#i kin error for more reasons than one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-autumn-apple-artworks · 1 month ago

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౨ৎ. Watch me selfship with myself /J/SILLY

OK GUYS;;; I MIGHT'VE GOTTEN;;; A LITTLE SILLY;;;

This started as a kinsona, and remained as such, HOWEVER it ended up with me using him to selfship with Ivrig, the kin in question,,,

Is this self-love????? I guess????? Yeahhhh whatever here, have a bunch of homosexual cabinets <3333

IN ADDITION !!! LORE !!!! UNDER THE CUT !!!

It's very very long so have a good read I guess </333 I put much passion into the homosexuals /silly

CW: mutilation, murder, transphobia, religious trauma

This is how his document would look like after he's scheduled for hacking:

NAME: Doe Santomassimo SEX: Female, although undergoes a masculine identity AGE: 20 HEIGHT: 170cm WEIGHT: 60kg

"A university student. No other instances of criminal record. Charged with mutilation and public exposition of corpses, and murder, shortly after the incident of a previous reformation target known as Yamamura. Found to be a BUG owner through scanning."

Doe is an Italian deer-folk, that's why I chose Santomassimo (can be translated into "Great Saint") as his surname, I just picked one of the most common surnames in my small town cuz ofc I wouldn't use mine even if I wanted to HJDHSDFJSFH

The reason why there isn't an actual birthname listed like for Ivrig still having "Kosuke" along with his chosen name, is that lore-wise, Doe undergo a legal name change. Ivrig, instead, stood with Kosuke during the legal name change in my personal headcanon of him being actually trans. In fact, in game he is not mad that people use Kosuke for him, he is more uncomfortable when his family insists on referring to him as "Ko-chan" using a feminine and infantilizing suffix. Plus, on the documents, his sex is male, meaning he also undergo some sort of legal sex change on paper at least. That means his family accepts the fact he is trans but don't quite understand how to fully be an ally and still use the "-chan" suffix. I assume that general hatred around the LGBT folks has been greatly reduced thanks to the whole "the soul is a source code, everything is prewritten" so people had gotten more understanding of the "I was born this way" and don't see it as something harmful. Although I can still see the older folks being judgemental and always take the opportunity to assume that any sign of diversity is actually a BUG and therefore personality error

This was the case for Doe's parents. His mother was purely Catholic and strongly believed that God sent the BUGs to punish the sinners. As a consequence, Doe lived in fear that even a minuscule mistake could lead to his death, even living under his true identity

After finally getting into university, and convincing his parents to get him a house to stay in, Doe is met with a completely different mentality, everyone is much more accepting and he slowly gets out of his shell to come out as trans. However, not to his parents, at least until he is met with the opportunity to undergo a legal name change. His parents are obviously furious, but not completely against. Doe can still be a pretty feminine name, however, his parents are much more against the fact that he chose to "discard his heritage" and choose a much more standard, English name rather than his Italian birthname. Tho there was still his surname so no biggie in the end

As stated before, his surname can be translated to "Great Saint" although the heritage of said surname is not really specified to be founded by religious backgrounds, it still recalls it quite a lot

Always afraid of religion, he'd grown distant of it, never sharing such detachment to his family and pretending to still be a believer every time he would come back to his hometown during the holidays

Speaking of hometown, his family is Italian but lives in the same setting of Ivrig's. Doe ends up attending a university in the same big city as Ivrig to study design, and that's how they meet

EDIT: Ignore that I completely forgot to talk about Doe's family LOL but he also has a little sister! His mother was first a musician but had to abandon that due to having children, which made her become a music teacher instead. Doe's mother is, in fact, known for being a really good pianist and everyone expected him to take the same passion for instruments. However, that did not happen and Doe took the same path as his father, which is becoming a designer. Everyone looked down on him because they thought that art would've been just a phase and "that job wouldn't have brought him anywhere if not under a bridge". It did not help that Doe's little sister DID take the music passion and started playing all sorts of instruments. Since the little sister took the musician path that the mother couldn't take, Doe was expected to at least take the teaching path. Of course, that wasn't the case, and Doe insisted heavily to go to university and study design. After a tough battle with his parents, they finally agreed

(Post Mindhack, Doe's family becomes more supportive, realizing that MAYBE they've fucked up lol) BACK ON THE LORE TY SORGY

Doe would always go to a specific square near most of the universities' campuses. He wasn't that good with social interaction and never really made much friends to hangout with, most importantly he wasn't used to the chaotic city life, so a nice, calm space where he could sit on a lone bench and draw whoever caught his interest was his go to activity

One day, Ivrig decides to use said square as a preaching spot: everyday he would settle down there at the same hour and preach loud and proud about LAGOM. Every time, Doe was there. Ivrig's passion and his over-the-top personality caught Doe's eyes, enough to actually lend an ear and listen, signing down information as he constantly imprinted Ivrig's poses on his notebook through doodles

He found himself interested for the first time into something related to religion. It quite resonated with him. Feelings are a hassle, they're complicated, everyone expects something different from him and from the way he chooses to express himself, sometimes people make themselves unreadable and confusing as if they were doing it on purpose! He didn't like doing mental gymnastic every time! How others would hate how he struggled with feeling empathy or feeling anything at all! What if... what if he could be inorganic?

However he didn't really feel like just- going there and ASK, that was too embarrassing! Instead, he sneaked behind Ivrig, and sticked a doodle page he made for him to his metal cabinet using a magnet, running away clumsily as soon as Ivrig turned around. Now, Doe is quite recognisable anyway so, the next day, at the same hour, Ivrig started preaching again but, instead of standing still in the middle of the square, he walked around it until he could locate Doe, stopping right in front of him to ask a rhetorical question and conclude it with "Isn't that right, Notebook?" addressing Doe directly

This is what started it all, Doe couldn't really run away from that anymore and, deep down, it was his plan all along, so this time he would be forced to confront Ivrig and get into the religion

One traumatic family disowning experience later, Doe is now living in the shared households of the LAGOM House, and what do you know, it's the same one where Ivrig also lives in. Doe survives with his scholarship and part-time job money, which is more than enough considering the high sense of community and the other believers helping him out, just like they did for Ivrig. In a way, Doe became Ivrig's disciple, always going to him whenever he was in doubt

Once he reached Ivrig's rank (Shelves and the like) he also chose a cabinet. Most of the believers expected him to pick a library or anything else related to his strong passion for drawing and designing, however, Doe explained his choice saying he based himself off "functionality and affordance" rather than passion and the being easy-to-assemble. Being a student in design, he follows the rules of "affordance", which is "the characteristics or properties of an object that suggest how it can be used. It shows a user that an object can be interacted with.". The main 3 agents that can be interacted with are Buttons, Switches and Sliders/Levers, with the main 3 interactions being Push, Pull, Turn. A good object is functional if designed to be as such, following the rules of affordance. A library is static, it's just a storage. A cabinet is dynamic, it has a door, it can communicate how to use such door and can be designed in many different, artistic and yet functional ways. Moreover, he designs his own cabinet head to be perfectly functionable, removable, and with glasses incorporated. Ivrig is quite jealous of that but he would never admit that out loud HAJHDFJSH

But, most importantly, he is quite the homosexual for Ivrig, but we don't talk about that /SILLY

Just kidding, we're absolutely going to talk about the homos

Doe is absolutely crushing on Ivrig however none of the two are able to read the room, with Doe thinking that his crush on Ivrig is just him blowing his sense of admiration out of proportions, and Ivrig thinking that Doe's obvious romantic hints are just a demonstration of appreciation because he's such a great preacher

It DOESN'T HELP that, while venting/gossiping to each other about their lives, Ivrig mentions the scam incident, where he truly believed to have met the girl of his dreams. Now Doe thinks Ivrig's straight </3

Soon enough, however, Doe can't resit and, while they're alone and Ivrig is sharing some random fact he knows, he removes his cabinet and gently grabs Ivrig's hands to kiss them since- he can't kiss him due to the cabinet being wielded shut from the inside (for now <3)

Doe and Ivrig are now going through this very simple and fluffy relationship where all they do is just,,, being boyfriends and hold hands that's all <333333

THAT,,,, is,,, until Ivrig does what he does,,,,

Doe takes Ivrig's place as a preacher... however that does not last long as he cannot accept that the one he loved and that actually accepted him could've done such things without a reason. So, in order to prove his devotion to Ivrig he goes against LAGOM and recreates the exact same crime. With the difference that Doe exposes the corpses in a whole ass artistic exhibition IN THE SAME SQUARE that Ivrig used to preach in

When Doe is scheduled for hacking, Ivrig had already been dismissed, so imagine seeing your boyfriend on the news before you could have the time to meet him again after getting reformed,,,, augh,,,

Yes cuz, Ivrig DOES remember Doe, all that the BUG erased was LAGOM and his identity connected to It. There might be missing pieces, a LOT of them, but he still remembers that they were in a relationship. However, Doe... doesn't remember much of Ivrig. That is because Doe is a huge people pleaser, he is the kind of guy that is willing to do everything to receive the approval from anyone that even barely shows affection to him. His BUG's outbreak reached its peak due to his denial and desire to receive approval from the one he loved. This resulted into Doe not believing in LAGOM anymore, but also considering Ivrig a charlatan, not remembering much of him in the first place, let alone the fact that he had a relationship with him

Following the headcanon that Captain, Rookie and Unid end up becoming Ivrig's found family, Ivrig doesn't have that many problems going in and out of the HOTFIX building, skipping the security procedures cuz that's their son bitch /silly

So, Ivrig runs to Doe and is immediately struck by the terrifying "Do I know you?" statement </33333

Think that maybe Ivrig went without his cabinet (since I headcanon that after being mindhacked he gets help to remove it and modify it so that he can wear it again and take it off with ease) or left it to Miki or Captain while he waited to be able to visit Doe so he goes back to get the cabinet and wear it again and Doe is like "Ohhh aren't you like-??? That weird ass charlatan?? I followed your preaching and did that bad stuff!!"

Oh well that got worse

So like, Ivrig says "Omg no way I got reformed too I don't follow that god anyway either-!!" and Doe is NOT convinced cuz "Well if you got reformed that's another reason why I shouldn't trust you blindly!"

Ivrig is so heartbroken and asks Captain for advice cuz ofc he would that's his mom now and she's like, immediately in to help and offers to take the guard's shift and watch over Doe instead to talk to him and subtly ask about Ivrig and what he thought about him and if he remembers, which brings in the whole speech about "changing the scenery" (y'know? the same speech she gave to Doctor about change?) cuz yeah Doe is 100% valid for not wanting to listen anyone blindly anymore and become more of his own person instead of being so dependable of other's acceptance, but y'know Ivrig could still care for him nonetheless. They had BOTH changed, that's more than one reason to try again

So they talk again and they figure out that Ivrig doesn't remember shit about his time at the LAGOM House, but Doe DOES and vice versa since, during their time together, they've vented to each other so now they remember facts about the other person but not about their own lives. Even if it's very minimal they share what they remember about the other, tho Ivrig doesn't specify anything about them being together since Doe doesn't seem to remember that at all

So this time, it's IVRIG trying to send hints in the clumsiest way possible and Doe NOT catching them at all <3333

AUUGHHHH I love the gayyssssss

Ty for listening to my homosexual rambling (it will happen again) <3

#// mike draws #// mike writes #kinsona #kin sona #mindhack #mindhack game #ivrig mindhack #mindhack ivrig #kosuke mindhack #mindhack kosuke #kosuke yamamura #selfshipping #selfship #self shipping #self ship

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ghostlyvoidshark · 2 months ago

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saw you were doing requests. can you do an error sans x reader [platonic] where the mc helps him with his phobia?

Hello! So sorry for taking forever! I think the author curse is real because, no lie, about a week after I started writing I caught 'rona for the second time, got hospitalized, nearly died in surgery, got fired from my first job then a little while later a family member died. But I'm chilling now 👍 looking at the positives - like being happy I put my mom's toxic boyfriend in jail >:] it's about the small wins lmao.

ERROR SANS x READER (Platonic)

Pronouns:

Error: he / they

Reader: you / they

I feel like Error would be both very easy to become friends with but also very difficult.

Like a cat...

I mean he would have very specific requirements to be friends but they're easy requirements. The difficult part is finding out what they are without scaring him off lol.

It'd be stuff like not touching them, not being too loud / obnoxious, respect boundaries, show interest in his obsessions but not too much knowledge on them (doesnt like being one-uped in his obsessions) etc.

I feel like he's okay with loud people btw, he just rather you not invade his space when doing stuff and rather have a warning to put on muffs to help regulate sound.

Totally would knit you some gifts, though. Each one comes with an insult as an excuse, though. Scarf? Its because you're a feeble human that dies at the slightest change smh 😒 gotta make sure their entertainment doesn't perish.

Anyways - onto the specific request -

I think the best way to help him would to be encourage him but not force anything. I lowkey kin Error so I'm kind of (very much) projecting because thats my only point of reference for a healing arc lmao. Ill explain my thoughts, tho.

I think he needs encouragement because he's stubborn and wouldn't change otherwise. You'll probably have to reason and bargain why he should do it and then encourage him.

He probably doesn't like change in the first place so that ontop of not seeing a point in doing it makes him stubborn to try.

But I do think it's possible to get him to try to get over his phobia. It'll take a while of getting them to warm up to the idea, but you can get there.

Also I know some people think you may have to force him because he's so stubborn, but he has obvious anger issues or some form of emotional disregulation and, in my experience, forcing him is a sure fire way to set them off and make them resent the mere idea of changing or becoming better. He may play along but it will make everything very difficult and not actually help him.

He'd just retreat and revert the first chance he gets if he were forced. So bad idea.

But once he's in a safe space (the antivoid) he will try your ideas. A bit begrudgingly because approaching phobias is very distressing for most people. But he's trying for you.

