#or. well. at least make her death not be the end

[blahaj-my-beloved]

I'd somehow forgotten that tr!Owen's character intro did NOT show that he was a friendly jester.

He's starting to show his hand now, at least to the viewers. It's becoming clear that Jester Owen does not have good intentions towards the King and his kingdom.

He started slow by trying to push Clown out of the kingdom at the beginning, but wasn't able quite able to because of King Foolish's surprising diplomacy. I feel like he did manage to give some doubts to Archmage Clown though, about King Foolish's competency and decision making.

Then, Jester Owen almost single-handedly broke the tentative alliance that blue had with the kingdom when he picked a fight with faction leader Aimsey. He's also building walls and barriers, saying they're for protection but also further isolating the kingdom. Making it feel to other factions that it's Yellow vs Everyone. And it's working.

Now, he saw that tr!Ros was vulnerable because one of her closest friends had just died. A friend that he has actively spoken against, in front of Ros and other kingdom members. He watched, invisible, as Ros stood silently at Aimsey's grave. And, when he heard Ros drinking poison, full of enough hurt and grief to hurt herself to feel even a little closer to the person she's lost. He... took his chance. To jump in, not to help Ros or to make her feel better. But to push her away from the kingdom.

Firstly by blaming Ros for his own two deaths to Pangi, saying that they were because she wasn't there. Taking Ros's own trauma of being alone while being hunted, like she was after the king's death, and making it about himself.

Then by casually dismissing Aimsey's death. Insinuating that it is a good thing, that Ros now has less distractions outside of the kingdom. Almost, but not quite, blaming Ros for Aimsey's death too! By saying that Ros being friends with a different faction member "led to them dying".

Ending the conversation by saying that, if Ros doesn't feel like she belongs in the kingdom, he can't hold her back. Knowing full well that he has made sure, that she doesn't feel that she belongs.

Jester Owen is trying his best to crumble the castle from the inside. Trying to isolate the King. For what reason? Who knows. But it's going to be very interesting to see where this is headed

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ]

Authors Note: My first Rio fic! Make sure to check the content warnings before reading further in case the content inside does not suit your taste! Otherwise please enjoy!

Some quick fun facts that literally none of you asked for but I added a lot of plot to a darksmutfic:

• I’m a former history major so some of this is based off of knowledge of what I know about time periods I studied and found special interest in

• Johnnie Ray was a popular artist in the fifties so I slipped him in for story ambience

• Only by 1955 did Americans, in half of their homes, have television sets. Up until then it was considered a bit of luxury with limited channels and times you could watch. You’d get static otherwise. Most homes had radios as their everyday media consumption.

• John Daly and the News was an actual television show broadcasted between 1953 — 1960 and is now what we know today as ABC World News Tonight

• Reader hinting that she and Rio shouldn’t talk so openly against how things are handled after the war is me referencing how the Second Red Scare [ Mcarthyism ] began to take an effect on the United States and how people ran their lives. Some actors, for example, would get blacklisted for the rest of their lives if they were accused of communism / socialism and found guilty even with denied claims from said actor.

Masterlist

PART TWO | PART THREE

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!reader

Summary: Rio Vidal broke the rules of her own nature only two times in her long existence — once when she allowed her and Agatha’s son to live long enough to love his mother and the second and last by finding you and taking a life for every year she allowed you to live. Centuries later this still held true . . . Only now Agatha was dead and she was angry. It was time you stop running from her.

Content Warnings: Dark — be warned in advance and take care of yourselves! This has flashbacks that occurs between 1943-1953 but details about World War II itself are very vague. Some mild period-typical gender norms in terms of roles and clothing during flashbacks. Mentions of abuse / abusive marriages, angst, death, manipulation, threats of violence, stalking, choking, misuse of magic ( Rio ), housewife R ( and encouraged by Rio 😭 ), kidnapping, somnophilia, non-con, cunnilngus ( r!receiving ), face grinding ( Rio!receiving )

Word Count: TBA

Rio rarely found it in her to feel anything other than passive nonchalance when she came for them. A hand held out expectantly, a knowing expression that made no room for desperate pleas, and she took another soul away from this plane she stalked for her souls.

Children were the worst to come for and made that choice even more difficult for Rio. Death did not care who it struck or why — she was only able to ensure the balance of the universe stayed intact by orders greater than her.

She loved Agatha and Nicholas though . . . Enough that she stayed away from her lover for the amount of time she had promised their son could adventure the Earth as short as it may be.

She loved Agatha enough to take him while she slept with him curled tight in her arms where he was the absolute safest he could be. Nicholas was all Agatha with his curly hair and serious eyes, but Rio liked to believe there was part of her in him as she took his hand and took him to her home.

Agatha evaded her incredibly well after Nicky’s death, doing her best to leave no traces and not stay in one place for too long.

Rio decided that Agatha wouldn’t be able to forgive her — if not forever then at least for now. So she stopped trying and allowed Agatha to grieve and slowly move on in her own impossible way.

