#in my mind palace exists an entire world...

[oceansatedogs]

i love only talking about ocs these days because nobody really knows who the fuck magnolia or wolfram or tumult or polynya or seafret or belial/boba or gluckel or

[eleanor-is-probably-my-real-name]

—Claws Of The Wolf—

Emperor Geta x reader (1.8k)

Summary: Captured as a slave the gods seemed to hate you, because it was your poor soul, who was chosen as a gift to the Roman emperors. And one of them in particular caught interest in you.

A/N: that man did something to me. Like, truly. However, enjoy! (English is not my first language, not proofread)

Rome was to be the capital of everything, the center of the entire world. Shining bright, it was the sun over earth, and no glory and no splendor could ever overshadow it. That was it, what they promised you. A promise that seemed as true as the sun blinded. And burned.

This was burned painfully into your mind, when they branded you the first time in Rome. They had attacked your poor village in an unfortunate province. Roman soldiers, invincible bringers of suffering, slaughtered on the battlefield and enslaved everything they found, right after the blood. And if you have ever thought that you could slip away from their claws, then you were foolish. Your fate was sealed as they carted you through half of the Roman Empire, lying in chains. Food and water were thrown at you just enough, so you wouldn’t perish right away, and when you found out that you of all people were to be sent to Rome with some other poor souls, some prisoners envied you. 

You, however, could only pity yourself. 

You were bought. A young woman you were, and they said, you’d have a pretty face. And maybe it was that face of yours that would bring you all the misfortune. It was just a year that you stayed at that wealthy family, preparing meals, cleaning the beds and tidying everything up when your landlord had had one of his excessive feasts. And only because of that you learned how to be quiet and still, vanishing in a room, so everybody forgot your little existence and told you all their secrets without the awareness of doing so. 

You were left alone. 

Until your landlord, a slimy man, was invited. Invited to the palace by the twin emperors themselves. There was a feast to be, of which you didn’t know the occasion for, and you couldn’t have cared less about it. But when the landlord of yours became a guest of honor, he decided that there was no way around making an extraordinarily expensive gift. No honor was too low for the tyrannical emperors of the Roman Empire, and because the gods seemed to hate you and took a liking in your miseries, it was you who was picked as a gift for the emperors. 

You had a pretty face, they said. 

And just like that, you found yourself lost between massive marble columns and opulent, important people, all overflowing with wealth. Wrapped in the most ornate fabrics and gilded in expensive jewelry, you were led through endless halls of glory in the palace. You stayed quiet, hoped for anything to happen that would drag you away from the bloody claws of the emperors, but the gods showed no mercy, watching you without interrupting your suffering. Oh, damn these cruel gods!

You, with the landlord and guards, stopped in front of the largest of doors in this palace, and for a glimpse of a moment you thought of running away, fleeing your fate. But you decided that the death that would follow this pathetic attempt would be the most ignoble. So instead you raised your chin, high up, when you were brought through that door and into the people-filled hall. There were hundreds of them, shining with wealth and money and watching you uninterested. 

And then you saw them, and your hands got sweaty. Worshiped like gods and bathed in every gold, they sat on their thrones, gilded leaves of laurels crowning their red hair. Emperor Caracalla and Emperor Geta. And when the vain landlord bowed in front of each of them, their names trembling over his lips, you knew which was which. And you didn’t know who you should detest more. Emperor Caracalla, with his childlike grinning, slumped in his throne—disgusted, you pictured him stating death sentences with that laugh. 

Or emperor Geta. His eyes were much darker, his mouth joyless and when his gaze hit your eyes, you realized what a cruel man he was. You had trouble holding his gaze; like a wolf watching the rabbit, that was the way he looked at you. He was hungry and just waited for the smallest sign that showed weakness, an opportunity to lick blood, before you finally fell into his claws. 

And you decided that you would not give it to him. That satisfaction of absolute power over everything and everybody—you would thwart that happily, even if that meant you getting into more unfortunate situations.

“Your highnesses, my emperors, Your Glory and Power shines and overshadows every of my brightest days and darkest nights of my humble being”, the landlord brabbled, and you wondered if he would have shared the bed with the emperors himself, if he hadn’t had you, “This honor to attend to one of your breathtaking feasts is the greatest I could have ever had to enjoy.”

You observed the emperors during his endless crawling and kissing. Caracalla’s glance only touched the landlord occasionally, being more occupied by his cherished ape, who was ridiculously dressed up and probably had more freedom than you could ever dream of. 

Geta, on the other hand, watched the bootlicker in front of him with a stone-hard gaze, knowing very well about his loyal pretense. You were thankful that his eyes weren’t resting on you anymore, because he waited for something, expected something. And that something was you. 

Geta didn’t waste himself on answering the landlord‘s words and only demanded with his gaze that he 'd go on. Goosebumps made their way down your spine, coldly and mercilessly, and yet… interested. You were completely intrigued by his presence, but something had piqued your curiosity for this man—and still, you wanted to run away.

 “Your highness Caracalla, your highness Geta, I have therefore, as a promise of my highest regards, decided to bring a gift for you.“

 Geta, now sitting more upright, leaned forward. His gaze, that inevitable gaze, lay once again on you: your hair, your hands, your hips, and your face. And there was something unsettling in his dark eyes. Desire?

Your heart raced.

 “From my personal servanthood,“ Caracalla watched you now, too, his head cocked, “I am bringing you this beautiful woman.“

 He said your name, and you didn’t bow to the emperors right away. You waited a couple of moments too long, and when you finally bowed, then with an irritating slowness. Knowing very well of this action and understanding it very much, Geta’s gaze had darkened even more when you raised your head back up. The corner of his mouth was now twitching dangerously angered downwards. Not that anyone in the room noticed that small shift of his manner; people had drifted too far away in a delirium of wine and money to see details like this.

But you saw it.

And he knew.

Hours of feast passed, and no one seemed to ever get tired. People drank, ate, and drank more and you stood in the shadow of a massive column and wondered whether your miserable new situation was miserable enough to finally lose your belief in the gods. You stayed not far from the emperors. Geta had made it clear to you that you leaving on your own was not wished; you had no other choice than remaining near him, there, where he could eye you. Just like a beautiful, beautiful statue.  

And so you did not dare move from this position, even though you wanted to. But everything in this new place mounted over you, from the massive walls to the presence of the emperors—there was no chance for you. You gladly accepted the role of a statue, standing among the people but being not seen for anything other than your beauty, everything else being forgotten about your presence.  

You had a pretty face, that’s what they have all said.

And just when you believed that your place in this night was not changing anymore and that you would be left alone once again, the whole attention of Geta suddenly shifted to you. It was just a small hand movement, barely noticeable, and yet it was a command you could not escape.

Again, you didn’t react right away, waited a couple of seconds too long, testing his patience, before taking slow and small steps towards his direction.  

And he waited. He waited until you reached him, until you were close enough to smell his scent. And without anything being able to prepare you for it, he grabbed your wrist in such a quick motion and dragged you down to him, that you stumbled helplessly and humiliated onto his lap. You bite your lips, suppressing a scream of shock.

“They say you have a pretty face, do you know that?“, Geta spoke with a soft voice.

He said it into your ear, he was that close. The tip of his nose ghosting over your rosy cheek let shivers run down your spine, which you desperately tried to push away—and failed.

“I‘ve heard of that,“ you cracked out. 

You were too overwhelmed by the demanding presence that made your blood run faster and robbed you of your last bit of confidence. Stiff like rough sandstone and holding onto his shoulders, you sat on Geta‘s legs, which were wrapped in the heaviest fabrics. You tried not to meet his gaze, holding your head still in one direction only, past his face.

“They are right.“

One jewel-covered hand stroked over your thigh, searching for a slit in your fabrics to finally feel your bare skin—to claim it. And something deep down in you, a small traitorous part of yours, only wished for this very moment, where your skin would be desecrated.

Geta cocked his head, and you heard the smirk in his voice when saying, “Why so silent? I would have expected you to be far more sharp-tongued.“

He wanted something from you. But he didn’t want it right away, because his hand suddenly left your leg, leaving a cold shiver for you, and he inhaled deeply the scent of your hair before pressing you off his lap into a standing position. Blushing deeply out of anger and… desire, you abruptly stood in front of him, having no idea of what you were supposed to do now.

Geta had had a goal to twist you, to turn you, to unsettle you, and he had reached it. There was something that entangled you about him, and you just did not know how you could escape this foolishness of yours.  

Now he was sitting in front of you, grinning victoriously, and spoke: “I will have you brought to a room, where you can wash yourself, and in an hour I will find you in my chambers.“

Then he left. Disappeared between the people. And you, left alone but not freed from the wolf, shivered like a rabbit that would very soon find itself caught in claws. And you damned Rome.

[vaguely-concerned]

on the one hand I think inner demons could stand to have a bit more romanced rook specific content, but on the other hand the underlying in-built implication that 'yours is the one true voice of comfort and safety in my inner world' is a sentiment and intimacy so way beyond the romantic or the platonic or any secret third thing you could care to name that it makes me lose my entire poor little mind a bit. it's so big and fundamental — near-existential — that in that exact moment at least the distinctions kind of seem irrelevant.

all the people lucanis' mind conjures up along the way are relationships he has that are unavoidably mixed and fraught in some ways even when they're also full of love (they are fraught BECAUSE they're full of love) — the good in them inseparable from things that hurt him at the same time. (it's about: the basic disorganized attachment patterns this poor guy is dragging around with him. careful with those, they're dellamorte heirlooms. what you love also inevitably hurts you and you won't be allowed to have one without the other, you have to surrender parts of your soul to hold on to what little you have left: this is the story up until now.) and the idea that rook isn't that to him — that beneath the fear of wanting them when romanced (which is more its own separate thing because within this psychology, actively wanting something and not just clinging on for dear life to even a meager status quo lest you lose it is in itself dangerous bordering on catastrophic), this is a relationship where there isn't resentment, or guilt, or shame, or dread, or rage, or self-hate, or any of the other emotions that keep him paralyzed, unable to move this way or that. no debts, nothing owed of yourself and your soul's substance except what you can freely and safely and happily give. love and freedom don't coexist — but, I mean, you're almost starting to make me think........... unless...👀👀👀. the unconditional and undramatic 'you are here and I am here with you, you can be exactly how you are right now with me and it's safe for us both even though you're afraid it won't be, I'm not going anywhere' acceptance rook shows him here that he returns to them in the big romance scene, when it's rook who needs it. the way he's just. standing there in the center of it all, like a child desperately helplessly waiting to be found, hiding in the place he hopes you'll know to look first. (rook does know. it's one of the first things they say in there.)

in short the most important room in his little mind palace for the romance is the very first room — the one where rook isn't. where, in fact, rook cannot be, because they disprove the entire structure of the place with their existence and presence in his life. with everyone else he's putting words in their mouths about what they think of him, and rook is the one who actually gets to come in to speak their own words to him — and have him listen. ('he'll listen to you, he always listens to you', 'your voice is a comfort'.) of course rook isn't present anywhere else in there — at the risk of stating the obvious to a tedious degree, they aren't one of the locks, they're bringing the key. in the very finest 'the messenger and the message' sort of way.

