetween and off screen and even some of the canonical worlds we went to were 2 worlds in one, but still! I just think it's neat! 14 clear arcs, 14 main worlds, and 14 pieces of the wings that will destroy the universe as we know it.

[vaguely-concerned]

walking through lucanis' mind prison. the tam lin of it all

[flashanimated]

BEEN DOWN THIS ROAD BEFORE,

ALREADY KNOW THIS STORY.