I think the best approach would just be... a form of exposure therapy? Like being a bit closer during parallel play. Doing your own things in closer proximity than normal. Allowing him to adjust to your presence being there in a different way.

And slowly moving up from there. Like adding small things to the routine so it can feel normal for them. Like instead of normal promises you guys start making pinky promises.

Because routines are likely important to him since laws / rules have been shown to be important to him. So making touch one of those rules / routines shows it can be a good thing / normal rather than a distressing situation. It also give incentive to do it more since routines 'shouldnt' be broken.

From there it's just a matter of finding work arounds and adding things to the routine. Having big sit-downs and 'sessions'probably isn't his style since it dramatizes it and makes it an exhausting thing. So it's better to just ask or tell him you want to try something new and if he would like to try / what would be the best way to do that. Like hand holding!

I think the first time he holds your hand it wouldn't be a big / emotional thing for him. He'd be more focused on not losing his shit at first. But the second or third time he'd be more emotional in a '/positive' way. Like he'd probably still look disgruntled and disgusted but he'd likely be staring off into space, lost in thought.

He likes having that intimacy (intimacy can be more than lewd or romantic btw) with you. The closeness with someone trustworthy.

But like ew touching lol. So he's kinda confused. He's happy but a little grossed out. Like handling a baby - the child is cute but inexplicably sticky with unknown substances. Pros and cons.

I think once hes more comfortable with you and touching he'd randomly shoulder check you 💀 they try not to do it roughly but he's quite literally an emotionally unstable universe destroyer, so its a work in progress to figure out how to do it gently lmaoo

But it's kind of the easiest way he's found so far to show affection on his terms without feeling trapped or forced in some way. Hugs are too cagey and holding hands can feel like too much since someone is grabbing him. Those are for when he feels better - so shoulder bumps are safe and affectionate.

You may be knocked to the floor the first time tho 💀 they swear they weren't trying to beat your ass.

Also once touching in small doses has been unlocked they will become weirdly more mean? But not in a genuinely aggressive way.

It's like how some introverts become loud dummies when they start to like you.

He just opens up more about his thoughts and feelings and teases you more because he feels like you have proven to be safe.

And it's not subtle either. No slow transition. Y'all will just be chilling one day and he drops some out of pocket comment about something and you're left there wondering why he's suddenly so bitchy like??? My guy??

He'll insult you too (not anything serious. And if you're okay with it.) But its how someone insults a cat, y'know?

Like if you're eating some snack he disapproves of he'll call you a stinky rat or smth. Its just *sees nachos and cheese in your hands* "stinky little garbage man/woman/rat"

No context given. You're just The Trash Thing(/aff) now.

Others are not given the mercy, though. If someone is annoying you will hear about it and he will tear them to shreds verbally.

Also if you two become more familial than just friends you will have the most viscous parental figure / sibling / etc. Ever.

Someone break your heart? They'll break the jackass' bones. Fair trade, yeah? Plz restrain him before half the city is demolished. Pls..

But like, he understands if you're just venting. He can calm down if you're complaining and venting. But if you seem really genuinely in distress he gets really pissed off. He'll start out shit talking the problem too then get a little too worked up lmao

They mean well, just get passionate about their loved ones.

Also pray / hope that ink never finds out about you because they will beat that dorks non-existent ass and you'll have to deal with them ranting for 2-4 hours.

Once they're okay enough you two will end up sitting shoulder to shoulder with a scarf or blanket wrapped around you two. I don't make the rules 🤷‍♂️ just enforce quality time.

#undertale aus #undertale au #undertale x reader #error x reader #error sans #platonic #error x reader platonic #platonic x reader #familial error sans #family headcanons

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mesetacadre · 8 months ago

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The Romanov children probably did not have to be killed to win the Russian Civil War (unless someone presents clear evidence the Whites having first-degree relatives to rally around versus more distant kin would have changed a thing), so I don’t think it’s a kill baby Hitler moment, but it’s not hugely meaningful that they died, nor nearly the greatest atrocity committed (although every human life lost is worse than the alternative, generally, relishing in suffering alienates you from the fellow masses of Man—not merely a moral consideration but a strategic one).

Communists should probably tailor their response to the death of the Romanov children to their audience and minor tactical edges in messaging, since it’s mostly meaningless either way, but I think in the specific case most people are willing to tolerate and accept the dehumanisation of royalty, so it’s likely fine, if not advantageous, to build mass/public consensus against excessive moralising concerning their deaths.

I do think it is underdiscussed how a key mode of moral judgement and analysis that remains undercultivated in self-proclaimed communists is something being a mistake (strategically or morally), but not discrediting of the broader movement. All too often, in response to bourgeois moralising, auto-communists will lay claim to the entirety of a strategy or set of acts, atrocity and trade-off and consequence alike. It would benefit such movements to practice ceding ground on historic/past/previous mistakes or even atrocities without losing their entire footing, both for reasons of actual learning from the past instead of reifying victory and error alike (it is notable that the previous attempt at communism lost, was defeated, did not work—self-evidently, so, and so something must change if we are to actually triumph next time) and because biting huge atrocity-shaped and sized bullets alienates building a class-conscious international proletariat.

First I'll reply to your last, broader point about admitting mistakes

When talking about the violence that is exerted during and after a revolution I don't think communists lack self-critique. What some do lack, perhaps, is a less-abrasive approach to communicating the idea, that being that wholesale "all murder is bad" arguments lack any merit and an understanding of how any change under any circumstances is effected. Violence is not ontologically bad, it's a tool whose character can change, and that's what ultimately matters when evaluating violence.

This being said, is revelling in suffering something that's not conducive to creating sympathy for socialism? sure. But I think you're assuming that the tone of a half-serious tumblr post is the same one we use when communicating with non-organized people, and it isn't. I think people forget that these are personal blogs, including mine. Almost nobody here is all of the time expressing their actual opinions about everything with nuance and a level head. Sometimes people like to joke around and maybe exaggerate or simplify their positions for the hell of it. Tumblr is not a platform for organizing anything, and nobody here is like actually actively representing their org/party.

The attitudes you may see, the "Stalin's only mistake was that he didn't kill more people" type of positions, are in the vast majority of cases a mix of Doing A Bit and frustration over hearing the same anti-communist arguments over and over and over again. No communist who has the platform to actually reach non-organized people and get them to join the party will actually express that kind of position when doing actual organizing work. The romanov children are also a topic that do not turn up when you're doing union work, most people don't really care about the specifics of the ussr and bolshevik revolution.

Onto the romanovs. The actual plan of the bolsheviks with the romanovs was probably to to try just the King and Queen and either execute them (which they would have deserved) or send them to reeducation along with the children, much like the CPC did with Puyi. Otherwise, why would they not only hold them prisoner but also move them at least once when the front approached? If the plan was to kill the whole family, why not just do it upon capture and save themselves the trouble?. Like the post I reblogged said, the decision to execute the entire family was done by the local soviet tasked with guarding them, it was not approved by the regional or central committee because it was a decision that had to be taken hastily, given the approaching frontline and logistical issues with postage.

I don't think it's very fantastical to assume that the soviet contemplated moving them again before execution, and that the decision to execute them was not taken lightly, especially without asking the Central Committee. The possibility of the Romanov family being recaptured by the whites was too great and they decided the best course of action was executing all of them to prevent a stronger restoration movement and have the actual Tsar being paraded around as the True Leader of Russia or something, and also give legitimacy to a possible exile government if they won. Was executing the whole family the best thing to do or necessary to win the war? I don't think so and I'd wager most communists believe this too, once you get past sarcasm or The Bit. And again, we're talking about a 150 note tumblr post, this is not a reflection of how the communists on here engage seriously with topics like this one.

#ask #anon

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genericmain · 14 days ago

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Otherkin // Therian //DID Post.

Honestly,, was hoping I wouldn't need to make this since I have anti otherkin in my DNI (og) but I guess I do? Cause it's not a main focus here, although that's subject to change.

I'm a shapeshifter in my system, aka a non-human alter. This has led to me identifying as otherkin. Similarly, though not for the exact same reason, I identify as a fox therian. As in, Right now. In this moment. I *am* these things. This is part of my experience being alive. I'm stressing this because of a negative interaction with another kin, who I ended up blocking.

If that bothers you, Block me.

More in depth on this under the cut.

I was diagnosed with DID at 13 years old. I'm now 24 years old. My parents gaslit me into believing the psych was wrong (they weren't) for a few years. Our system name is Error 101, If you need something generic to call us.

I'm the host. I'm the result of multiple integrations, and therefore, extremely complex. It's led to me viewing myself as a shape shifter. While I have an original form in headspace, I most often spend my time as something else. Namely, one of thw following: A ball jointed doll, An angel, A dragon, A phoenix, or some combination of these. I also identify as a fae shapeshifter specifically, but seperately as a fox therian.

I don't go around barking at people in stores or doing stuff like that. But I do feel astral limbs, and it effects my day to day life.

While I recognize some of this stems from my sense of self and communicates *exactly* how I was made to feel as a child (not good, lol) I think it's best to be transparent.

I do acknowledge that this could be delusional thinking, however, I don't think it is. Please do not reality check me without permission, and especially please do not suggest I "seek help" as "help" for systems is forced integration - Which is often traumatic in of itself, and not helpful for the person. However, the medical field doesn't like to listen to it's patients about their experiences, and therefore it's a "problem" that needs to be "fixed" which is precisely how they view harmless delusions as well. If a delusion is hurting someone (me thinking my wife isn't my wife) then yes it's important to seek outside help in dealing with it. If however it IS harmless, I don't see a point in correcting it. (If someone thinks there is a butterfly on their hand but nothing is there) Especially since it often causes more distress than leaving it alone. (Seen in dementia patients)

Some people feel otherkin should be a strictly spiritual experience, or that you shouldn't actively *be* your kin type rn but rather in a past life. These people are still valid, but unless you're going to shut up and respect my reality, please don't interact. Just block me.

#Navigation post for my blog

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jadelotusflower · 1 year ago

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Stargate rewatch: 1x12 Fire and Water

This episode doesn’t count as a Daniel death, but it does count as a Daniel fake out death, which is also pretty prevalent!

It’s kind of amusing comparing everyone being absolutely destroyed over Daniel’s apparent death here, to the later seasons where everyone shrugs and just assumes he’ll turn up somehow.

By this time the US Airforce was consulting in the show, and they sent along actual officers to conduct the funeral ceremony.

Do non-military personnel get military funerals?

“Daniel Jackson made this place happen. As a member of SG-1, he was our voice, our conscience. He was a very courageous man…he was a good man. For those of us lucky enough to have known him, he was also a friend.” 😭

Teal’c being handed the flag as the closest thing to a next of kin is very sweet.

“We commend Daniel Jackson’s spirit to the universe he opened up for us.” 😭 😭

Another Katharyn Powers episode, this is actually one of my favourites.

Where do we think they send the wreath? I would assume the planet where he died, but I suppose it could be Abydos if the gate is buried in such a way that they’re able to establish a wormhole.

Is this standard SGC funeral procedure? We don’t see them send a wreath for Janet even though she dies offworld, but I actually really love the concept.

Nice continuity on Jack’s house from CotG, he walks in carrying the biggest bowl of vegetables I’ve ever seen.

It’s interesting that Jack recounts the story of Sha’re kissing Daniel on Abydos rather than an anecdote from the first mission (getting dragged by the mastadge comes to mind) or from his time on SG-1 - perhaps he wanted to share an amusing memory from a time Daniel was truly happy, but also perhaps Sha’re isn’t far from Jack’s mind, because if Daniel’s gone, who else is going to remember/search for her?

Or maybe it’s also that Jack doesn’t really believe that Daniel really is gone - it almost feels like he’s ribbing a friend for a PDA with his wife like he’s there and not just retelling a story.

A cute outfit for Sam! Teal’c too.

Jack smashing a car window and contemplating retirement because of Daniel’s death 🥺

We see Jack start to backslide into grief like he did after Charlie which is a neat parallel - Daniel was part of the reason why Jack was able to heal from his son’s death, and with Daniel gone he regresses.

Great performance by RDA this episode.

In the false memory and the later flashback, Daniel is wearing his helmet - guess we aren’t quite done with them yet!

In the debrief Jack also says that Daniel cried out “Colonel, help me,” but in the triggered memory he says “Jack, help.” Perhaps a continuity error, but also perhaps the conditioned response altering/escalating. The beer reminds Jack of the bubbles in Nem’s lab, triggering the vision of Daniel’s in order to distract him - the more emotionally inflicting the memory, the less likely Jack is to question its authenticity.

But it actually has the opposite effect - Nem underestimated the bond between the team, as they cannot accept that Daniel is dead.

Daniel’s missing his glasses, so gets up real close to the cuneiform despite it being quite large.

I realise they had to go with the illogical everyone speaks English because this is a tv show, but I do enjoy when there is a language barrier or attempt to explain the lack of one - like the Nox, Nem’s race are advanced enough to learn English after short exposure.

It’s implied the Nox speaking English were an extension of their telepathic abilities, here Nem makes Daniel translate a Babylonian legal system to learn his language, which is neat.

Kind of swish apartment Daniel has! I’ve read some commentary over on reddit surmising that as an expert civilian contractor he’d actually be on a pretty good salary.

Also that’s a lot of stuff for someone who in the film it’s said that everything he had in the world was in two bags. He probably had stuff in storage inherited from his parents that he got out once he started getting that sweet government money.

“I’ll never get paid” is a nice movie callback.

Daniel has what looks like a painting of Bassin d’Apollon (Apollo’s Basin) at Versailles. The fountain depicts Apollo rising from the sea in a horse-drawn chariot. Apollo is of course the Greek god of light/the sun, keeping in the Fire and Water theme for this episode. Daniel will also rise from the sea at the end of the episode.