Rio met you in 1945 during a high stress time for the world. It was wonderfully busy in that she was everywhere more than usual. A war just ended and wars made Rio’s life both miserable and fulfilled with the amount of workload she took on.

You were an unfortunate case and barely hanging onto your single thread of life. She could see it glowing from your chest, flickering in and out . . . As if it would be snuffed at any second should the wind blow right.

Her instincts told her it was your time but everything about the surroundings were telling her that nobody else agreed.

But why? She’s seen it millions of times in different cultures and centuries. A life had a time limit and she knew when that time ended even if they didn’t — or didn’t agree with it.

Rio’s entire instinct told her to take this soul and move onto the next so she could keep the balance moving and not disrupt the will of the universe that held them all together.

But she didn’t. She waited unseen in a corner and watched you as nurses came in to check on you, refilling your untouched water pitcher and cleaning you up. You still barely hung on, her eyes keeping locked onto the thrumming flow of life that beckoned her.

She finally stepped forward to get a closer look at you, tilting her chin down through her hood and taking note of every small detail that put you in her ledger for collection.

You were a battered woman more than anything, and she let her fingers drift over you to get a feel of your energy.

Her hand ripped back to her side at what she felt within you. You remained nearly lifeless and unconscious in the bed but your soul was very, very angry. It was a black pool of oily rage and despair that Rio was usually able to cleanse once she took them but . . .

She took your lifeline in her palm, feeling the warmth seep into her cold skin as it stuttered more as she grasped it.

She pressed a thumb into it as though it were something physical and willed a demand — live. I shall not take you today.

For a moment she wasn’t sure how her magic would treat your soul once they interacted. But more stuttering was soon filtered out like a street lamp, giving way to a soft and steady glow.

Rio smiled and released your lifeline, allowing it to lazily float back toward you where it retook its place reaching for her out of your chest.

Rio might be Death and she may hesitate to break rules on most days — but you were the exception she was going to see through and hope she didn’t regret later.

1943-1952

Rio left you soon after. She had to take a soul in your place and had others that needed her attention besides.

But she frequently returned to you with a pull she could not ignore. Your recovery was slow and painful, and she watched invisibly as you cried to your mother and father about your husband — the man you claimed was the one who caused your near death.

It filled her with something raw and visceral when she followed you back home to him. A drunk man who had no boundaries and no respect for the life he was given — nor yours.

She decided to wait a couple of years for the world to cool down from the anguish that it was trying to recover from. But she watched as you suffered with him and tried to keep your distance in order to avoid pain.

In 1952 Rio decides to play dress up. She comes to your beautifully decorated home and sickeningly pretty flowered garden in an outfit that women are scolded for daring to try on.

Slacks and a blouse with her hair styled for the time even if it wasn’t in her taste. She was going to play a partial role — but she had a plan and will see it through.

Rio knocked on your door so that there would be no question of a visitor, hands sliding into her pockets not long after as she waited.

She was not kept long.

The door opened and there you were pretty and smiling — even if Rio knew what the depths of your soul actually contained.

“Oh,” you said by greeting, hand going to your chest. “Hello there. Hi.”

“Hello,” Rio greeted back politely. “I moved in a few houses down and have gone about introducing myself to the neighbors. I want to build a community around me.”

You pursed your lips in surprise. “I didn’t know we had a house for sale,” you mused aloud, but waved your hand, “Oh, but who cares? Welcome to Westview.”

“My name is Rio, Rio Vidal,” Death greeted, sliding a hand out for you to take. If you were caught off guard by the invitation, you did not show it. You grasped her hand and shook it and relayed your name back even though she knew it well.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you said, still smiling. You gestured and stepped aside in your entry way, showing Rio the bright yellow walls and decorated room behind you, “Would you like to come in? I’ve been trying a hand at making a cake and I’m unfortunately not doing so good.”

Rio took the invitation and entered your home, laughing breathily at your statement. “A woman who can’t bake? Not a sight I see often.”

You shut the door behind you both and grew shy under the observation. “I was never great at it,” you admit as you started through the entry way and leading her through the living room. It was quiet.

“No husband?” she questioned aloud, noting the empty recliner diagonal to the newest television set that money could buy. Expensive taste for even a well earning home.

“One,” you called back when you reappeared from the entrance to the kitchen. “He works all day at the plant in Eastview. He just got promoted.”

“Eastview,” Rio murmured. “Isn’t that a bit of a drive?”

You smiled weakly. “Sure, but it’s good income. He works hard and keeps us fed. Come, I’ll prepare lemonade.”

Rio allowed herself to be guided into the kitchen that smelled like a bakery. Black and white checkered floors, green cabinets and brand new red chairs and a table set. If not good at baking you at least had good style.

You were pulling out a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and she wandered close to you. “It smells good.”

You glanced up at her from your pouring, “You came right as I was putting my third attempt in the oven. Hopefully it doesn’t burn this time. I admittedly bought store-made icing.”

Rio grinned, “My lips are sealed.”

You chuckled as you pushed her a glass of lemonade and took your own in two hands, clutching it close. “So . . . You have no husband of your own?”

