#if you see any of '1883' in this no you do not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moeitsu · 8 months ago

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: A well deserved hunt with Charles, met with an unexpected surprise back at camp...

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 5 - My Heart Beats On As Warmly Now

“What began as a journey had become a retreat into the unknown. We were backing into the abyss; so worried our sins would follow us we didn’t bother watching where we walked. And behind us was a cliff.” ~ Elsa Dutton 1883

Arthur’s anger dissolved with the storm, replaced by a heavy sense of regret as he trudged back to camp that evening. All he wanted was to drown his shame in a few bottles of liquor, away from prying eyes, away from the disappointment he felt in himself. He hadn’t intended for Kate to see that side of him, not yet at least. And certainly not against a sickly innocent man. He let his anger and frustrations get the better of him. Like he switched on auto-pilot and let the outlaw in him take control. He worried now that Kate might actually leave, and he blamed himself for that.

Swiftly, he made his way to the crate of beer bottles behind the chuck wagon, grabbing a few before retreating to his tent. He craved solitude, a respite from the demands of camp life, from the weight of his own mistakes.

Seated on his cot, a beer wedged between his legs, Arthur opened his journal, the one constant in his life since Dutch and Hosea taught him to read and write. It was his confidant, his sanctuary in a world of chaos. John always gave him shit for it growing up, calling him a pansy and constantly trying to snoop in his personal entries.

Despite being in a gang for most of his life, he still felt incredibly lonely. There weren't many people he would truly open up to. So his journal became that person. It was the one thing that did not judge him, ever. But even as he poured his thoughts onto the page, he longed for a human connection, someone to truly understand him.

Hosea and Dutch had been like parents to him, raising him from a young age in the ways of the outlaw. They had their flaws, but they had also shown him kindness and guidance when he needed it most. He always saw Hosea as his father, he would consider Dutch his father too, although he was more like an older brother at times. Hosea was probably the only person who truly knew Arthur, and saw the things he wished not to speak about. Neither parent was perfect by any means, and Arthur could recognize that. But even as an adult, there is still a child inside that longs for the comfort of a father.

It was that fatherly instinct that drove Hosea to Arthurs tent that night.

“Evening Arthur,” he greeted, holding open the tent flap, “may I come in?”

He put down his journal and nodded. Gesturing for Hosea to join him on his cot.

“I noticed Kate didn’t ride back with you, is she okay out in this storm?” He inquired.

Arthur smiled with a slight shake of his head, that's Hosea for you. Always worried about others, here he was checking on his son but was more concerned about the lady he left behind.

“I’m sure she’s fine, saw her heading into Valentine,” he answered, taking a sip of his beer. He handed one of the full bottles to Hosea as the older gentleman sat down.

“I take it things didn't go well then,” he said with a hint of sympathy.

Arthur sighed, “when do they ever.”

As they sat together in the dim light, the rain drumming softly on the canvas roof, Arthur felt a sense of comfort in Hosea’s presence. He didn’t need to explain himself, didn’t need to justify his actions. Hosea simply listened, offering silent support.

“I don’t know why I do it,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “The man was sick and weak, I should've just given him a warning.” Arthur concluded with a shake of his head.

Hosea sighed knowingly. “I think you can blame your fathers for that son,” taking a sip to clear his throat, “Dutch and I did what we thought was best at the time and well, you were quite impressionable when you were young. We used that to our advantage to turn you into a grade A outlaw.” He said gently with honesty.

Arthur chuckled at the memories of his youth, before John came along he was the golden child. He used to love it when Dutch would teach him how to pick locks, or when Hosea taught him a whole book of curse words. Had he not been the son of outlaws, his life would’ve looked very differently.

“We’ll always be thieves,” he mused with a hint of nostalgia, “only difference now is that the world don't want us no more.”

Hosea nodded, silently agreeing, “We're doomed just like every other creature on this rock Arthur,” he remarked with a wry smile. “I just wish I had acquired that wisdom at less of a price.”

After a moment of contemplative silence, Arthur spoke, his voice heavy with regret. "I just wish I’d done things differently," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. His remorse mixed with his actions at the Downes ranch, and for every mistake he’s made in the past that led him here.

Hosea laid a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding. "We can't change the past, son," he said gently. "All we can do is learn from it and strive to do better in the future."

Arthur nodded, the weight of Hosea's words settling over him like a blanket of reassurance. "I don't want to be the kind of man who hurts others for no good reason," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I want to be better, for Kate, for everyone."

Hosea squeezed Arthur's shoulder affectionately before rising to his feet. “She’ll come around, son.” He offered a parting reminder, “underneath it all, you have a good heart.”

Before he disappeared into the night, Hosea turned back with a final piece of news. “By the way, your brother wants to speak with you about using that oil cart you found to rob the train tomorrow night.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. “He ain’t my brother,” he muttered disdainfully.

Hosea chuckled. “Well, you two sure argue like brothers. G’night, Arthur.”

He tipped his head to the old man as he left, “night Pa.”

Arthur laid back on his cot, tucking his journal into his satchel when something small and round fell out and made a soft pitter on the ground. When he looked down he saw the peach pit, the one Kate gave him on her first night. He reached to pick up the small seed. His thumb ran over its hard wrinkles.

He held it tight to his chest, and silently promised he would make things right with Kate. If he ever saw her again.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air, reveling in the freshness that lingered after the storm had passed in the night. The scent of newly sprouted grass and moist earth filled her senses, while dew-kissed leaves sparkled under the gentle caress of the rising sun. A light breeze danced around her, carrying the promise of spring on its wings. It felt like the start of something new as if the world itself was awakening alongside her. It was the perfect day for a ride.

She met Charles in the early morning, exactly where he said he’d be. Waiting for her to begin their journey into the wild lands in hopes of finding a fresh hunt. They were a few hours into their journey now, heading north into Ambarino to hunt cow elk. Just one 200 pound elk is enough to feed the entire camp for a month. Maybe more. It was a day's ride there and back, short enough to keep the meat fresh in time.

With a satisfied sigh, Kate exhaled the tension from her shoulders, “this is exactly what I needed Charles, thank you.”

Charles smiled warmly, guiding his horse closer to hers. "Thanks for joining me, Kate," he replied, his own gratitude evident in his tone.

With her face tilted to the sun, she savored the moment. Allowing Lorena to guide her. A silent trust shared between them, that her mare will take her where she needs to go. “You know, I always thought you preferred hunting alone. I never see anyone go with you.” Kate remarked, eyes still closed in bliss.

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Arthur and I have gone together a few times, but other than that, I don't seek much company from the others," he admitted, his words tinged with honesty. It was clear that while he valued his fellow gang members, solitude was his preferred companion in the wild.

“That why you’re always so quiet?” She inquired, innocently.

Charles chuckled softly. "If the choice is folks thinking I'm dumb but not knowing for sure, and folks knowing I'm dumb because I sound like them, I think I'd rather keep them wondering," he explained with a grin. The confidence in his voice a testament to his strength.

Kate chuckled, her eyes reflecting understanding. "I get that. Sometimes it's better to keep people guessing," she replied. Under her breath she added, “I know some of those men can be pretty dumb,” loud enough for Charles to hear.

Charles exclaimed in frustration, “tell me about it! All this death and for what? Just so we can have enough money to be able to run from what we've done?”

Kate pondered for a moment, she still didn't know what happened all those weeks ago that drove the gang of outlaws here. It was the one piece of information they didn’t talk about around her. Perhaps Charles would share the missing pieces. “What happened to everyone to cause you to run?” Her tone colored with genuine curiosity.

As Charles recounted the events of that fateful day, Kate couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for what they must have been through. The gang did not like to talk about Blackwater, and the consequences must have been devastating.

"It was a fucking execution," he began, his voice tinged with regret. "We thought it would a simple job robbing a ferry, carrying payroll. But there were civilians too." Kate could already imagine where this led. $5000 for his head alone, the words echoed in her mind.

“We raised a lot of hell that day, and things got out of control. Next thing we know, the Pinkertons are on us along with the law. And everyone just starts shooting. I don't know which one of us shot first but that's all it took. There were passengers caught in the crossfire.” He shook his head with disappointment. She couldn't imagine the terror those innocent people must have felt as they found themselves caught in the chaos.

“Dutch he,” Charles hesitated, “he killed a young girl. Just to get the law off him. And no one batted an eye.” His voice heavy with emotion. Her stomach churned at the thought of such senseless violence. “We lost three good people, and John barely made it out alive.”

He turned, facing her, "I don't kill for fun Kate; I kill when I need to," he urged, his tone pleading. It was clear that he was grappling with the moral implications of their actions, and Kate couldn't help but admire his integrity in the face of such darkness. One so hauntingly familiar.

“Arthur came out different after Blackwater,” he added with a sigh.

“Being an outlaw can’t be easy,” Kate added, trying to lighten the mood. She understood the hardships and turmoil that came with senseless violence.

Charles huffed and shook his head at the memory, “easy certainly wasn't in the job description.”

As they rode on, the weight of their conversation hung heavy between them. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were all running from something far greater than the law. A feeling she was not immune to.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Their hunt had been successful, tracking and swiftly killing a massive elk. They settled in for a fire and camped near a lake for the night. Enjoying fresh fish for dinner. In the morning they tied their game to the back of Taima, and began their journey back to camp. Kate’s spirit felt lightened in a way, the two of them spent most of the night sharing stories. And she realized she and Charles had a lot in common. A gentle reminder that she is not entirely alone in her struggles.

The ride home went by quickly, and with the sun tickling the horizon, they arrived at the great plains of New Hanover, and eventually, the familiar overlook.

As they rode into camp, the air was thick with urgency, Miss Grimshaw's voice cutting through the chaos. "Alright girls, everything into the wagons, now!" she barked, her tone sharp.

Charles swiftly brought their kill to the chuck wagon, while Kate hurriedly dismounted and rushed to join the flurry of activity. The girls worked frantically, packing crates with blankets and clothing, fear etched on their faces.

"What's happening?" Kate asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Mary-Beth paused in her task, her expression grim. "Arthur and John got into trouble with the law in Valentine," she explained, her hands moving quickly. "Dutch says we need to leave, fast."

A surge of panic swept over Kate at the thought of Arthur and John in danger. "Did they get caught?" she asked, her heart pounding.

Mary-Beth shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted, sympathy in her eyes. "But we have to go."

As Kate’s mind began to spiral with the worst outcomes imaginable, a voice rose above the commotion. Speaking of the man himself.

Dutch's voice cut through the chaos. "Charles!" he called out, his tone urgent. "Find Arthur at Dewberry Creek, we need a new hideout." Charles turned on his heel with a nod, mounting Taima and taking off back down the trail they came in on only a moment ago.

With his words she felt a sudden sense of relief, Arthur is okay. Their last conversation weighed heavy on her heart. And she would be damned if that was the last time they spoke.

Dutch's voice commanded attention once more. "When they give us the all clear, we move out! Let's get to work, people!" he shouted.

Mary-Beth and Tilly went back to their work and left Kate alone with her thoughts. She returned to her belongings, packing quickly. But her moment of respite was short-lived as a sickeningly familiar voice cut through the air like a bullet.

“Well hello Kate,” Micah said with disdain and arrogance.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit Micah,” Kate retorted, her patience wearing thin.

Micah advanced, his eyes blazing with hostility. "Funny how you show up right when trouble finds us," he taunted.

Kate scoffed, the idea completely absurd, “you idiots robbed a fucking train, did you seriously expect a welcome home party?” She shot back, her voice filled with sarcasm.

Micah's gaze narrowed. "We were set up in Valentine, someone ratted us out," he growled, his words dripping with bitterness.

“I was just hunting with Charles,” she explained, not bothering to hide the bite in her voice, she refused to play his game.

Micah approached with malice, his fist twitched at his side, ready to pull his pistol any moment. "Well Charles ain't here now,” he gestured around the camp, “and we think it was you," he hissed, the accusation cutting through the chaos.