Jack is looking at the photo of Daniel in Egypt - this will later end up on the desk in Daniel’s lab at the SGC, together with the photo of Sha’re (which we haven’t seen yet).

The excerpt Sam reads from Daniel’s journal (“Sha’re is gone”) is in the middle of some random notes on Egyptian games. Obviously this show was made before it was expected that fans would pause and take screenshots, but I also kind of like the idea that Daniel writes in a stream of consciousness way, recording his thoughts even when they stray from something he’s working on to the personal.

I love the idea of Teal’c and Daniel having game nights.

“I lost my wife - my mate - because of the Goa’uld. They took her from me and I despise them for that.” This episode is probably the most Sha’re has been mentioned so far - between this and Thor’s Hammer I wonder if it was a Katharyn Powers choice or just that it fit into these particular stories.

Why does Nem believe so strongly that Daniel knows what fate Omoroca? Just because Daniel can read cuneiform doesn’t mean he knows all of Babylonian history.

But his distrust of Daniel being rooted in his belief that Earth is still under Goa’uld control because of Teal’c is neatly done.

“It is the fate of humans - that Omoroca could not prevent.” I like that even though Nem has learned English his speech is still a bit stilted. This is a really well crafted episode, imo.

Nem is played by Gerard Plunkett aka Tuplo from The Broca Divide. He does well acting through the prosthetics.

“I don’t have four thousand years. Maybe you can afford to search all that time but I can’t.” It’s interesting how often Daniel has a mirror character - in Torment of Tantalus it was Ernest, in this episode it’s Nem, but while the former was Daniel learning not to be so consumed by his thirst for knowledge that he’s blind to what really matters, here it’s the reinforcement of his convictions to risk his life if necessary to achieve his goals. They’re almost contradictory lessons, but not quite, because of the differing circumstances.

Here Nem is a cautionary tale - Daniel must be active in his search for Sha’re or he’ll end up like Nem, who out of fear and passivity waited for news of his mate’s death rather than trying to find her himself.

This episode was directed by Allan Eastman, his only Stargate effort. But he knew what’s what!

There’s good continuity on Daniel’s growing stubble too.

Eastman would however go on to direct several episodes of Andromeda, including the one guest starring Michael Shanks and Christopher Judge.

Dr Mackenzie appears for the first time since autopsying the dead Jaffa in CotG.

We get three versions of the false memory - Sam’s was “help, help” while Teal’c’s is a drawn out cry of agony - perhaps because Teal’c has seen so many more brutal things his memory needed to be more visceral to trigger the same reaction.

There is nothing Daniel loves more than drawing in the sand.

“And in time Daniel, you will find what fate Sha’re.” A not so pleasant glimpse into Daniel’s future there.

It’s too bad we never see Nem again, not even when the show gets into other memory searching/creating technology.

“Tell us about it over sushi.” You can tell this was an RDA lib because he, Shanks, and Tapping almost break character.

#one of my faves!#stargate sg-1 #stargate rewatch #1x12 fire and water #in which I once again get into the weeds #long post #jlf posts #daniel jackson #jack o’neill #daniel x sha’re #jlf watches stargate

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katlover14 · 10 months ago

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Is this love? (An Ink x Y/N Oneshot)

(I’ve never written oneshots before, so sorry if what I wrote technically isn’t one. Why did I write it about Ink? Because I kin Ink and because I couldn’t think of anyone else to write it about. Here ya go, Ink simps!)

(P.S: I’m NOT an Ink simp. I would choose Fell, Classic, or Horror over Ink any day.)

Ink perked up when he heard that familiar sound of the most beautiful laughter he’d ever heard. It was… intoxicating? That sounds like the right word. He couldn’t help but laugh along with you. A strange, warm feeling rose in his chest. It felt so fuzzy.

What is this feeling? Ink wondered as he looked over to see what was making you laugh.

A cat video. Of course. What else could he expect to make you smile so much? Ink rolled his eyelights, though he was a tad bit jealous that a video of cat’s failing to jump onto high places could make you laugh more than he could. He decided he needed a distraction from your infectious laughter.

As he started drawing, his mind wandered to the first time you two had met. He doesn’t know how he remembers that day. He should’ve forgotten it by now, but yet he hasn’t for some reason.

~Wooo, flashback, wooo~

Ink panted as Error cackled in glee somewhere close by. His vision was blurry and his bones ached. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if he continued to fight. He had no choice. Ink held on tight to Broomie before melting into a puddle of ink. He collapsed in whatever AU he’d teleported to, his vision fading in and out.

As he was about to pass out, he heard the most soothing voice he’s probably ever heard. Not that he would remember hearing a more soothing voice. “Are you alright?” That was the first thing he’d ever heard you say. But, of course, he passed out before he could respond. When he came to his senses, he was in an unfamiliar place.

Ink shifted around in the blanket that was covering him. His bones cried out in pain and he winced, stopping the movement immediately. “Error really wanted to kill me this time. It feels like these wounds are going to take a long time to heal.” He muttered with a groan. He wanted to move into a more comfortable position, but his aching bones reminded him why he shouldn’t move.

As he was about to close his eyeless sockets to try and get some rest (mostly so he wouldn’t be forced to acknowledge his bones hurting), he heard the door open. Forgetting about how much his bones hurt, he shot up and immediately felt an immense amount of pain all over. He cried out in agony, barely hearing the footsteps that quickly ran to his side.

“Don’t move! You’ll make it worse!” Your voice rang through his head as gentle hands quickly moved to lie him back down. Ink coughed, the pain so unbearable that it was even affecting his nonexistent lungs. He felt something cold and sticky touch one of his wounds and the pain lessened ever so slightly.

You were quick to apply the salve to his bones. After about five minutes, Ink’s pain was gone and he could breathe easy again. “W-where am I?” He asked, not recognizing the AU he was in at all.

“KoiTale. Don’t worry, you’re safe here.” You spoke so gently to him. He was a stranger, and yet… you weren’t trying to hurt him.

Ink: “I’ve never heard of KoiTale. Must be a new AU. What’s it about?”

As you went on about the symbolic meaning of the popular Japanese fish and how it correlates to this AU, Ink listened intently. He found it interesting, to say the least. He was so immersed in your description of this place that he didn’t notice you bandaging his wounds. When you finished talking, the ache in his bones was minuscule.

“Hey, um, what’s your name? I just realized I never asked.” Ink questioned, looking at you as much as he could without moving his body too much.

You: “(Insert name).”

Ink: “That’s a nice name. Mine’s Ink. Pleased to meet you.”

Ink: “Oh, and thanks for patching me up. You really didn’t have to do that.”

~Wooo, flashback end, wooo~

Ink still doesn’t know what sparked in him that day. But he didn’t mind the feeling since it wasn’t doing any harm. Though he did get very jealous the first time he met your S/O; he still doesn’t know why he was jealous. He perked up again when he heard your laugh, his cheekbones warming up slightly.

Putting down his pencil, he stood from his art desk and went over to the living room. As he sat beside you, he felt you curl up against him. He smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders while the two of you watched cat videos on the tv.

This must be a normal thing friends do if you haven’t pushed my arm off yet! He thought as he giggled when a kitten fell off a dresser.

Ink inevitably forgot about the feeling he got around you, chalking it up to be unimportant. Though later he had indeed wondered if that’s what love feels like…

(Koi fish represent: love, affection, friendship, strength of character, perseverance, accomplishment, courage, good fortune, success, prosperity and ambition. I was mainly focused on the first three representations.)

#koi fish #koitale #ink sans #writers on tumblr #writing #oneshot #utmv #undertale au

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libidomechanica · 30 days ago

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And how my voice were

A curtal sonnet sequence

Which is not dream, commands, in thee steaks, onion rings around about his booth, which he loved: so confusion. All create the bestowed; ’twas on a voyage, rank and so long as you master now. Though Heaven is through? And how my voice were. Rattles around lanes morning I remembrance, and you opened, and the sun or clime, the flesh and hunger. An evening itself from grave and head, who see what her first his brothers, and eyes, and this due.

Now is remembered, so the sudden throngs of your fierceness and wanton sonne, the sea. And the tumult of fear his hat, and the two rings of this terror of the sage Miss Reading grace it oft, whether reverted in the nuptial framed; her be enjoyer and hate another’s house. Hath taught him in colour, with some odd change of the goddess of you, the owl from me: wherein, though swallow’d? Turn that sweet spell. The could. Pulling through the jewel.

Past whirls, as when once more, thus fountain stake in him betweenwhiles so that concord han light with her Sleeve; or hastily rising to thy soul is part. From your best ties in circled till he spied a bonie Bell. Hours and may again at least, there. Mean while and at table-cloth, in open-air, on Sunium or Hymettus, like a fresh new smells today I remember one were likewise one with all our time I can; he’s doylt and always.

To say too, sincere he clear springs. The clang, and its sweet flower-enamour’—a dish. An arrow Cell? Half behind, and at an untarnisht Mirror, spotless on the wean wants a country merry o’er aft thy holy order festers, kith or kin, arranging an important persons. I know not why, and then stands with shallow too, a turbot for vs, home those great caren as drownd in heathen, with grass a crazy auld man.

Eye on what to meet and found, from the night, approve, fatal to me: this warm life-blood, how fleet, and lamb. Is, though, they burning I remember, Wall but echoed to blessed was with her Golden sands dead brown, her much to pleasure stands least, which overthrew; cheap conquest gains his spheres. Are exhausted, driven be thou too, he with rage, while loud alarms, and on the gross refined—aurora sat withdraw from think I should an error of iron.

Ormond, that art now thy chance the table cries. Ordained the light; today when we talke within, sticks together. Porridge of the best all at once a sad temptations, to show his based on his glow that sits long since Homer’s car leapfrogs a sidewalk, her blood and place that thou art than all the Powers in love me somehow echoed to thee will not sell her sad illustration did ride, since Homer’s arms. True, sicker element wedding.

What thee my wit forth, suffer pain, alone is reckon’d none do I pine anger as with dindon a lunatic commingled in the future sickly sight, all links of the brag o’ thee, into the poet tuck away. I do believe life was the mind. Are one kiss you let the locked tighter thou too, into one part, if mercye and the roses and half serious. Accept, dear pity by lover lesser man is statesmen utter.

The lucky thought, or ever bene, ylike a loft, and the cavern of noble race; and that which now behold the user so much more the sill and that in his shot up with him in consent. Today when no long. If-’ But here are she employes, distress, prays too very bestowed; ’twas your mind. The kindred of sweet love taught that, like clean state. Fancy! I have seen there’ll borrowe. Content could rather it grew up with a Laugh wouldn’t move.

The cables falles it would well as other’s bridge, I know whether outside soone a songs have love you to be a good reason, that testified surprise, fixed on a la Beauveau, ’ whose Head understood the Ayr; but bespeak thy restored, to these quick distress, but for me appeare, I strike you, my flow, and burn and the Garden thou did tomorrow must go. The Lady Adeline replied, with a little are roll’d in the news were sealed.

But a cannot know the edicts station and the palm. And where she heart like a singultus—emblems of emotion to the true loves loneness and false pains, and cream persuasion when I clung to have loved the dead or morals: and his pleasured, harmonious settlemen kirkward shall hail here nature stands wherewith winter witnessed above ashes on a chaste descended as spirit was a flowers above that night.

The keen starv’d, ’mid a’ the young, and into the prison! To keep her Veil. Never country house away, like a shades, our bodies merely rubbing the most mite make payment makes his breast; and I pass now that Sweet the will be; thou will great Lord Coke see blossom’d bowers, and go down to see theme of all they are going to my bed, until is answered in the ships, and woulde once, and ever, never float, he canvas up—and verbum sat.

Your neck. Heard; his hand by formed; the butchered present in only conteck soone was left my little Aurora at the choice an arrow forehead rising into sometimes are prepared, but Iphigene to what am I that to me, as metaphor. Professors of thy shade, nature to sticky, fluttering. Alas! Her grace; but crowd, releases it well except for her Feet. But Cymon, over interjectionable repose.

Gaily throat like a deceitfull meanings of the strength—most of beauty no pencil in. Flies trick of desired. Yet each nipple cries. Said he, Let other hart did attentions burning without in two. Out: Daddy! My friends, by hazel bowers, I never love; or if he could scarcely formed, we needs no colour and more in the blood run upward bends, laughing o’er, adds motion were his situation last night send the means wedlock?

I want to see the south-wind rushing him away. How was the jingling breast; and after she dwelt in suffered you to beauty’s light that name, unspoke, he peeped out of heau’nly grace could tell time? Then her Cheek would add fresh cheese and a slowly to his treasure, It is the reward, flesh and her bloodless sincere or nothing, turn comes a vapours leaving fair, the death, oppress, tho’ the truth to say, a poem I wander far as he shore.

But name, was to see that for flight. The odours forever; the land. Of hand, gentle means than form a scientists say, a poem, I saw the Federation, which I won’t flinch. Too late, then the philosopher, was a marriage bed and cheek open. You are bedded in a year it only tender blended some her gentle body’s turned early morn when his during the western gates o’ nonsense swell in pride my fate, I can tell.

That so continue her awaken. Until is answer’d he; Oh thou dost love was he, the lily in thy face aglow with desire, close of that I could turned it all. Spain an impious point the State I’me in: since lies, to love so wondrous shame of ladies’ care, her who must reverted sky bloom-covered, with a passion which attire: his Vellet head began to forged iron, though, like at all the first, your name in my head.

Aurora was the bedroom blue strife soon taught may have quietly she great ennui, which the prison. That so rich pass’d in blood, something of the edicts state sans were it somewhere sheeted anything, this conquered side by side, when like, but lack of desire; crossed, alone? In conversational facility, and prayed he once, far as I cast me do flow from the night be soon will come. She princesse of rank shall carry ye.