[st4rg8te]

A Captured Dragon (BL)

Yandere! Half-brother X Crown Prince! Reader

[tw: graphic depiction(s) of violence, obsessive behaviour, betrayal, imprisonment, gaslighting, non-con kissing, incest!!!, teeny tiny bit of feminization]

✦✧✦✧

“You have done nothing to deserve that title. You were only lucky enough to be born the King’s son.”

A lot of things in life were beyond your control. 

But fate had been kind to you, gifting you a life that most could only dream of. Born into the royal family as their beloved Crown Prince, the world bent to your will from the very moment you drew your first breath. 

Spoiled, indulged, and never once tested by struggle—perhaps you were destined to fall from the start.

✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧

It’s getting harder to tell the days apart.

The world around you blurs into a cycle of sleepless nights. Your mind is a fog, heavy with the weight of guilt and fear. Each hour blends into the next, until time itself feels like a punishment.

The nightmares don’t help either.

Every time you close your eyes, they come—haunting, vivid dreams where blood stains the corridors and screams pierce the air. The sounds of blades slicing through flesh, of bodies collapsing onto blood-soaked floors, echo endlessly in your ears. It is relentless. 

You see the palace engulfed in flames, your servants and people—those you’ve known your entire life—crying out in terror as they are cut down by the cold steel of soldiers.

In every dream, you stand helpless, watching as they beg for mercy. Your people reach for you in desperation, their faces twisted in agony, but you can’t move. 

In every dream, at the center of it all, is him.

Daewon.

Your half-brother.

While you grew up in the limelight, basking in the affections and adoration of others, your half-brother was cast into the shadows. Born from a lowly maid, his very existence was a blemish on the royal family's image. He was the son who would never be acknowledged by his father—neither loved nor remembered.

Despite that, you had treated him kindly.

When did everything go so wrong?

After the slaughter, you were taken away and imprisoned. The room you were kept in was dark and empty—there was no light, or any warmth. It was a far cry from the luxury you were used to.

Occasionally, food and water would be brought to you—a guard would come every few days, sliding bowls of stale rice and cloudy water across the floor without a word, without so much as a glance in your direction. You felt like an animal.

But worse than the silence of your captors were the visits from Daewon.

You hated those days the most.

“Brother.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t make out his face within the shadows.

So you bury your head further into the damp pillows, hiding from the monster in the room.

It isn’t long before you feel the bed dip under his weight, the chain on your ankle rustles against the sheets. He kneels beside you, leaning close enough for you to smell the faint traces of blood still lingering on his robe.

“You haven’t been eating,” Daewon’s voice was soft, almost tender, but you could hear the dark amusement laced beneath it. “Is the food not to your liking?”

You keep your eyes shut tight, fists clenched under the thin blankets.

It'll all be okay. Soon enough, he would leave you alone.

Cold fingers brush against your cheek, and you flinch. He chuckles at that, a low, mocking sound that makes your skin crawl.

“Did you know that these meals are what I had to eat as a child?” He whispers, his breath hot against your ears.

You briefly open your eyes, glancing at the food scattered across the floor, remnants of your earlier fit of rage—destroyed, just like everything else in your life. 

“There were many days when the servants never even came. My mother often gave me her share, just so I wouldn't starve." 

You grit your teeth—

"Why don't you just kill me already?"

The words hang in the air, and a suffocating silence stretches between you.

But then, Daewon's firm hand suddenly grips your chin, forcing you to meet his dark gaze.

“Kill you?” A cruel, guttural laugh escapes him, sending a shiver down your spine. “But death would be far too easy.” 

“No... you have to live. You’ll live and endure. Just like I did.”

He had lived a life of invisibility, where no one cared to look beyond the stain of his tainted blood—no one, except you.

And the thought of it drives him mad.

His hand falls from your chin, trailing down until it rests against your chest. With that simple touch, your spirit breaks just a little more.

You hate him—hate him more than you’ve ever hated anyone. 

Without any warning, you feel the press of his soft lips against your own. His body heat seeps into yours as he forcefully pulls you closer and presses you flush against him.

You are too tired, too hungry to resist.

"No, stop—" You protest breathlessly, the words barely escaping your lips as your mind reels, still foggy from the kiss. A dizzying mix of shock, confusion, and disgust floods your senses.

"This is wrong, we can't—"

"They will never fully accept a half-blooded bastard like me as their king."

“What?” You swallow hard, blinking up at the man.

"But surely, they'll accept a 'bride' from the royal family.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. 

Before you can react, his lips crash against yours again, harder this time, more possessive. The taste of him—bitterness and control—invades your senses completely.

A twisted smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and you finally understand.

This is a debt of suffering, a price he intends to collect over and over—until you were broken.

"Don’t worry. For everything you’ve done for me, I'll repay your kindness tenfold."

✦✧✦✧

[A/N]

This was not proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

[threepandas]

Bad End: Winter's Victory

Cigarettes in this world were different. Odd, I guess. I had never really paid attention to the smell of cigarette smoke, before I ended up here, but I knew it hadn't been? Exactly... well, pleasant? I guess? Not to say that all the ones that existed here WERE, mind you. It was still smokey. The cheap ones an overwhelming incense. They called it "stepping out to pray" for a reason. You ended up smelling like you spent hours in a temple during prayer.

But the smell that lingered here? Clung delicately to cloth and the walls? It was more of a... warm spice. I could never place which ones. There was, yes, a smokey undertone, but? It more or less added to the complex almost taste scent of spices and tea. Dark and rich. Lingering. The sort of thing that takes time to develop.

The entire house was like that. Well, compound really. Austere and ageless, time did not seem to touch the inside of these walls. Did not seem to dare try. It was a blessed relief. A place of respite. All soft, dream-like edges and beautiful gardens. Meandering halls and tasteful, understated art. Peaceful company. Good food and tea.

A lingering smell of smokey spices.

My sister was up to her Protagonist shit again. It was... exhausting. I knew, intellectually, I should be back home. Playing my part. The ever supportive Big Sister archetype. Endlessly kind. Endlessly patient. Supportive to a fault. Smiling and smiling no matter WHAT bullshit nonsense that child pulls. No matter HOW she shames our house or causes trouble I must undo.

But honestly? I can't. I just... can't.

The idiotic little shit SLAPPED A PRINCE. Thank the heavens it wasn't one of the Emperors favorite sons or we'd all be dead, but still! Who the fresh hell taught her that was acceptable?! No. Just.... No.

Let Father deal with this for once. If he insists on spoiling and infantilizing that child? HE can reap the rewards. Her MOTHER can parent for once, instead of sitting around being generically "perfect". I am not there. This is beyond my pay grade. Frankly? I don't even HAVE the power to smooth this over. I could, technically. But not at any cost I'm willing to PAY.

Not for my sister's "she not like other girls", "oh? How interesting", fucking MOMENT.

No WONDER the Elder Sister character disappears in the later half of the royal route, only to turn back up in the palace. She's a freaking Consort! To a letch! Powerful one, yes. But STILL! And all just to protect a sister who not only doesn't notice? But doesn't even attend her wedding?

No.

ABSOLUTELY Not.

I lift the (frankly beautiful) cup of tea I was served to drink while I wait. Breathe in it's rich, soothing scent. Let the steam curl against my face as I stare out the open sliding doors at the fall garden. It borders on too cold for this... but not quite.

The tea is warm. The snacks are warm. I was brought a beautifully embroidered blanket to rest across my lap. Have a robe draped over my shoulders. It is... meditative, almost. Just me and the quiet sigh of vibrant leaves on the breeze. The world muffled. Warm dispite the cold. Ah... the garden really is... so beautiful....

I let it soothe me. Drain away my anger and frustration at the world. Running water, birds in the trees, insects. The silence is so wonderfully full. Alive. I have to keep my mind from bitterly comparing it to constant dramatics filled mess of the gardens at home. Focus on the here and now. This is NICE. Focus on this.

Quiet, near silent footsteps approach. Gait even and steady. Most men his age meander or shuffle, but like the home he keeps? Kaito seems almost untouchable by time. As though not even the Gods dare. I honestly don't blame them. He can be quite commanding when he wishes. Good thing he's rather laid back.

"Come to escape the treasonous?" A modulated voice teases. Wry and dry as salt mines. "Your fool sister is aware that actions have consequences, yes? Or has that idiot father finally succeeded in spoiling her back into infancy? Traditionally, we do not let such young children wander."

Kaito's voice isn't terribly high or husky and low. It is... smooth. Controlled. Like running your fingers across fine fabric. I could honestly listen to him read a phone book and be pleased. He would have made a killing as a voice actor, in my first life. Or reading audio books. Something.

"No retort? Witty defense? Oh dear. You are exhausted, aren't you, my friend?" He noted, dropping the teasing edge. Stepping inside the viewing room and calmly sliding the door shut behind him, I could almost feel him observing me. "When was the last time you slept? Properly. You're a mess, my friend, look utterly exhausted. Has it become that bad?"

Worse actually. They keep doubling down. Doing stupid "girl power!!!1!", poorly thought out, works in a 21th century DEMOCRACY but sure as shit NOT HERE, so called "power moves". I was? So, so fucking tired. Legitimately scared for the servants at this point. Because, honestly? Let stupid reap it's own reward. I TRIED. I was dismissed and ignored. Taken for granted.

Accused of JEALOUSY!

Like? Oh, HELL NO. I know exactly where THAT train of thought ends. I've read enough of the Genre to cut THAT shit off at the pass. Not Today, Satan!

So? Fuck um. I Tried. But I REFUSE to set myself ablaze to keep the ungrateful warm. Especially when they have both coats and just want to roast marshmallows. But... the SERVANTS? They are innocent. Wrong house, shit masters. Half are basically indentured! Much to my outrage.

We HAVE the funds to pay them better. But do I control those funds? Dispite doing ALL THE WORK? Managing the House? No. Of course not. THAT would be Protagonist's mother. And we really need that money for more jewelry and pretty outfits for her daughter. Fuck the household, I guess.

Things are... likely to get bad.

Because I have made the painful, painful choice? To let GO.