Realization dawned on her that he was setting her up, but the reason why was still unclear. “And when Charles comes back he can testify to that,” she spat, turning to continue her packing.

He closed the distance between them with predatory grace. In one swift motion, he raised his pistol. Before Kate could react, the butt of the gun connected with her temple, sending a searing pain shooting through her skull. Stars exploded behind her eyelids as she stumbled backward, the world spinning dizzily around her. Darkness threatened to engulf her.

As she struggled to regain her bearings, Micah loomed over her, a twisted smirk playing across his lips, “we’ll be long gone by the time they come back princess.”

With a sickening thud, Kate's head hit the ground, the impact reverberating through her skull. As the world faded into blackness, she felt herself being pulled into an abyss of darkness. The last sound echoing in her ears was the distant whinny of Lorena, a mournful cry that seemed to fade into the void.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The commotion of the camp kept her drifting in and out of consciousness for the next hour. She heard Abigail's voice call out to Kate in concern, and Micah snapped back warning her to keep her distance. She also realized her wrists had been bound along with her ankles, with Micah standing guard over her like a dog. Like she could run away in this state anyways.

The darkness began to creep in again, and in a moment she awoke and Micah was gone. It was almost dark and she was in a different spot now, away from the center of camp and behind the tree line. That fucking bastard tried to leave me here. She thought with bitterness.

In the midst of the chaos, a familiar voice pierced through the camp, but Kate's mind was still swimming in a fog of confusion. Wagons rattled as they hurriedly departed the overlook, leaving Kate struggling to make sense of the commotion. Summoning all her strength, she pushed herself up onto her knees, squinting through the haze.

Then, like a beacon in the night, Arthur's horse appeared, Belle’s white coat gleaming amidst the darkness. With a surge of relief, Kate locked eyes with Arthur, who rushed over to her side, his expression etched with concern.

Her consciousness flickered like a dim candle in the wind as she slowly regained awareness. The throbbing pain in her head was a harsh reminder of what had just transpired. Blinking away the haze, her vision blurry.

"Kate? Are you alright?" Arthur's voice cut through the fog, filled with concern as he took in the sight of her bound wrists and ankles. Swiftly dismounting Belle and pulling a knife from his belt to cut her free.

Her head throbbed as she recounted what happened and she felt sick in the stomach. She couldn’t stay with them anymore, not after this. Micah was a real problem, and if what Charles told her about Blackwater is true, then Dutch is likely the same.

“I’m okay,” she answered wearily, “Micah set me up,” a hint of fear mixed with rage creeped into her voice. Arthur helped her rise to her feet, just as the last wagons were leaving the overlook. Without missing a beat she turned to find her horse.

Arthur was slightly taken aback, unsure if she was still upset with him from the nights before, all while trying to make sense as to why Micah had set her up.

“I-I’m sorry Kate,” he pleaded, “I shoulda been here,” his voice was laced with remorse. His strides quickened as he closed the distance between them. Kate's heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice, but she knew she couldn't stay.

“It’s not your fault,” she reassured, “but I have to leave.” She decided in the moment, ripping the bandaid clean off. She longed to stay with Arthur and the gang, but she no longer wanted part in this trouble. “Goodbye Arthur,” she bid him a solemn farewell.

“Kate,” he called out, desperation filling the air. He wanted to stop her, to grab her and beg her to explain what happened with Micah. But the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, she had made up her mind. So all he could do was stand and watch as she rode off.

She clutched at Lorena’s reins, taking off in the same direction as the wagons, intending to ride past them and make her way to Rhodes, hopefully putting enough distance between them so she could get her bearings and be on the move again. Her heart raced with adrenaline and disappointment. Things could not have taken a turn for the worst.

She used the darkness to her advantage, slipping away from the wagons as they took a path down following the railroad tracks, while Kate veered off towards the twin stacks. As she climbed altitude she watched the wagons below, specifically watching Arthur take off behind them, his mare flying through the train of carts and horses like a butterfly dancing between flowers.

She paused for a moment, letting herself consider that perhaps she wasn't just running away out of fear, but something else as well. She thought about the girls, and Charles, who had just become a dear friend after their hunting trip. She thought about Abigail, who must be clutching little Jack close to her heart at this moment, praying John will see his family out of this alive. Her last conversation with Arthur still ate at her heart, so many words went unspoken that she wished she had said that night.

Memories of her past came back in waves along with the painful throb of where she had been hit with Micah’s gun. Her fear, mixed with her disappointment and anger. A reminder of her own weakness.

Yet, she decided long ago that she would never live in that kind of world again, where the weak would rather guilt the strong than become strong themselves. This world doesn’t care what the weak want. This world eats the weak. Therefore, she became strong.

The sudden sound of gun fire dragged her from her thoughts, she rode farther up the slope looking for the source of the noise. She saw in the distance the tiny images of wagons and horses, and a group of raiders descending to their location..

Gripping the reins with such ferocity, Lorena reared on her hind legs as Kate spun her around and took off back down the slope. She would not let death sink its venomous teeth into the belly of another.

74 notes · View notes

carcarcraziiv2 · 7 months ago

Note

hi!!!i wanted to do a request (im shaking as i write this bc this is my second time ever doing a request-) about Kayn having a crush on a reader that's part of Pentakill.Reader looks super mysterious and scary but in reality they're just shy and also have a crush on Kayn and both of them confess at the same time.Take your time and have a good day!!!

I am so glad you requested it! It's okay to be nervous! I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG I LOVE YOU AND I APOLOGIZE <//3

I LOVE THIS PROMPT- especially for someone who is in Pentakillllll like that is so exciting. I am so hyped for this! I hope you enjoy <3

Content / Warnings: Mature language (the 'b' word lol), Alcohol consumption. Not much else really....

Word Count: 1883

Kayn was never one to show his fanboy nature, even though everyone in Heartsteel already knew Kayn had a secret obsession- Pentakill. Specifically, the bands mysterious, cold and ominous bassist; you.

You on the other hand, although already being the bassist in a rock band, had somehow gained a reputation for being the "dark" or "moody" bandmember in comparison to Sona or Kayle. In reality though, you just liked keeping to yourself, rarely being the first one to speak, often sitting alone on the stage speakers or out back of the concert houses having a smoke before or after a show.

Regardless of the publics opinion of you, you loved your bandmates. You were just shy, so when Kayle approached you notifying you about a possible collab with your personal favorite band Heartsteel, you couldn't help but be incredibly anxious.

"What do you mean we are 'meeting' with them tomorrow," you inquired, glancing up from your book to see Kayle lean against the kitchen counter and take a drink from her cup.

"Oh, come on Y/N. Don't you like... oh which one was it?" She pauses and you take in a deep breath before letting out a sigh. "Kayn, right?"

You sit up from your spot and set your book down. Arching your brow and rolling your eyes at the winged woman, you chose to ignore her inquiry.

She scoffed before saying a little quieter, "Well Yone said Kayn likes our bassist. Guess it's not that big of a deal. I'll tell him we will pass on the meeting."

She began reaching towards her phone on the counter, causing you to pause mid-stretch and jump up to stop her.

"Wait!" you shrieked, cringing at yourself immediately thereafter.

"I knew it," Kayle smirked. "Our meeting is at noon by the way." As she walked away, you slumped back onto to the couch and let out another dramatic sigh.

Kayn was going to kill Yone. Rhaast on the other hand was threatening to constantly break through at any moment with sheer excitement.

They were meeting Pentakill today. They- more specifically- were meeting you today. He was terrified. What if you hated him? What if you thought he was weird, or worse- what if Rhaast made an appearance and said something outrageous or out of pocket?

Kayn shook his head and rolled his eyes before splashing his face with water. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, silent dialogue only heard by him plaguing his mind.

Do not do anything brash, Rhaast.

Oh, I would never, Kayn.

The meeting wasn't long. There was clearly some sort of friendship history between Yone and Kayle. Beyond that, everyone chatted like long lost friends aside from you - always silent and observant, and Kayn who sat at the large meeting table across from you.

You didn't fail to notice how he consistently stared at you. You were lowkey jealous because you wished you had started first. You weren't about to have a staring contest with him now.

You hadn't realized you were dissociating into the wall next to the large bay window until you were snapped out of it by Kayle's voice.

"Y/N, did you hear me? We are going to partner up for our song collab." Her lips rose in an evil knowing little smirk. "You and Kayn will be working together." Damn her for playing teacher right now.

A blush immediately erupted on your skin as you glanced at Kayn and gave him a shy smile. He let out a dramatic sigh and you were ashamed to think you were actually excited to have a real excuse to talk to him for an extended period of time.

"Alright everyone, let's start today and you can all figure out arrangements for your individual meetings. We will have our group meeting biweekly. Once we have a song, we will figure out our practice schedule and all the other details!" Yone smiled politely and everyone began standing and walking to their partners. As you observed, you saw both sett and K'Sante give looks to Kayn as they passed by him, almost teasing.

You couldn't help but be mortified by their social ques. Had Kayle spilled the beans about your silly little crush on Kayn? Oh Gods, what if Kayn knew and was staring at you because he was wondering how the hell he got stuck with the quiet freak from Pentakill as not only his partner, but his crush.

You sighed inwardly as you walked slowly towards him, looking anywhere but his direction. He was more confident than you thought, looking straight at you as you could see through your peripheral and starting the conversation.

"Hello, Y/N, right? I guess I should introduce myself- I'm Kayn," he reaches out a hesitant hand. You smile politely, shyly, in response.

"I'm Y/N- well you already know that anyway, heh..." you stutter, flustered due to the close proximity between the two of you. You give another awkward smile, and then let out an exasperated breath before continuing. "So, when and where would you like to meet up for these brainstorming sessions?"

Kayn seems to pause for a moment, putting his hand under his chiseled chin in a thinking pose. His gaze leaves you for a moment, before returning to your own.

"Dinner, you pick where you want to go. I will schedule if you send me the name of the restaurant. Here, put your phone number in my phone," he pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not even second guessing the dinner suggestion. There's no way he could be asking you on a date, right? No, you're not delusional.

You input your number and quickly bid your farewell as Kayle waves at you from the door. You hadn't realized everyone was gawking at the two of you as they waited to leave for the evening.

"You know you don't have to do this at dinner Kayn? May as well have asked her out at that point," Sett smirks at him from his seat on the couch.

I told you, Rhaast hissed in Kayn's mind. It's too obvious now.

"Nah, don't worry. It is just a lunch between colleagues to brainstorm for a song. Nothing more, nothing less." Kayn glares at Sett, before walking into the bathroom to spray on some cologne for the first time in a very long time.

You were so nervous. Even more nervous than you had been previously. And when you get nervous, you babble.

So before leaving for dinner with Kayn that evening, you gave yourself a pep talk in the mirror.

"Do not say anything stupid." Yeah, right.

"Do not be a clumsy mess as per usual." Will probably stumble trying to sit in the chair.

"Do not be ominous and awkward." Can't change your nature, baby.

Gods, your inner dialogue was a bitch.

You had chosen to wear casual yet flattering attire to your dinner, sticking to your usual all dark fabric and accessories. After getting ready and checking yourself out in the mirror once more, you went outside and got on your motorcycle with your backpack slung over your shoulders.

Letting out a shuddering breath, you began the not so long journey towards the restaurant. You had suggested one close by that you did enjoy, although the nerves in your stomach suggested you probably wouldn't be doing to much eating.

Upon arrival, you hung your helmet on the handle of your bike and stepped off. Before heading inside, you spared a glance at one of the windows only to see Kayn openly gawking at you stepping off of your ride.

Unbeknownst to you, he was thrilled to see you on a motorcycle. It was a thing with him, something about being rebellious or dangerous compared to the norm always caught his eye.

Quickly averting your gaze you let out a deep sigh to ready yourself and walked into the restaurant- ignoring the hostess and walking the corner to seat yourself in the booth across from Kayn.

Placing your backpack on the bench next to you, you let out a breath.

"Hi, Kayn," You smiled politely, your voice quieter than you had intended.