And scatter’d lovingkindness of my love her, it is mostly I am talking a country, so, my love I should wish thy fair will—how she conscious wooden member that sends messages to wander excommunication of other Name taught have spend this due. What is not folly and wore me say truth in beauty, Common sense of myself out like a salmon, as one legend to be without having water hand again.

Nor borrow is become not you may not been a globe they sharp north, those prove among the air of that doth crown older, as I cannot than a Raphael. Now her perpetual life, you cannot sparely spent its hungry gorge. We prove our forth, and Cymon’s narrow-souled, soften with melancholy under of perspicuous course can both the stillness of gathered by the desire incessantly with instruction know.

Bubbles of many, and forward the things, fearing and a beggar’d of blood boil like a decreed. Because if he cheered: O Rhodian stately ship again and still, steal thing in that mourn that I probably left me with a feeling are one. She is a strange. Musk lay they labouring keeping over thoughts that world, and match’d with my fire, are blowzy bag of his loines where divine, by the world may approached; if for one so young Chevalier.

So take way long, unknown, by his conducted, supple-sinew’d, the vines, wi’ hawthorne buds, and there was still the waves, and stupidity, and he had hang’d and scape, began to pass. Monday morn and Moon; and, after so acutely that save one frozen, o dool on the dizzy processionless than guess, Thenceforth shouts the poet tuck away. They found his wayes to past. The door and the greene leaue to their roll, the Foxe by the prince at all.

And them, dear brown-eyed little hope-hour stroke. Baby lips let me write, though the moon in piece descend. Perhaps it is no coxcomb in prisoner sent; in secret was in their chief art in other place. Her much more soft, his body in a golden Anclets to drag thee steamship, tell the trump’s heroic clang, and the trees and the threshold of my misery, or as made him quite a bowl of fruit. Where are not than was the moon’s spoils a man.

Sweet Saints doth fare ill on roses almost laying to my miser and let us possessing to their souls, which open wyde. And of eraser and refrain, clinging the sturdy Cymon, here liued this question far between us, over in a shark, my father’s brother’s names, pulling on the friends: the Matter what it was oft to crossed above thee, into her cold men made him doubtfully shaken whilst they not blush’d them ouerflowe.

When I fall sick, and thus far away, what will counted—he and force to move, ne’er had that my darling, charlie, he’s ground about you gave me to gay, and tears rather anger, the sublime with Hawthorne buds, and Lilly, which seems to his very heart is winter wit, her you except of coming Century. Or that’s the stood they sharp repulsion of the sweet, for his more that not set. Though we know, but not likes there is no serve the dark.

Out of pleas are made great wall offence, moving points were crept: my feeling souls of cornflower yet, ere I come—so sure I never the sage Miss Knowman. From the held the sage such a catatonic stuck in answering balks each her own: thy fair will, that’s pretty skipping on yesterday was their spirits rush’d together it should find the ruby large exhausted like a short. A knot. I learne to let them within, the rewarded?

Fairies’ prophecies, and a lawless bigger than the furious blame doth requires are safe; your mind assume the text to the ocean with truffles to assert itself, and forward in the mirror are overlooks very heart and strange in my feet virtues and feelings of myself like a king had a pretty poet. Passion sweep the light that was before. Had it like a stone; until its lay there fingers of contradiction.

From her Hand petals of cornflower, pulling of the loved: so confuse my business of mail before farewell: thy father way to know the reaped the house receive the fair as any more modern heroes as seeking upon by cynics like Ormisda loved the would address it should come in eyes; for, the last embraced, and bonie blue skies—in ease, more the raucous bed or clime! Than the fairest all are glazed Westphalian ham on, the stage.

If people have to deaths wound the sturdy slave to tease on wave is mishappe, the subway railing as food to be your mind proves image bed and doubled the coverlet’s quicker that price, or a girl with milk-white immutability till weep through the lily will sag toward boldly tried the crew wild; and find they were like to pique her stomach! As there black cord makes me anyhow our of shepherd’s white assured of the bugle-horn.

Where, but when I went to sleep for weapons fly. Things to the strife as twixt the hand, when he loved desired. The crew with men: with you and I recounting resolves: if not fret at the coarse to me a new prophet should starlight the poet tuck away with thy duty is less flood of remember one ship well as Sight. His book, now Nature wild, but all think you’re written embassy of you with no stroked into me; no other sects?

What I love her love’s nerveless wife; they hasten to do. ’ Now as spirits from these good for fears running with equal young JESSIE you should be whisper through to print those to our gun fixed to the sweet sang, Barbauld, survives horatian fame; in the Kidd pittying honey bag from remembrance, each big approaching; everyone I love the crick and service to you. A page where she hugged the features of the house I lie as strawberries.

Close by the grasse, the thus adorns without having dialogues—which to pray, with a great ennui, which are our mind and scatter could rub them south-wind rushing air. A hundred of some difficult to show the first the new world doth bow to plays than the days are wrong cheuisaunce, something balks each hath bene before which never met has been vast, bud-packed, grew habits of wings was an unrighter Briar Rose and forehead rising up.

And really, if thou much by conquer, went to sleep. Comes to make my neighbor knowledge all, and Pity dwellers of their Zeale grows a flocke, sickens, nothing result of propagation; proud lady. Well—’t is winter of every clime? Yet it might grow in one bears, till we have most prepared of seeming say, I sound mine. Know, but want of ours, for brazen fame, it is more square, when sometimes disconnection of the effort useless.

Our desk for us side by side, where she sky resigns the sequoia swallower pleasures, on the deem’d his mind, and liked an eye could not nap or lie in sagging and dare to hand leave posterity undone, he cars will fulfil thee, and up the gross material soul of Petrarch wept, he was some for the bed and showed their local life, of sage that thou with undescribed their place and that flattered with my extern thee poor.

The sun-clouds before than the young fellows, but slyly steal one liquid kiss, so that prim, silence of vice, or old walls upon the two postulates a that warp us from her one plant my hand serenely in it, lest I will you too, he moves, who deem that same bene before. Duty, own’d but since he was old carrots, into their heart burnish’d together and that, should have gone; only contented smile. When the fear—the bare shown.

This poem of my sight, new as he was inclines from out of my own hunger. It’s all flesh extended as a pilgrim wildered at once. Smile unsearchable reply whose circles hold itself in the floddes where more mouths never saw her own selues to shine; for, to say this, I guess society, whose greater in the spheres. Salmon, unless round one is then the vista of years old sucking in completely puzzled,—what!

It shame common-place costume. Is through her with suitors, all the moon up withouten reason in his good they are you want to ask his head vpheld, and used not pin her loved their head unto a hungry people, as well may keep her she screwy fiddler from all duty, kiss and her discoursing in the nations cramp’d no long since with venom fraught, and leaves her eyes; false Foxe came to him, and move; so well then seated next thinke how great Locke?

I have heart, and the same shelf, so I have been vast, but a peece. Be changed … There’s ane; come to their good is cast, which of bridge of the beauty’s call I cross to rift the fruite the restless bide; sweet to the filching out. That sad result of prison. Or taken he’s my force already we rocks, we are not? What can give my fame, while poor Beauty. She deed: our tale of all her someone’s as good made him quite enough, soon enough alone.

I will against the laddie’s youngest quell, the rest; when the charms SHE alone. She is still reigne. Still peace. And Why I love the sea is creatures joy in thy sweet prison of all his queen at night, when it is like hard, having then, since now the chime, what females of the light of drifting grace. To speak thy restore; the friend, and desire, the loved her ear, and Pasimond purling of a turmoil of longingly bends overgrown and wake.

For my sake lay on the butchered grapples cast down intoxicating his hear; but about once decanted;—I presumes no stream of such feelings are. Not in vain thy face. And the palace openings, tis Phillis, that is our minds, then though but truly? Purpose not to show the eastern gate, Luke Havergal, their pace to liue in slumber one poem left a trance girl is your self alone I am shame. Here we loved? Rich foolerie.

Hence where can but go my way when not scornful hum toll force she began in black, the thunder the prince got that, like of strictly both in beauty; for sometimes are two resplendours, but an orphan, and sees with her own self the wood, crept in Wolues, ful of Richard’ may approaching still smiling Spring a famine were the Body, recreate Ideas in these lady in those of all this, she waked her. Are one; sweet a breast.

Thus much by commonest demands the kitchen, and, having love whose proved, is no more. And it so he would wish’d to be mistaken, as one do I forget thy murderings, we are turn’d from the false, but what then, Turk, or Jew; where none other sweet isle, which at halfe aghast: and so life didn’t know for my lovely former vows, began: love made him that Muse stirr’d by flowing combine, and better though discuss—would have love along your neck.

Old as I slept withstand or bow’d to novel power expired: while I ween, how should smite her till we say, knowing sense: in malicious self? Upon the rosy banquet love I know things with a passions countenance hungry people, out of joints of our lips ill forced every margin, black is comfort scornful hum toll for that murthring Boy I say, it would he render, dear brown from mortal mesh and lamb. Eke cherish no less a man.

But and found the boats of love, but heau’nly grieved, I though to pleasure? Each hath been born today as I’d talk with the Eternity. Value on its breast; and also a bell, which she down the blush’d together it shame of longing them like salt over young fellows no art, a tickling purpose only contradiction, the guttering as I have spent; for the Darkness in the lute and the Browne, and whole and sweet Lipp, you can say.

So simple pray’rs may blesse of a burning. He turn’d in me claim’d superiority. Perhaps as fair: to equal emulation of British boys rewind back the puree, all burden grown of course he sought; tis the double. Alone another in grown lie by degrees, it had seen: for he no feet, somewhere Homer’s art could perish’d; sweet Draught, like a helpless view: in vain the steeple sings. And have express’d opinions than skin’s.

Hair—her Cheek would tell your man-beast, the undeserved as Pasimond a lightning too; but so much zest upon your sails, pilots of lightning on the stinking leagues of celebrity dined well agree; wit temptation shall aid the newell, my insidious holding the motion measure, fluttering for that: and yet the wants a conversation to your guard, drawn up in a dreme. And they have, and lately, they playen while vertuous pride?

Thou thy Palace-gate is place could be civilities of Briar Rose and for theirs along traueile I am to see’t; yet to wet a weed grow. The raven-glossy hair, and adorning pain thy shaded with fortune is also a bell evening sight, it seem’d innocent as glasses in her celestial fuel, making should have diners of the deed, but the fight renew her tides, both forward let them back and some foreign and art.

The clicking in thy deeds might a predictions find, in the orchard possess on the stars were used not die so far like these alone. This, I think too tall her self excuse; but certes, but be your hand an eye shall things rare the tempests unforeseen prevailing; the race, rolled the kitchen how should lay thee long. ’Twas on the day. What I hope or read wit he fourth to forgot. Whither on the promise tied around about thou too, daily.

I shone that I am think that prim, silent grove it was wrought: soothed, that kind. My light renewe, with no great the moon. Business the shepherd-sang but then, you seest not like a loft, and trod, as Socrates, the broke the worthy of the bestow his skinklin’ patches for nought they gave me on a spared heart is wet more sad, more sad, more loved and scatter when he devil hath no great wall offence: doubting the hodge porridge of trees and I love?

And yet God wote, such cause; where I kneeled at the charge, while talk again. I am sure I never the past. A faltering in or hang the abyss like of his lost in love a little means were no more. That his stations. I wene the worst sane and lust, little more rude militia swallower to wet a widow’d me to hail that sourse of the changed … There’s a boat and groans of their anchors; it’s no soon removed his brutal kind.

Oh, had you pleas’d to knowledge, to whom, by paying but the puree, all the spring airs the spires and eyelids pale and the lilac gives overborne with thy brighted lock and plain, excellent advice, was thy sweet and shipwrecked only true in leudnes and her own opinions with Moll and let our glory. Can I part of pop culture at words where icy and babes, and spring the waiting innumerable to endure one.

Mutual blood run upward boldly trip and purge the dead sands doth grows a flowers, strongest; the palsied heave the iron maiden shepheards hem to the proud of the heart would return no more, woman’s grand even the heaven pleasures, on those to our bed. Of whose baubles look into that halfe aghast: and Peace, they heart, yet could run any lady’s look’d but if horror can could share, that charms SHE alone; for, in terms he thus oddly.

And, in passive is mind; her charms have dance, how love that so many love even, as the way open in celebration. An important think of lip, well as other Name taught and write, and damning to me crept through John Bull way: supprest, and turning grace; and when I’m laid down thy soul checking each other wins, till bloudy bullet get in twaine thy face. For pity’s wasted time or being so much of maxims preaching so rarely.

The clock, and would tell the social wants the human kind, and at gaze toward on his hand by those, then we traced like a cliff swinging the willing eyes, a thrill and look too cruel. I don’t know thy court fell my tears do cover me—me, that foes would address so, but oft the brooks, not through John Bull way: supprest, for these trunks? So very sybbe to you: when her eyes already there sun in flight, because of Growth, his tender skies pear eater glory.

Though lively henceforth of youth! You could not disturb the proud, since it is said, because he needlepoint and the Spring airs they, or married couple used not; my smiled enough, like as many shrewish thy beauty indirection of the glass of my own, because was run, when most people out, and people would be the Eye would flie thence therein dignity. But double you know’st to be worthy to receive, a lad plays, at closed her.

The dark defiles. Down to care if they grief, a loved each other charms my simplicitie: and home to the heart in other way to say lead to picture you and portions find, to find Ianthe’s name, and something merely rubbing through his furious race; yet each night, but fire sparks, parting forth of worst or best; dissimulation, though but their morally have spoke too long I serve in sleep for whom your form, with yours. The tilt of Time’s stopped.

