#one piece 691

[yahoo201027]

New Uzumaki (Sub), Demon Slayer (Dub), and One Piece (Dub)...

...on Toonami on @adultswim.

[ashedddaisy]

I find him quite hilarious ngl.

and I find him quite hot.

And Oh he's traumatized.

[jake-is-screaming-in-tune]

[algumaideia]

Luffy got madder

Always a delight to see people trusting on Luffy

[hauntingblue]

Next big fight for usopp: first a little girl now a bunch of angry villagers

[ilovetheriddler]

Escape room affections.

(BTAS) The Riddler/Edward Nygma X F!Reader.

(The escape room is really badly designed, and the puzzles don't actually do anything. This obviously frustrates Edward greatly.)

Word Count: 691.

Contents: Edward being frustrated, kisses, and affection.

You couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the sight of your boyfriend Edward, slowly losing his mind as a result of the escape room that you thought would be a fun date idea to do.

You truly love and adore Edward and how intelligent he is... but at times, that is his biggest flaw. Like now, as he was overthinking this escape room. He was so frantically trying to piece together puzzles that, in his mind and opinion, should work.

A part of you honestly didn't even have the heart to tell him that those puzzles weren't actually important and that the escape room was just really poorly designed and didn't actually use puzzles, that those were just there for decoration.

"Damn it! Why isn't this working? It's clearly the only correct solution to this!"

"Edward, sweetheart, I think that -"

"Not now, my love! I'm trying to figure out why this isn't working, These puzzles are borderline, something a toddler could solve. So the fact that they aren't working, despite me having clearly solved them, is a huge insult to me!"

He continued trying to solve the, quite literally, useless puzzles. The frustration and growing anger apparent on his face. You feel a bit guilty. When you saw that a new escape room had been opened, you thought it would be fun for Edward, that it would be a cute date idea. But perhaps you should have looked more into it beforehand. You walk over to him and place your hand on his shoulder.

"Edward.... the puzzles aren't important...."

A genuine look of surprise and confusion immediately crosses his face. He's silent for a few moments, clearly processing exactly what you just said to him. Before it fully registers with him and that look of frustration returns.

"Well, that's just idiotic! What kind of archaic fools create an escape room that doesn't rely on puzzles?!"

"I don't know.... listen, um, I'm sorry about this... I wasn't aware of it beforehand... so I'm sorry if I've unintentionally ruined our date...."

He looked slightly taken aback by your sudden saddened tone.

"My love, I assure you that while I am frustrated over the foolish design of this escape room, I'm not upset at you. In fact, the fact that I got to spend time with you is the only saving grace from this evening!"

"Really...? I'm glad then... oh! Um... here, I found it in one of the plants a few minutes ago..."

You hand him a simple key, more specifically, the key to get out of here. You feel your face heat up slightly once he leans in and places a simple yet sweet kiss on your cheek.

"Thank you, my love. I appreciate you trying to set up a date that I'd enjoy. It's not your fault that it went.... somewhat awry."

He unlocks the door, and the two of you leave the wildly underwhelming escape room. Edward has a certain look in his eyes that catches your attention, like he's planning something in his head.

"You know, I could make an escape room leagues more impressive than... that disgrace back there! Oh... perhaps i could even use it as a new challenge for Batman! Yes, that'd be perfect!"

"Well, if anyone can design an insane escape room, then it'd probably be you..."

He gets a somewhat smug yet genuine grin on his face at your compliment. He drapes his arm over your shoulders as you walk, leaning into you some. He then presses a gentle and quick kiss to your lips suddenly. Ruffling your hair slightly once he pulls away.

"Oh course, it'll be great, my dear. I'll finally be able to put an end to that caped crusader after all this time! I'm sure it'll work this time... oh, and I'd love for you to test it out for me.... before I add anything lethal, I mean."

"I'd be overjoyed to test out your escape room trap whenever you finish it....."

Edward walks you back to your apartment, bidding you goodnight before he starts making his way back to his place. He has plans that he must attend to...

[moon-buggg]

All's Well

another Mad Science drabble, this time featuring Sun! Companion piece to this

word count: 691

content warnings: very brief mention of blood

When they had first arrived at the (seemingly) abandoned manor, its size had intimidated Sun. It was the perfect opposite to everything he was used to, rooms within rooms guarded by twisting halls, all dark and imposing like the walls wanted nothing more than to consume him. Keep him lost and trapped forever. 

It took some time, but he was finally starting to get used to the layout, and was able to find his destination more often than not. His thorough exploration was paying off.