"Hi, Y/N," He smiled back. This evening his expression was eager, his eyes alight with dare you say- mischief. And you couldn't help but notice the slight blush that caressed his cheeks under the yellow lighting of the lamp above.

"So, do we want to order first or get right to business?" The question tumbled out of your mouth casually, and it took you a moment to realize that you actually felt quite comfortable sitting across from him in this moment.

"Well, I already ordered us both a drink. I hope you like Gin and soda," A gulp audibly escaped his throat and your lips twitched up in an almost smile.

"Actually, one of my favorite cocktails. Thanks, Kayn."

Gods, he liked the sound of his name on your lips.

The evening went on without a hitch, the two of you talking casually. By the time a few hours had passed, your food long since finished on the table in front of you, you realized you hadn't actually gotten to any brainstorming.

The drinks had started getting to you, loosening up your nerves. Before you knew it you were blabbering on and grabbing your backpack to pull out your notebook.

As you were looking down, Kayn was staring at you.

Just tell her, you coward. Rhaast was yapping again, but the booze had Kayn tuning him out. He was planning on it anyway.

"Sorry, I knew if I spent this much time with you I'd end up talking too much. Must be because of how much I like yo-," you paused. Were you saying this out loud?

You heard Kayn pull in a sharp breath, before softly saying,

"That's interesting. I was just trying to hype myself up to say that I have had a crush on the cute bassist from Pentakill for awhile now. Please tell me I didn't hear you wrong..." Kayn's eyes were wide, one eyebrow raised as he bit his lip.

Your jaw fell open, before you promptly closed it and blinked a few times.

"Wait, really?" You smiled. You couldn't help it. And as Kayn looked at you, he knew all of the assumptions the public made about you being dark or ominous or mysterious were bullshit. You were like starlight shining in a dark sky with that smile.

"Really. I swear it. Yone and Kayle I think did this specifically to set us up, actually. Everyone else on my side has known I've liked you for awhile. Lucky for us Kayle and Yone have... a friendship." He grinned sheepishly, running a ringed hand through his pink hair.

You laughed out loud then, having had made the same assumption yourself. "I thought the same thing!"

And as the night waned on, the restaurant eventually closed and the waitress was forced to kick the two of you out. The drinks had worn off over the time you had been there, opting for water instead.

As the two of you walked down the steps back to your motorcycle, Kayn looked at you and pulled you in for a hug. You melted into him momentarily before he released you.

"So, I have a request," he stated. You nodded for him to continue, your brows scrunched in question.

"Can I have a ride on your motorcycle?"

The End! I hope you LOVED IT AND AGAIN IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! I have basically been AFK irl lately lol. Thank you for the lovely request!

#Heartsteel Kayn x Reader #Kayn x Reader #Pentakill Reader #Pentakill League of Legends x Kayn #League of Legends x Reader

61 notes · View notes

weirdmarioenemies · 10 months ago

Text

Happy Groundhog Day! I think it is so wonderful that there is an entire holiday dedicated to a specific burrowing rodent. Americans love this thing! And who wouldn't? Their burrows aerate soil, and provide homes for many other critters!

A lot of people wouldn't love the groundhog, actually. In 1883, the New Hampshire Legislative Woodchuck Committee put out a statement calling groundhogs "wayward sinners" whose grooming habits suggest good manners, but who in reality have "not made any material progress in social science". You think the Discourse is bad today? They used to form committees to complain about a squirrel's moral character!

However, this is not the extent of the disrespect toward groundhogs. It happens to this day, and we all take it for granted, and most don't even bother to realize it has to do with a marmot in the first place! Let's talk about...

Name: "Mole"

Debut: Whac-A-Mole

Sorry this picture is not very good. There are just not many pictures available that show that weird old "mole" figure that I have in mind specifically! Here's a green one.

Anyone familiar with the "Mole" series of animals will know that this is very much Not A Mole! The distinct head, the visible ears, the blunt nose, the buckteeth... this, my friend, is 100% Ground Squirrel! And this game is FAR from the only instance of moles and burrowing rodents being mixed up.

It actually makes sense that this mistake would happen, though! Moles are synonymous with burrowing, to the point unrelated burrowing animals are named after moles (including Mole Cricket, perhaps the ORIGINAL mole). But moles spend ALL their time burrowing, rarely if ever coming to the surface, so even though we all know moles, we are rarely blessed with SEEING moles. I have never seen a mole in person... yet! I would love to! Ground squirrels, such as groundhogs and prairie dogs, are also little burrowing critters, but these ones are commonly seen on the surface, ever alert. I think it's reasonable to mistake them for "moles"!

Alas, the popularity of Whac-A-Mole has cemented Ground Squirrel as essentially the "canon" Mole design for this context. And what a context that is! A classic, even GENRE-DEFINING game, all about whacking critters as they emerge from their burrows. So rude! They're not posing any danger, and the player isn't hunting them to eat, either. This is simply a game of spite. How DARE that rodent try to see the sun! This is just like Undertale.

Whac-A-Mole is one of the most straightforward types of game for any device with a touch screen or anything similar. Just gotta tap a thing! Very easy. This has led to such variations such as Whack-a-Monty from New Super Mario Bros., where the player bonks Monty Moles (more like Monty Gopher am I right) while sparing the many, many Luigis. Obviously, the Luigis must surface in order to initiate courtship, ensuring future generations of Luigis.

Now that I think of it, Mario is one of the only times I've seen the ethics of Whac-A-Mole called out, through the endangered Whacka from Paper Mario! I'm surprised the genre is not deconstructed more often (I love that this sentence is about Whac-A-Mole).

I think this is where I will end the post, because this silly game has so permeated human culture that I could go on and on and on! So strange that an entire animal now has a reputation of "pops out and gets bonked on the head". Conceptually, I certainly prefer the "parasitic aliens emerging from an astronaut's body orifices" aesthetic for this kind of game, but obviously kids aren't going out and bludgeoning real rodents because of this game, so whatever.

But still, what if instead of moles, the whacked entities were something humans have no problem attacking with a second thought...?

Get ready for an action-packed new game set in the Bowling universe!

#whac-a-mole #mole #groundhog #groundhog day #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

118 notes · View notes

harry-trumans-dishwasher · 3 months ago

Text

You: "No wonder the line was so long, Kim, these hot dogs are great!"

Kim: "Yes, Detective. It's not often the Oscar Mayer Wiener Mobile comes to Jamrock." The lieutenant rolls his sleeves up and focuses on his little mustard package.

Encyclopedia: The Oscar Mayer cold cut producer first began in 1883 as a common meat market chain. Their liverwurst, weißwurst, and Westphalian hams became explosively popular with immigrant populations.

Endurance: Ah yes. "Old World" meats. None of this "spoils after an hour without refrigeration" idiocy. Hard meats for hard men.

Perception: Still seems popular with today's consumer - you can barely see the line stretching around the block!

Shivers: The sun-baked streets radiate heat towards the heavens above. The faded leaves of the trees have taken on an orange tint, like the edges of burnt paper. Somewhere....

Esprit de Corps: "The Cuno needs his pig jacket! I can't go bustin' heads and lighting up fuckers dressed like a fuck-ing preschooler!" "He has a point, Jean. These uniform requisitions take time and he'll need a Junior RCM cloak when it starts snowing again in *two* months." Patrol Officer Judit Minot holds two tired fingers up to emphasize the two-ness of the months that stand between them and the bitter cold. All present in the old Silk Mill become very aware of the passage of time.

Esprit de Corps: Except for a puzzled Sergeant Torson whose gaze follows her pointing fingers up to the ceiling. He wasn't listening.

Empathy: It's not that the hot dogs *taste* very good. It's that they remind people of Summer. Of their childhood and cheap meals on the boardwalk.

Electrochemistry: The shape definitely reminds you of a few things, certainly.

Conceptualization: In that little tube of ground intestines, preservatives, and cartilage, a whole universe of positive associations.

Inland Empire: That's what it's all about, brother.

You: "I wish *I* were an Oscar Mayer wiener, Kim."

Kim: "Do I want to know why, Officer?"

Interfacing: Like a surgeon in combat, the lieutenant's attention is focused entirely on keeping any mustard from spilling on himself. He pauses.

You: "Because... Because..."

Reaction Speed: No! There's still time to pivot and say something else! Quickly, something that won't cause you to break down in tears!

Rhetoric (Failure): Sorry guys, I got stuck in line for the Wienermobile. What'd I miss?

You (softly, only crying a little): "Because they're red and they feed the masses, Kim..."

#disco elysium #hot dogs #oscar mayer #taggitytagtag

23 notes · View notes

nocturnalazura · 2 years ago

Text

Just a Little Celebration

Dabi x FemReader

Just a little birhtday post for our broken boy.

WC: 1883

Warnings: Oral (Fem Rec), Birthday sex

Summary: Dabi doesn't really celebrate his birthday, but you manage to convince him to have just a little celebration.

“Come on! It’s your birthday, let’s do something!” You chirp as you shake Dabi’s arm. He grunts and slaps at your hand. “I haven’t done anything for my birthday for years, now stop it.”

“Even more reason to do something now!”

“No.”

“Yes! Come on!” “Doll, I’m a known villain, what could we possibly do?”

“Ok, so maybe we can’t really go anywhere, but we can do something here! I can go to the store and get some stuff and cook whatever you want for dinner.”

“You can cook?” He questions as he peeks an eye open to look at you.

“I’m not going to win any awards or anything, but I’m not going to kill anyone with my cooking.”

“Fine. We can have dinner then.”

“And cake. You need a cake.”

“If cake will make you leave me alone and stop talking about my birthday then fine.”

Leaning over you kiss his cheek. “It will, at least for now. Katsudon okay?”

Dabi gives you a noncommittal nod and closes his eyes as he relaxes back onto the bed. Rolling your eyes at him, you quickly get up and grab your bag, heading off to the store to gather ingredients, a small cake and some of Dabi’s favorite snacks as a small surprise. Before you start the walk home a second idea hits you. Turning around, you head off further down the street of shops until you find the little lingerie shop tucked away in the corner. Grinning, you quickly disappear inside and pick out a blue set with black lace trim.

Happy with your findings, you make your way back home and check to make sure Dabi is still asleep before you get started on setting up his birthday surprises. Filling a basket with the snacks, you move on to a quick shower. Making sure to slip on your new lingerie before dressing in one of his shirts and a simple pair of leggings to not tip him off to what’s underneath. You take one last peek at Dabi, still passed out on your bed before getting to work on preparing dinner.

Just as you start to plate the food you feel warm hands slowly creep along your waist. You can’t help but smile as Dabi presses along your back, face tucked into the crook of your neck. “I thought you were still sleeping.”

“I was, but the food smelled good.” He mumbles into your neck.

“See I told you I could cook.”

“Just because it smells good doesn’t mean it’s going to taste good.”

“Keep up that attitude and I won’t give you your presents.”

“Doll, you didn’t have to get me anything. I don’t even celebrate this day.”

“Well I got you stuff so deal with it. There’s a basket of stuff on the table for you. Go look through it while I finish plating.”

Dabi lets out a small huff but lets you go and head over to the table to investigate the basket. The quiet sounds of bags of chips, instant ramen, and sweets rustling can be heard as he digs around. A small smile makes its way across your face as you listen to him mumble about the different foods you’d picked out. Grabbing the finished bowls of katsudon, you make your way over to the table and set a bowl in front of each of your seats.

“So? Like what I picked out?” You question as he pushes the basket to the side.

“Yeah, you got a lot of my favorites.”

“I know, I do pay attention to what you like.”

“I’m aware.” He says, pulling his bowl closer to him. “It actually looks good. Maybe you can cook.”

“I told you I can cook! Now stop being an ass before I take away your birthday dinner.”

He rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his food, nodding as the flavors erupt on his tongue. Smirking at his clear approval you take your own bite, humming happily at the taste. The two of you fall into a content silence as you focus on eating. There’s something very calming about watching Dabi be fully content that makes your heart flutter. Once you’re finished eating you set the dishes in the sink and turn to him.