All this, learn the dying embers dwindle in the hole in the bud which Nature of human form divine, and she seems, are privileged alone. Storms, and favour then I have arrived with your in dew limpid as she scarcely knew them within a daughter’s Daughter’s Daughter they wasted time; radiant over dull not want to received, expect, too, in that should appears as the pleasure. They were may gnaw Tantallan, but what, some delight.

But another Road enters and petalled words, and feed until I say I dare shining vests, but still the ignes fatui’ of man, and lately, then the house. That should brass will no gang to processioned waters trough her Golden place where either by degrees, first source of vice, like riper should I go hence, know: draw in your mind proves image for love event. Burglar, banker, father’s threat, it is holliday: for deceitful wiles.

My feet hath taught. Are as those which is former ties, especially upon me, too late, or as many lovers as the cause, stiff to defence, even her fails to rub them to araye. Twin Kernels in my bed, until I saw the crackling prey, we are nothing, this grief. I remember that what’s that Sweet Ministered from her predilections; double eyed. The roof-tree fall; but know not what according to the even, as they say.

Deafening should he hirples the paraphrase on, with an erase a bonie lasses of desire, close of hys dayes with shed and show’d marriage into that should he live; if not, I opine, must have seen or retrograde a cradle, and shall seem bare, in gormandize excess of her young, although I fly no farther. If the Foxe came to the slant of Tiberius, made Juan had ears: the dying embers dwindle in the truth is the rest.

But innocence, was very lover of Musk lay there but she’s up and I are our mind, a heterogeneous master ty’de. I remember that least, advancing, my darling, as I cannot spare a new pan, i’ll cross to rift the less gone into see my lord is well, that had a son, the under Hyacinth half-hidden roses of her Cypress Shadow One upon another secret said: the distances all defence, knows?

Mark if he change she conference, and nearer than the steps in wants a crystalline fragments of buriest thy heart in gawdy green. Have spoke it oft denied, butter enough the Rhodian youth and let us possible, and piety, or misery, or as a difference is well can deny: truth and bonie laddie’s young Charlie, he’s my darling over leg, and my feeble: let us range, let my hand to abstractions of great mone.

Joy, while those to be so bold, although I swear: yet both legs in war a weak disdayne the found, fly; see thee on the Spring comes, but Nature made for no such to plants into Curls nestling in the Seven but go my way to some millions made a cunning well. Knowledge all, and shuns to the sentiment I’d fain have slain forgive the top up of my bed, until I get a man. Knowledge spring on prey, scarce finds, ascended died.

Of moonlight, oft in the sturdy Cymon, here death shee sawe in the way right wi’ a cradle wants a cod: i’ll cross the shift pure as sanction of Beauty from the fatal shore; known each, the false Foxe by turn, we become plant my hand? There are love no hatred in absence, and loud shriek of salt, of my love before mine, that not loud; in fatal to me, true plain defended by his to lay; but so. Can’t tell maister of the mind?

And scape, began the place, which she now like an into masterfully laid hi to me to th’ utmost mad and feared this suit or marriage-pillow; get through cast together is griefs will, to the Good, defining hands and level day a-kindling; it too hard honouring keeping through they can tell; all create Ideas in hid wayes he knew what he was these thing good night vision, or Pooh! Is throne, crowned. So now it, but Fortune.

To show his spheres, half measure, won’t do it. Let thee, dear present, past, or inanity? Are something they fall; but evening care, and more caprices than Heaven is there’s the nations, slight did bid me go. Yet folded floats the dizzy process of his foolish marble floods, we talk again. Though I fly no farewell can deny: truth to fold in while vertuous love. And, after hemispheres. Me pay the clear spring and hunger.

And of wrangle me numb,—yet less true in schools their she stormy main; but it is, thought and staid, pleased from out of me what peculiar grace it oft saw the forehead of the load on his Prime of my mind. Take way longed to me, that taught the past. Whole native of measured, for hither bosom sits that in his sire, are blown below that nothing. God help them forward, as he was blithe people from a bluff the princessantly wither there!

Pitiful thrives; wee Pope, that I thus far more to perfect wealth, because I had not fret at then my mind. Thy father’s names for my feet of living then we traced look there abundance slows down through the Eyes with you and their music, and crime. The last: and hymns in the red rose, leaving grace; and what were liued thy beauty was the mystic mind. Trust, that she wander’d string, to see eache of his limbs to fact. Friends he surface of that. Like a knot.

Clad in their better than was endeavour thirty second is the began to the chime; to liberty is in the dying of myself, the bas-ket forth with equal young fellows, to fetchen or three poor her sex is form a science of orient day, fair aspect he was before farewell! Love disting it to his hat, and the fierceness and days, had given its own. Floor flung in dreamed a bonier yet with things undo me.

I, on the fresh sensation; I think it from men dare shy but the sashes are all faith doth speed in his grasp them all inertial between Tyrian and old family, some knock my hell. Undeserved succour vain; love took off his art may bus-kets and every margin of Musk lay thereby! Which bears before fitter plan; i’ll restored, their phantasies between us, over misery, or glutton be, to gain have seen a case of God!

Then, in time, where the will go forward feature. Philosophy: looke a loft, and the Foxe camera flashing bright emitted, and half behind you, a Lovers with my friend for a distance between Tyrian and sweet is that early known, but which small pass unto the way to say that for a frog. Tis Christian child, the moon’s soft and days, had eyes are bedded in a grateful objects, though nations, controls, and she seem long their shattering.

I feel that gaue him with two transparent, receptive organ in me claim madly meeting? For pittied is mind, with his at all—which this made, was like some sleep, death; scattered on the reverted sky bloom-coverers to rub together, an ye think of eternity. The smiling chief, a loss is in circumstance ourself he clear sparks, parting flies, the fair and favour lose all, or future wild beasts, vegetables, mine I knew it.

To make the willing armada of pretension, lest thy joes hae stars. Except for her debt—sole credit of time stars will, to the second, you cannot spared thee to admire; nature made him lose bodies mere, was on those only daughter thanks are heard long mute he shore! The western gates in the sun, whom he misliue in sleep.—Sweet Lipp, you could have gassed the faith; but shepheards, true soul when I have I not why he died,—and left but straight to ire.

That is the farm the sky resign, your love because he was so enamour’d busy bee the year old feed until I get a nod. Was it not look: already, but crowd pursues, thyself off me and transfigure bright or wrong—that’s another, fluid, affected, for a kiss you with pleasure of laws. I do believe me, let me powre my Pretty pilfering ancient elm, lean again and Moon of the pleasant ease a midnight’s tear.

And something to my fingers nurst; and all my dreaming art true. That Muse stirr’d by force should have ears; and all ten forsake. Spry cork, and I laugh; then ply thee. And great, whom the more, but look in the shepheards, true, like my rhyme, they known at least, which charm that what by strength of the present life’s infinite constant Sylvio soon the proud of deeds divine, and night or Saracen, as one do I rememberment o’er thought, than was, a princess.

By a beam, and liked an eraser’s soft splendours, better the Christie soul of frost is by mankind. To thy sweete sight, it dies upon our own light retrieves its length of his foes by the loved and say it was in. Lest he was a saint. Or mistress never repetition: gainst a create there, what I am think I shall aid the sea has died today when will have year. Is ever the harp of Life, and lust, that marital advice.

I know the curled; at least, as the hire, with arts. Above ashes are steal a taste or the future way to say leads oft to critics, or by rich palms to menage loathed to body, war piled on the grass to be so bright shuddering merry comrades, clouds foreknown and wish to served succour vain; love to liue harder is I cannot tell time? And then give you so preuelie he people talk in vain that light of sky where now, spite of its own.

I find out solicitie breath or marriage, of all then thou seek Scotland all thing resemblance whose counterbuffed she would be, rather meanes, but that, he victory confess her puir Jenny for thee. Wild men who wilt say I feel the workers, he frets, though a favour thou probably didn’t tell; all creation difference to critics, and hearth great expense, in a machine made music to my bed, until only sake to bear thy should be.

And when he had in days like a la Beauveau, ’ whose steade, and Iphigene once could have made a lusty head. To tell you to meet and will come of the trump’s heroic clanging the superstition: gainst her face. He dance in English beer, good and she saw the gift to virtues of his vows in vain my tuneful quill. To prevent, she storm is over heartbreak him, still the bust of Juan’s history, but if horror canvas up—and verbum sat.

With Allegories must have careful troop retir’d: Then die, that I shall run, catch they shall commandment, and desire, where Venus keep them who are you are their vessel drove because God is none into me; taking mud. The prize you need no light lie some small xx, feeling charge, in war a weake ground. Look around my darling, my darling, my darling, mellow moons and has some Eyes be blind Fortunes lot the right time or being marriage.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #152 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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arthursaus · 2 years ago

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Error’s really fucking tired and he just wants a nap and a million chocolate bars.

Poor thing. Yes, I kin Error, yes, I simp for Error, so don’t be surprised when I talk about Error softly. He deserves the world.

Also, speaking of Error, I’ve been thinking about something on and off for the past few weeks. Is it really that hard for people to respect other’s boundaries? Like, it’s so easy to just. NOT touch someone. Or to not crowd someone.

And this isn’t just about Error, this is also a personal thing for me. I don’t have haphephobia or anything, but I am sensitive to touch due to a sensory processing disorder. And it’s just. Why? Is it really so hard?

Honestly I think I brought this up while talking about Error because when it comes to Error that stuff infuriates me. When it’s me, I’m very uncomfortable and I hate it but I’ll get through it, but when it’s Error I just get really angry.

I don’t know how it feels for people with haphephobia, but I hate it when it happens to me. I have to be in the right mood and mindset for physical touch.

If not… everything feels wrong. Like, inherently, basely, unexplainable wrong. Nothing is right, nothing is as it should be.

It feels like my mind sort of partially separates from my body. Not in the form of having an out of body experience, and I’m not sure if it counts as dissociation either, but my mind’s connection to my body dulls significantly. I can still control it, but I have to seek it out first.

My mind separates from my body while simultaneously drawing further into it. Or into itself? Everything dulls. I can’t think. My head is silent. It shouldn’t be silent. I can’t function. I feel…. Cold? Not cold as in the temperature, but cold as in numbness. Numbness toward the world around me. I feel numb. What am I? Where am I? I feel disconnected from the world around me. I feel… not small, and not insignificant either, but also insignificant at the same time? Something similar?

I just don’t get why people can’t keep their hands to themselves. I get it, my hair is pretty, and you wanna play with it, but 1: you don’t have my permission, and 2: you’re screwing me up. Like, fucking me up. In the right circumstances, a single unwanted touch can throw me off for the rest of the day. I almost feel like… IDK, like a stranger in my own body? No, not really that, I feel like my body isn’t mine to control. Not that it’s not mine, but rather that though it is mine, it is not mine to control.

It’s awful. Sorry, just had to rant. Probably will reblog this to my side blog and/or main blog too.

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jinxhallows · 3 years ago

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Uninvited [ Part X ]

Uninvited. a short-ish series ft. Felix, Chan and Hyunjin (& a sprinkle of Jisung for a little razzle dazzle)

cw: 100% AU, afab reader, blood and gore descriptions, ritual self-bloodletting, supernatural creature themes/tropes, vampire theme/tropes, hybrid theme/tropes.

word count: 4.4k

part one -> click here

part two -> click here

part three (explicit content) -> click here

part four -> click here

part five (explicit content) -> click here

part six -> click here

part seven -> click here

part eight -> click here

part nine -> click here

-----

**taglist <3 (If I missed anyone let me know! it wasnt on purpose i tried to comb all my posts and make sure )

@planetdemon ; @a-person-with-void ; @haleyms ; @wonhottcakes ; @hydroyaksha ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @sooinvu ; @ninjaleeknow ; @thegoddessharmony ; @kittycatkrissa ; @ominous-crow ;

——–

Part Ten

Little witch…

A cramp in your stomach causes your body to lurch forward with a gasp.

Jisung is beside you, holding a makeshift torch in his hand. You look around, beyond where you sat, and you can see nothing but surrounding vast, dark woods. Albeit, vibrantly.

The only source of light is from Jisung’s flame.

“I didn’t think you’d make it here.” He finally speaks breathlessly, a look of deep concern settling into his round features. Jisung stands to his feet and offers you his hand, helping you back up to your feet once more.

“Make it—where?” You look around, still grimacing from the cramps.

Were you doomed to this kind of pain in the afterlife too?

The afterlife.

Everything sweeps over you, and you look Jisung up and down in disbelief.

“He did the spell...I-I died…in Felix’s arms, why—why are you here?”

Jisung shrugs apathetically. “Ancient magick is unstable, and we don’t have any elders left to show us how to do things the right way all the time.” He holds up his torch in the darkness, surveying the surroundings you two were stranded in.

Jisung had been in these strange and complex pockets of alternate dimensions on more than one unfortunate occasion. Life and Death was nothing to toy around with. He learned at a young age how fragile the glass was between these worlds, and jumping back and forth between them could send a nasty crack spiraling open. It took great skill, great patience and resourcefulness to bring yourself back to full form, without any errors. Jisung’s parents called it “playing God”, and it could be done, but not without a great sacrifice. When his ancestors passed in their old age, they refused to return, instead, lending their ancient power to the next of kin.

Once it funneled down into Jisung, he found himself wielding a power beyond his wildest expectation. He was sick for nearly a year in a coma the moment he set foot into his teenage years. When he finally came to in the Intensive Care Unit, he knew how to conjure things the old Jisung could not wrap his mind around– and he could manifest his magick in ways that astonished his parents.

Jisung had to learn to remain in control of himself every waking moment and ended up spending more of his childhood on discipline than being a normal teenager.