In fact, there was only one room in the whole manor Sun had not entered. The laboratory.

Even now, after combing through the rest of the house looking for you, he did not cross that barrier. The heavy wooden doors loom, keeping him away from you. Sun stands perfectly still, arm reaching but never touching.

He… he could do this! He would do this! You had been working for far too long and were long overdue for a break, and you needed your favourite assistant to remind you! He knew you were in there, could practically see you hunched over… whatever it was you were working on today. He just… had to open the door. 

Sun wasn’t scared- not of you, never of you- just… it could be hard to stomach the messier parts of your work. Thoughts of your first meeting, an unknown figure drenched in who knows what looming in the dark and staring, flash through his head, sending an involuntary shudder through his body. So messy, messy messy messy.

Slowly, hesitantly, he pulls his hand away from the doorknob and knocks. 

….

……………

Sun's head tilts with a soft ‘click.’ He knows you are in there. You rarely venture out without company these days (you rarely venture out at all), and he knows for a fact Moon is lurking around the basement somewhere. 

The rational part of him suggests that you must have fallen asleep at your desk again, or perhaps are simply so engrossed in your task you didn't hear him. Both extremely likely options. The darker, louder part of him howls how something bad must have happened. An experiment gone wrong, an injury- your blood pooling on white tile floors.

He knocks again, louder. 

“Doctor? Friend, are you in there?” He calls, cheerful as ever. He does not break out that title often, but he deems it necessary in this instant.

Silence.

He is suddenly, uncomfortably, aware of every gear, wire, spring, mechanism inside of him as his arm shoots for the handle. The hinges groan as he reefs open the door revealing-

You. Slumped over your desk and free of blood.

The seconds stretch as Sun’s racing mind catches up to the sight. Oh. You had fallen asleep. Good good, that’s good. Silly Sun, everything always works out! Yes, of course after so long working you… would be tired! No matter how often you professed your greatness, you were only human after all.

Sun toes the line between tile and hardwood. He wants more than anything to sweep you off to bed, ensure you get some proper rest. No matter how determined you are to avoid your bed, your desk is no replacement. If you are so dead set on neglecting yourself, Sun will simply make sure you’re taken care of himself.

He mimes a steadying breath, and crosses the threshold.

Walking quietly to your desk, he takes no notice of the state of the lab. He does not stare at jars with dubious contents, pays no attention to odd stains, staunchly ignores the lumpy thing hidden under a sheet. Sun keeps his eyes firmly on you. 

You do not stir as he gently, gently, so gently, picks you up. You remain limp and lifeless in his grasp. It is only the faint beating of your heart felt through metal fingertips that keeps him from trying to wake you.

You are simply asleep. Will continue to be asleep, if he has anything to say about it. Moon is in the basement, Sun is escorting you to your room and everything is well.

Sun closes the laboratory doors firmly behind him.

[takenbypeter]

Fragments of Promises

Matt Murdock x reader

Words: 691

Number 17: “I’ll still be here when you wake up, i promise."

There you two were.

All cuddled together in the warmth of his sheets after he came home all black and blue as usual. You hated when he came home like that, which was often. He claimed it wasn’t so bad this time but he says that every time.

Despite your concerns, he wasn’t injured enough to turn away your touch, which is why you now found yourself wrapped in his arms, with your head on his chest, trying not to put too much pressure on him.

It was late…or early? You honestly didn’t even know but Matt knew you were busy in the morning.

“Close your eyes,” he said, his tired, deep voice vibrating through his chest, “I’ll still be here when you wake up, I promise."

You knew he meant well with that statement but you also knew he wasn’t the best at keeping promises and you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your mouth, “will you?”

He went silent.

“You always come back bruised and battered, I’m worried one day you won’t come back at all.”

Matt doesn’t say anything and you honestly don’t want to think about it anymore.

Laying there, with your breaths intermingling together as you rise and fall on his chest with every breath, you can’t stop wrestling with the idea of him not coming back one day. The thought tears you to pieces but you know there’s nothing that you can say or do that’ll ever change his mind about what he does.

As you continue to ponder about things you feel your eyes begin to tear up and the last thing you want to do is get all emotional on the man.

With a quick, “I gotta use the bathroom,” you excused yourself and made your way. Once the door was shut you gripped onto the sink counter and stared down at the silver circle in the center of it.

Shaking your head you tried to push off the tears that suddenly seemed to be fighting their way through one by one.

You shook your head once more, eyes leaving the sink and landing on your reflection as you tried to smile trying to convince yourself that it was all alright.

You put your hands up to your mouth trying to contain your sobs all the while your brain kept replaying the same thoughts.