“So, cake or your last present?” You question, leaning back against the counter.

“Mmm, last present I guess.”

Nodding, you walk over to him and quickly pull your shirt over your head and push down your leggings. “Last present it is.”

Dabi looks you over and eagerly pulls you into his lap, hands greedily grabbing at your ass. Resting your hands on his shoulders you smile down at him. Before you get a chance to say anything to him, he’s standing up and carrying you off to the bedroom. He unceremoniously drops you on the bed and crawls over you.

“I ever tell you how pretty you are?” He says as he leans down to kiss your neck.

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Always pick the prettiest things to wear too.”

“And I only wear them for you.”

“Better only wear them for me. I’ll roast anyone else who sees you like this.” He grunts before sinking his teeth into your neck.

You arch off the bed and moan as he squeezes your hip, teeth biting down a little harder. He grinds into you as he moves along your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin. His hands slide up your torso and slip under the soft lace cups of your bra. Suddenly he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it off to the side. He looks down at you then looks towards the kitchen.

“You said you got a cake, right?” He questions.

“Yeah, but uh can’t we do cake later?”

“Nah, I think I want some now.”

Before you can protest he’s climbing off the bed and heading into the kitchen to grab the little cake. You sit up in disbelief as he walks back in, already taking the lid off the little plastic container. He raises a brow as he looks at you and sets the container on the end table. Climbing back onto the bed he undoes your bra and tosses it off to the side.

“Oh, so this is how you want your cake?” You grin up at him as he grabs the cake and sets it next to the two of you. “You know, a few hours ago you didn’t even want to celebrate your birthday.”

“Yeah well things change. Now hush so I can enjoy my cake and present.”

Giggling, you fall onto the bed and nod at him. Dabi gives you a wide grin and swipes a finger through the frosting and smears it across the top of your chest. Leaning down, he runs his tongue along the line of frosting. Your body relaxes as he gathers more cake and smears it across your breasts. Cupping your breasts, Dabi eagerly leans down to lick off some icing, making sure to pay extra attention to your nipples as he moves. His tongue swirls around a nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, groaning around it as you arch up into him.

“Dabi, god that feels good.” You moan, threading your fingers through his hair as he switches sides. “It’s your birthday. I should be the one making you feel good.”

“And you will, I just want some more cake, then you can ride me like the good girl you are.”

“Deal.”

You can feel him grin against your breast before gathering more frosting and smearing it down your torso. Dabi follows it down, leaving open mouth kisses before licking away more frosting. He slowly clears all the frosting away and spreads your legs to fit himself between them. Giving you a quick grin he dives and licks a long strip up your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it as his fingers dig into your thighs.

Looking down at him, you can’t help the loud moan that passes through your lips as he stares up at you with hazy blue eyes. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging softly as he sinks down a little more to lick along your folds again. He pulls you closer to your face, tongue swiping between your folds like you’re his favorite treat. His nose rubs and bumps against your clit as he goes.

“Dabi, Dabi! Gonna cum oh god.” You squeal, thighs shaking around his head.

“Good, that's kind of the goal here.” He grumbles against you.

“S-stop! I wanna cum with you in me!”

“I think that can be arranged.” That quickly gets his attention as he shoots away from your center and shoves his pants down. He flops onto his back and quickly pulls you over to straddle his waist. “Now it’s my birthday, and you said you’d take care of me.”

“Oh so now you want to celebrate your birthday?” You tease as you reach between the two of you to hold him steady.

Lining yourself up and drop down taking all of his cock in one go. Dabi chokes on a retort as your walls wrap tightly around him. Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself only a moment to adjust properly before you lift yourself up and drop down fast and hard. Planting your hands on his chest you lift yourself again and drop down, grinning as his hands squeeze your thighs in silent praise. Picking up your pace, you swirl your hips around and moan at the feeling of his piercings rubbing against your walls.

“Fuck, doll. You’re so fucking good, so fucking pretty.” Dabi moans.

“Yeah? You like when I ride you?”

“Fucking love it. Love you.” He groans out as he thrusts up into you.

“Love you too.”

Leaning down, you kiss him deeply as your walls clench around him, nails biting into his pecs. The sound of skin slapping together fills the room, mixing with your moans to create the perfect melody. You keep bouncing at a rough pace, occasionally clenching tightly around him when he hits just the right spot. Dabi’s hands sneak up your torso to cup your breasts, thumps circling over your nipples, occasionally tugging. Moaning loudly, you slip your own hand between the two of you to circle over your clit as you near your end.

“Dabi, I’m close. So fucking close.” You whimper.

“Go ahead, I’m not gonna last, doll.”

Nodding you sit up and circle your clit faster as you pick up the pace of your bouncing. Dabi meets your thrusts as they slowly start to lose their rhythm as your high gets closer and closer. Your walls spasm as his hips shift angle ever so slightly causing your orgasm to crash over you suddenly. Your walls clenching around him forces Dabi into his orgasm, cock twitching as he paints your velvet walls white. You collapse against his chest as you attempt to catch your breath.

“So do we do this every year for my birthday?” He mumbles as he attempts to catch his breath.

“Yeah, but only if we celebrate.”

“Alright, so maybe just a little celebration for my birthday will be fine then.”

“Happy birthday, Dabi.”

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #bnha dabi #dabi bnha #mha dabi #mha smut #bnha smut

418 notes · View notes

reilly310 · 10 months ago

Text

Outlander: Blood of My Blood

art credit: @SimonWrightSays

I'm dusting off my blog for the first time in a looong time with some thoughts about the new prequel series.

I've been on the fence about the new series, but after learning that Claire's parents' story will be included, I found myself more intrigued. Then seeing this (amazing) sketch of young Jamie and Claire got my imagination flowing.

I'm mostly interested to see how the writers will integrate the two storylines, as I would think they'll have to do. Given at least one (and perhaps both) of Claire's parents can time travel:

Will one of them be from the past (her father, I presume) and, in a kind of reverse Outlander, meet/fall in love with the other in the future?

And/or will both of them travel back to Jamie's parent's time (purposely or by accident) and will they meet/be friends (or foes) of each other's for a time?

Will they give birth to Claire in the past or the present? Will Jamie and Claire know each other (or at least meet briefly) as very young children but be too young to remember that encounter/relationship? (See picture above..and yes, I know there's a 5 year age difference in OL but just indulge me here because that picture is so cute. Maybe, more realistically, when Claire is 5, they are present for Jamie's birth instead. Isn't one of the rules of time travel in OL that you have to have a connection to where you're traveling to? Since Claire went through the stones the first time by accident, could she have landed where/when she did because of that connection to Jamie / his family from her past even if she didn't consciously remember it?)

Do Claire's parents actually die in a car crash or was she just told this by Uncle Lamb as a way to explain their absence? Did they get stuck in the past instead and spend the rest of their lives trying to return to her? Do Jamie's parents find out their secret and try to help them in this endeavor to return to the future?

Or maybe they perish in the past and Uncle Lamb, a time traveler himself, brings Claire to the present to keep her safe.

Because (I don't think) there's any book reference to Claire's parents other than her mentioning how they died and that she doesn't really remember them, the possibilities related to their storyline are endless.

Having put these thoughts out into the universe, though, I'm likely setting myself up for disappointment if/when the series airs and does none of these things. However, a connection of some sort between the two couples will have to be established in order for the series to have a flow that makes sense and is not disjointed.

PS: I read the first 3 books and part of the 4th before setting them aside years ago, so I don't consider myself a book reader. Perhaps there's information in the later books that would make the potential connections I've imagined for this new series impossible. If so, please let me know.

PPS: . Do we know if this prequel is intended to be a limited series (like the Yellowstone prequel "1883") or a series with multiple seasons? If it's a limited series of 10 episodes, they might be able to get away with two separate storylines that merge in some way only at the end. I just don't think I would find it as intriguing as one that's interconnected.

51 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years ago

Photo

Was wondering why this big, Gothic 1883 church in St. Louis, Missouri was only $335K, then saw that it’s a 2bd, 2ba. condo w/a $503mo HOA fee. But, they did leave a lot of original features and added some Gothic elements. Give it a look.

Interesting how they saved this gorgeous newel post, by inserting a large pole.

So, I’m thinking that this would be the condo’s entrance hall.

Okay, I can see that the top of that pole is carved and is holding up the condo above. I would also say that the railing is original.

The only thing I can figure out about this narrow, swooping thing above is that they saved part of the choir loft. Well, they were really trying.

So, at the top of the stairs, is a dining table and original church windows on the right.

I must say that in their effort, which is commendable, to save things, they really cut the place up. The doors and moldings are magnificent, though.

This is cozy.

The owners have this room set up as a TV room and small library.

It’s one open space that ends with the kitchen.

In the kitchen they built a small pantry and used a Gothic door, which is a nice touch. The colors match the rest of the decor.

Details of the beautiful original doors. I would say that they added the decorative wallpaper, though.

Look a the spring - the door must close itself.

Like the faux worn wallpaper they chose for the bath, but now the ceiling and wainscoting look too new.

This is nice- a row of closets with Gothic doors and faux-vintage lamps. Gee, this condo is on so many levels.

Aha, so here is the remnant of the choir loft going into a new wall. Well, at least they saved part of it.

Up a few more stairs is an open bd. with an en-suite bath. Notice the original beam above- they built the bath under it, to save it.

There’s an original door and the windows are cut off, but they’re still there.

And, this is the en-suite.

Ah, there’re the original beams. Okay. It looks like they also saved the original wood railing, but also added a metal one, so you can see thru it. They went around the window, but protected it w/a rail.

You can see some of the old wood on the left, here.

So, it’s choppy, but they really saved whatever they could.

Here’s the 2nd bath.

Nice, bright office space. It looks like they replaced the stained glass with clear and kept the original metal design. A wall, however was put up in the middle of that big window. It could be another room or a neighboring condo.

Okay, well, there’s a nice view and they saved part of it.

You don’t get any land or outdoor space, even a communal one, but there’s a park across the street. So, what do you think? Yay or nay? I appreciate that they made condos, but saved as much as they could.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1505-Missouri-Ave-APT-2B-Saint-Louis-MO-63104/67397112_zpid/

#church conversion condos #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

182 notes · View notes

viric-dreams · 8 months ago

Text

Grand Geode, 1883. Lieutenant Roberts sees a familiar face. Or at least something wearing that face.

There’s a storm coming. Heat and humidity hang in the air, adding strain to each breath. Sweat pools at the back of Roberts’ neck, the droplets sliding down the curve of his spine beneath his uniform. He does his best to ignore the discomfort, gripping the folder in his hands yet tighter as he follows a familiar set of turns down the hall to the Commodore’s office.

In a previous life, he may have regarded his current position as gruntwork–dull, administrative minutia, a world away from any action on the Zee, but in moments like these he finds he doesn’t mind. Any moment now, the heat will break, and the Zee will roil under a torrent of foetid-smelling rain, befouled by the Wax Wind. He does not envy the men on their ships when the storm inevitably hits. Carrying documents up the chain is fine by him, if it means stable stone under his dry feet, and a bed that does not sway with the tides.

He turns the corner, and before his hand can even touch the office door, Roberts feels the sudden charge in the air, white-hot and electric, and the hairs on his arms stand on end. The sensation calls back to something familiar, half-forgotten in the back of his mind. He wonders if he should leave, perhaps come back later. But before he has time to properly question it, the Commodore’s voice rings out through the door, as if able to sense his presence through the thick wood.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Lieutenant Roberts, sir,” he says.

The Commodore is silent for a beat, then answers softly, as if forgetting the heavy door between them.

“Elias, why don’t you come in.”

It’s not framed as a question. And so he does.

The Commodore sits at his desk, in the exact position where Roberts has seen him hundreds of times before. But this time is different. This time, he has a visitor. Radiant. That’s the only way he can think of to describe her. A singular point in the centre of the room, the axis around which so many golden threads warp and turn. She does not look happy to see them. In fact, she doesn’t look much of anything, and he struggles to make out her features through the brilliant haze she emanates.