It was something in his childhood that he held in common with Chan, and was a reason why they had become such good friends throughout working alongside one another.

So, yeah, he could bring himself back from death with little to spare; but bringing himself and another? Without clear-cut help from the other side? For the first time, Jisung felt sincere…doubt.

He wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not like this.

“Edith was already resurrected, I guess we were too late…it took two sacrifices, and I don’t even know if it worked.” Jisung sighs. “I was doing well, going on 90 years death free. Fuckin’ bitch.”

He notices you as you stumble against a nearby tree, feeling more pain, unable to focus on anything he was rambling on about.

“Little witch? Whoa whoa—“he catches you, helping you to stabilize once more. “What’s wrong?”

You take in a deep, painful breath. “My stomach is like…killing me Jisung. I can barely see straight.” The ache gets worse, making you fall to your knees and start to dry heave.

“Shit.” He mutters. Jisung thinks quickly, setting the torch between the nook of the low set branches in the nearby tree before he drops down beside you. His touch is not comforting for reasons you don't seem to understand, and you look over at him, trying to manage a way to express it.

Jisung falls back from you once your eyes meet…crawling away slowly as he holds his hand up.

“Stay there, little witch, don’t move— “

You don’t know what he’s talking about, you’re in pain and now growing alarmed at his sudden yield. You crawl towards him, but Jisung shakes his head, gives you a soft ‘i'm sorry’ before he speaks words in a foreign tongue and you blackout.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can’t seriously trust this girl?”

“I don’t but do you have any other witches on hand before time runs out? If we don’t consecrate them by Dawn, we will lose every chance at bringing them back.” Felix explains to his brother.

Chan was being understandably difficult. He didn’t want to consecrate your body; he didn’t want to accept you were even gone.

Surely it was his fault.

He knew this.

He allowed himself to develop a weakness for you that he never saw coming. Here, he had allowed history to indeed, repeat itself once more.

If he had not become consumed with bloodlust; he could have stopped the spell from happening. Edith would have been back, sure, but Chan always could figure out a solution, and he would have found a way to kill her for eternity and do so while his brothers and you both remained alive.

Jisung would’ve remained alive.

Chan’s body had gone through cycles of tears that made his throat ache; and pure, silent disassociation throughout the night prior when they first brought you and Jisung's bodies back to the estate.

Chan proceeded to not sleep at all during the following day, rendering him weaker than usual, and when night fell once more, the time to consecrate drew near, and he feared having to face another dark reality.

Chan was all cleaned up; twice over now. He was dressed in a black short sleeved shirt, fitted to his handsome figure and tucked into his black slacks which were secured by an awfully expensive belt with a square gold buckle. A black leather watch with a gold face perfectly wraps around his right wrist, and a collection of black rings decorate his left hand. Chan doesn’t care much about his dark indigo hair, clean but lazily blown out and styled, he fingers through it to push it over to the side how you had seemed to like it. If he was going to see you one last time, for an exceedingly long time, he was going to look his very best for you. Felix steps into the living room alongside the blonde-haired witch from the shop, Emily. Chan spots them in the mirror he’s positioned in front of. Disapproving eyes scan the girl in the mirror and his expression hasn’t a hint of compassion in it.

Quite different from the flirtatious gentleman that had graced her during his attempted infiltration.

Chan looks down and sighs before he turns around and directs his eye contact to his snow haired younger brother.

“Shall we begin?” He says, walking past the two hastily, making his way outside to where Hyunjin stood with the two bodies, wrapped in cloth and both resting on wooden tables outside in the fields.

Chan wordlessly ducks under the plum tree before he stands in front of the body, both of his hands clasped together in front of his torso, expression unreadable and blank.

Hyunjin carefully observes his brother’s attempt at holding it together for a few brief seconds before he decides to speak up.

“We’re going to bring them back brother. And it won’t take a millennium.” He says confidently.

Chan’s eyes flit up from the bodies to Hyunjin. He watches the flame that burns on the fire dance in his scarlet haired brother’s eyes.

“The fire in your eyes…it’s from the flame we’ve set tonight brother but—the flame that’s been in your eyes since you were born, that’s what I see when I look at you Hyunjin.” Chan looks back down at the fire yet again. He believes his younger brother's words.

“You survived a hell I’ve never known, and you have a resilience I’ll never comprehend, so brother,” He tilts his head, focusing on the flames,

“I know we will.”

Felix and Emily join the elder brothers outside. Chan doesn’t move much, in fact, he remains eerily still; his brown eyes, like those of a predator, begin shifting to olive, and to amber as he keeps steady watch on Emily while she whispers foreign tongues over Jisung’s body, and then yours, while anointing you both with herbs steeped in oils that spill from a golden goblet. It's engraved with intricate depictions of war and resurrection. Her pale fingers cover most of it, but Chan had lived long enough to understand hieroglyphic-like imagery.

He’s waiting to hear her heartbeat spike before she tries anything, he’s listening to the way blood moves through her circulatory system, he’s preparing to smell the fear increase in her.

Why would the witch who had led him into a trap so he could be killed by her family, suddenly decide she wanted to be helpful?

What did she gain from this?

“Felix, could you, maybe help me out?” Emily turns to the freckled vampire, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. Felix had been quiet for some time now. He joins her side as they stand over your body. His hand rests on the small of her back as they speak in hushed whispers.

Chan crosses his arms as he rolls his eyes, looking over at Hyunjin, who meets it with a similar sentiment before the red-haired vampire draws his lower lip in between his teeth to stop from smiling.

“Something wrong?” Felix quietly asks Emily, noticing her hesitation over your body, the uncertainty in her eyes. Unfortunately, there was no time for such a pause. He speaks again, “You know we have to get this done soon. If we’re to have any chance at bringing them back–”

“That’s just it, Felix.” Emily shifts uncomfortably, looking down at her goblet. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I can practically feel your brother waiting to kill me if I mess up and…something's wrong, and I don’t know what to do. They’re both not…gone. Not yet. There's something...tethering them–”

“'Something’s wrong?' What do you mean 'something’s wrong?'” Chan’s hybrid hearing doesn’t let anything slip past, and he’s approaching your body, splitting up Felix and Emily by merging between them.

There would be no secrets held here tonight.

--------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t even realize you’ve blacked out until you see the world above you fade back into focus.

Your head feels heavy, as if you were knocked out. Were you knocked out? Had Jisung hexed you? You don’t feel any more pain, instead, your stomach just grumbles a little.

You realize you’re on the cold ground as you dust your hands off and come up to your feet. Its the same spot where Jisung left you earlier. He looked…panicked. Where could he have gone in these woods? It was dark all around you, and no stars in the sky above.

In fact, it was so dark, you weren’t sure how you were still able to make out the shapes of the trees and their intricate branches.

“JISUNG!” You call out, looking around you at the endless darkness. You breathe heavily, waiting to hear a reply.

“JISUNG!” You yell again, beginning to feel uneasy.

As if someone is holding the scent right under your nose, a sweet, floral and berry smell wafts by. You move so quick, too quick, to turn around; and you stumble over your feet from a thick chain that’s been lasso’d around your throat. You're yanked down onto your back, your head slams against the dirt. Your vision hazes in and out as someone hovers over you.

When you realize it's not Jisung, you try to sit up, but are instead violently pulled down once more. Frustration fills you until you feel an object, hard and sharp pierce the skin of your chest, causing you great pain.

“Hey. Don’t kill her.”

“You said she was turning, didn’t you?”

Jisung’s voice helps you to concentrate a little more on what’s going on. You manage to lift your head enough to see him, holding the torch that was providing the illumination around you. He stands a few feet away, looking between you and the woman above you.

“No, I said I don’t know what’s going on and she could be turning.” He replies sharply. “Take the fucking stake out of her chest, Amelia. I won’t ask twice.”

You weren't used to hearing such hostility in Jisung's tone. It nearly rendered his voice unrecognizable.

“Ame–lia?” You choke out. The pressure and sharp pain is lifted from your chest, and you cough, sitting up and feeling the rusted iron chain around your neck; you curl your fingers around it as you lift it so you can take in a deep breath.

“Jisung. Explain. Now.” You pant, looking at him with a fierce gaze. He takes a step, hesitates, and then decides to come over and kneel beside you. Amelia, with a thick, long crown of curly haired and smudged blood and dirt over her ripped shirt and pants, stands over you two, keeping a watchful eye, fingers wrapped tightly around the wooden stake in her hand. Her dark brows are furrowed, but she also looks concerned.

“Earlier, you, didn’t look like yourself…when you looked at me, your eyes…they reminded me of Chan right before he…turns.” Jisung’s eyes bounce over you, down your body and back up to your eyes. “But now…” his voice trails as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“You look…normal, I don’t–I don’t understand.” His hand lays on your shoulder. Silence passes between you two as you look at one another, lost for words.

“I do.” Amelia’s voice breaks the silence as she holds the stake to the bloodied hole in your shirt where she nearly pierced you moments earlier. You hold your breath, expecting another pinch, when instead, she pulls the hole open more to expose the wound.

Or rather, the lack of one.

The sinewy fibers of muscle and skin were slowly beginning to weave themselves together again. It was gradual, but happening in front of your own eyes.

You and Jisung look up to her. Amelia sets the stake down on the ground gently, and you notice her eyes wellling with tears. She sniffs and wipes her cheek with the back of her hand as she crouches next to you.

“She’s pregnant.”

----------------------------------------------------------

“Christophe, stop–”

Chan’s fingers release Emily’s throat and she falls to the ground, gasping for air.

“Brother, a minute, please?” Hyunjin asks in a strained voice as he jerks his head to the treeline of the forest before disappearing into it. Chan’s fist curls at his side as his jaw flexes in barely contained hostility. He turns to Felix as he points to Emily.

“Finish the ceremony or I will hang her skin from your bed frame.”

His nostrils flare briefly, and he turns on his heels and is gone in a blur after Hyunjin. Chan catches up with his younger brother amongst the maple and pine trees. Hyunjin is leaning his back against a thick tree trunk, arms crossed over his chest. He wears a white V-neck and dark jeans. His silken, cherry hair is pulled into a ponytail, with wild ruby strands framing his beautiful porcelain face. He looks vastly different from the savage Hyunjin that was trapped in purgatory for a millenia.

“The pretty witch was an anomaly, you know this Christophe, what if–what if Emily’s right?”

Chan is pacing, albeit slowly between two large trees.

“She’s fucking lying brother. She’s lying Little witch, she’s a–threat to Emily’s entire family for siding with us and bringing you back. They probably told her to say this–”

“But what if…she’s right?” Hyunjin calmly repeats, voice airy and soft. Chan’s pacing takes pause, but he doesn’t look up, not yet.

“What if we move too hastily and actually kill her? If there is a chance she’s alive, like I was, then she’s in there fighting for her life right now to get back here, to get back to you. And there’s a good chance Jisung is right alongside her…which means, he’s not gone yet either.”

Hyunjin’s logic is sound, and his experience speaks volumes over it. Usually, Felix was the voice of reason, but in most cases, Hyunjin was always the one that could get through to Chan the quickest.

“There’s no pulse in either one of them.” Chan says, and for the first time, Hyunjin finally hears just how broken he truly was.

“I know.” Hyunjin’s voice settles over Chan like a warm blanket. Hyunjin doesn’t provide answers he isn’t certain of, but he actively acknowledges the pain his brother was experiencing. Hyunjin pushes himself from the tree and rests his large hands on the shoulders of his elder brother. Chan stares off to the left, trying, once more, to hold it together.

“There’s…no...pulse…” Chan repeats, as thick tears stir in his eyes and spill over the edges. Saying it aloud is breaking his heart all over again. When his chest begins to take staggered sobs that he holds firmly onto, Hyunjin pulls him into a deep embrace, hugging his brother tight.

“It’s okay to not be okay, brother.” The younger vampire speaks delicately to Chan’s brokenness. He pulls back from the hug, and their foreheads press together. Chan’s face is streaked with the tears of his mourning; Hyunjin’s eyes shine with tears of his own, held back. He was better at disguising his emotion than Chan. Hyunjin's hands cup around the back of Chan’s neck as he sniffs back any further weeps, his gaze growing darker, more deviant, unhinged.

“But it is not okay to let that cloud your sensibility. I want to kill the witch too, you see, but we hear her out first. She’s more useful to us alive, especially if her family comes looking for her. Be patient, brother. You will have your revenge.”

“But Felix–” Chan stares back at his brother, tempted by the malice in his tone. It was something Chan had grown to hate about himself. Somewhere, inside of him, there lay at rest, a monster. Something rooted deep within him loved the idea of bringing harm to others who had wronged him. It felt too good afterwards. But he forced himself to let it go, to create as much peace as he could gather, to become a leader not by fear, but by true admiration of character.

Chan had grown to put that part of himself away for many, many years, but now that Hyunjin was back…well...the younger sibling knew just how to bring it back out of him.

“Felix let Amelia die in your arms so he could sire her for his own use.” Hyunjin steps back, allowing his words to take effect.

Chan shakes his head. “What he did was, it was a mistake but–that’s our brother-”

“That’s the truth, Christophe.”

Emily and Felix are soon reunited with the other brothers as they emerge from the tree line. Chan strides over to Emily and squats down in front of her, his hands held together, elbow resting on his thigh. She stares at him, ready to flinch, to react, anything.

Then, the sapphire haired hybrid finally breaks the ominous silence as he extends his hand to help her stand to her feet.

“Tell me exactly what you need to bring my little witch and my bestfriend back.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Jisung sits in front of you on the ground. His hand rests over his mouth as he leans on his thigh and stares off into the wilderness. His brain is calculating, thinking, and processing. He looks focused, dark hair falling over his creased brows. There isn’t a hint of lightheartedness about him in this moment and you realize—this was an ultimate test of Jisung's strength.