First thinking about how hurt he comes back every time. Then thinking about how it must be painful, not just physically but emotionally, with him always feeling like he has to be the one to take it upon himself to change things. The thought then transitioned to how you could essentially do nothing to help him.

As the last thought permeated into your brain you again shook your head hard and slapped both of your cheeks before whispering, “stop. This isn’t about you, don’t make it about you. This is about him and his feelings,” and with that you gave your head one last final nod and aggressively wiped your cheeks. Gathering yourself, you gave one last look in the mirror.

Your nose was red, your eyes were red. But you straighten your spine and head out that door. Once back to his room you saw him lying with his eyes closed, with even breaths and he looked so peaceful.

You quite honestly thought he had fallen asleep which is deserved but that thought was proven wrong after he opened his arms.

Easily slipping in between his grip you lay there both quiet for a moment.

“I know you heard me.”

He nods at your statement, “I did.”

Again silence. Nothing but the sounds of the outside and your breathes were heard for a few moments.

“This relationship is just as much about you as it is me.”

“Is it?” You ask, voice refusing to waver, “because sometimes it doesn’t feel like it is.”

Silence ensues again as Matt holds you tighter, you knew he meant the best for you, the best for everyone always. But sometimes it was just too much. He knew you felt this way, he knew it but all he could say was,

“I’m sorry.”

-

Dialogue Prompts

[eidingate]

FFXIVWrite2024 #1 - Steer

[Pre-ARR / words: 691]

The magitek armor hunched contemplatively in the darkness like a drowsy bear. This particular bear was of the rearguard model: nearly double the size of the standard type, with two arm-like projectile weapons so massive that they had to rest on the ground when not in use. It was an unwieldy design, made to lumber slowly along the back line and fire from a distance. It was little more than a cannon on legs.

Correction: a cannon on one and a half legs. A faulty joint had taken off a three-pronged "foot," leaving the thing leaning lopsidedly to one side. Such a defect would be complicated to repair on so huge a machine, and the mountainous terrain of the Werlyt countryside likely posed too much of a challenge to move it far. Thus the Garleans, in their haste to follow the shifting front, had parked her in the narrow mouth of a cave, trusting in the natural shelter to keep it from prying eyes when no patrol was nearby. 

Few would be foolish enough to try to pilfer Garlean property in occupied territory, anyway. Military presence was high, every road crossing the countryside heavily fortified by checkpoints. 

Two fools they were indeed, one shadow and then another peeling away from the edges of the cave to slip beneath the hulking machine. Eidin hung back for a few breaths, covering her brother's back as he slipped ahead, trusting her to spot any sign of danger well before he could. A gunblade glinted on his back: a prize he'd picked off the corpse of a Garlean officer some years ago. They were well practiced at this routine, and the barely perceptible tilt of his head was all the signal she needed to follow. 

It had taken nearly a week of scouting and carefully distributed bribes to learn the patrol rotations, giving them a safe window in which to work. Nald'thal willing, their trail would be long cold before anyone noticed the warmachina had been surgically gutted, its innards harvested and already sold off to rebels and pirates. 

Thuvwilt hesitated beside the crooked magitek armor and gave it a careful shove, testing its stability. 

"Wilt! Hurry it up!" Eidin hissed at him. 

"Don't want it rolling over on you," he grumbled. Always the cautious one. 

Eidin rapped her knuckles against one of the barrel-shaped cannons that rested on the ground. "Look at that thing. A charging aurochs couldn't tip it over." Thuvwilt remained silent, which was not unusual. It normally fell to Eidin to do the talking for both of them. "If it starts to tip, I'll steer it against the wall. Or I'll jump. Probably both."

She did have to admit, now that they were actually beneath it, that this was a beast of a machine. They'd dealt with the more common vanguard models before, but she had not quite appreciated until now just how much the rearguard loomed over a person. 

Still. She'd yet to find a piece of Garlean machinery that could not be taken apart with a common set of tools. 

Thuvwilt ignored her until he was satisfied that the armor would not tilt with her weight. Only then did he hoist her up, Eidin nimbly stepping up onto his hands before launching herself up the side of the warmachina. It was easy enough for her to find the handholds she needed to reach the latch that was hidden near the cockpit door, and soon she had swung herself into the pilot's seat. Down below, she could already hear Thuvwilt opening up the machine's undercarriage. 