“Elias, you remember June, don’t you?” There’s a placidness to the Commodore’s voice that he so rarely hears. The man has not taken his eyes off of June since Roberts had entered the room, and he can hardly do so himself.

Indeed he remembers her. If he squints into that light he can even make out her features, unchanged from when he’d last seen her, nearly two decades prior. He feels warm. Not the muggy heat smothering Zelo’s Town, but a glow, spreading from within his chest out into his limbs.

“Of course,” he says. How could he forget?

June does not greet him. She does not take her eyes off of the serene face of the Commodore. When her mouth opens, the sound that comes out is otherworldly, timbres not possible on human vocal chords. The sound reverberates through Roberts’ body, like the bass tones of chugging machinery.

It was something of importance. He’s sure of it. She wouldn’t be here, speaking to him, to them, to the Commodore, were it not. A Zee captain will return, and when they do, the Admiralty will be ready. She leaves her instructions. Her voice is so warm, all-encompassing, a rumbling static beating a tune against his eardrums. He will complete the Work. Whatever it is she needs, he will do. They will do.

He tells her this. At least, he thinks he does. Whether or not he speaks the words out loud she must know this of him. Her eyes are on the Commodore, whose head nods in a slow daze. Of course they can manage. He’ll personally ensure they have the supplies they need. More heat. Pride, this time, that they can do what she requests of them.

And then she turns to him, golden eyes boring directly through him, setting him alight. Her lips open to speak and–

He comes to at a raucous peel of thunder. June is long gone, and he shivers at the unexpected cold left by her absence, despite the muggy air. Yet despite the chill of her absence, he feels… calm. A slow satisfaction at having done… something right. At least, he feels so. Something worthwhile.

It’s only several minutes later, when he stands under the building’s awning, the rhythm of rain pounding a frenetic drumbeat into the steel roof, that he realises he’s still clutching the missive meant for the Commodore.

#roberts/nite #this was going to have a very different tone #but burning and yearning muddles us all #running with my 'the dawn machine has consumed june and she's become its mouthpiece' headcanon #though the more time i spend here the more i feel like she's been vaporised to kickstart the thing #but maybe something with her shape still walks its rings #and on very special occasions makes its way across the zee to make its thoughts known #i feel so naked sharing writing on here #this is not my world #what a weird feeling #right here goes nothing #my writing #roberts

24 notes · View notes

rock-swag-tournament · 1 year ago

Text

Rock Swag Tournament Round 1: Igneous Rocks Part 11

Tuff is an igneous rock...or maybe a sedimentary rock based on who you ask! It is made of lithified volcanic ash (lithification is the process by which particles of stuff become rock, and volcanic ash is sand grain-sized pieces of ejected volcanic matter).

Tuff generally also has pieces of all kinds of other stuff, as well. As long as stuff that is 2 mm or smaller makes up 75% of the rock, it will be considered tuff. Anything less than 75% volcanic ash, and the rock is described as "tuffaceous."

Fun fact: the Moai on Rapa Nui (Easter Island) are made of tuff! Also, according to one submitter, "this is one of the few volcanic rocks that can be made into a really lovely paint. Specifically a vaguely purplish gray" COOL!

Ignimbrite could be considered a type of tuff, but it is more specifically a rock formed from a pyroclastic flow deposit. Pyroclastic flows are one of the deadliest geological phenomena as they are burning hot clouds of gas and debris that race down the sides of volcanoes during some eruptions!

Ignimbrites can have more and larger pieces of volcanic debris, but they could also simply be tuffs that have welded due to the high heat from an eruption. Ignimbrites also may contain fiamme, which are "flame-shaped" lapilli (volcanic tephra or debris between 2 and 64 mm big) that have been flattened or sheared during deposition.

More on pyroclastic flows under the cut, because they are fascinating in that they are dangerous and I must talk about them.

Pyroclastic flows are blisteringly hot and terrifyingly fast clouds of volcanic gas and assorted tephra: volcanic material that can include ash (particles less than 2 mm), lapilli (between 2 and 64 mm), and blocks and bombs (greater than 64 mm).

They flow (violently rocket) down the side of volcanoes after explosive eruptions. You generally don't have to worry about pyroclastic flows on Kīlauea any time soon because those eruptions are mostly lava flows (which you can usually outrun). However, some of the most famous volcanic eruptions from recorded human history--Mount St. Helens in 1980, Krakatoa in 1883, and Vesuvius in 79 CE--were accompanied by pyroclastic flows.

Pyroclastic flows can be triggered a number of ways. Some examples are lava domes collapsing and causing an avalanche of sorts, part of the volcano exploding or collapsing in one direction (like Mount St. Helens), or the plume of debris and gas that is shot vertically into the air during an eruption collapsing back down to the surface (like Mount Vesuvius).

There is no outrunning a pyroclastic flow. They flow down the side of volcanoes and across the surrounding landscape at typical speeds upwards of 80 km/h (50 mph), but they can reach speeds of several hundred km/h. These clouds of debris are also several hundred degrees Celsius. You do not survive a pyroclastic flow!

If you would like to see what one of these looks like, I have two videos. Please be warned that because pyroclastic flows are so deadly, one of these two videos discusses deaths related to a specific eruption.

This video is from a documentary (I do not know the name of the film) and the beginning shows the genesis of the pyroclastic flow: the lava dome collapses and causes an avalanche. The pyroclastic flow then moves along a stream valley and close to a nearby town. CW: This video mentions the number of deaths directly related to this eruption and pyroclastic flow. There is footage of a vehicle and a person fleeing the pyroclastic flow, but the town they are in is are far enough away that the pyroclastic flow does not reach their location, and they survive. The potentially triggering part of the video begins at 0:24.

This video shows a pyroclastic flow going into the ocean. CW: As far as I can see, there are no people or animals in the path of the pyroclastic flow in this video and so there are presumably no deaths associated with this eruption.

#rock swag tournament round 1 #rock swag tournament igneous rocks

75 notes · View notes

wintervalewritersecond · 2 years ago

Text

immortal she - wednesday addams

requested: yes! requests: open! is it possible for a Wednesday x Reader where Reader is cursed immortal that is one of Nevermore Academy's Board that sided with Weems on letting Wednesday attend to the Academy (Reader's look is young) and the reason sided with Weems is that Reader is curious at the Addams girl that was prophesied to be the one who will end Reader's long immortal life then Reader pretends to be student and hangs out with Wednesday and Enid then times past Reader is slowly gaining feelings for her?

wordcount: 4.188 (quite long compared to my other work!) warnings: talk about (wanting) death, talk about the negativity of being immortal, they/them pronouns, characters are aged up to 18, Wednesday may be quite ooc toward the end, possible character death, cursewords.

You have been living since the year 1863 and you have attended Nevermore for most of your life. Though, there might be a change to that, as you have never seen a human as fascinating as Wednesday Addams.

"Alright, alright," Weems puts up her hands. "I will be sending the message to Morticia. I guess that miss Wednesday Addams will be starting here sometime next week. The meeting is dismissed, thank you."

You pack up your binder and pens before shoving them in your bag, exiting the stuffy room, and walking to your own dorm. You are not quite a student, but also not quite a teacher. You do have your own room at Nevermore, hidden in the tallest tower that barely gets visited by anyone. You would consider yourself an assistant; you have been helping out the principals of Nevermore since 1883. You started your school journey here at just twelve years old. But then, at the end of your education, your powers really started kicking in. Your appearance still looks like that of an 18-year-old, though you have been living for much more than that.

Other board members were freaked out by the Addams family. Gomez and Morticia attended Nevermore as well, and you clearly remember their entire drama that even got the police involved. After that, the school swore to never let any Addams attend Nevermore ever again.

But, people voted to let the girl come to school; including you. Weems had given you a look, hearing you and the other members out before making the final decision. Wednesday Addams will be a Nevermore student next week.

You had told Principal Weems. You often walked around in the Nightshade library which is filled with old books, though one, in particular, called your name. It was filled with prophecies, and two of those stood out to you. One was of the Nevermore school being destroyed, but the other one included you. Your long, immortal life ends after nearly 160 years. What do both of the prophecies have in common?

Wednesday Addams.

Wednesday Addams was the one that would end Nevermore and would end your life.

But, how believable has the book been? It has been drawn years ago by the mother of Rowan Laslow. You had seen her before she passed, just after she went crazy thanks to her powers. Could you trust whatever it was that she put onto paper?

Nevermore shall see in less than a week.

"Wednesday is certainly a unique name. I'm guessing that that was the day you were born?"

You stood to the side of Principal Weems as Wednesday, Morticia and Gomez had sat down. You greeted Morticia and Gomez with a smile and a handshake. You weren't exactly friends when they attended Nevermore, but you had hung out multiple times.

"I was born on Friday the 13th."

A small smile is on your face as you look down at the ground. Weems keeps talking, though you don't pay attention.

"Did you know that your mother and Y/N used to be roommates back in the day?"

You look back up, looking from Weems to Morticia before nodding. Morticia and you shared a dorm for a semester.

"You don't look a day older than 18," Wednesday replies, her face stoic. "I wonder how you graduated with your sanity intact."

"Now," you wave your hand. "It was not bad, Wednesday. Your mother made me gain interest in the dark and the dead."

"Nevermore usually doesn't accept students mid-term," Weems continues, flipping through the pages of her clipboard. "But given Wednesday's perfect grades and your family's long history with the school, I've spoken to the board and we've made an exception."

You have never seen someone so emotionlessly show that they were disappointed, yet you can see it in Wednesday's eyes. Though her parents are ecstatic about their daughter finally 'fitting in' at a school, Wednesday certainly wasn't having it.

"Now, Y/N will lead you to your dorms, you have been assigned a spot in Ophelia Hall, just like your mother once had," Weems smiles sweetly. "You can introduce her to the school, Y/N. I will stay behind with Morticia and Gomez to go over some small things."

You only nod, looking at Wednesday before exiting the room. The girl follows you, not saying a word.

"Nevermore was founded in 1791 to educate people like us. Outcasts, freaks, monsters."

It almost sounds like you are reading it off of a piece of paper. You have been tasked with introducing new students for a while now, as you seem to know the school better than any of the teachers or even Principal Weems. To be fair, you have been here the longest, except for maybe some vampires.

"You can save the sanitized sales pitch," Wednesday reacts. "It doesn't suit you well. Besides, I don't plan on staying here for long. This was my parent's idea."

You only hum in response. She does not know what she has been destined to do.

"Well," you nod. "Rumors have been swirling around that you killed someone at your old school, and that you have been sent here by your old principal."

"Actually, it was two people, but who's counting?"

You let out a laugh before opening the big doors that lead to the Quad. It just so happened that it is lunchtime, so the entire place is roaming with people.

"So, Nevermore is the place for outcasts. We have different groups, actually. There are four main groups."

"I am not interested in participating in tribal adolescent cliches."

"Oh, believe me, I know. But this isn't like normie school. I have attended this place since 1875 and I never really mingled with a lot of people."

You point to Bianca who is sitting at the fountain, dipping her hands in the water.

"We have sirens, vampires," you point to the table with Yoko. "I tend to hang out with them. Some of them have been here for quite a bit of time as well. Then we have-"

Your sentence gets interrupted by howling.

"Werewolves. Full moons are quite loud, so earplugs are needed. And lastly, we have Gorgons."

Ajax coincidentally walks up to you, a distressed look on his face.

"Y/N! Good to see you. I just heard some dirt and I know that you know basically everything. Enid's roommate eats human flesh! She totally chowed down on that kid she killed."

You awkwardly step to the side, revealing Wednesday standing next to you.

"Quite the contrary," she says. "I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets."

"Ah," you nod. "And she actually killed two kids. Not that I am counting."

With a smile, you walk away with Wednesday, into Ophelia Hall.

You knock on the door, revealing the excited Enid. Her room has been unshared for the entire semester, and she really wanted to meet her new roommate.

"Hi! I am Enid," she squeals, trying to embrace the girl. Wednesday takes a big step back. "Not a hugger. Got it."