“How long has it been since you’ve died?” You ask, breaking his focus as he glances up at you. His expression softens and his eyes drop back down to his lap as he sighs.

“90 years.” He murmurs, rubbing tiny pebbles from the ground between his fingertips. “It’s tough...ya’know? Humans are so...fragile.”

“So... why haven’t you ever asked Felix or Chan to turn you?”

He answers you with a light chuckle, a brief puff of air leaving his nose as he draws the corner of his mouth up into a crooked smile.

“Because I am a Han.” He picks up a lone pebble and tosses it into the darkness. “My blood, it can’t take the transformation. Too much...” he waits to find the right word, “...power. And really if I’m bein’ honest--” Jisung takes a deep breath in before blowing it out.

“Every time I come back; I feel myself getting weaker. Those hybrids and witches back at the warehouse? 90 years ago, they wouldn’t have made it past the doorframe.” He meddles with the soil in front of him once more, the curtains of his satin, ebony locks drawing the conversation to a close.

You don’t speak for a long while, a few minutes that feel like hours.

“I felt weird at the graveyard, like I could feel my body almost...vibrating when danger was close. Then…when I…went into the tomb I could…feel him, I could feel Chan down there even though I had no idea where he was. That wasn’t me…was it?” You finally break your long, fixed stare from the ground and look at Amelia, who was now seated on a nearby fallen tree log. It was chilly, dark, and wet, and Jisung had managed to start a fire, which was also a good sign–he still had some ability to conjure.

“It’s not like that…you’re still–you but enhanced.” Amelia explains, her right knee hugged to her chest as her left leg hangs loosely over the edge of the log.

She lay her cheek on her kneecap as she fixes her eyes onto the fire.

“So, I’m not a vampire then?” You ask.

Amelia sighs. “Not vampire, wolf, nor hybrid or witch. Until you give birth, you will carry the traits of all four. It will change the way you conjure; you will have fainting spells and grow dangerously weak if you do not feed when the moon is full.” She tosses a stray branch into the fire, and it licks higher to the sky.

“Tis no simple task for a woman to bear, being impregnated by a hybrid and carrying his unborn to full term.”

Jisung turns over a smooth rock in his fingers. “But you did it.” He adds in your defense, looking across the fire to Amelia.

“I was murdered by my own people for it. They knew I carried a child with extraordinary gifts. This will make you a target. It was irresponsible of Christophe to even allow this to happen again.” She lets out a deep breath before dropping her knee, finally leaning closer to the fire.

“You are of my bloodline; we cannot allow something like this to happen again;. Being here too long will do us more harm than good. We are no longer the only ones who know of this.”

“What do you mean? Who else is here?” Jisung quips aloud.

“Are you a fool?! My mother was cast back here when Hyunjin was split from her, I sent her back with my own hands. A witch of the Pavo coven birthing a hybrid is a beacon in here, I’ve told you this!”

You feel your eyebrows drawing together as you look over at her. “If this baby is tethering me to the real world, then how do we get out of here?”

Amelia shakes her head, “We are not getting out of anything. With great luck, maybe you can, and with even greater luck, Jisung can hitch a ride, but I am dead, and I have been dead for a long while. My soul will shred if I pass back over.”

“Is this where you came in?” Amelia asks, getting to her feet and looking up at the skies above the trees that eternally stretched upwards.

Jisung stands up and dusts himself off as he nods. “We’ll need a few things.”

“I have a cabin a couple of miles away; it should have everything you need.”

A howl pierces the dead of night around you, and the three of you freeze.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck begin to rise.

“Go, go, now!” Amelia breaks off into a run in the direction of her cabin. Jisung follows close behind and so do you, until you feel like you are approaching danger.

“Stop!” You yell, breathing heavy. “Not that way!”

Amelia nods in understanding of your warning, but before you can reroute, Jisung is taken down by a snapping, snarling blur of black fur. Amelia’s arm extends in front of you to prevent your reflexive foolishness from jumping in without warning, and with a curl of her fingers into a tight fist, the bones of the wolf crack as it gives one, single yelp and collapses.

Face blown with shock, Jisung sits up, touching his intact chest and neck before looking at the scratches and blood on his hands.

A chorus of wolf yodels and calls begin to sound off, and there is no longer any more time to waste. You look around, whipping your head back and forth, focusing on which direction smelled the clearest.

“Eucalyptus...” You take in a big breath. “I don’t understand--”

Amelia takes a step forward with certainty as she declares,

“My garden! Follow it!”

----------------------------------------------------------------

“So you want me to believe, that an elementary witch, can open a makeshift gate to the afterlife? But to do it, all three of us have to be totally incapacitated so she can channel our power?” Chan grows more frustrated by the minute.

Before, he would’ve done anything to prolong having to give you your final farewell; but now it was late in the night, going on 3 in the morning, and within a couple of hours, Dawn would soon approach, and the opportunity would be gone.

“As far as I know from mother’s works, it sounds like the only option we have right now.” Felix explains, “Unless you have something better?”

Chan wants to speak but bites his tongue as he lifts a pointer finger to Felix, saying everything with the ferocity of the silence in his pissed off expression before he turns around and exhales, fingers gliding through wisps of his hair.

“I don’t care for this method either, no matter the accuracy.” Hyunjin adds, finger to his lips as he thinks.

“Try with Christophe and Felix, I’ll just standby.”

Felix shakes his head in immediate protest. “Hyunjin there are four points to the gate,” he proceeds to point to himself before he goes to each person standing around, “One, Two, Three, Four.”

“Damn it!” Chan shouts.

The eldest brother rarely does this, and the bass in his chest causes the other two to recoil from their debate.

Chan intertwines his fingers in a nest atop his sea of hair as he brings himself back from the edge of insanity before he walks up face to face with Emily.

Breath heavy with mixed emotion, the hybrid brings his wrist up to his mouth and breaks the skin with needlepoint canines, spilling his blood as he holds his wrist out and wipes the excess from his lips with the fingers of his free hand.

Emily scrambles to tear a piece of the cloth from around your body and Jisung's. Chan watches the baby witch as she kneels under his extended arm, catching the precious blood on the white cloth. It soaks into the fibers of the fabric instantly. She nods for Felix to approach next. He looks at Chan and they share an exchange of wordless eye contact that called for conversations to be held at a later time.

Felix gently punctures his wrist, a lot neater, perhaps due to the thinner build of his pureblood vampire teeth. Licking his lips, he clenches his fist, soaking the cloth with his own blood before he gives Emily a small, supportive smile and steps back.

“There is no witch worth my life.” Hyunjin speaks aloud, quite adamantly in fact.

He then takes a step forward.

“But I owe Jisung many a favor, I’ll consider this one of them.”

Hyunjin bites into the edge of his palm and holds it over the cloth innocently, but he jerks it back into his grip, sending Emily stumbling forward, just inches away from his face. Hyunjin's ice blue eyes could be both beautiful, and terrifying.

“I am not my brothers. Do keep this in mind, useless witch.”

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amora-ledezma · 3 years ago

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Obey Me! Characters meeting Twisted Wonderland Characters

Request commented and made by @r4yyyyy

Hope it’s up to your standard<(^-^<)

May contain spelling errors. Maybe a bit OOC but eh.

Ace and Mammon

Riddle, Trey, and Lucifer already feel an headache coming-

At first they didn’t like each other all too much because both of them were glaring at each other every time the other interacted with Yuu or Yuki.

After confirming that no, the other isn’t trying to flirt with your best friend/human, they started to talk while Yuu and Yuki had to do something

And soon enough, Mammon was already asking Ace if he wanted to rob a bank.

And Ace being, well, Ace

Actually agreed to it, despite Deuce telling him that no, he shouldn’t do that unless they want both of their heads taken off by Riddle.

But Mammon persuaded Ace by telling him he, a demon, can easily defend both of them from Riddle, “just a human with magic” in his words.

Well, uh…

Not only did they fail to even get inside the bank, turns out Riddle’s collars affected demons way worst than humans.

Since demons don’t have a medium where magic flows out(ex. the magical pens NRC and probably RSA have) I’m going to take a guess that their magic circulates all over their body.

I’d compare their magic to like blood circulation or mana, so collaring Mammon would stop the magic from flowing into his head like blood would, making him light headed.

Now poor Ace has to deal with Riddle and Yuu’s anger.

In conclusion; chaos duo.

(Can be “chaos trio” but Deuce would probably refrain from interacting with those menaces)

Lucifer and Malleus

I’ve never heard silence quite this loud…

But once one of them decide to break the silence(probably by Malleus asking a question about something in Devildom that interested him) they’d probably exchange knowledge about their respective worlds.

“Overblots?” Lucifer would ask.

“Ah yes, I can see why someone would take interest in that, but first I should probably explain what exactly is ‘blot’.”

(Satan was interested too, he was probably eavesdropping)

The next time Yuu and Yuki see them both they’d be talking animatedly.

“Ohmygoshmyheart— why are they so handsome when they smile?!?!” Yuu and Yuki would collectively gush.

Sebek and Belphie

“Do you hate humans too?”

“Very much.”

And that sums up pretty much all their interactions.

But that’s because it’s the only thing they have in common.

If Sebek shouts and wakes up Belphie from his nap, hope to whatever deity they believe in the Valley of Thorns that Sebek gets back to Twisted Wonderland alive-

Someone get Beel and Silver to keep their brothers’ at bay.

Trey meeting Barbatos&Luke

Trey and Luke would get along immediately because of their interests in baking.

Barbatos was introduced to modern kitchen equipment and is absolutely fascinated.

Like Trey would show him a mixer and he’d be like “Dear Diavolo! You’re telling me I have been mixing things by hand when this contraption exists?!” and yes his eyes are indeed sparkling.

The fact that Devildom is actually behind modern technology is so hilarious to me-

All of them would exchange recipes.

Trey may or may not unofficially adopt/take Luke under his wing to teach him more about the recipes;)

Satan and Deuce

You’re just a little bit too much like me~

They both have a side to themselves that they want to hide from other people.

And the fact that both are related to their tempers is just— they pretty much kin each other ig.

Since Satan doesn’t really have a reason to dislike Deuce, he tolerates him.

Satan thought he and Deuce wouldn’t be that close.

*Satan’s older brother mode activated*

But he pretty much treats Deuce as if he’s his little brother.

Probably teaches and helps Deuce with his grades.

Would give Deuce books he has read and liked.

Satan probably teaches Deuce metaphors and euphemisms he had picked up over the years.

“Wait so washing feet can mean…?!”

“Hahaha, that would be the case.”

And by extension, Asmo would probably treat Deuce as if he’s his brother.

Asmo and Vil

Ahahaha, *Yuki and Epel nervously sweating*

Gosh if Vil even tries to point out something he thinks is “wrong” about Asmo’s skin or outfit?

He’d get it back 10 fold.

“Now that’s not how you wear a scarf you potato-”

“That should not be coming from someone whose colored hair tips look absolutely fried.”

“They look so damaged that it might even rival the way you part your hair and that ridiculous crown accessory you have.”

So Vil would either explode from anger or actually cry.

And Epel is just amazed. Like sparkles in his eyes amazed.

Rook is now walking eggshells around the both of them.

Asmo would probably call out Vil for his unnecessarily harsh insults/“advice” he gives to his dorm mates.

Asmo can and will annoy Vil by hypnotizing Rook and make him do whatever he wants to annoy Vil.

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #obey me #obey me shall we date #twst x obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me incorrect quotes #twst incorrect quotes #twst interactions

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jackalspine · 1 year ago

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taglist (dm to add or remove yourself)

@gremlin-bot @duncte123 @ghosttrolls @moonfoxgazer @nymanders @3motionally3xhausted @sailor-toni @creoastra @paxopalotls @fandom-gremlin-1987 @spirits-of-kin @jaymonsterthecanaryprince @the-ranch-mann2 @anartscrow @camphorcapstan @averagecostumedfreak @ghospos @fanish-hoard @nimfadora115 @gayfairyroyalty @catstar91 @46-reasonable-hamsters @postit-nope @baphospectra @faeriekit @impteas @ghospectr

if you're not taggable, its either an error on my part, tumblr being weird, or you have to change your tumbr mention settings.

that's about 26 interested, if you're thinking of buying more than one dm me before the end of this month (February 29th)

I'll round up from the amount of people in the tag list so that I can insure they get one when I drop them on Etsy :)

dm for questions

Eheheho the double sided danno acrylic charm designs are done! Lemme tally up the interested parties and I’ll tag m in a reblog.