Many assumed that the magitek core was the only valuable part of Garlean machinery. But the black market had a way of making use of even the mundane bits and pieces that nestled within Imperial tech. Eidin lovingly ran her hand along the console, feeling the glossy buttons beneath her fingers. Oh, it was a beautiful console, so much bigger and more complex than the standard vanguard model allowed. The wiring alone was worth precious gil. 

This job was going to keep their family fed for months. All they had to do was finish it.

[univrsalgin]

the artist and the singer

pairing: seth clearwater x gn!reader

summary: in which an artist and a singer fall in love, where notebooks are revealed and kisses are shared. 

word count: 691 words

author’s note: my first fic! super super nervous and idk if i like this one anymore but im still sharing it! I HATE DOING SUMMARIES anyways i tried to make it as neutral as possible, so everyone can read it! so so sorry if there are any mistakes. ib and dt to @the-wolf-moon-diaries ! their work is so amazing so go and read it! again this is my first ever time posting my work on here so please be gentle with me <33

it wasn’t a secret that seth was an artist. it wasn’t a surprise, seeing that he was always doodling in class and had numerous paintings and scratch piece of papers that filled every blank space on the walls of his home. sometimes, he would give you a glimpse into his world and show you his current pieces and doodles, and sometimes, he didn’t. not when it came to the red leather sketchbook that he carried with him practically everywhere. he never let you sneak a glance, moving the notebook with a teasing smile before you can lean over. you always wonder what was in that red leather sketchbook of his.

and then you saw it.

inside that red leather sketchbook, the pages were filled with sketches and drawings of you. sketches of your hands, your eyes, your lips fill the empty spaces of his notebook as he daydreams during class. on all of his school handouts and homework, there is at least one drawing of a facial feature that none of the teachers could decipher until they saw him with you. it all made sense when he was next to you, and his eyes were filled with such a soft look that the teachers can only describe as one thing: love.

throughout his sketchbook, there are sketches of you smiling, laughing, napping during class… once you open this journal, you are astonished. he captures you beautifully in a light that you couldn't possibly see yourself in. of course, seth is flushed with embarrassment when you find it, snatching it out of your hands and slamming it shut. but, his embarrassment slowly fading away as you wrap your arms around his neck, smiling uncontrollably, and kiss him with the lips that he’s drawn and dreamt about a million times. “they’re beautiful. can i see more?”

while much a surprise to him, after you found his sketchbook, you reach over to your backpack and pull out a blue hardcover journal filled with songs. songs that were about you. about your life. but, a majority of the songs were about him. about you guys. of course, seth always knew you were a singer-songwriter, but he never could've fathomed that some of the songs you were writing were about him. that any of your songs were about him. and as he read through the songs, whether they were short stanzas or lengthy pieces, he read every single lyric and engraved them into his heart. he felt his heart pour out of his body and into the hands of the angel of a person sitting next to him nervously.

from that moment on, he knew that his heart wasn’t his. he was fully aware that his heart didn’t belong to him anymore. instead, it fell right out of his chest into the hands of the person, if not an angel, sitting right next to him with a nervous furrow of their eyebrows as they watched him carefully. his heart belonged to y/n y/l/n, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

after much silence and anticipation, your mind was swarming with uneasy and nerve-wracking thoughts. was it too much? does he think it’s weird? am i going to lose the only boy that will ever love me? you were brought back to reality once you saw seth turn and face you. when you looked up, you were instantly struck and overwhelmed by the loving and soft gaze he had in his eyes and that oh-so-handsome grin that adorned his face. you were taken aback when he all but pounced onto you, pressing firm but soft kisses all over your face. you were more surprised by the question that followed. “will you play one for me?”

it was the first time that you ever played a song for him, but after that, it was not the last. you go to him every time you write a new song, whether or not it’s about him, and every time you do, he always looks at you with those starstruck eyes that make you float. he will forever and always be your number-one fan, just like how you are his.

[tweedlestrove]

Part 6 of A Treatise of Embroidery, crochet, and knitting with illustrations

By George C. Perkins, Anna Grayson Ford, and M. Heminway & Sons Silk co circa 1899.

Please note, this book was written in 1899, and as such uses a racist term to refer to the dyes that were used for the thread. If you'd like to read more about this period in time, the term, and the stereotypes that the Victorians had, I've actually linked the wikipedia article here that goes more in depth. It's not the end all be all of it, but it's a good starting place for anyone wanting to educate themselves on the topic.

Since the alt text was too long to fit in the actual pop up, I'm writing it down here!

Page 29. Lessons In Embroidery.

This page has the pattern for the strawberry and blossoms embroidery on it. It resembles a paint by numbers/letters image with a table showing the corresponding colours. I will try my best to explain the image, but first the colour charts.