I can't keep holding up the house. I am NOT Atlas. Was not granted a second chance, just to throw it away. But at the same time? The servants. Not the enabling, vindictive, lapdogs that circle my family like vultures. The ACTUAL servants. Gardeners, cooks, maids. The no one's that they will not remember.

Somebody has to protect THEM. It must be me. Or no one else WILL.

I'm hoping Kaito will help.

Please, heavens, let this be enough to help. Then... THEN I can figure out how to protect myself. Hopefully. Maybe. Though I am probably running quickly out of time.

"Dear one, are you with me? You are drifting. I need you to come back. Focus on me. The sound of my voice. Can you hear me? Do you see the leaves? Focus on their color. See the reds and yellows beyond them. Like fire, is it not? Can you smell the tea? Dear one, what kind is it? Come here. Back to your body. That's right..."

Smooth and soothing. Closer then what felt like a blink ago. Huh. Yes. The leaves are quite lovely, aren't they? And... and this is red cliff, first harvest, right? Ah. I'm still so bad at telling certain types of tea apart. How mean. He knows this.

.....my brain feels mushy. But back in my body. I manage to scrounge up the edges of a smile. Gods, I am so tired. Worn so thin. But I... I can't rest. Not yet. Kaito kneels beside me, too dignified and reserved to show the full weight of his concern. But it practically howls from his body language. The sheer closeness he has allowed. I must have truely scared him there.

I would tease him, about using my notoriously bad memory of frankly near identical teas against me... but I just... just can't.

There isn't enough energy left in me. I think the soothing nature of his home, his company, has been my undoing. My brain has finally declared me safe enough to break down. Ha ha... perhaps that is why I've been avoiding coming here for so long. I knew I would break down. Would not want to leave.

Unspeakably rude of me.

"The rumors have not done the situation justice, it seems. You seem at your wits end. My dear, you cannot continue like this. Please, let me help. I realize it is overstepping any number of boundaries... but..." the weight of his concern; the words he was struggling to find, to phrase the unkind more palatably, hung between us. "Please, my friend. You are struggling. I can not bear it."

I felt exhausted tears well up. Days of being overwhelmed. Threatened on all sides. Wondering if today would be the day, that the royal gaurds kicked down our gates and executed us all. Struggling against the blindly arrogant and willful actions of my family. The very SAME family that treated me as more of a secretary then as any kind of kin.

Where would I be? If I had not met Kaito, all those years ago? Visiting his cousin, who was marrying a friend of my cousin. Even then, I was desperately trying to keep the name of our family from being filth. My father could not tear himself away from the whims of my sister or his pretty new wife. My grandmother somehow uncaring, tyrannical and doting, indulgent and yet strict.

I was the ONLY ONE who could and WOULD bother to represent us.

Was called frivolous and silly for it. For "seeking parties" to go "play at". As though it was not stressful. As though it was not far beyond my training and skills. Only the concerned eyes of cousins from other houses and guidance of matriarchs from BETTER houses, let me survive at ALL.

Grandmother still does not understand why she no longer gets invitations. Why her name is mud in the eyes of other elders. They did not take kindly, to her abandoning her granddaughter to do HER and HER DAUGHTER-IN-LAW'S job for them. But... there I was. Doing my best. Decorated like a little doll, uncomfortable and quite.

Kaito didn't even need to speak to me. Would never have approached such a nervous, unchaperoned child. Forget being simply a young unmarried girl. I was quite LITERALLY a girl. A child. He never would have so much a acknowledged my existence normally. It simply wasn't done. He was after all, an unmarried man of considerable power.

Still is.

But he needed to speak with his cousin. Who, quite rudely, would NOT take a hint. Too wrapped up in his new bride. Thus forcing Kaito to come over. Bless him, he still tried to politely ignore me. So as not to put pressure on a nervous child. But, once again, Cousin Dense As A Brick struck. Introduced us before merrily swanning off to go talk with friends, taking his wife, my cousin, and ONLY CHAPERONE with him.

We were both baffled and aghast. Horrified. It was the sort of gods awful that somehow found its way back around to being funny. Granted, only because we were in a highly visible location surround by other part goers. But still. Why don't you just? Pick me up and dump me in his LAP next? Good gods man.

Needless to say? The roasting was merciless and immediate. He escorted me to a friend of his. Terrifying woman. We had a grand time roasting terrible behavior and I learned SO MUCH. They were Hilarious. Clearly appreciated having an audience who could actually grasp their sense of humor. I left with letter buddies.

Acquaintances that became friends.

Kaito became my single BEST friend. A refuge, a mentor, a confidant. I trusted... TRUST, the man more then any single soul I've ever met. It helps, I guess, that he meets me where I AM not where he assumes I SHOULD be. Doesn't baby me. Infantalize me. Nor does he treat me in any way that would set off a "creep" alarm in my head. He's just... Kaito.

All cunning eyes and slight smiles, dry humor and cutting wit. Ever the rougish yet refined strategist. Bad boy of the highly polite. All the high court ladies still sigh over him.

Grey eyes that bordered on black filled my vision. That whisp of soft silver hair that never wanted to stay put, forever falling across his brow. My view of the garden cut off. When had he moved? Had I drifted back into my head again? It seemed so.

This close, I could not help but notice his eyelashes were still the rich dark of his youth. Few strands of silver yet touching his eyebrows. He'd had a beautiful shade of black hair it seems. It was rather striking....

A pinch on the back of my hand. Bright pain lancing through the fog. Kaito's hands cupped mine, kept me from jostling my cup. Stopping me from dropping now cold tea into my lap. Taking it from me gently, he set it aside. Thumb rubbing the skin he had abused. His face was apologetic.

"And that marks the second time you've drifted away on me, dear. I'm afraid I'm no longer asking. I'm will be helping. This is entirely unacceptable. What in the gods name have those idiots done to you?" His voice was soft. Attention focused on me. I felt... felt so very fragile.

Not weak. Fragile. Like glass under strain. Bones near their breaking point. That final support beam struggling with weight beyond its abilities to bear. He was treating me like I was wounded. Was I? Perhaps I was. I certainly felt that way.

I just... just wanted someone ELSE to take care of it all.

Just for a bit.

Was that so wrong?

I was TIRED. Felt the tears coming back. Here I was, coming to a dear friend, about to ask him to take on a burden for me. Risk enraged royalty just to protect the innocent. Being unspeakably emotional and RUDE. And I... and I... I just....

"Shhhhh. None of this. You've done so much. Have been so, so brave, my girl. No more. It's alright. I'm here. I'll take care of everything." He soothed. Soft and unbearably kind. All I could do was nod. Agree. "There we are, good girl. You'll stay here for now, all right? No more stressful journeys to that house. I'll send someone to gather your things. We can have everything dealt with after a rest."

His hands, boldly, came up to cup my cheeks. I found I didn't care. It felt nice. His palms warm and dry, gently cradling.

I wouldn't be able to stay. He knew that. I knew that. It simply WAS. We weren't related, weren't married. I had brought no chaperone. I... gods, I wanted too. Badly. But I couldn't. I just needed help with the servants. Told him as much. Words rambled disjointedly between us as I struggled to get them all out.

"Ah, but the solution then is simple, isn't it?" He said, looking almost amused. "You just need to marry me."

Blinking, the thought didn't quite process. My confusion clear enough on my face for him to continue.

"Every time I see you, you are suffering some fresh new indignity from that house. Some brand new insult. Isn't it better here? I know you enjoy it. The servants adore you. I adore you." The hands on my cheeks shifted, just slightly, barely daring to let their thumbs stroke just slightly."

"I would give you everything, dearest."

This... did not feel political. Nor some ploy to just protect the servants, offered by a dear friend. When... when had things changed? I knew for a fact, he held no such interests in me as a child. I'd seen him kill a man over the mere suspicion of such things. Yet... it's also not like I'd grown UP in front of him. We talked mostly over letters.

It was harder to remember my physical age through those. Since I didn't exactly talk or write like the child I had appeared. And talking to each other, being friends with each other, for going on a decade... certainly WAS a good foundation for a relationship, wasn't it? I didn't know any more. How old... how old even was I?

His hands were so warm.

Felt strong and reliable, cupping my face. A reserved and refined (if a bit mischievous), pillar of strength that I could finally lean on. Offering up a tempting dream world where I wouldn't have to think anymore. Wouldn't have to deal with troubles or reality. Just... just endless, beautiful, painting-like peace and serenity.

No more drama... ever again.

Wouldn't that be nice?

Didn't I deserve to rest?

Who else, really, could I even see myself marrying? Realistically? Some untested lout? Character suspect and temperament unknown? What prospects, what LOYALTY, could they even offer? Would they even respect my boundaries? Could they ever hope to match his knowledge of my likes and dislikes? Could... could I ever hope to TRUST them? Like I did, Kaito?

I felt my expression soften. Decided to be a little bold too. Leaning forward, I let my hands come up to lightly grip his arms. Still so corded with muscles. The man never did skip out on his training, be it archery or swordsmenship. My forhead rest lightly against his, that wayward strand tickling my skin just a bit. His breath smelled of those smokey spiced cigarettes while his skin, which I had never dared take note of, smelled of daily things.

He held so perfectly still, as though afraid to spook me. Seemed startled by my boldness. How cute~

I couldn't stop the grin if I tried.

"Yes, yes, mock the old man. Impertinent minx. So scandalous!" He teased, finally unfreezing after gathering his thoughts. That plotting spark back in his eyes. "Whatever shall I do? My guest takes advantage of me! Oh dear, oh no~ I fear for my honor! You will have to make an honest man of me, I'm afraid."

The laugh burst out of me, feeling a lot like relief. Gods, I'd missed this. Just... just sass and light hearted teasing. Droll humor and wit. No nightmare politics or angry royals. No trying to manage the unmanageable. Not responsible for any but myself. Yes... yes this was exactly what I needed, wasn't it?

Honestly? FUCK the Plot. FUCK the Protagonist and her nightmare social blunders! I was gonna get OUT of that house. Live for ME. Marry a nice, reliable man. Have a beautiful home. Maybe get some pets. Eat snacks! Laze about and enjoy the gardens! Have some gods damned PEACE for once! It sounded perfect.

I told Kaito there were no take backs. Congratulations on the terrible idea! I was HIS problem now. Have fun with your new, future in-laws!

Laughter was the best thing I'd felt in weeks. One of the maids I liked was already on standby and ready to lead me to a guest room. We bickered light heartedly, him groaning in exaggerated ways about his TERRIBLE fate of having to deal with IDIOTS! Oh, Darling, how COULD you?! Ha! Suffer.

It... gods, it was beautiful. Dreamlike. A perfect, story book solution to my woes.

Really, if I did not TRUST Kaito so much? I would have been suspicious.

But I did.