"Well," you clasp your hands together. "It was nice to see you, Enid. I guess I will leave Wednesday here to unpack. I will see you both tomorrow!"

With a wave you close the door, walking to your very own tower. Wednesday surely is a very special person. It leaves Wednesday, stuck in the colorful room which looks like a rainbow threw up on it.

"What's their deal?"

Wednesday asks after unpacking her stuff, making it clear to Enid to not let anything brightly colored close to her, insisting it would make her skin peel off.

"Y/N? Oh, they have been here for the longest time. Can't age at all. I would have left Nevermore a looong time ago," Enid lays down on her bad, typing away on her phone. "Not that popular as they hang out with Principal Weems a lot, but they are actually very nice. You might like them. They are into the same creepy stuff as you are. But, less scary."

Wednesday surely proved her difference from the others. Everyone seems to be mesmerized by her, and for good reason. You had been hanging out with her and Enid quite often. You didn't really have anything else to do, except to help out Weems or a teacher sometimes during a class. You would sometimes give studying help for History, but besides that, nothing.

You were sitting on the balcony, listening to Wednesday play the cello. Your balcony was almost attached to hers, only a mere meter between the two. Besides her music, you also heard people cheering and singing to music. Another party in the Quad, another one you haven't been invited to.

Your life has been going on for so long, yet you can count on one hand how many parties or outings you have been invited on. Once you had graduated, the principal at the time asked for your help and you just... stuck around. You had nothing to do.

You had outlived your parents and siblings, and even your friends after they had left Nevermore. The vampires were one of the only ones that were around your actual age, but they didn't stay forever either. Not to mention that they also just genuinely didn't want to invite you. You were known as the assistant, the one working with teachers and Weems, not as someone who could have fun.

It hurt. It did. You have not been able to experience normal teenagehood, even though you have been 18 years old for this long. You didn't want to be popular, but you aren't against partying or having a get-together once in a while. You haven't even been to any Rave'n dance as a visitor.

You thought of dying. You tried poison, hanging, but nothing worked. You could never convince someone to try and stab you, either. At least, it didn't seem to work.

"Aren't you supposed to be partying?"

You let out a huff.

"Not invited. No one wants to invite the right hand of the Principal. Always just hanging out on my own."

"Sounds perfect."

You had expected nothing less. A laugh escapes your lips as you stare up at the moon and the stars.

"Sometimes it is," you admit. "It just sucks because it seems like I outlive all of my friends. Hard to make new ones."

"I'm failing to see that problem. You don't need friends, they will only drag you down."

Silence. You only shrug before sitting down on the stones, your legs dangling off of the edge of the balcony.

"You're not the best at cheering people up, Wednesday," you laugh shortly. "At least you are realistic. I guess it's just a fear. Never dying."

She hums, placing her cello on its standard before walking to your side of the balcony.

"Sounds absolutely horrible. Better than a fear of being the center of a big catastrophe. A bad one, of course."

More days pass as it is time for the Harvest Festival. It is mandatory to visit, but you have been tasked with keeping an eye on the students. Again. The responsibility is not hard, but you wish you could just go and have fun, even if for once.

You did sit down with Yoko and Enid, though. You had ordered donuts for yourself and for them, sharing them while listening to the drama that Enid had found out.

"Hello, girls, Y/N," Weems's voice can be heard from behind you. "Can I steal Y/N for only a second?"

You stand up from the seat, sighing as you push your donuts to the middle of the table, following the tall woman. She turns around, a smile on her face though you can see it is a cover-up.

"Wednesday Addams has sneaked away. I kept an eye on her, but she is gone. If you see her, report it to me."

After only nodding, Weems walks away, probably trying to find the dark-haired girl. But, after a few minutes, you get pulled behind some cars, a hand covering your mouth as you are being shushed.

"Wednesday?"

She shushes you again, crouching down on the ground.

"You are the only one I can trust right now," she hisses. "One word to Weems and I will make sure you regret it."

You just shrug and nod.

"She has been looking for you," you whisper. "Where were you?"

"I followed a sound in the woods and was met with Rowan Laslow. He tried to kill me."

"What?!" You whisper yell. "Wednesday, are you okay?"

"If he did better, I wouldn't be here," she rolls her eyes before shoving a piece of paper in your face. "He ran off, but before that, he dropped this. He said that I am destined to destroy Nevermore."

You shakily take the paper in your hands, seeing the illustration that you know well. Wednesday Addams standing in the Quad, flames around her as she holds some sort of weapon.

"You have been here the longest," she says. "Tell me what you know."

What are you supposed to do? You can't just tell her that she also is supposed to kill you. But at the same time, the drawings may not be as it seems.

"Come with me."

You fold up the paper before grabbing her wrist, pulling her with you as you try and stay hidden. Once you reach the Edgar Allan Poe statue, you turn to the girl, letting go of her wrist.

"One word and I will report it to Weems. All of it."

She sternly nods as you turn back around, snapping your fingers twice as the statue moves back. Once in the library, you point to a book.

"It has the same symbol," Wednesday whispers, grabbing the book before sitting down on the dusty chair. "It matches it perfectly."

The left side of the picture matches the loose piece of paper that Wednesday had. It confirmed her greatest fear; she would be the one responsible for a catastrophe, and not the good kind. She is the one that would change everything.

"How do you know this?"

"After years of roaming around here, I have read every single book. Even the one of Rowan Laslow's mother. He will be expelled, no doubt."

"Why are you helping me?"

You lean against the stairs, shrugging. You can't help it, you just hope that she proves the prophecy wrong.

"You mesmerize me. In a weird way," you admit. "I have seen a lot of prophecies. I wish you prove this one wrong."

Wednesday only hums before stuffing the book in her bag, walking past you and up the stairs. She pauses for a second, looking back slightly.

"If I prove it wrong, don't think that I don't have the power to destroy the school."

You let out a laugh, nodding your head.

"I would never."

"Come on, Wednesday! Rave'n is the party of the year!" Wednesday throws up her arms. "I will help you pick out a dress! Or a suit! Please, just go!"

You nod, looking up from your book.

"Enid is right, you know. From what I heard, it's a blast."

"Finally!" Enid cheers. "Someone who understands! Thank you, Y/N."

"Enid, I would rather stick pins in my eyes than step foot in the Rave'n. Although I might do that anyway."

You laugh, closing your book before placing it next to you. Enid has been trying to convince Wednesday for a week already, insisting that she needed to go.

"I might even go," you nod, making Wednesday look at you. "Weems gave me this time off. The new teacher, Thornhill, is keeping watch this time."

"Alright, well, if Wednesday doesn't want to go, then I will just go dress shopping by myself. Care to join me, Y/N?"

"Sure, I have nothing else to do."

Enid squeals before grabbing her phone, wallet, and bag, sprinting out of the room already.

"We have to go together."

You frown, looking at Wednesday before buttoning up your blazer. Not a student, yet still wearing the Nevermore outfit.

"You know more about the prophecies than I do. We can find out more about the prophecy, and more about that monster in the woods."

"Wednesday Addams," you grin. "Are you asking me to the Rave'n?"

The girl's jaw clenches as she just stands there, already slightly regretting mentioning the Rave'n dance.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Sure, I will help you."

Enid's reaction to Wednesday joining you for the shopping was insane. You have never seen a girl that excited. You had quickly found an outfit you loved, but Wednesday insisted on not needing one, she had a dress already. But, once you pass Uriah's Heap, Wednesday stops walking.

A beautiful, black gown, which fits her personal style perfectly. She would not be caught dead wearing one of the dresses that Enid proposed to her, but Wednesday insists she doesn't need the dress.

The day of the Rave'n. You stood in the hallway, waiting for Enid and Wednesday to come out. The door opens, revealing an excited Enid and a less-than-happy Wednesday. You let out a laugh, greeting them before walking down the stairs, the music of the party already heard even from a small distance.

The party was everything Wednesday hated. The music, the lights, all of it.

"I am suspicious of Xavier," she says, staring the poor boy down. "It always seems like he is in the exact right space. It is too convenient."

Time went by where you sat with Wednesday, talking about all her theories and who she suspected could be the reason for her destroying the school, or who could be the monster.

"Have you heard anything of any other prophecies? There must be-"

Wednesday stops when she feels a splatter on her face, soon followed by a downpour of red liquid. This is the first time you have seen a smile on her face, though it disappears fast when she finds out it isn't what she thought it was.

"They couldn't even get real pig's blood."

Her eyes fly back to you, seeing your once white clothes drenched in red. It made her feel something, something unknown and something she hated. The blood, though fake, suited you. You grab her arm to take her out of the red rain, but once you do, her head flies back.

It looks like she is having a seizure, and that is certainly not what you need right now.

"Wednesday? Wednesday!"

She jumps back up, her eyes big and her eyebrows frowned.

"Are you okay?"

She looks at you for a second before looking at the exit, walking through the layer of red liquid without a word, leaving you behind confused.

The red was finally washed out of your hair and off of your skin, though slightly staining it still. You had sat down on your bed, just reading again when your door flies open.

"Why did you not tell me?"

Wednesday stood in your room, dressed in a simple black outfit while holding the thick book that was found in the Nightshade library.

"Told you what?"

The book gets thrown on your bed, opening on a specific page. It has the drawing that you know all too well. You, on the ground in the middle of the Quad, with Wednesday next to you. Both are covered in blood, though you look more lifeless than Wednesday ever did.

"You knew that I was destined to kill you," she hisses, pointing at the two figures. "This. This is in the same book that Rowan kept spitting about. You knew that the prophecy was in there."

You are at a loss for words.

"Why did you not tell me?" She repeats.

You close the book, pushing it back to her.

"Wednesday," you sigh. "It's nothing. Destroying the school is a prophecy that should be avoided. This one does not matter nearly as much."

You have never seen the girl this emotional, even if the emotion is anger. She was often very reserved, and though her comments are often dark and mean, she always kept her monotone voice.

"I will decide for that myself," she hisses, taking the book before turning away, leaving the room without any more words.

You had not talked to Wednesday in a while, as it almost seemed like she tried to avoid you. Wednesday was busy enough, and there was no reason to bother her.

Your room has been quiet for hours if not days, but that gets changed when you hear screams. Even from the top of the towers, it still sounds like it is next to your door. You look out of your window, jumping out to stand on your balcony. People are running, screaming, and trying to escape.

After grabbing shoes and slipping them on fast, you run out of your door. The halls are empty already, what the hell is going on? Is there a fire? You run to the Quad, trying to see what is going on from a distance. A random man walks out of the door, dressed in what seems like a costume from Pilgrim World. When you look closer, you see the rips in the clothing and the ghostly look that it has. Wait, is that Crackstone? What the hell?

You run down the stairs, being met by Xavier.

"Xavier!" You run up to him. "What the fuck is going on?"

He is out of breath, holding a bow and arrow. He grips his side before pointing to the wooden doors.

"Crackstone. He is in there, he wants to destroy the school."

You look at him shocked before looking at the door.

"Wednesday- Wednesday is in trouble," you whisper before rushing to the door and kicking it open.

"Get away from her!" Xavier screams, pointing the arrow to Crackstone before letting it go.

It doesn't hit him, though. Instead, the arrow turns right back around, back towards Xavier. You dash forward. Neither of them can get hurt. You don't allow it. Before Wednesday has time to react, the arrow hits you, right in the middle of your torso.

"Y/N?!"

You fall to the ground, hissing when you feel the stinging pain.

"Get them out of here, Xavier," you groan, breaking the arrow before throwing the end back on the ground. "You too, Wednesday."

Xavier tries to drag her away but receives a punch to his shoulder.

"Get everyone out of here, Xavier. Leave me."

Wednesday helps you up, the sword heavy in her hands. She has been doing fencing ever since she could walk, and defeating a dead guy can't be too hard.

"I distract, you stab."

"That is my specialty," Wednesday hisses.

You charge at the figure again, holding one of the metal pipes that lay on the ground. You hit him, though he seemed good at deflecting every single thing you did. But then, you finally got him down. You pin him down using your hands and knees. God, he smells.