Berries-Ripe.

Red: 655 shade number 1, 655 shade number 2, 656 shade number 3, 657 shade number 4, 658 shade number 5, 659 shade number 6, 660 shade number 7, 661 shade number 8.

Blossoms: 691 shade number 9.

Centre: 647 shade number 10, 409 1/2 shade number 11, 410 shade number 12.

Unripe Berries: 682 shade number 13, 683 shade number 14, 684 shade number 15.

Leaves and Stems.

Green: 0428 shade letter A, 428 shade letter B, 429 Shade letter C, 429 1/2 shade letter D, 430 shade letter E, 431 Shade letter F, 372 shade letter K, 373 shade letter M.

Brown: 300 shade letter O, 301 Shade letter R.

Strawberry Design. Materials. — M. Heminway & Sons' Oriental Dyes, Japan and Spanish Floss.

Berries. — Ripe and unripe; Red — "Sharpless variety" — 0655, 655, 656, 657, 658, 659, 660, 661. Unripe — 0655, 655, 656, 682, 683, 684. Blossoms.— 691, 682, 683, 0655. Centres. — 647, 409 1/2, 410. Leaves. — 0428, 428, 429, 429 1/2, 430, 431 ; or 370, 371, 372, 373, 374, 300, 301. Scallop. — 581 or 691. —Spanish Floss.

Design No. 153 — Strawberry. 18 inch. See Colored Plate C1.

Description.— Fill in berry crosswise, shortstitch on the wrong side, not much filling. For filling to raise the berry use M. Heminway & Sons' white Persian Floss. Start at the point of berry with two strands of red, 655, shading with one strand as dark red as 661. For an unripe berry start with light green, 682 and 683, shading into the green the light pink, 655, making the berry as ripe in color as 660. The seeds on the red berries put on with small stitches, gold, 409 1/2. On those that are not ripe use green, 428.

Blossoms. — White, 691, shadow of green, 682 on lower petals, touching a few of the new blossoms with light pink, 0655; pollen of 647, 409 1/2, 410.

Leaves. — On the outer edge of the leaf use two strands, shading toward centre with one, use a little brown, 300 and 301, for faded part of leaf.

Scallop. — Button-hole stitch in pink, 581, Spanish Floss, or 691, with an outline above scallop of one strand filo, 310.

Now I will describe the first illustration which shows the embroidery by letters/numbers diagram. I will be describing the image from the bottom to top as the spray of strawberries and blossoms flow in a diagonal from the bottom left to the upper right.

We start with two parallel, diagonal stems that branch off in multiple directions to hold the entirety of the design. The two stems are done in shade letters D and E. The rightmost stem slips under two leaves, forking into a third tendril, before the left fork curves gracefully to the right and ending in a strawberry. The right fork goes downwards and forms the triple fork from where the three large strawberry leaves all come from in this piece. An upper one, a bottom one, and one off to the right that is slightly twisted so the underside of the leaf tip is visible.

Shade letters for the bottommost leaf, from base to tip, left to right. Starting at the top where the base joins the stem: 1st row: E, O, R. 2nd row: E. 3rd row: F, C. 4th row: D, E, E, D. 5th row: B, D, C. leaf tip: C.

For the twisted leaf at the right of the previous: 1st Row: C, D, C. 2nd Row: D, E, C. 3rd Row: C, D. 4th Row: E, D, B. 5th Row: F. Leaf tip: A.

For the Upper Leaf: 1st Row: D, E. 2nd Row: C. 3rd Row: B, D, E, D. 4th Row: D, C, D, C, D. 5th Row: A, B. 6th row: A, R. Leaf tip: A.

Back at the beginning, where the stems are parallel, the leftmost stem forks before the two separate bits slip under the upper large leaf that we described earlier. The right fork curves up and to the left into a strawberry while the left fork curves up behind it. It would seem a second strawberry also emerges from a stem coming from behind the same leaf, although it does not show a fork. This berry sits just under the other.

Higher Strawberry: 1st Row: 4, 6. 2nd Row: 3, 2, 5, 3, 3. 3rd Row: 2, 15, 4, 8, 3. 4th Row: 14, 2. Strawberry Tip: 13.

Lower Strawberry: 1st Row: 8. 2nd Row: 5, 6, 7, 5. 3rd Row: 4, 4, 5, 4. 4th Row: 2, 2, 2, 2. 5th row: 1, 1, 1.

Only two of the little strawberry leaf tops have any kind of letter indication, all of them combinations of C, D, and B, so your guess is as good as mine.