So I left with the maid, a smile on my face. Relieved. Happy. Engaged to a "good man". The most TRUSTWORTHY man I knew.

Thus, did not see, like a mask, his expression slide away. His open body language close off, like then slamming of a crypt door, locking the dead back inside. The warmth draining from the room as I left it, as though I had taken every trace with me. Leaving only the cold, cold THING behind. One that wore the face of a man.

A handsome man, yes, but an empty one.

One that was Not Pleased.

"I distinctly recall," his voice cutting the silence like an assassin slitting a throat, sudden and violent yet just as impersonal. "That I ordered her not to be bothered. For you to get rid of that... thing, in a timely manner."

Shadows dropped from the roof. Then too their knees. Kneeling, loyal unto death, before the one that commands them. Many are injured. They do not shake, for all that they have failed. Will likely die for it.

"Give me one good reason to let you live. A single one." The empire's spy master, the Winter Ghost, asks the room at large. Picking up his beloved's tea cup, considering it as he talks. He almost wants to destroy it. So no one else can ever use it. Touch it with their filthy hands. "Well?"

His assassins continue to kneel. Silent. There is no defense for their failure.

Three die instantly, the rest are not so lucky.

He decides to keep the cup.

Running his thumb along the rim where her mouth touched it, he steps out, closer to the garden and slides the door shut. It truely is a lovely view. Behind him, his servants behind the familiar work of cleaning up. Kneeling in the dirt before him, the next set of assassins.

"Let me make my self clear this time. I don't care how you do it, how painful or how slow, but they are to be gone by the time I am wed, understood? If that useless chit or her idiot father darken my door, you will long for the mercy that is death. Get out. And do not DARE fail me."

A quite chorus of confirmation, then like leaves... scattered on the wind.

He was named winter victory. For his mother's success in seizing control of her poor, late, husband's house. Born into the cold, it has always remained. Is it any suprise he covets warmth? In any form he can have it. Every form.

A pity though... that he won't be needing his plans.

She would have made a beautiful widow.

[markleessodalite]

Anything For You: l.mk

Anything For You: Mark Lee drabble

Content: Mark Lee is completely devoted to you. He would do literally anything for you. Warnings: A very brief mention of gods but not actual religion if that makes sense

a/n: my drabbles don't do as well as my text imagines but i find them more fun to write >:) also i worked a longer week than usual this week and i am exhausted!!!!!!!!! so this work is actually an older piece that i wrote for someone else that i just adapted for Mark

Mark realized now that he definitely should have written down his idea as soon as he had it, because now, of course, he doesn't remember. He always thinks of little things, little inspirations and prophecies, and he’s learned that if he doesn't write them down immediately, they’ll inevitably escape his mind just as quickly. And he’s only had so many more thoughts, inspirations and prophecies since you’ve come into his life. He doesn't remember what the thought was, but he knows it was beautiful. Maybe it was a message he wanted to send to you in prose, or maybe a single line to write an entire story from, to create a narrative that could only attempt to be as captivating as you.

He doesn't know what wrongs he’s righted, which gods he’s pleased, what universal forces he’s satisfied to result in you entering his life, but he knows that he is so grateful for you. He doesn't know how he’s managed to move along before your confluence, but he knows that to live without you now would be a miserable experience; to just know that you’re near is enough to keep him sane. He didn’t realize how little he cared for anything. He just floated, drifted, traveled in a haze that clouded his eyes from the beauty that the world holds. Now everything catches his eye, every piece of art makes him feel something, every bird sings a song he wants to hear. And his newfound love for everything that has existed right before him since the beginning of time is entirely on your shoulders (of course, don’t forget, there is perhaps nothing he loves more in the world than you).

Mark feels like his life didn’t truly begin until he met you. He believes that in 50 different lives, 500 different worlds, in 5,000 different dimensions, the only thing that makes the truest sense is you and him being together 5 million times.

So he’s determined to figure things out for you two. He’s determined to get to work. He’ll save up all his money and not spend a penny on anything that’s not for you. He’ll make sure you get to live in the world how you want to. You’ll have a life together, with a nice house and a few kids, and maybe a few pets too. You’ll have friends that you see whenever you want, places to go whenever you want, and you’ll have time to do whatever you want, and do whatever you want together.

And truly, if you’re as devoted to him as he is to you, he could build an entire country of palaces for the two of you on a foundation formed purely from love. If you love him, he will do it all for you.

Mark would do anything for you.

[chaifootsteps]

[Fixing all the plot holes of mastermind don’t mind me]

Asmodeus and stolas have so much power it’s like Pop forgets, because she wants them to be the soft yaoi counterparts in ships. Babying asmodeus of all people is a joke.

Vassago did what he could, Beelzebub said what she could, Moxxie said what he could. The fans are scrambling for excuses Asmodeus, a deadly sin powerful than all three, with key awareness and key insider context that would destroy Andrealphus plan, said nothing AT ALL. She couldn’t even come up with a creative reason for the grimoire to be exposed. She just said “oh yeah one day Stella remembered”

And it would have been so easy.

Asmodeus: Marquis Andrealphus, this is an unfounded accusation. Stolas has been seen publicly content with this imp, even at my establishment. Just recently he requested an Asmodean crystal as a gesture of love!

The court gasps, Satan now wants stolas to testify for conspiring with an imp

This is when stolas would arrive and play off of Ozzies words, by saying

Stolas: Yes it was me…as asmodeus just showed you, I was in control of IMPs travel means. The mastermind behind it all. In our public appearances you can see how unhappy blitz is. He didn’t want to be there. I made him do it. Why did I do it? I grew bored of palace life, I wanted to torment the humans with him as my agent. I think the humans should know we exist.

Then stolas gets in massive trouble when it’s exposed that agents of heaven, cherubs, entered hell. Because like,,,hello? The court case shouldn’t have anything to do with stupid Stella. It should be about the fact humans have been exposed to demons and cherubs have entered hell. That’s a way more logical reason for blitz to be in hot water. Stolas even hinted to it in truth seekers. By making the court case about human exposure, it also removes the issue that the grimoire isn’t even being lended out anymore. You could even have prosecution show a slideshow of all the documented times humans have seen blitz and IMP.

Viv this shit is so EASY what are you DOING.

My thinking is mastermind was written before the entire yellow sex crystal meth arc. It was maybe being animated at the same time as JLMW. Vivzie did not plan her story and the viewers put more care and thought into plot consistency, character consistency, and world building than Viv ever does. She does not care. And she hates you for caring.

Thank you for emphasizing that end point. It's so painfully true.

[lilac-witch]

Gossamer - Eris Vanserra x Reader

masterlist

Summary: Before his father's death, Eris had lived a false life, full of lies and deceit. But now, he had the chance to see life in its most gentle, loving form. Meaning: "a fine, filmy cobweb seen on grass or bushes or floating in the air in calm weather, especially in autumn" Word Count: 905 Warnings: None

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

She was beautiful, Eris thought, as he watched his wife twirl their daughter around. She had always been beautiful to him, but in the last five years they had been free of his father's wrath, she had simply glowed with life.

The High Lord of Autumn couldn't help but think back on how different their lives had been then, and how thankful he was that things had changed for the better.

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

"She is a white devil! Sent by Kallias to rot your mind and steal our innermost secrets!" his father bellowed, flames dancing in his eyes. "She seeks to snuff out the Autumn flames so that that wretched bastard of Night might gain more power!"

Eris saw red, and the temperature in the already sweltering room only seemed to grow.

"She is my mate! She is mine, sent by the cauldron, gifted by the mother!"

His father shook his head, disgust cloaking his features.

"No son of mine will lay with a whore of Winter. No son of mine will wed a member of another court."

Eris watched as his father turned to face the hearth, his back exposed. It would be all too easy... one perfectly placed dagger, and it could all be over. She could be his, and he could be hers. There could be peace once more.

"Get out of my sight," his father hissed.

And so Eris did what he had always done. He played the ever-loyal son. But little did the High Lord of Autumn know that when the sun set, Eris was seeking aid from their most loathed enemy.

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

It had taken a year, but it was finally done. Beron was dead. Eris was High Lord of Autumn.

He looked down at his father's bloody corpse. There was no feeling of remorse, no feeling of regret.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Eris turned to face the figure. The figure that belonged to the High Lord of the Night Court. His ally.

"Go to her," Rhysand said softly, as though he was afraid that Eris may be spooked.

Eris simply nodded, sword falling from his hand as he began speed walking through the palace. At some point, he'd broken out into a run, speeding past members of his court who would no doubt have questions. But they weren't of importance right now. His only thought was you.

And there you were, in all your shimmering glory. White hair shimmered in the afternoon sun, body clad in the blue fighting leathers common to the Winter Court.

"Y/n," he breathed.

You turned to face him, blue eyes crinkling in delight before you raced towards him.

When your arms tangled with his, Eris felt nothing but love and warmth flurry down the bond. He ran his fingers through your pale strands, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head.

"it's done. We are free."

"Are you ok?" you asked, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

Eris felt tears begin to grow in his eyes and wrapped you even tighter in his arms.

"I have never been better, my love."

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

Eris could in fact feel even better.

It had been 3 months since the mating ceremony where he had sworn you in as his High Lady, his mate, his wife. 3 blissful months of peace and love, more than Eris had felt in his entire lifetime. But nothing could have prepared him for the joy he'd felt in that moment.

"I'm with child," you whispered, a hand placed gently over the small bump of your belly.

Eris' mind went completely, wholly blank. The world around him stood still, and only you existed in his eyes.

"Eris?"

He blinked, letting the announcement of your pregnancy sink in. This was real. You were expecting. He was going to be a father.

"You're pregnant," he managed to choke out before the tears consumed him, sobs wracking his body.

Joy consumed him. A babe. You were carrying a babe. HIs babe.

Eris let you guide his hands to your stomach so that he might feel the little life inside you. At that moment, Eris swore he would give his life for your unborn child. Mind, body and soul, he would do whatever it took to keep his babe safe, happy and healthy.

As tears kept streaming down his face, Eris knelt before you, placing a kiss on the small bump.

"Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you for this gift."

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

"My love?"

Eris was brought back to the present at the sound of your voice, your blue eyes watching him with concern.

He smiled, bringing your palm to his lips.

"Nothing to fret about, darling. I was simply thinking back on how we got to this moment."

Eris watched as a soft smile fell upon your lips. You glowed with life this cool autumn morning, like one of the dew drops on a string of spider's silk.

He placed a hand on your protruding belly, content and at peace.

"He's kicking up a storm," he muttered as he felt the small movements within your womb.

"He?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Well, it's only fair my love. I'm already outnumbered two to one."

Eris watched your head tilt back, a laugh escaping those sinful lips.