"Get him, Wednesday!"

"You're in the way!"

You groan as you try to keep the man under your grip, kicking his staff out of his hands.

"I don't fucking care, just stab!"

Wednesday's mind is racing. She can't just stab through you to try and get Crackstone. If you would just move-

"Now, Wednesday!"

She closes her eyes tightly as she drives the sword through your chest, right into the heart of Crackstone. She has never felt this disgusting while holding something sharp. It usually filled her black heart with joy, but right now the only feeling in her body is her heart squeezing together.

Wednesday twists the sword and Crackstone gasps underneath you. Your breathing is heavy as you hold him down, just long enough to see him turn into ashes and flames, blowing away in the wind.

The Quad looks horrible, patches of grass are on fire and everything is destroyed. But Wednesday only has eyes for you. She drops down on her knees as you had fallen down, the sword still in your back and your breathing slowly getting more desperate.

"Y/N!" You barely respond, only a faint sound falling from your lips.

"If you die," Wednesday hisses, balling her hands up into fists. "I will kill you."

Her eyes are brimmed with tears, something that happened only twice before. You let out a pained laugh, your hand gripping hers.

"Oh, Wednesday, don't cry," you mumble. "It doesn't quite fit you."

"Xavier!" She shouts, hoping that the boy is still close by. "Xavier!"

After a few seconds, he hears his footsteps running toward her, but she doesn't look up. Her grip is tight on your hand.

"Get someone, they-they need to go to the infirmary." Xavier stands shocked at the sight in front of him. You, on the floor, the Quad in flames. "Now!"

Wednesday never cried. Not since the death of Nero. Not since Thing. She vowed to never cry again, insisting that the act of showing emotion made you weak. But she did.

Wednesday cried. Not hysterically, no screaming, just a lone tear sliding down her cheek as she can only hope. Hope to get you to the infirmary on time, hope that you are still with her.

Return to me.

#wednesday addams #wednesday imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday oneshot #request #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams oneshot

323 notes · View notes

schmergo · 1 year ago

Text

I've recently done a little bit of research for some stuff adjacent to the production of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes that I'm in right now and, in checking whether certain scientific institutions and inventions would have existed during the time of the play, I discovered something kind of interesting: many of the ones I've looked up were coincidentally established within 5-10 years of the setting.

The first bunch of Sherlock Holmes stories, the source materials for this play, came out between 1887 and 1893. The Natural History Museum? Opened fully in 1883. The Prime Meridian? Officially established in 1884. Tower Bridge? Built between 1886-1894. The Tube running northwest from Baker Street? 1880. London's first electrical power station? 1882. Those are just the ones I happened to look up. Telegrams are common in the Sherlock Holmes tales, and by the later Sherlock Holmes stories, he's using a telephone and even automobiles are mentioned.

Reading the Sherlock Holmes stories with that context of a world full of rapid changes and advancements, I feel like it comes across differently. It seems to say, "There's a scientific answer for everything." His unique detecting style, based on simple observations, made it seem like the age-old problems of crime and criminals could be defeated by logic and reasoning. I think there's a level of idealism, that even the most difficult crimes are solvable and bad actors are no match for modern scientific knowledge.

Reading Sherlock Holmes cases often gives the comfortable feeling of order and justice being served. I think that's the same reason true crime content is so popular today in another age of rapid digital advances-- and if we guess the solution, it's doubly satisfying. It's also why Sherlock Holmes is so easily translated to modern day.

But that also makes me think about another book and another equally iconic character that came out around that same time period: Dracula, published in 1897. And Dracula takes a lot of the same themes and seems to say the exact opposite.

I think one of the biggest things that surprises first-time readers of Dracula is how modern Dracula feels and how much technology is used in the book. Like the Sherlock Holmes stories, it was set in roughly 'modern day' when it was written. The 'good guys' use trains, telephones, typewriters, and even blood transfusions. But when Dracula, an old-world monster, arrives in their modern newfangled city of London, all of that technology is useless against him. And so is any ability of theirs to deduce a simple scientific explanation for what's going on.

When Dracula starts sneaking into their friend’s house and sucking her blood each night, the signs are obvious, right down to the puncture marks on her neck. The reader and audience knows what’s up waaaay before the characters do. It’s infuriating! You want to jump up and down and yell, “A VAMPIRE IS KILLING HER!” But why don’t they see what’s right in front of their faces? Because they’re thoroughly modern upper-middle class British people who live in a scientifically advanced world and believe in reason.

The chaos of true evil is more powerful than logic and reason. To defeat him, they need to get on his level and use superstition and religion and folklore. It's the polar opposite of a story like "The Hounds of the Baskervilles," published five years later.

All that said... I would love to see a Sherlock Holmes and Dracula crossover. How long would it take Holmes to deduce that he had run into a real vampire? Would he make all the correct observations and keep coming to the wrong conclusions? Would he be able to accurately predict the patterns of Dracula's behavior when his opponent has superhuman abilities and can transform into multiple different types of animals?

Or, given Holmes' somewhat addictive and adrenaline-driven personality, his superior attunement to his senses, his surprising revival from the dead, and his innate instinct to 'catch his man' at any cost... would he himself make the most dangerous vampire of all?

#sherlock holmes #dracula #literature #books #mysteries #novels #classic literature #english major

36 notes · View notes

gaykarstaagforever · 10 months ago

Text

FREE ON YOUTUBE

Murder by Death (1976)

A weird little guy invites five world-famous detectives to his spooky mansion for the weekend, to see if he can outwit them once and for all. Silliness and charmingly lame jokes ensue. And if you're at least a casual fan of 20th century English-language detective fiction / movies up to 1976, you'll appreciate the characters and genre tropes being parodied / taken down here.

While not as raucously funny as other comedy movies from this era (like Airplane! and Blazing Saddles, assuming that era's comedy works for you at all), the Neil Simon script is consistently chuckle-worthy, with some genuine lol moments. There is one joke involving Peter Falk firing a gun and having to go to the bathroom that is one of the stupidest, funniest things I have ever seen, almost entirely because of how he delivers it. Seriously, the whole movie is worth watching just for that.

Speaking of Peter Falk, the cast is Hollywood royalty, many of them reprising crime-solving characters in parody that they were at this point famous for. Special note to James Coco as the Hercule Peroit parody Milo Perrier, one of the few actors who seems to get the tone the screenplay is trying for, so he is perpetually funny. And of course Peter Falk as Sam Diamond, being absolutely perfect as Columbo doing Humphrey Bogart doing Sam Spade. Falk was never not 110%, and that's also true here. Truman Capote, playing the principal antagonist, is...well. He was never a great actor. But he's certainly being Truman Capote and that kind of makes up for it.

Also special shout-out to Estelle Winwood, who at 93 is bright-eyed and sharp enough to make an extended fart joke funny.

(That woman died eight years after this, two years after I was born. She was born in 1883 and debuted on Broadway in 1916. Amazing.)

The big black mark on this is Peter Sellers as Sidney Wang, doing his awful stupid Charlie Chan Tojo "me so solly" yellowface garbage. Obviously his history of doing this character like this, to pop culture acclaim, was enough to get him into this movie doing it, WELL PAST the point where it was in any way acceptable. The movie knows that, sort of, and tries to Tropic Thunder it by making his behavior an object of (too) light scorn, while also pairing him with an "adopted Japanese son," played by Japanese-American actor Richard Narita. It is still utterly awkward and gross, redeemed only slightly by the fact that Sellers is a good actor so he gives Wang genuine depth of character, despite the rest of this. That is in no way a defense, and it is still terrible. Just slightly less terrible, maybe? Relatively?

With all of the magical realism and trope tear-downs in this plot, I kept expecting by the end that someone would reveal Sellers as a character perpetuating a racist fraud. But they aren't brave enough to do that. Real shame.

Also there are no Holmes and Watson parodies here, which seems like a glaring omission. Wikipedia says they cut scenes from the original screenplay which would have had them either show up right at the end, after the crime has already been solved, or near the end, and then solve it. These were apparently cut because it was decided they would distract from and overshadow the plot at that point.

Fair enough. But as the plot by the end is purposeful convoluted goofiness mixed with a meta-commentary on the whodunnit genre in general...would it have made THAT much of a difference? I don't think so.

It is a breezy 90 minutes. And while the first half drags purposefully bad jokes out a little too long and has trouble settling on a consistent comedic tone, it ramps up and is really solid by the end.

There are also some surprising jokes about sexuality and gender identity here. I don't want to oversell that, because it is all played as just more wackiness. But I didn't expect anything quite like this in a Hollywood movie from 1976. A welcome surprise.

Oh and the paper caricatures of the cast at the beginning and end were drawn by Charles Addams. Yes, THAT Charles Addams.

Rotten Tomatoes gives it a 67%. I'd go higher than that, at least the high seventies. That Peter Falk bathroom joke at like an hour and seventeen minutes is really goddamn funny.

#free on YouTube #free movies #murder by death #1970s #racism #peter falk #whodunnit #mystery fiction #detective #noir

19 notes · View notes

siravalondulac · 11 days ago

Text

vii. the warrior

meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight

asoiaf ff | jon snow x fem!oc

summary: jon is staring at elle again, but this time he notices some things he hasn't before word count: 1883 warnings: none

masterlist

previous | next

The sun had already set and Jon had truly better things to do than watch Elle practising in the courtyard.

And yet here he was, leaning against a wooden pillar, following every movement of her arms, every step in the snow, every knife burying itself in its target.

Elle was a true master at what she was doing. Admittedly, Jon did not have a lot of experience nor knowledge with throwing knives, but the way she did it looked right. More than right. She flowed through the movements, not taking a single break between letting the daggers fly.

There was another thing Jon stared at. Another reason he couldn’t bring himself to step away from her. And that was her hair.

Elle’s hair looked dark brown at first glance. But when Jon looked closer he could see the roots appearing blonde, maybe even a lighter colour. Single strands throughout her braid appeared the same.

Had Elle dyed her hair? But why? Jon wrecked his brain trying to think of reasons for her to do this. He had heard that in the Free Cities - the place Elle had been born in - people coloured their hair as people in Westeros would their clothes. However, they mostly used vibrant colours like blue and green. So why choose a dark brown?

Jon wanted to ask Elle about it. Perhaps there existed an easy answer to all of it. But he knew he shouldn’t. Sansa had lectured him repeatedly on what one could and couldn’t ask a lady. And he knew that asking about hair colour certainly belonged in the latter group.

He felt silly for wasting so much of his time on this topic. It didn’t affect him, and shouldn’t matter to him. Still, there was something that-

“Would you like to try?”

The question ripped him out of his thoughts. Elle had her arm extended towards him, in her hand a simple dagger.

Jon opened his mouth, preparing to decline. He should, he knew that. But there was a part of him - and it wasn't small in any way - that wanted to spend more time with Elle. A part that wanted to be close to her. A part that wanted to touch her.

Jon hated that part of him, and yet he wasn't able to resist it.

His hand closed around the hilt of the dagger. “Sure.”

The smile she sent his way before retaking her position before the target surely made his decision worth it.

Elle carefully walked him through each step, one after the other. She showed him the proper footwork, the way he was supposed to hold the dagger in his hand, explained how he was meant to throw it before actually allowing him to do it. But even after it all, he missed the target by a metre.

She chuckled at his frown. “Do not worry, you will get the hang of it eventually.” She handed him another dagger. “You should have seen my first few attempts. It took a whole moon's turn to repair the palace walls.”

“It's a bit hard picturing you being bad at this.”

Her laugh made Jon forget the sun had already set. “Well, I have had seven years of practice. It is difficult not to be good at something after such a long time.”

“How old are you?”

“Six and ten. Why?”

He counted the years in his head. “So, you started with this when you were only nine?”

She raised her brow at his bewilderment. “No, I started when I was seven, right after I had arrived in Sunspear. And do not act so shocked, boys start their weapon's training at the same age.”