Emerging from the top strawberry is another series of three stems, two of which appear to have forked somewhere behind the berry unseen. The left stem goes up and then promptly forks before slipping under a fully bloomed strawberry blossom, and then emerging from the top with a single leaf gracing the end. Somewhere behind the flower another tendril has forked off this one and goes up to end in a tiny blossom not yet bloomed. Next to that is the stem that will be described in a few paragraphs, and then another stem leading to a small blossom, that is also not fully bloomed.

Big Blossom: This has 5 petals in total, and all the petals are tipped in shade number 9, and all excepting the leftmost petal gradiate to shade number 13. The leftmost petal gradiates to shade number 14, and then the center is shade number 10.

Small Blossom: 9 at the tip, 13 at the base, there are 3 petals showing.

Tiny Blossom: same, 9 tip, 13 base, also 3 petals showing.

Back to under the blossom, the right stem from the original fork leads up to an elegant waving stem that branches off into several tendrils mostly decorated with a pair of leaves each.

The left tendril from that fork extends up a ways, waving a bit and is done in shade letter B, and then forks one last time culminating in a pair of tiny leaves on the right fork and a waving tendril on the left that finishes in shade letter A.

Leaf 1: Base E, Tip D. Leaf 2: Base C, Tip B.

The right tendril from the fork that leads into the last also immediately forks again ending in a pair of tiny leaves coming from each tendril.

From lowest leaf to highest, base to tip:

Leaf 1 right tendril: E. Leaf 2 right tendril: D, C. Leaf 3 Left Tendril: D, E. Leaf 4 Left tendril: C, B.

all the tiny leaves leaves save one are done in two colours, one for the base and one for the tip. So wherever you decide to put a tiny leaf, you can keep the colour schemes in mind.

There is an image at the bottom captioned Design No 153- Strawberry. 18 inch. See Coloured Plate C1.

This has what appears to be a doily with an embroidered scalloped edge and the large strawberry image placed at the top and bottom of the doily, flowing with the circular edge. There is a small smattering of petals coming off of an extra pair of fallen blossoms that were added to one edge, and a small detached strawberry on the other.

All in all, thank you for your patience while I try to get these out. If anyone has any suggestions to make these easier to understand, my inbox is always open. I will be posting another pair of images sometime this week!

[yahoo201027]

This episode of One Piece is done for the night. And so ends another Toonami night. See y’all next week, good night! Stay safe, get vaccinated, and register to vote this November!

[ashedddaisy]

that's me in my painter delusions

OH THIS FUCKER IS CUTE!!!!

[nine-blessed-hero]

The Reconsecration of Anvil

Warnings: Fantasy religion & rites Words: 691 Notes: After the Knights of the Nine quest is over, no new priestess is added to the Anvil chapel, so I created Fihrah to fill that spot. The timing of this, re the MQ, is after Martin's dropped off at Cloud Ruler, but before any other continuation.

–

She sings as she lights the candles, clear voice lofting with hymns learnt far from Anvil's fresh, salted air. Around her, the great chapel glows with holy light, dappled patterns flickering through newly woven lace banners. It was the new Primate of Dibella, Selene Duronia, who requested her assistance; it was only right, the Primate said, that Lorinda Rue, the Divine Lord Crusader, help re-consecrate that which she saved.

The candles lit, the crystalline notes of her song evaporate into the air, and Lorinda (not Rin nor Kel – not here) takes her palace at the Primate's side. Communal voices swell to the rafters as another hymn is sung; for of all the Divines, Dibella prizes music most.

Then come the offerings from prominent members of the congregation. Lorinda receives them, presenting them to the Primate who anoints them with scented oil from an Abalone shell, to be placed by the Lord Crusader at the appropriate point on the octagonal altar. From the Countess Millona, a piece of needlework for the place of Zenithar. From Azzan of the Fighters Guild, a fine silver blade for the place of Stendarr. From the victualler Wilbur, a goblet of good wine is set at Mara's place. From Newheim the harbourmaster comes a piece of rigging-rope in a decorative knot for the place of Kynareth. From Carahil of the Mages Guild, a scroll of Greater Fortify Intelligence for the place of Julianos. From the artist Astia, a sculpture made of fishbones for the place of Arkay. For the One is given an enchanted gauntlet from the blacksmith Varel. From the nameless Prophet, a tiny golden dragon to be set at Akatosh's place – and a pang in her breast for the man she abandoned at the Blades' temple.

With each flick of oil from the iridescent shell, goosebumps shiver Lorinda's flesh, hidden under the layers of the Crusader's armour. With each settling of an offering on the altar, the fine hairs on her arms crawl, as if a storm is coming.