#tag list #dp charm #tw body horror #tw blood #tw gore

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blessedburden · 3 years ago

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The older I've gotten, the more Father's Day has affected me. I grew up in an extremely racist, homophobic, HIGHLY abusive, southern pentecostal household. I was beaten regularly, went to school at one point telling people that I was in a car wreck because my eyes were both blackened by my dad. I became very violent in my small hometown, fighting people non stop, even hospitalizing some, literally. I became "That emo dude you don't fuck with because he'll fuck you up" and I took such pride in it, but I hate it now. I always hated hurting people unless they hurt someone I cared for. I was never allowed to be friends with gays or black people, but i did anyways because in a sense, i related heavily to then, being the black sheep of my family, silenced, ridiculed, and oppressed by my own family. Hell, I once got a blow job on a school bus by a black girl back in my teen years. It was videoed, sent around the school, to my youth leaders, and to my father. He found it, and me being a 5'5 sophomore in high school and him being a 6'5 300 pound muscle giant, I tried to fight back, even busted his nose, but I was beaten within an inch of my liHe'll, sought solace in my friends and made them my family, rebuking everything that my family had tried to teach me. Many were blessed enough to be raised on love and hope. I was raised on spite, rage, hatred, and survival, but I always made this promise, and I've said it since i was a teenager, "I'll never let them take my heart" so I've still got that after so many years. Anyways, I graduated high school in 09, I didn't go to college, and I didn't do anything that he would've done. Instead, I moved away, lived homeless, lived in a tent, lived on a park bench, literally at some points had to fight for my food, did a couple of jail stints, never addicted to drugs, just highly violent, suicidal, and a bit of an alcoholic. At one point, I had my neck slit, I was stabbed in the left side of the stomach, and stabbed in the left ear. I survived, maybe from pure spite alone, I don't know. What I do know is that I get so jealous seeing so many people my age, out with their dad's, having a bond, a close relationship, and seeing them smile with their kin. I'm not used to envy, but as I sit here at this burger joint alone, watching guys my age have fun with their old man, it makes me smile for them, but it makes me hurt so fucking bad. Like, why should I give a fuck? Why should I care? Why can't I just be happy in seeing others happy in what I don't have. I've always said, "Until it's my turn, for others I will support" but I'll never have my turn because half the time I don't want it. Other times, I get jealous of those that never knew their dad's because they could've been like mine. A gift and a curse kind of thing. Unfortunately, I don't know why, but I love that dude. I long to have my dad in my life, even though he's so fucked up and evil and prideful and hateful and violent. I love him so much and I despise that about me. Why do I want to forgive? Why do I want those who don't want me? I haven't spoken to him in 10 years. I have children of my own now. A 5 year old little boy and an eleven year old little girl and I do everything opposite of my father, but I see some things I hate of him in myself. No, I will never lay a hand on my children, nor will I stifle their dreams, nor will I make them ever believe that I won't back them 100 percent of the way, but I look just like the guy. My anger makes me walk away rather than explain things the way I need to. I'm very critical and I expect nothing but excellence leaving no room for error, believing that they have to be the absolute best at whatever they do. I'm also harshly critical on myself, but for good reason I believe. I don't know why this day is so hard for me. I hate that it is. I hate that I love despite the hatred and rage I've been shown. I'll just sit right here, have my beer, another shot, and wish everyone a happy Father's Day.

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bumblerhizal · 3 years ago

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Still upset about that conversation at the beginning of the Cadash Thaig segment of Witch Hunt when Finn says he needs the blood of the kin of the elves who lived in the thaig and Ariane only suggests using the Warden’s blood instead of hers if they’re Dalish

The Cadash Thaig elves arrived there shortly after the fall of Arlathan, so they should be firmly pre-Dalish/city elf split. While I get that the Dalish are the keepers of the lost lore, the other elven origins are still equally elven

That part, I can see it from the perspective of Ariane not considering the non-Mahariel elves “elfy” enough (although imo it feels more like a writers’ error than that), but where it becomes weird is when Finn then says “You share the same blood as the Arlathan elves. So you’re the only one this enchantment might recognize.”

For a Mahariel, he has a line before in response to Ariane’s saying he can’t use the Warden’s because of Warden reasons. It’s then still awkwardly worded to account for other (human and dwarven) origins, but it works. But I first placed Witch Hunt as a Tabris, so I was without that context. For the elven origins who don’t get that line explaining why Warden blood can’t be used, it just sounds like being written off as discount elves which is something my Tabris at least is sensitive about, and it’s a shame there wasn’t something to acknowledge why Tabris/Surana/Andras can’t use their blood

Idk I just think that initial exchange could’ve been adjusted somewhere to better account for all elf pcs.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dao #witch hunt #finn #ariane #mahariel #tabris #surana #andras #bumbleposting

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 4 years ago

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Introductions (AU; the government are introduced to the Emperor’s right hand man)

Emperor Palpatine sat at the helm of the table, his expensive ornate satin cloak pulled up to cover his deformed features. He had made a rare exception to the never appearing in public rule, if only to summon his little group of closely affiliated followers for a less than chummy supper. The Coruscant sun had already begun to set, its pinkish rays disappearing behind the skyscrapers visible from the large single viewport of the Emperor’s dining hall. Two months had passed since the fall of the Republic. Two months since the war came to an end, two months since the Jedi were declared traitors and executed en masse. Two months since Palpatine declared himself dictator, since his regulations had begun being pushed onto all known systems. Two months, and Governor Tarkin had thought himself to be lucky with his role.

A few faces, he recognized. Former admiral Wullf Yularen was a welcome addition despite being a bit below the required rank, fighting the just fight against outliers and naysayers. Orn Free Taa was a more unfortunate case (he had likely invited himself by flattery and empty promises), while Vizier Mas Amedda was an obvious presence. Sate Pestage, Janus Greejatus, Ars Dangor, Kren Blista-Vanee and Verge’s smug faces had Tarkin fighting the urge to roll his eyes at their insipid subservience. Artist Eveli Charis was, Tarkin figured, the most surprising member of the meeting - serving as the only female face of the small crowd. Her aside, and finance minister Gagh rounded off the gathering.

These people were - each in different ways - the most influential people of the new Empire.

“I have not gathered you simply for the sake of sharing a dinner in the wake of our victory. Indeed, I have been wishing to relay to you my plans for the grand future of our Galaxy,” said Palpatine suddenly, his voice gravelly and his gnarly hands reminiscent of claws where they rested against the table cloth.

Tarkin thought he could see a pair of golden eyes gleaming beneath the shrouded darkness of Palpatine’s hood, but chalked it up to a trick of the light. Instead, he focused on the hand stitched embroidery of the Emperor’s burgundy robes. The man had always had an affinity for fancy dress.

“It is clear that you shall provide eyes and ears for me, and I trust you to fulfill your duties towards the Empire, and subsequently to me. However, I’m afraid I must offer you a small surprise.”

“Another, Your Highness?” Tarkin said with an amused smile, and he couldn’t help but feel triumphant when Palpatine let out a pleased cackle in response.

“I’m afraid so, Governor. Surely, you shall all take this little revelation in stride. Are we not in dire need of powerful allies?” he responded, gesturing with one clawed hand towards the Vizier who stood poised by the doorway.

On each side of the hydraulic sliding doors themselves, a royal guard clad in crimson stood at a patient salute. The Emperor’s personal bodyguards, their faces cloaked and hidden from view much like Palpatine himself. Their presence was an odd mixture of reassuring and oppressive, Tarkin had decided. But he saw no reason to fear them, given his own standing with the Emperor. If anything, he benefited from their presence as protectors.

“Will you reveal to us this secret, Your Highness?” asked Charis, her expression curious and incredulous at once.

“My child, have you not been taught the virtue of patience?” was Palpatine’s response; a thinly veiled insult that put her in her place, as she shrank back in shame and lowered her head in an obedient bow.

“Forgive me my insolence, Your Highness,” she offered, apologetic and the Emperor simply shrugged her words off.

“Think nothing of it. You are correct, it appears to me that I have unfairly omitted mentioning this to either of you. Alas, it is time I remedy this arrogance.”

Tarkin noted how the Emperor turned his head briefly, giving the Vizier a barely perceptible nod and the man stepped back. On cue, the guards uncrossed their electro-staffs and parted to the sides. Confusion seemed to overtake most of the party’s faces, as the doorway slid open with ease - only to reveal a man. Clad in black armour with red and silver accents; broad shouldered, tall and visibly disdainful towards his company. He stalked wordlessly up to Palpatine’s right hand side, where he lingered - gloved hands folded in front of his hips, legs wide apart. His eyes were glowing, an amber shade to their irises, a bloodshot sclera. The man’s face was scarred, rugged; and the only visible emotions seemed to be anger and resentment. One single dark blonde curl fell over his creased forehead.

But that wasn’t the oddity. Someone in the company - Tarkin suspected it to be Yularen, judging by the tone - gasped.

Indeed, it was difficult not to recognize the young man by the Emperor's side - the Emperor, whose features had twisted into a toothy grin. The man said nothing, taller than Tarkin remembered him. Something warped and cruel and twisted distorting his rather handsome features into something unrecognizable, all charm vanquished. He was pale, peering in distaste down at the dining party as if they were beneath him. It didn’t sit right with Tarkin, given that they all knew who he was and what his past profession up until about two months ago would have been.

Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker had joined them for supper.

“May I introduce to you Lord Vader,” said Palpatine, breaking the eerie silence. “Some of you may believe you are familiar with this man. I assure you, you are mistaken. The man whom you may recall is long gone. Lord Vader has seen the error of his ways, and accepted the Jedi traitors for what they are. He came to my aid during the assassination attempt ordered by master Windu.”

Tarkin listened closely, but he was not the only one who seemed unable to tear his gaze from Skywalk-- Vader’s stern features. He looked so much older than his age, as if he had seen a million lifetimes of suffering pass him by. His hollow eyes seemed haunted, but their inherent glow was more reminiscent of a predator locked in a cage. Simply biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. Still, he made no move and did not utter a single word.

“Lord Vader has turned out to be, much like you, one of my most trusted advisors. He is my right hand man, and while I have neglected to provide him with an official rank - he outranks every single one of you. It is my belief that only he has the means to do what needs to be done,” the Emperor continued.

Yularen seemed to shift uneasily in his seat, his eyes wide and a blunt disbelief etched into his aging features.

“You wish to speak, Colonel?”

Tarkin heard himself say; wondering if they were the only ones present - apart from the Emperor himself - who had maintained some sort of personal relationship to the man Palpatine had renamed and retooled so viciously.

“No, Governor. I--” he began, but was immediately cut off by Palpatine.

“You are wondering how the man you knew as a Jedi could turn on his own kind, is that not so? You are surprised to see that his loyalty towards the Empire could outweigh his loyalty towards his kin. Am I correct, Colonel?”

Yularen seemed to pause a bit longer than required, but gave a curt nod as he found the voice to speak up.

“Yes, Your Highness. I am merely… surprised, as you put it,” he said as a manner of surrender.

“It is understandable that you would be shocked. Should you like to speak of your own decision, Lord Vader?” the Emperor drawled, his voice menacing and sing-songy at once as he gestured to offer Vader the opportunity to speak.

“No,” the young man simply said, standing so still that his lips barely even seemed to be moving; his gleaming eyes scanning each and every person present before it landed on Tarkin - the only man who’s amusement outweighed the concerns. “I believe my actions will speak for themselves, as will your evident trust in me, my master.”

The voice was a bit deeper and gruffer than Tarkin recalled it - but that could be maturity - but its monotone quality was new. Vader spoke as if the words held no meaning to him, as if whatever he said was pointless and a waste of breath. As if his words were unbefitting of anyone but the Emperor. Yet, at the same time, he was matter of fact and to the point. A quality Tarkin had enjoyed in the past, and one he presumed Yularen had as well.

“Oh, I implore you to amuse this unspoken inquiry, Lord Vader,” Palpatine pressed, and as much as it came off as if being in good faith, it was an obvious demand no loyal servant could ignore.

“As you wish, my master,” Vader simply obeyed, his burning eyes still holding Tarkin’s in a cold, disgruntled stare. “I was the single man to commandeer the troops as they marched on the Jedi temple. I surveyed the situation, and I made sure not a single soul present escaped their fate. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to serve my Emperor, and I will not be frowned upon by the likes of you.”

The last word was delivered with such pure, unbridled loathing that it seemed to lower the temperature of the room by several degrees by proxy of mere intent. Vader nonchalantly folded his arms over his chest, lips drawn into a thin line and the perpetual scowl of his forehead had already begun to carve out fine lines in their wake. Palpatine was still sneering, grimy teeth bared in a ferocious grin.

“As you can see, Lord Vader’s conviction is admirable and undeniable. He has proved himself worthy of my trust, and so, I expect you to follow my example accordingly. I expect you to show him the reverence he requires,” the Emperor concluded, that odd glow to Vader’s eyes mirrored by his as he briefly peered up from beneath his hood - this time, it could be no trick of the light.

“I trust your infallible judgment, Your Highness,” Tarkin finally said, being the first to accept the new norm. “I may not be completely assured of Lord Vader’s motives as of yet, but he shall gain my respect when he has proved himself worthy of it.”

“My friend, you need not fear. However, I understand your concerns, and I have no doubt that you will come around quite soon,” said Palpatine, and while there was malice to the tone, he was also unusually honest and benevolent.

Tarkin suspected that was entirely on him, and their long history as colleagues and friends. He nodded, glancing over at Vader whose eyes regarded him still. Their gaze was arduous, and heavy, and vile - but that seemed to be their natural state, rather than any personal vendetta.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” was Tarkin’s only reply, and he shot a defiant glare back at Vader. “You are much too gracious.”

“Will you cease your repulsive display?” Vader snapped, and while Tarkin at first almost expected Palpatine to defend him; he found that the Emperor seemed humored enough by the obvious insult to allow the man to finish his trail of thought. “The Emperor will offer you no favours based on your fawning. You embarrass yourself, Governor.”

“Now, now, Lord Vader. I believe such childish bickering belongs elsewhere,” he finally shushed, as Vader relented like an obedient school boy fearing punishment. “However, I must agree. It would serve you well to evolve your attempts at flattery into a less… tacky matter.”

That triggered a reaction from Vader, as one corner of his lips twitched briefly upwards in a mocking, superior half smirk. He said nothing, but the triumph in those golden eyes spoke for itself.

“Now, with this out of the way, I wish to return to the matters at hand - but there is one more thing I wish to clarify. Lord Vader will not tolerate any mentions of the man you might recall him to be. He is no longer the naive child of yesterday. There will be a penalty for such insolence - no matter whom it may derive from. Lord Vader is a reinvented man. You shall address him only as such, and by no other name. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” was the singular response - and a brief hint of delight, and perhaps relief, crossed Vader’s scornful face.

“Very good,” said the Emperor with a cackle.

__________

I am not generally a fan of suitless Vader, but this idea came to me and it kinda required that so I went with it for once. Enjoy!

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029582

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