Yes, his life had never been better than in this moment, but Eris had no doubt that as the years passed, life would only get sweeter.

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

And that's post number two of the weekend! I hope you have all enjoyed Gossamer and Opalescence. They were so fun to write. A word of warning, content may be slow over the next week and a half. I have two tests and an 800-word essay due :( But as always, I will do my best to get content out, just please be patient with me:)

Just another reminder to please send through any and all requests you might have:)

[hisui-dreamer]

a world without you

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: When Leona hears the Shroud brothers' plan, he thinks back to his herbivore, and how their existence has changed so much for him.

Tags: spoilers up to Ch 6!!!, established relationship, angst but fluff, drama, bot proofread

Word count: 878

Notes: this can be read as my view of leona's character, so please accept my leona brainrot <3 just some thoughts I had when I read ch 6. also leona might be a little ooc but it's his internal thoughts so I like to think he's more emotional :3

"It needs to reset before we can start a new game."

Shocked expressions were exchanged across the room as the implications of the younger Shroud's plan slowly settled on everyone's mind.

Leona couldn't help but think that, if the opportunity had been given to him a year ago, he'd likely have accepted whatever the robot kid was going for.

Leona always felt that he had been cheated in life. Ever since he was young, he was constantly compared to his older brother, who was seen as the epitome of success in their family, the perfect heir to the throne. Everyone would constantly praise his brother's achievements while dismissing his own accomplishments as trivial. It didn't matter that he was working hard to prove himself, that he could wield such powerful magic as a child.

He often wondered why he had to be born, if he was only meant to stay in another person's shadow to make them seem brighter in contrast.

No matter how hard he studied, how mature he acted, or how strong his magic was, it was all pointless. The ghostly whispers of the palace staff continued, and the judging remarks from the council intensified.

He was born as the second prince.

And he was destined to forever be just that—second.

When it finally clicked for him, he stopped trying. Why make an effort in anything, when time and time again, he had given his all only to end up with nothing? They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting different results. Despite what others might say, Leona was incredibly brilliant, with a sharp mind fit to be a wise ruler. He knew, without a doubt, that it was pointless to continue down the road of insanity.

Instead, he continued down the path of sloth, eventually finding everything, the entire world, pointless. He found himself skipping classes and taking naps whenever he could, hiding away from the world where he would never be able to stand under the sun, but at least comforted by the serene embrace of his dreams.

He had wanted to turn the world to sand and start over.

It had been a wild thought, but here the Shrouds were, proposing an entire reset of the world.

Leona's mind raced as he contemplated the consequences of such an ordeal. Indeed, he had always dreamed of a world where everyone had an equal chance to succeed, where people were not judged based on their social status, birth order, or magical ability. A world where he was no longer burdened by the expectations of his family, where he was free to be who he truly was, a world where everyone was given a fair chance to succeed, and where no one was left behind.

And yet, without realising it, the thought of starting over in a new world had left his mind ever since you came into his life. You were everything he had ever wished for but never deserved in a partner—kind, caring, and endlessly supportive, always by his side despite his crude demeanour and harsh words. You showed him that there was meaning to living, opening his eyes to the people around him. He had friends who cared about him, incredible talent that could bring great changes, and most importantly, you, his dearest herbivore who shone like a beacon in the shadowed depths of his heart.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly content with what he had, despite all the flaws and problems that persisted.

He had never cared about resetting the world and losing everything he had to start anew. But it was a different story now.

What would happen to the people he cared about in this new world? What if he never met you? What if everything he had ever known and loved was erased? And what of the memories that he made at NRC with you, with Savanaclaw, and everyone else?

Leona's thoughts drifted to his memories of you, your fierce eyes staring directly into his, determined to befriend him; the quiet evenings you had spent together under the starry sky sharing stories and enjoying each other's company; the way you would instinctively lean into him for comfort; the dazzling smile that graced your face when you spotted him in a crowd.

He made up his mind then.

He didn't want, no, he wouldn't risk losing you. Your presence had given him the joy he had never experienced, the hope for a better day tomorrow, and he wouldn't give that up for anything. He would continue to work towards a fairer world, but he would do so without resetting everything that he had come to cherish.

He had learned to appreciate the people in his life. He had found happiness, despite the unfairness of the world. He knew that he had found something precious in this unfair world—someone who cherished him wholeheartedly for whatever he may be.

No, he doesn't want to reset the world.

"I'll grant you one thing. The world totally sucks as it is. But I don't think your new one would be any more to my taste. So I'm going to stick with this one. It's less of a pain."

[bunniisms]

WALTER. C. DORNEZ HEADCANON DUMP

Blame this headcanon dump on the tremendous support from my friends and my unending obsession with this Old Fart and throwing him down the metaphoric staircases in my brain!

THE C IN HIS NAME ISN'T A MIDDLE NAME. Remind me to talk about it at length later, because it's an entire bullshit that would make this post far, far longer that I've already made it. Instead, the C in Walter's name stands for COURTENAY, the name of the old, old noble family he draws descendants from. Who had historical connections to the art of Vampire Hunting & the Hellsing Family via their connection to the Vatican and support of the late Abraham Van Hellsing.

Walter was the son of a daughter who didn't have the name (or any claim) to pass down beyond her and her late husband's friendship with Arthur Hellsing. As an adult, Walter's reclaimed the title and hyphenated his last name (i.e. Courtenay-Dornez)

TLDR: Walter C. Dornez but the C in his name is a desperate clinging symbol and claim to historic (and almost forgotten) notoriety and a connection to the business he’s attached his whole identity to but never found direct happiness from

WALTER DESCENDS FROM PEERAGE BUT ISN'T DIRECTLY OF ANY IMPORTANCE TO ANY NOBLE FAMILIES

This is sort of canon, but WALTER HAS DEEPLY STAKED HIS SENSE OF IDENTITY AND PERSON-HOOD INTO VAMPIRE-HUNTING and the concept of both his body deteriorating with age, and his gradual sense of being rendered obsolete behind New Operatives and Alucard is the heartbeat in the floorboard driving him to madness. FOR WALTER TO BE BENCHED OR TO BE RETIRED, HE SEES THAT AS THE DEATH OF HIMSELF IN A FAR MORE VISCERAL SENSE

WALTER IS AN OXYMORON OF ARROGANCE AND INSECURITY. Walter struggles with his sense of identity and his place in the world. It's not that he feels useless, but he feels like he has been doomed and damned to forever be third best - unable to move forward - unable to be better, to be wanted by existence (and himself), always envious and wanting for any claim of his own that he can truly sink his teeth into and use as a salve to cover the infected wounds of insecurity that have been with him since he was a child.

HOWEVER, the funny thing with Walter? As much as he feels this way, he is a haughty, arrogant, catty bastard. He views the vast majority of people, human and otherwise, as far, far beneath him, even with his insecurity being what it is. Walter knows he could be MORE, but these other people? It would be a miracle if they even got to his weakest position. Their words have precisely as much weight as the clucking of chickens.

WALTER HIDES THESE TRAITS WITH A JEEVES-LIKE FACADE AND PERSONA OF WARMTH AND HUMILITY. A lot of the time, the Walter seen smiling and bowing, offering his hand and advice, greeting the guests and answering the household's calls with a polite warmth is as superficial as a cardboard mockup - it's an act - the Walter we see walk out and make pot shots to scare Jan and quote his speech back at him. THAT'S THE REAL WALTER. Walter hasn't so much changed that part of him that we saw so much of in Dawn, as much as he's learned to hide it.

ONE OF WALTER'S LOVE LANGUAGES IS TRANSPARENCY. Walter has developed such a false crust of subservience and humility and comically stereotypical butler-like deference. You know you've sunk deeper into his person when he begins lifting the act in more intimate settings. Walter might seem to get sharper and cattier, a little more mean-girl-esc with his judgement and quips, but that's Walter! If you took him for a sweet old man, you bought the charade, hook, and sinker. THIS is the real Walter, THIS is what goes on inside his mind's palace. Either embrace it or take the check and go! Haha

UNLIKE THE HOUSE OF COURTENAY'S CATHOLIC ORIGINS, WALTER IS ANGLICAN and sparsely practicing, making sure to attend major Church Functions alongside the Household (such as Integra) but not making much of a habit of attending the small chapel inside the Hellsing Estate

WALTER HAS FOURTH NERVE PALSY, caused during The Dawn Arc after he sustained a massive skull fracture and very nearly died

YES, HE DOES BLAME ALUCARD FOR THE INCIDENT THAT CAUSED THIS, they were assigned to a mission together, flushing out operatives in Warsaw together, and yet, they became separated. Alucard's bloodlust or showboating slowed him down, and Walter was left alone to fend on his own. While successful for a while, Walter was a child, a lone child, and his enemies had no mercy. By the time Alucard dragged his carcass back to Hellsing, there was little to be done. But, despite rescuing him after, Walter never forgave Alucard for the part he feels Alucard played. His blame is partially misplaced, but it still burns hot, and the paranoia festering in the back of his mind forever wonders whether it was delayed by accident or if he orchestrated it all to stunt his abilities and prevent him from surpassing Alucard? (it's absolutely NOT that Walter, I can promise you)

WALTER HAS A SMALL HABIT OF ALWAYS LEANING/COCKING HIS HEAD SLIGHTLY TO THE RIGHT SIDE TO COMPENSATE FOR THE DAMAGE TO HIS EYE AND VISION

RE: THE MONOCLE, it's not there for the aesthetics of a Victorian nobleman, though that's not to say Walter doesn't carefully cultivate his image. Walter's monocle is a prescription medical device; it helps correct issues with his depth perception and acquired short-sightedness caused by his palsy (especially with reading). Additionally, it's been a wonder how ptosis symptoms in his right eye that've stemmed from the palsy have been eased with the monocle supporting that side of his face.

WALTER ALSO HAS PERIPHERAL HYPER-MOBILITY SPECTRUM DISORDER most notably impacting his hands, wrists and fingers, but more broadly affecting his ankles and feet too. In recent years, Walter's found that the symptoms have been worsening and spread to his knees, too, but he's never spoken openly about this and resents it greatly. The records from Hellsing-pocket Doctors making note of the degeneration of his condition have always been burned, almost as though destroying them could silence the truth in some way.

THE PURPOSE OF THE GLOVES, while Butlers wearing gloves is a tale as old as time, Walter wears them not to uphold old traditions of cleanliness and not smudging things - but rather to hide the slight but noticeable gaps at the center of each of his fingertips where he ejects the monofilament from, which is unfortunately essential when facing the public. He removes them the second he gets behind closed doors and happily does that.