The final item, a sacred lotus flower made from blushing glass, is brought by Fihrah, the chapel's new priestess. She waits, head bowed, while the Primate sings a prayer, inviting Dibella to return to the place prepared for her, marking the effort which has gone into making the chapel a true place of worship once again. As the last note fades from the air, Lordina steps forward to address Fihrah and perform the call-and-response – a repetitious set of questions in the form of a melodic chant, eliciting from the priestess her vows to keep the chapel in good stead.

With each question answered satisfactorily, Lordina accepts the glass flower. As she turns, the Crusader's armour feels weighted; as if the stains upon it are fresh once more and she brought low from the fight's vivacity. Each step towards the altar is like swimming against a tide, her hair frizzing from the constricting braids. Lorinda presses on – the distance is so short but every sensation is slowed to a crawl. She lifts the beautiful glass flower, scared of it tipping from arms that tremble under a phantasmal weight. The offerings glitter and spark in the hypnotic swaying of the candles as Lorinda finally stands beside the altar. The air presses close, like high summer's noon in the Nibenay, the scent of the flowers an almost physical thing.

With shaking hands, Dibella's symbol is lowered into the catinus at the center of the altar. The flower tochs in place. The air snaps like a loosed bowstring. There is no roll of thunder. The candles do not flare. The wind gives naught but a breathy sigh as Kellandra Rhiannon Lorinda Rue, Divine Crusader, sinks to her knees in relief and apparent reverence.

When she'd first arrived, the chapel had felt distant and cold. Empty, like a ruined fort; a shell of stone and nothing more. Now, though. Now the light glows that much golder. There is a sense of warmth and love, like being hugged by an affectionate khajiit. A member of the congregation gasps. Lorinda manages to raise her head – and grins. The glass lotus shimmers with light. Dibella has come home.

[mooodyblue]

Hi I have a little E request where Elvis is little and he reads a magazine where it says he has a new girl or something and he gets mad and rips up the picture of him and the other girl when asked why he says because it’s not mommy

hope i didn't drag this one on too much, thank you for the request! enjoy! 🫶🏼

no! | little!60s!elvis x cg!reader

warnings: agere, little space, angst

wc: 691

masterlist

everything was going fine today. you were sat with elvis on the couch catching up on some reading while he did the same, reading a magazine he was on the cover of. "people really write some rubbish in these things..." he scoffed.

you glanced over at him then back at your book. "i don't know why you read those things. you say the same thing everytime you read them."

"well, i gotta know what they're sayin' about me. i'm curious."

you rolled your eyes and went back to your book. anytime you caught elvis reading the paper or a magazine with an article on him, it always ended with him angry at some rumor someone started about him. there was no way for you to hide the magazines either, he'd find his own way to get ahold of them whether you kept them from him or not.

elvis turned the page, eyes widening at the large photo of him and another woman with the headline 'ELVIS AND HIS NEW WOMAN!'. he felt his cheek get hot, his jaw clenching as he read the full article. "no...." he muttered. flipping the page again, there was another photo of him and the same woman, a costar from a movie he had recently worked with. "no! no! no!" he yelled.

you closed your book immediately and looked over at him, "what is it?" you braced yourself for another rant from elvis as always, but you could tell something was different this time.

he refused to hand you the magazine, eyes glued to the photo of him and his co-star. people loved to write about elvis and the many women he's been with in public, claiming that were dating or engaged. to the press, he was pretty much dating every single woman he ever came in contact with and it angered elvis to see them write about him in that way. it was far from the truth, he loved you and only you. you cared for him like nobody else could. whether it was being with him on set, letting him cry on your shoulder when things got overwhelming or taking care of him when he was in his headspace, you were always there for him.

"elvis, let me see the magazine." you asked nicely.

"no!" he gripped the magazine tightly, fists red as he refused to let go.

"elvis." you said again, but sternly. "hand me the magazine."

he shook his head, eyes getting cloudy as they welled up with tears. right as you finally got a good look at the photo, he tore the pages out and ripped them angrily, throwing the magazine against the wall. "it's not true! it's all trash!"

he'd gotten angry about a lot of things people say about him, but you'd never seen him so worked up about something as small as this. "elvis, honey. it's just another rumor! i know it's not true, you know that!"

"no!" he shouted. "t-thats not-!