Jon blushed. “I- I'm sorry, I-”

“You do not have to apologise. I understand that you Westerosi view things a bit… differently.”

He understood that as well. Dorne's culture was so very different to the rest of the continent, he was surprised this was the first time they had encountered some sort of topic to argue over.

Elle let out a breath. “Would you like to continue?”

He nodded in response and took up position again. But before he could take his shot, Elle gently laid her hand on his arm.

“Lift up your elbow a bit.” She pressed his arm into position and Jon wished he wasn't wearing so many layers so that he could feel her skin directly on his. “And do not hold the dagger in such a tight grip. The goal is to lose it anyways.”

Jon wanted to reciprocate her smile if he hadn't realised in this moment how close she was standing. With her hand on his arm, her blue eyes even more intense on such a short distance, and her lips so close to his.

He blinked, coughed, and looked towards the target again. Distractions were terrible, he knew, no matter what they distracted him from; his work, the target, the watch…

He missed the target by an even greater distance this time. Elle let out a short laugh, but pressed her lips together as soon as she saw his face.

“I am sorry, I am sorry. Perhaps I am not as good a teacher as my father.”

“It's not that,” Jon replied. But before he could explain himself (he would have failed), a voice sounded across the yard.

“What's the matter, Lord Snow? Need a little girl to show you how to use your sword?”

Jon glowered at the man standing by the stairs. William, if his memory didn't fault him, was one of the men lurking around Ser Alliser at meal times, and he was as much of a scumbag as the rest of his friends.

He prepared himself to retort something sarcastic, something he might have told Theon back in Winterfell, but Elle was quicker.

“Maybe you would like to show me then. I am sure you know a lot more about this than I do.”

She batted her eyelashes at him, suddenly looking way too innocent for someone currently holding two knives in her hand.

William snorted and was about to turn away, but Elle continued.

"Please? I mean it. If you could show me some things, I would be sure to pay you back."

Was she implying what he thought she was? He wanted to be disgusted with her, but all he felt was a strange sense of jealousy.

A smirk spread across William’s face. He strolled towards the weapon’s stand and grabbed one of the longswords before taking a comfortable stand in the middle of the courtyard.

“What are you waiting for, little girl? Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly become too scared seeing me!”

Admittedly, Jon had not known Elle for that long of a time. But he knew enough of her and how she acted that this sinking feeling that she had something planned did not go away.

He laid a gentle hand on her upper arm. “Elle.”

She directed her smile at him and a shiver ran down his spine. “Do not worry, Jon. You will love this.”

He seriously doubted it.

Elle went towards the weapon stand as well, but she did not grab one of the swords but a spear. She twirled it in her hand as she walked over to William.

“I hope it is alright if I use one of these,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. “The swords are just too heavy for me.”

“You can use whatever you want, little girl.” He did a few slashes with his sword in response. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Elle got into a slight crouch, spear behind her back. “That sounds nice. Because I won’t.”

William wasn’t even remotely able to respond in time as Elle jumped forward, thrusting out her spear towards him. She knocked his sword to the side, hitting his hand right afterwards, leading William to drop it with a surprised cry of pain. She raised her spear quickly, pressing its tip into the man’s throat. A smirk adorned her face.

“I do apologise.” Elle removed her spear from his skin, taking a few steps back. “I did not properly inform you of my talents. But perhaps, now that you do know, you would like to go for another round? I am sure you will defeat me this time. After all, you are a skilled swordsman, are you not?”

Her voice was laced with this sickly sweet tone again that Jon had never heard from her before this day. After all their interactions, he still knew so desperately little of her.

(Then why did he always feel like he never wanted to be with anyone else?)

William angrily picked up his sword from the ground and - much like Elle before - immediately went to attack without further warning.

But different to William before, Elle was prepared. She jumped to the side, jabbing her spear into his back while doing so.

Elle smirked, which appeared to infuriate William even more. He once again tried to run against her with his sword, but she jumped aside again. And so it went again and again and again.

She’s toying with him, Jon realised. Elle had had several opportunities to disarm William and even bring him to his knees, but she had taken none of them. Even though the man’s anger worsened his ability to fight, she just let him continue to exhaust himself.

Jon wondered what she would look like in a real fight. Because even now, when she was only moving around her target, he was almost in a trance looking at her. Her movements flowed so seamlessly into each other, each step taken as if she was dancing. The spear fit for her style more than any other weapon. Jon had half a mind to ask her to spar with him afterwards.

Elle had had enough of the fight, apparently, because in a series of moves too fast for Jon to follow, she had disarmed William and with a swipe of leg had brought him to fall. Jon winced at the loud thump as the body hit the ground.

Elle kneeled down on William’s chest, one foot grinding down on his right arm. She leaned close towards his face and started telling him something, but it was too quiet for Jon to hear.

Finally, she cocked her head to the side, smiled, stood up, and walked towards Jon again.

“Is this why they let you stay?” Jon asked when she stood besides him again. He could see the chain of a necklace peeking up beneath her collar.

“They certainly did not obey Mormont simply by him asking nicely.”

Jon looked towards William. The man had a sour look on his face as he tried to brush off the dirt from his clothes. He threw one last angry glance towards Elle before stalking off.

“What did you say to him?”

“Oh, nothing of importance.”

Jon just wanted to turn towards Elle again, when his gaze got caught by a man standing on the parapets above the courtyard.

The man was none other than Ser Alliser Thorne, the bane of Jon’s existence.

But he had to be imagining it - either the man himself or the look on his face. Because if Jon didn’t know any better, he’d almost think Ser Alliser looked proud.

previous | next

author's note: please tell me what you think of the story so far 🦀

#fic: stars above songs below #fic: meet me in the dark kiss me in the moonlight #asoiaf oc #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfic #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #jon snow #jon snow x oc #oc: elle sand

3 notes · View notes

archduchessofnowhere · 13 days ago

Note

Usually know the basics that King Ludwig II of Bavaria's only relative he remained on good terms with was his first cousin Prince Ludwig Ferdinand of Bavaria and wrote his last letter before being declared insanity to Prince Ludwig Ferdinand. I was just wonder any stories about their relationship or what about Ludwig and what Prince Ludwig Ferdinand made them able to get along while so many others couldn't? Did Prince Ludwig Ferdinand say anything about their family after 1886?

Hello anon! Actually I didn't know about this BUT I remembered Ludwig Ferdinand's son Adalbert wrote a book about his mother Infanta María de la Paz of Spain so I thought I could check to see if it said something about this - and it did!

Adalbert indeed notes that Ludwig II was very close to his parents. The first letter he quotes is the welcome letter the king wrote to his cousin's new fiancée:

Hohenschwangau, February 1, 1883. Madame : Enchanted with the letter Your Royal Highness has written me on the occasion of your engagement to my beloved cousin Prince Ludwig Ferdinand, it is my heart’s desire to thank Your Royal Highness most warmly for it. You can be sure that I am proud and happy to be able to count another Princess of the glorious House of Bourbon, for which I have ever had a real veneration and predilection, amongst the members of my family. I look forward with pleasure to making your acquaintance. I beg you to salute the King, your brother, in my name, and lay me at the Queen’s feet. I kiss Your Royal Highness’s hand, and remain Your Royal Highness’s devoted cousin Ludwig.

The next from Ludwig II to María de la Paz that Adalbert quotes is from after the Infanta's wedding to Ludwig Ferdinand:

Hohenschwangau, April 20, 1883. . . . The kind and charming letter Your Royal Highness wrote me after your arrival in Munich has given me great pleasure. I am delighted to learn from it that my wedding present has pleased you. I welcome you, and hope with all my heart that Your Royal Highness will like your new home and be happy in it. I look forward with pleasure to making your acquaintance. I beg you, dear Cousin, to embrace my dear Cousin Ludwig Ferdinand in my name, and remain, with every assurance of my devotion, Your Royal Highness’s affectionate Cousin, Ludwig.

Then Adalbert recounts his mother's first meeting with the king. According to him, Ludwig II was very kind to María de la Paz and made her feel welcome; they talked about Ludwig's love for the Bourbons (yes his blorbo dynasty were the Bourbons) and also of Victor Hugo, who was a favorite author of both Paz and Ludwig. The Infanta didn't found anything abnormal about the king, her son says.

Apparently María de la Paz didn't knew how she was suppossed to treat Ludwig II, since the only monarchs she had dealt with before her mother Queen Isabel II and her brother Alfonso XII. So she just asked Ludwig. The king must have liked this, because then he wrote to his cousin Ludwig Ferdinand:

Munich, May 7, 1883 Beloved Cousin ! … I take this opportunity (thanks for sending photographs) to let you know, dear Ludwig, how pleased I was the other day to make the acquaintance of your most amiable wife and to meet you again, dear Cousin, after such a long time. That Heaven’s richest blessings may rest on you both, and your lives be always full of happiness and good fortune, is the dearest wish of my heart...

And a few days later:

Munich, May 11, 1883. Dearest Cousin ! … I feel it is imperative personally to thank you at once with all my heart for your letter of eighth May, in which you, dear Cousin, in such kind, warm words express your sentiments towards me. Be assured that I reciprocate them from my inmost heart. These lines are also to let you know that I appoint you, my very dear Cousin, Colonel Proprietor of the 18th Infantry Regiment ; but if you prefer to continue wearing your present uniform — as Colonel a la suite — you are of course quite at liberty to do so. (...) If you have the time and the wish to get your photograph and that of your wife taken — it would give me great pleasure if you would send them to me...

Adalbert goes into a lot of details, but my takeaway is that Ludwig II got along so well with his cousin and his wife because they didn't find anything strange about his romantic tendencies - they in fact seemed to share them. For instance, Ludwig once invited them to an evening in the Winter Garden, in the Residenz Palace, and Paz was utterly enchanted by Ludwig's lavish displays of architecture, music and art. She herself wrote poetry, which the king made her read to him, despite not knowing Spanish.

Skipping ahead to 1886, Ludwig II asked his cousin for asistance in getting loans to finish his castles. Ludwig Ferdinand agreed out of love for his cousin, because according to his son, he actually didn't want to get entangled into the mess. Adalbert comments: "It was most painful for my father to have to report to his Sovereign one failure [trying to get money] after the other".

The king wrote to Ludwig Ferdinand:

Hohenschwangau, April 5/6, 1886. … I am truly sorry to have to trouble you so often with letters, particularly during the last few days. To-day it is again absolutely necessary... Heartiest thanks for your letter of the night of the fourth... Up to this it seems you quite believed the loan could be raised... Urgently I beg you to exert yourself to the utmost to prevent, above all, the sequestration of my Castles... Now the people understand what our grandfather [Ludwig I of Bavaria] did for them. Whilst he was still reigning King they behaved shamefully to him, opposing him particularly for his artistic aspirations, and not only on that account, until finally, in the year 1848, they all turned against him...

Ominous letter, to say the least.

As you said, Ludwig II wrote his last letter to his cousin. Although Adalbert doesn't quote it, he does quote his mother's diary entry upon receiving it:

I was still in bed when my husband showed me the letter from the King which a servant from Hohenschwangau had brought him... The man told us that the King was already interned in Berg. When my husband went out of the room I had such a convulsive fit of crying that my mother [Queen Isabel II] was seriously alarmed. My husband immediately wrote a reply to the King saying that he was always at his service ; but we learned later the servant was never able to deliver the letter...

Upon learning of the death of the king Adalbert recounts: "my parents were so shocked and affected that it was long before they could realize it..." and also "the period immediately following the tragic death of Ludwig II was particularly sad for my parents, and they were long in getting over their sincere grief." This is the last thing Adalbert has to say about the relationshipt between Ludwig II and his parents.

Thank you for your question! And also keep in mind that this is just one source (and not a neutral one), so there may be more to this relationship that what I just recounted. If you want to read more about it, check Adalbert's book on the Archive! I skipped some of the letters because this post was already too long.

#ludwig ii of bavaria #prince ludwig ferdinand of bavaria #maría de la paz of bourbon princess of bavaria #prince adalbert of bavaria #asks

2 notes · View notes