WALTER HAS A COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS DISABILITIES, BUT THEN AGAIN, HE HAS A COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIP WITH EVERYTHING

WALTER RE: THE WIRES AND THEIR IMPACT ON HIS BODY, the designs of the Late Hellsing and Seward, while innovative, were... imperfect. Flawed even. Walter REFUSES to come to terms with it, but the wires, despite their impeccable qualities, have been degrading his body MORE than gradually. They are the single leading reason for his Hyper-Mobility Spectrum Disorder; they have been EATING at the cartilage and connective tissue in his limbs and making his gradual decline far quicker than had ever been previously believed.

WALTER GOT HIS WIRES IN AN OPERATION AT TEN. It was a deeply invasive affair that left Walter bedridden for months. Directed by Seward and Hellsing loyalists and conducted by the last design of the Late Abraham Van Hellsing and his mentee Seward. WALTER CONSENTED AT THE TIME, IN FACT, HE WAS EAGER ABOUT IT AND THE PROMISE. Walter wanted the prestige, the power, to feel purpose and drive and to have something that was his, that defined him, and the miserable life he'd been gifted that was always at the mouth of the river, leaving him looking up at the source and the promise he had been born outside of and dreaming. HOWEVER, IT WAS STILL SKETCHY AF AFFAIR, AND AS THE WORD OF GOD, IT WAS, WITHOUT A DOUBT, AN INCIDENT OF ADULTS EXPLOITING THE LACK OF KNOWLEDGE, INNOCENCE AND EAGERNESS OF A CHILD FOR PERSONAL BENEFIT.

WALTER'S LOVE LANGUAGE IS QUALITY TIME. Walter, while a womanizer, is no adept man in the art of romance - some would call him a tad clumsy, but that's not it, nor would it be right to call him cold or unromantic. Walter is simply... atypical. He doesn't enjoy grand gestures of romance or constant touch - Walter is a man of boundary, and his ideal form of love is the quiet, cat-like sort of co-existing in joy. Can he perform his duties and passions and look over to see someone he is fond of simply existing - caught in their natural environment and at peace WITH him? That's ideal for him.

WALTER IS A SOMMELIER. Read as Wine Snob, not only for his job, but he just really enjoys wine!

WALTER AND BEING A BACHELOR IS A DELIBERATE CHOICE. He's had proposals passed onto him, and thrice, he's declined. He's had his girls and boys, but never committed even to the point of being considered lovers. Walter is simply most at ease on his lonesome, and though it might seem lonesome at the surface, it's ideal for his line of work and his love style.

HE ALSO IS ALLERGIC TO DEEP COMMITMENT BUT SHHHH

WALTER DOES A LOT OF WORK AND TAKES A LOT OF PRIDE IN KEEPING HIS APPEARANCE. Sorry, I KNOW this man wears expensive colognes that he has organized for the seasons, has all his suits and tail coats properly fitted and has a skincare routine. He IS the type, and I love that for him. His toiletry cabinet is more stuffed with product than either Integra or Seras' COMBINED! He will not leave his room until his hair is slicked back and he smells like sandalwood ON GOD.

THOUGH THAT BEING SAID, HE IS LONELY IN THE SENSE THAT HE FEELS DEEPLY ALONE WITHOUT PEERS; he simply doesn't see most other people, most other creatures, as on his level. In that, and his arrogance, he is deeply alone, but it's a cage of his own creation.

HE LOVES INTEGRA LIKE A DAUGHTER, AND I REFUSE TO SEE IT ANY OTHER WAY; he helped raise that girl - a constant, familiar face in the background of her youngest years. He watched her be born in the house, he was one of the first that held her - she was one of few she gave a big smile to as a baby (she was one of few things that ever made him reconsider his decision to never want children), she watched her walk, then run and grow into a girl and then a confident young woman. And when it comes to the betrayal :,)

I could make an ENTIRE post detailing my thoughts about it and how I portray it, but Walter had been turned into a Freak a long, long time ago, and by the time he met Integra (as in, she was born), he was too far gone to be saved, and he knew it. There was a gun to the back of his head - he had the chip, and he could be toast at any moment; he... well, he selfishly did what he needed to do to survive. Sometimes, the awful truth is that both things can co-exist, and a person can be caught between love and survival and still choose survival, even after everything.

I'm 10000% on copium with this. Still, I feel his whole Ebony Darkness Dementia speech to Integra was to VILLAINIZE HIM AND HIS MEMORY IN HER MIND - he spent DECADES selfishly loving her and raising her, and he knows she returned those feelings. They never spoke about it, but he KNEW. She'd ask him his opinions (even when he, as a servant, wasn't entitled to those against the word of his lord), request him to have dinner upstairs with her and attend church functions alongside him, even when she was a grown woman. He was one of the most consistent fatherly figures she had. He became that for her, but he doesn't want her to spend any years agonizing or grieving over another dead father. Telling her he's a mustache-twirling evil that has always plotted her downfall is another selfish lie. Still, he hopes and needs to believe that maybe, maybe, that'll make it easier on her heart to cope with the rug-pull, his defection (and death) and losing yet another dad.

WALTER IS INTEGRA'S MOST ADAMENT APOLOGIST AND DEFENDER; this is another truth of mine I will take to the grave, and Hirano can fight me. It's not Walter's place as a servant to feel that level of protection over his master - even given his place, having watched her grow. Still, something alien takes over his sensibilities when he hears people speak against her brazenly, and he'll stamp it out in his own petty way. He's her dad, your honour!

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Ik this is more on the vague side, but ever since i read ur Irminsul headcannons about the reader in Imposter!SAGAU I got this idea, what if:

The reader could just remove info about themselves in the big tree lol - i mean, Scarab did it before might as well try it, no?

Irminsul itself might let us in without the permission of Nahida so we could go in undetected

Since looking through the memories of Irminsul might be like exploring an endless library, as long as you set your mind to it, you'd be able to find that info, like for example:

Memories about the "Creator"

Now, by now, you already know what I'm getting at, right?

Once reader finally figures out how to erase stuff by trying removing certain minor parts of Irminsul, they try to erase the entire memory of the "Creator" ever existing

Not as in like, they would forget that you were the Creator or that one exists, nor what they look like, but just the horrible memories and basically everything that the "Creator" did/made

But now, one would wonder, what would happen now?

I'd guess that, since the "Creator" is believed to love everyone, why is the one on the throne ruling and acting so... Tyrannical?

In my opinion, I feel like a rebellion would ensue sooner or later

But then, since Scarab lost his own memories when he removed himself from Irminsul, wouldn't that also mean the same thing for the "Creator" themselves?

Anyways, feel free to procrastinate and take your time on my take on reader being able to remove info on Irminsul hehe (bc honestly I'd also do that lmao)

Signing off, 🐱 Anon

WE GOT A 🐱 ANON NOW, BOIS—OPEN THE CURTAINS, OPEN THE LIGHTS! CUE THE CLAPPING AND CHEERING AUDIO TRACKS!—

Alright I'm done making a fuss about that lol—here's the headcanon/jot note version of a oneshot of everything that happens since my motivation was running low on oneshots/short stories.

Disclaimers: N/A

Reader Has Entered Irminsul...

Reader is in their Hunted Arc rn, getting chased by all of Teyvat under the "Creator's" orders. They keep running and running and running...

They're getting tired, and they soon find themselves in a dead end. They think of all the places they haven't been to yet: the desert of Sumeru, Inazuma, Mt. Aocang, Mt. Hulao, Wuwang Hill, irminsul—

Yeah, you guessed it. Just by thinking of irminsul, Reader has made it to the big 'ol Tree of Knowledge :D

Reader is shocked—surprised. But not for long—because they start to panic. They aren't sure if Nahida was on their side or not, like what the sagau fanfics say.

In fact, Reader is mainly scared that she already knows they're here.

That is, before the Reader feels a sudden urge to make it to the Tree of Knowledge. As if irminsul is calling for them specifically. They're weary of what this all means, but at the same time, intrigued.

It was the first time they felt like this. So, naturally, they followed what their gut was telling them, hoping that they won't regret this decision.

Reader gets close to the tree, surprised that they managed to make their way to it without requiring access from Nahida or even getting lost just to navigate the route to get there.

The moment they touch irminsul's trunk, however, the Reader feels a sudden blast of information, as if Teyvat itself is giving them the resources to know what to do.

By the time Nahida feels something from irminsul and she arrives to see what's up, it's too late. The Reader's already made the change.

All tyranny of the "Creator" was erased. None of it happened. Not once, not ever. The Palace of the Creator was never created, the Imposter themself never took on any throne...nothing.

Reader comes back to Mondstadt, hoping that what they did worked.

It did. No one remembers what the Creator looks like. There was no Imposter impersonating them. Reader was free.

They were free! They did it! They could travel the entire world now without risking getting killed! They could finally find a portal home!

Except...they forgot the Traveler existed. But even the Traveler is glad there is no more tyranny.

Andd, that's all I got! Sorry if it's short lol—I ran out of ideas for this :') I hope it's okay for y'all.

See you all around! :D

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: So, as I've been writing this, I'm going to give you guys a little update on something that you all really enjoyed in the past.

So, you know "Forever In My Hold" and "A Path Beyond Hope" oneshots? Yes, this is regarding of the little series that has been created. I have decided that I will be making a Part 3, but it will take a very long while. And it will be the LAST PART of the series. I just can't find the motivation to continue it longer.

Also: Should I do a remake of Live or Die? It's a very old writing of mine, back when I first began this blog. I'm not sure if y'all want to read it, but idk if I want to make a remake. Please let me know :)

[crazy-ache]

Eclipse the Sun {Helion x Lady of Autumn Drabble}

“Shall I beg?”

Helion Spell-Cleaver looked down at Orla from where he stood, memorizing every inch and shade and detail of her. The colors she brought from Autumn didn’t exist here in Day, from the gleaming ruby of her hair, the freckles scattered across her skin, the amber of her eyes—and the red of his mate’s blood that he had killed to protect.

“Are you going to make me go on my knees?” She laughed the sweetest sound, even if its echo only revealed the layers of sadness beneath its song. Helion flashed his usual, iconic grin, even if it wavered in her presence.

And when she still said nothing, he dropped to his knees. The fall was two resounding thuds against the marble floor.

For his mate—the Lady of Autumn—this position was usually reserved for happier times. For his devoted tongue and merciless hands. Where he would kiss her like sunlight catching through the canopy of Autumn’s jewel-toned leaves.

But he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I’m begging you, Orla.” He said more seriously now. Her milky white skin shot up to stroke his dark, strong jaw. Begging. Begging in her own way for him to not say the words—but there was no choice, not for him. He was not a male of half-measures.

“I’m begging you to reject the bond. Because if you’re going to end this, it needs to be permanent.”