"then what's got you so worked up? c'mon baby, talk to me." you said softly, holding his hands in your lap.

he looked at you, suddenly feeling smaller with a different look in his eyes. a look of vulnerability and sadness. "because it's not you." he sniffled. "that's n-not you-that's not my mommy."

you sighed and pulled him closer allowing him to snuggle up to you. "oh baby boy, it's okay." you rubbed his arm up and down softly. "you know how much mommy loves you. she loves you so much. she knows how much you care for her and how you don't want her to fall for those silly rumors. isn't that right, buntyn?"

elvis nodded, feeling himself fall deeper into his headspace. "buntyn thinks mommy's gonna leave. don't wanna be alone."

"sweetheart," you cupped his face. "mommy is never leaving you, ever. not today, not tomorrow and not in a million years. she doesn't care what silly piece of paper says, she's not leaving your side."

"still love me?"

you tapped his nose with the tip of your finger, smiling softly at him. "to the moon and back, baby. always."

[superblycaffeinated]

For more Nebraska, Ace, Bombshell and Wise Guy stories (and other Gallagher Girl fics), see my GG Masterlist

summary: The one where Abby finds out Edward's never had Mac and Cheese // Edward Townsend/Abigail Cameron (slight descriptions of some kissing)

691 words

A/N: This was originally requested/posted on my old account // it has been edited slightly since my original writing - I appreciate any new notes left for it! 💙

The words were simple.

A mere blip in the overall conversation. An off-handed comment as they walked the aisles of the market. He doesn’t even recall formulating the sentence in which they were uttered. The admission held no significance to him, but from the look on her face you'd think he  just told her he killed a puppy. 

She clutches the box tightly, so tightly, her knuckles are turning white and the flimsy cardboard is creasing as she whispers, “Say it again.”

He resists rolling his eyes, continuing down the aisle, searching for the next item on their list. 

“Say what, Abigail?”

She doesn’t move to follow him and Edward turns back to look at her, sighing, “You’re going to make this a whole thing, aren’t you?”

Abigail Cameron, in her jeans that fit her just right and a plain white t-shirt cocks her hip defiantly. Her left hand rests on it and he can’t help but look at the ring on her finger with a little pride. An overwhelming amount of love for her washes over him as she raises her eyebrows, waiting. 

Edward Townsend, wearing a sensible pair of slacks and polo, stares at the box in her hands and throws his hands up in exasperation. “I’ve never had macaroni and cheese.”

The words drift through the air until they land on her, an actual pout forming on her lips as she whines, “Ed, that’s so depressing.”

He sighs again, deeply, rubbing his fingers along his temples. She can’t help but look at his left hand too, and the gold band on his finger. An equally overwhelming amount of love for him pouring out of her as he admits, “It’s not like I had some terrible childhood, I’ve just never had it,” he keeps going, hands returning to the cart and walking away, talking to himself, “And honestly, all that cheese cannot be good for you. And artificial stuff like that?”

He’s looking at the various pasta’s on the shelf and she’s shaking her head and then their dance really begins. 

She’s tossing several boxes of Kraft into the cart, tearing his grocery list from his fingers and ripping it into shreds, tiny pieces floating to the ground as he scoffs. 

“Abigail! What do you think you’re-”

It’s a movie kiss, as she grabs his cheeks and presses her lips to his, right there in the middle of the grocery store. It’s not sensible, it’s not safe, and he can’t help but press his hands to her spine and chase her kiss.

Edward Townsend will never stop chasing Abigail Cameron. 

Abby pulls away, lips shining, breathing hard and simply starts to push the cart down the aisle, like she didn’t just kiss him like the world was ending, like they’d never do it again, like she really knew what she was doing - leaving Townsend standing there with his hands in the air, mouth open. 

He watches her walk away, hips swaying to the song he doesn’t know playing above. She looks over her shoulder to find him pressing his fingers to his lips and tosses her hair over her shoulder, pleased with herself. 

“We are going to go up and down these aisles and buy every piece of junk food they can offer us, buddy. Your inexperience with sugar and carbs and all things delicious is unacceptable.”

He grins behind her back, coming up, placing his hands over hers and pulling the cart to a stop, her back hits his chest with an “Oof!”

“Ed, don’t even think about trying to get out of-”

“Guess what?” He whispers in her ear, nose skimming the side of it before pressing a kiss to her neck. 

“Wh-what?” She shivers when he smiles against her skin, eyes blinking wide as her toes curl in her sneakers. 

“I actually really like Oreos.”

Abby melts as he kisses her again, leaving her a little speechless this time. She watches him walk to the end of the aisle with a smile hidden behind her fingers, and he turns to her, walking backwards. He points to the left and cocks his head, “Cookies are this way?”