He had to pull his head into her lap, a hard swallow forced down his throat as if the words itself wanted to claw back down his throat to be never said. His blood cried in outrage. Helion could not bring himself to look at her, or he’d remember too much of their story—of the Equinox ball where the bond had snapped from across the dance floor at first sight, to the many spelled gifts and enchanted letters he had masterfully sent to her in secret over decades, to the passionate affair they had just shared right before this conversation.

To right before she had told him Beron finally knew.

He was no High Lord and there was no going against the wrath of Autumn Court’s cruelest. Because no one would survive the aftermath—not him, not her children, and certainly not his mate.

“If you don’t reject it, then I won’t be able to stay away. I won’t. And your plan will fail.”

“Helion—”

“Please.”

He finally looked up, his dark brown eyes swirling with agony as he wrapped his arms around her middle, shaking her with desperation. “Please. Don’t leave me here bleeding for eternity with the insanity of hope. Just end it so I may at least one day die with the peace of knowing you are not mine.”

She ran her fingers through his long hair. Tears streamed down her cheeks and the bond felt like it was already fraying at the ends, splintering down to the very core of their souls.

“I can’t do that to you. I can’t hurt you—”

As he rested his head again on her lap, he knew there was nothing she could ever do that would truly hurt him. His own pain was nothing compared to the thought of a world without her, and he would do anything, anything to ensure she was safe. He would burn the world for her. Instead, the world was going to burn him—and Helion would let her break the bond.

There was no spell or tonic or indulgence that would help him forget that day. And he tried. Cauldron, did he try. Neither would he forget the day he became High Lord of Day—and the hand he had broken from when he punched the mirror so forcefully the entire palace trembled. Too late. Too late he had risen to power. Too little, too late, he was still powerless to save her.

Madness. Is that what this was? A neverending gnawing that was forced to keep at bay constantly. Madness, he had been told, would befall him if he were to be rejected. But Helion was far from the madness of the mind—but he was furious. Always furious. A secret so carefully hidden like the magic he controlled. He mastered the careful, magnetic smiles, the way he sought fucking to fill his mind with anything but her, and the joy he could plaster to his face like a mask.

Helion Spell-Cleaver marched through the halls and libraries of his court and wondered what his people would think if they knew their High Lord of Day had a heart filled with nothing but darkness. If they knew he wasn’t who they thought he was—he was just the dark side of the sun after he lost her.

[webslinger-holland]

The Emperor of Magic | Prologue

Summary: More feared than the Shadow Summoner himself and more powerful than the Sun Summoner could even imagine, the Emperor of Magic is the only known human to be able to manipulate magic. Having only been a myth up until this point, Kaz Brekker sets out to take her captive in hopes of making himself rich in the process…

Warning: +18 Warning, mentions of gruesome deaths, person taken into captivity

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Type: Series

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist

It had been three and a half years. Any spare moment was spent keened over a desk looking at outdated documents, old records, and even ancient books. Plans had been laid out, but were often discarded once a flaw presented itself. The rumor had started three and a half years ago; that there had been a sighting of what ancient texts called ‘The Emperor of Magic.’

This was no ordinary human being. They couldn’t be classified as Grisha since they only performed small science. They are only able to manipulate things. The Emperor was able to craft, wield, and destroy anything. They are the only known being to control magic.

There were theories that tried to reason and explain the power and extent of magic. The Emperor needs to see a victim in order to inflict order and control their mind. The Emperor must touch a victim’s skin to possess them. The Emperor need only hear their victim’s voice to be able to control their every thought. Though the wildest theory claimed the Emperor doesn’t need to see, touch, or hear anybody in order to control them. They are already all-knowing. Therefore, they could control.

More feared than the Shadow Summoner himself and more powerful than the Sun Summoner could ever imagine. The Emperor of Magic rose above all others. Their power was not limited to one area like the Grisha. They had the ability to control anything and anyone.

The Emperor was not viewed as a Saint; they were viewed as a demon from the depths of hell. A man had died the most impossible death; his head exploded into millions of pieces. Some witnesses were around when the incident happened and called the authorities. Now someone had been taken into custody.

Due to the extent of the incident, the leaders of the three nations called a meeting to discuss what should happen next. They met in Ravka. In the Little Palace, they attempted to come to an agreement as to what should be done about this new threat to their world.

While Ravka, Fjerda, and Shu Han had their differences in the past, they were willing to work together to come to a solution about this issue. If they refused to work together, their countries might cease to exist in a few years time or they might lose their thrones of power. They needed to find a solution.

“She went willingly. Didn’t put up a fight,” the King of Ravka explained to them. “She very well could have taken down my entire army if she wanted to, but she didn’t.”

“Are we absolutely certain it was her?” The Taban Queen of Shu Han spoke.

“Once she was in custody, she killed two more guards the same way,” The King of Ravka claimed. “It is most certainly her.”

“How was she detained?” The King of Fjerda asked in a thick heavy accent. He had obviously heard about the extent of her powers.

“My soldiers took her by surprise,” the King of Ravka boasted. “They covered her eyes with a bag and put muffs over her ears. Stuffed a gag in her mouth so she could not speak and bound her wrists so she couldn’t perform any magic.”

“Where is she now?” The Taban Queen of Shu Han wondered.

“She is currently being kept in a high security prison. Though I fear the cell is not built to contain someone as gifted as her. She needs to be kept in an impenetrable place,” the King of Ravka said slowly.

The Ravkan King’s eyes had shifted to the King of Fjerda. The Ice Court was a military stronghold that was truly impenetrable. Many of the druskelle were tasked with guarding the high-security prison, keeping track of all prisoners. The King of Ravka knew that the Ice Court would be the only place that would be able to contain someone of such power.

“You don’t think she would be able to escape the cells?” The King of Fjerda questioned. “She can control anything; she could make her way out of a flimsy cell.”

“That’s why I’d like to send a Fabrikator to construct a cell to hold her,” the King proposed. But this only caused the King of Fjerda to laugh.

“I would never allow the likes of Grisha into my court,” the King of Fjerda seethed in threat. His people liked to hunt those who could manipulate small science. They found so much pleasure in killing them.

“Then say she does escape. Don’t you think she’ll want to take us out first?” The King of Ravka explained. This only caused the other king to frown. “She is called ‘the Emperor’ for a reason. She won’t need kings or queens once she is in power. She’ll take our thrones if we do not stop her now.”

“You can stop her by killing her,” the Fjerdan spat. “Strike her down where she stands. The demon does not deserve to live.”

“But she could be of great use to us,” the Queen of Shu Han spoke up. Her people were known for conducting scientific experiments and inflicting inhumane treatment onto the Grisha. “If we could harness that power, we’d be able to control our enemies,” the Queen grew excited from the thought alone.

“Exactly,” the King of Ravka nodded. “She’d become our greatest weapon.”

The three leaders agreed that they liked power and they’d like to remain in power. By eliminating the threat, they’d have very little to gain from it. However, if they were able to obtain that power of magic somehow, they’d be able to weaponize it and use it against their enemies. They’d be unstoppable.

So they crafted a legal document in which they all had to agree to and sign. In the document, Ravka would supply the materials needed to contain the threat. The Fabrikators would have to create a cell that could contain such power. They’d also be tasked with crafting the proper attire that would render her imobile and make it so she could not use her magic. The Fjerdan would provide the space to contain her and the people to guard her. The druskelle were known to be some of the best soldiers in the world. The Shu would provide the knowledge. They’d send scientists to perform the experiments needed to figure out how to harness the power of magic.

Each nation had a part to play. And it was going to work in their favor.

That meeting happened three and a half years ago. There was no evidence that the meeting ever happened besides the legal document which explained each nation’s part to play in the whole scheme. Only one person had lived to see the incident happen that resulted in the death of a man. That is how the rumor started.

The Emperor of Magic had been sighted, but there was little evidence to prove it. The man claimed that the authorities took her into custody, but neither the captive or the guardsmen were ever seen again. The man who claimed to see all of this was starting to go crazy, becoming a theorist whose ideas sounded extreme.

The rumors spread across the lands and fell on ears. Many people chose not to believe the man, insisting that there was no such thing as magic and whatever he had seen was just make believe. Some people were most intrigued by his stories and wondered what truly happened to the person captured.

The Little Palace kept the legal document of evidence in a sealed vault. The document had actually never been seen by anybody other than the three people who had signed it. However, unbeknownst to the three rulers, the legal document that was currently sitting in the vault was not the original copy.

About three years ago, a small group of criminals had broken into the palace on a completely unrelated heist. Their true intent was to capture the Sun Summoner who had just recently been discovered. But one of the members stumbled across a secure vault.

He had a thing for lockpicking. When he was able to open the vault, he was slightly surprised to see a single piece of paper inside. He took it without hesitation, coming to believe it must have had some type of significance if it was locked away. He quickly crafted a replica and forged signatures before slipping the copy into the vault.

Kaz Brekker was able to find the one piece of evidence and quickly became obsessed with it. For the next three years, Kaz studied that single piece of flimsy paper until the edges became worn and the paper grew discolored. He tried finding old reports on abnormal or supernatural behavior. He pulled out old records of prisoners kept in the court. He even read ancient texts which described the emperor’s power.

Why the fascination? Why the obsession over a mere myth? The answer was clear to him.

He didn’t believe in saints or demons. He didn’t care about people who could manipulate small science or people who could control magic. What he saw was an opportunity to make him rich beyond his wildest dreams.

If other people in power knew about this potential weapon, how much would they be willing to pay for it? If he managed to break her out of prison and keep her captive himself, what kind of power would he possess?  Power. Money. Control.

He began crafting the ultimate heist. He recovered old maps of the court they had made during their first heist as a full crew. He studied the old myths to become more knowledgeable in the kind of threat they’d be facing. Wanting to keep his whole crew alive if possible, Kaz was making sure every aspect assured their safety.

They couldn’t be seen by the emperor. They couldn’t be heard by the emperor. And they could not touch the emperor. But Kaz somehow devised a plan to get the emperor out of prison. 

It took him three years. He lost count of the amount of paper he’d gone through. He spent too many hours studying those old documents. He also didn’t relay any details to the rest of his crew. At least, not until he was able to perfect his plan. 

Finally, after three years, Kaz was content with the looks of his heist. He looked over the plans once more. He managed to break into the Ice Court once. How hard could it be doing it again?

THOUGHTS ON THE NEW SERIES?

[nightspires]

Jen's personal masterlist of audiodrama podcasts

Disclaimer: When reading this list, please keep in mind that my likes/dislikes do not inherently mean that X podcast is objectively good and Y podcast is objectively bad. These are just my personal preferences. I will also update this list as I try new shows! Last updated: 27 December 2024.

All time fave shows:

Ie, have listened entirely, and in some cases have listened through multiple times

HAUNTED: The Audio Drama

King Falls AM

The Black Tapes

The Bright Sessions

We're Alive (the original run)

Wolf 359

Other shows I thought were good:

Alba Salix

ars PARADOXICA

Badlands Cola

Borrasca

Brimstone Valley Mall

Dark Air with Terry Carnation

EOS10

Girl in Space

Hardboiled

Hello from the Magic Tavern (actual play)

Moonbase Theta, Out

Olive Hill

Parkdale Haunt

The Adventure Zone (actual play - specifically the original Balance arc, but I also really enjoyed Amnesty)

The Ghost Radio Project (idk what happened to this one, it's been scrubbed from existence)

The Pasithea Powder

The Shadow over Innsmouth

The Strange Case of Starship Iris

The Two Princes

Victoriocity

Wooden Overcoats

Shows I listened to quite a lot of (10+ episodes), but didn't finish as I wasn't super into them:

Note: I could be persuaded to pick these back up!

Archive 81

Dungeons & Daddies (actual play/TTRPG)

Limetown

Malevolent

Red Valley

Sinkhole

The Magnus Archives

Welcome to Night Vale

Shows I tried (<10 episodes) but couldn't get in to:

Note: I could also be persuaded to pick these back up and listen to some more eps!

2298

Arden

Blackwood

Bridgewater

Boomtown

BOOM: A Serial Drama

Camlann

Camp Here & There

Coexistence

Death by Dying

Desperado

Gone

Greater Boston

Hello from the Hallowoods

I Am in Eskew

Lake Clarity

Mable

Mayfair Watchers Society

Midnight Burger

Monstrous Agonies

Oak Podcast

Old Gods of Appalachia

Penumbra podcast

TANIS

Terms

The Amelia Project

The Big Loop (anthology)

The Far Meridian

The Mistholme Museum

The Silt Verses

The White Vault

Tribulation

SAYER

The Secret of St Kilda

WOE.BEGONE

Shows on my list to try:

Darkest Night

Dracula: The Dance Macabre

Finding Satan

Gray Matter

Hi Nay

Jar of Rebuke

Knight Falls, CA

Life With Althar

Light House

Mission Rejected

Neighbourly

New Year's Day

Polybius

Redwood Bureau

Rex Rivetter: Private Eye

Station Arcadia

Stellar Firma

Tapes From Beyond

The Cryptonaturalist

The Darkroom

The Hidden Almanack

The Kingmaker Histories

The Left Right Game

The Shadow Diaries

The Six Disappearances of Ella McCray

The Storage Papers

The Subjective Truth

Video Palace

Weeping Cedars

World Gone Wrong

if you want to recommend me something that isn't on this list or want to advocate for a show i should give more of a chance to, send me a message!

[shizuu-chann]

Playing Veilguard a second time, I'm realizing how often the "Devouring Storm" is mentioned and I'm dying to know what's going to happen. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain mention (during one of the eavesdropping scenes in the Crossroads) that their dreams since escaping imprisonment have been grey and shadowed or something (I can't remember exactly what they say, but they're both perplexed and at least mildly concerned--at least until Elgar'nan waves his verbal hand and dismisses it while saying, "The future is intangible, only the past and present matter" or whatever).

Even Anaris wants to gain corporeal form again to escape the impending "storm" (not sure how that would have worked out for him, but again, whatever). Cyrian tells us Anaris is scared of something but he doesn't know what! Plus, learning more about what the qunari were running from before settling Par Vollen and the tablet mentioning said Devouring Storm. What did they want with the Inquisition last game with the War Table missions? Then there's the secret ending, of course, and I just really hope we actually get a game in the future that tells the story!

What about Those Across the Sea is powerful enough to force the kossith to splice some of their own with dragons to gain fire breath? What are they, that they had the Imperium scared a millennium ago when they still worshipped the Old Gods and were arguing during construction of the Archon's Palace whether or not it should be offensive or defensive? They made an entire floating fortress that shoots magic lasers to defend against Those Across the Sea.

What boggles my mind even more is everyone in Thedas just...forgot about them? I'm not completely sure about that, but I don't recall any mention of Those Across the Sea (in-game) prior to Inquisition. My guess would be that it was intentional on the part of TAtS. If it's true that they've had a hand in all these major events in Thedas, then it wouldn't surprise me they have the power/influence/reach to erase themselves from records and the like (likely with agents) to keep people from being aware of their existence or machinations. Was them causing these events in Thedas a way to keep Thedas distracted while they made plans for...whatever it is they're doing? Invasion, at least. Was it that calculated? Can they even be that calculated?

It could also just be that they want to destabilize the region for to enact their plan. They did a great a job, if that's the case. A Blight; a war between mages and Templars; Solas possibly being aware of this impending "storm" after waking and dreaming, like Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, and acting too rashly (as he is wont to do), giving his orb to Corypheus to expedite the process of regaining his powers, and tearing a massive hole in the sky that tore smaller holes that spit out angry spirits all over Southern Thedas; and now with Solas trying to tear down the Veil, perhaps, again, in reaction to this revelation that Something™ is coming, further destabilizing Thedas incidentally by releasing two power-mad ancient elven-spirit mages hell bent on blighting the world to reclaim their past glory.

Did TAtS anticipate that, too? Or were these two tyrants escaping unforeseen? Did they foresee someone stopping them, which is why they seemingly encourage Rook? Is foresight something they have? They seems to anticipate everything Rook does, at least in regard to the first two "circles" you find that unlock those cryptic codex entries. I just have so many questions and no answers.

I need to know who they are, what they are, and what they even want enough that they've had their suspicious little fingers(?) in, apparently, every major event in Thedas for the past several decades at least. And HOW have they had their fingers in them? Is their goal sinister? If so, do they KNOW it's sinister? I mean, the first circle-orb-thing you find, the voice says something like, "They interrupt. As predicted. As hoped. Learn. Adapt. Triumph." The second, "You return. We are content." and when you ask who they are, they reply, "Not now. Not yet. We will show you. Soon." Iirc, they seem surprised when you find the third, but I haven't found that one again yet so I can't remember off the top of my head. Their plans are a mystery, but seem sinister from what info is given to us, but then why do they want us to triumph? Unless the two Clowns escaping wasn't part of their plan and they want them dealt with, too, so their own goals won't be hampered. I DON'T KNOW UUUGGGHHH. I just love it~

[coraniaid]

for the ask meme: principal snyder

[Reverse unpopular opinion meme.]

Not sure how unpopular a take this is but I really like Principal Snyder.  He is genuinely one of my favorite minor characters on the show.

There are, I guess, a few different reasons for that.

The first is just a question of good timing. Snyder arrives during the second half of the first season, which is – to my mind, anyway – the point where the show really starts to find its feet.  (This is also, I suspect, part of the reason I’m so fond of Jenny Calendar, who shows up at around the same time.)  And he’s a recurring figure throughout the show’s second and third seasons too, which – while they might not be objectively the show’s best years – are certainly the seasons I personally have the most nostalgic feeling for and whose failings I’m most willing to overlook.  Snyder’s part of my favorite two and half seasons of the show, so I’m predisposed to enjoy him as a character.

Second, and along similar lines, Snyder is a type of character that I think that the latter seasons don’t really have: a recurring character who is somewhat important to Buffy’s regular life but entirely ignorant of the supernatural side of that life. Yes, we find out early in Season 2 that Snyder knows more about vampires than he lets on, and that he’s reporting directly to the Mayor; but that connection doesn’t seem to add up to him being in on the Mayor’s big Ascenion plan and he doesn’t show any sign of knowing that Buffy herself is the Slayer.

After the high school seasons, who else is there like this?  Parker Abrams, I guess, very early in Season 4, but … that’s it, right?  There are characters who could have taken up Snyder's mantle – Dawn’s social worker, for example, or Buffy’s second manager at the Doublemeat Palace, both in Season 6 – but for whatever reason nobody does. Almost everyone else Buffy meets after high school either turns out to be deeply connected to the supernatural -- other than Parker everyone she spends any time with in college turns out to be a demon, a witch or a member of the Initiative; the next Principal of Sunnydale High is the son of a previous Slayer, the doctor she starts talking to when her Mom gets sick is the mortal vessel of a hell god -- or just not a regular part of the show at all. I can’t even remember the name of any of Buffy’s college professors other than Maggie Walsh. 

And I think that’s a shame, because the existence of Principal Snyder as a low-level recurring antagonist makes Buffy’s life as a regular teenage girl feel a lot more consequential than it otherwise might.  If Buffy only had problems with one-off teachers we’d never seen or heard of before, or if she frequently complained about getting into trouble with an off-screen principal we never got to see on screen, the world of the show would just feel a little less grounded. And, in particular, Snyder's function as the show's clear unsympathetic authority figure implicitly helps make both Buffy's Mom and her Watcher much more sympathetic than they might otherwise be

More important than either of those points though, I think Snyder is just really fun to watch?  For my money, the writers strike almost the ideal balance between making him an unpleasant self-important bully and making him a ridiculous comic figure (one who, crucially, at no point shows any sign of being in on the joke).  Armin Shimerman is unfailingly great in the role from his very first appearance, and he gets such wonderfully silly lines to say. 

Some of my favorites:

“There are some things I can just smell.  It’s like a sixth sense.”   

“What are you, ghouls?  There are no dead students here … this week.” 

“That’s the kind of wooly-headed liberal thinking that leads to being eaten.” 

"Children everywhere ... Like locusts, crawling around, mindlessly bent on feeding and mating, destroying everything in sight in their relentless, pointless desire to exist."

“Why couldn’t you be dealing drugs like normal people?” 

"This is a time of celebration. So sit still and be quiet."

“There are things I will not tolerate: students loitering on campus after school, horrible murders with hearts being removed. And also smoking.”

Finally, I really like the fact that – unlike, say, Shimerman’s other big 90s genre TV role, Quark on Deep Space 9, and unlike somebody like Jonathan who was also a recurring character in the high school years who didn’t (then) know that Buffy was the Slayer – Snyder really never gets any more depth or attempts to make him sympathetic.  He never gets fully brought into the magical world or gets given some sort of character arc or has any previously well-hidden virtues suddenly revealed.

Yes, okay, there’s the aforementioned ties to the Mayor and the brief glimpse we get of teenage Snyder in Band Candy. But for all practical purposes the Principal Snyder we see in Season 1’s The Puppet Show – delighting in causing Buffy and her friends problems for no reason while boasting about how, unlike his predecessor, he’s too tough and disciplined to ever get eaten – is the same Principal Snyder we see in Season 3’s Graduation Day, getting eaten.