Rio leaned against the mint-colored counter and twirled her glass. “Afraid not. Lost him to the war in ‘43.”

You frowned as an expression of sympathy started to cross your features, “Two years before that deadly disaster ended, too. I’m truly sorry he didn’t make it home.”

Trap set and bait laying with prey lured, Rio continued with a faux tremble in her hands, “They don’t tell you what to prepare for if they don’t come home. Don’t give you much in return for the price they pay for the country. How fair is that?”

Your lips thinned slightly. “No, I’d rather say the bets we place are never worth it.” A pause, full of hesitance. “But we shouldn’t talk so queerly about such things.”

Rio curled her fingers inward toward herself despite her grip on her glass. She was probing for information mostly — where she could poke holes and find weakness. The end of the war left a fear of things they didn’t understand . . . And politics became a large aspect of society as soon as the world began picking itself back up.

Rio reveled in the chaos and enjoyed — with no shame to be found — watching humans try and control their societies in endless cycles of vitriol and greed masked by different ideologies they claimed were better than the last.

It kept her in a job.

“Of course,” she finally said with a hint of emotion. “My apologies. I’m afraid my heart has been hardened by experience.”

You softened slightly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Of course. I can’t imagine the suffering you’ve endured — I just — I’m sure the country is thankful.”

Rio bit down a response that would get a rise out of you. She wanted to see that anger she felt in your soul when she initially came for you that day.

She couldn’t feel it just from standing here and pretending to be a sad widower of a war. It was difficult to get a feel on you in general right now — unless she pushed her magic and coerced them out of you.

A brief quiet fell over the two that mostly consisted of sipping lemonades and listening to Johnnie Raye’s alluring voice sing through the radio that was situated near the entryway of the kitchen on the counter.

“So,” Rio drew out and set down her glass. Hardly touched — just enough to make you believe she dare partake in such things, “Little ones?”

You smiled again but a sad gleam overtook the look this time. “No, no children.”

You didn’t go into detail and Rio decided that this topic was one she could let go until later either by finding out through her own means or getting to know you in this fashion.

“Well it looks like we could both use a friend at least,” the brunette said as her gaze turned to stare out the window for a brief moment. “The world can be entirely too lonely for women these days and I’m inclined to find ways to fight it.”

You perked up slightly at her veiled offer and bit your lip. “I’d love to be your friend.”

2024

Your neck was aching in a way that it hasn’t for a very long time. A subtle throb just below your hairline that felt deep inside of your muscles.

You told yourself it was just an ache — the magic she had worked on you was disintegrated and nothing more than a reminder of a past long dead.

But the ache did not relent when you woke up the next morning, or the next after that.

You began to wonder if the witch you paid to remove all the magic in your body was a fraud a week after the ache started.

You simply ignored it and went about your daily life even as it throbbed dully beneath your skin like a timer set to go off at any given point.

It started giving you headaches and then the nausea set in after that.

Pointedly, you continued to do absolutely nothing for it. Anxiety was shoved into a small lockbox and the key was dropped into the dark depths of your brain to be forgotten as you sealed the blinds for the night and went about prepping dinner.

Onions splayed out on a cutting board next to other ingredients ready to be prepped. A dinner for one but a pleasant distraction to keep your hands busy. You propped your phone up against the wall to listen to a podcast while you began peeling the onions.

Flowers for your parents graves and a visit to your nieces’ retirement home, you reminded yourself through the busy chatter of the podcast and stripping of the outer layer of the onion.

A shattered vase?

You stopped peeling and stopped breathing. You listened, drowning out the sound of your phone and focusing on background noise that may come next.

You quietly set down the onion and curl your fingers around the hilt of the knife you had set aside. You tucked it close to your side as you stepped silently to the entry way of your kitchen to look out into your living room.

Indeed your vase was shattered off of the display case where it had previously been sitting. An antique but not one you were invested in, really. The carpet was wet from the water that kept the flowers fed and the flowers themselves were scattered in the shards.

As you approached the mess and kneeled down to set about starting to clean it up, you tossed the knife to the side for now and got the shards out of the way first.

You ignored the alarms in your head. The warning signs that were so large and so close that they were nearly impossible to ignore.

You released a shaky breath and threw away the shards in the kitchen. You gathered yourself momentarily and repeated your mantra, “She isn’t coming back, you’ve gotten away,” enough to almost believe it.

You return to the living room to take care of the ruined flowers and clean up any leftover petals and leaves.

Even when you gathered the crumbled flowers and found a perfectly intact green rose aligned in the middle of them.

The thorn cut your thumb open and left a wound that bleed for two days.

Five more days continued on after that slower than the thick molasses that your grandmother used to make when you would visit her home as a child.

You visit your parents in Westview once you’re sure activity of magic has disappeared. You knew the Scarlet Witch had contained the once lovely and beautiful town and used it to create something for herself she was believed she had the right to.

It’s been months — hell a year even. The news claimed that Maximoff had disappeared without a trace and left no one worse for wear after defeating an unknown threat.

The graveyard was not maintained in the hostage situation. Overgrown and some older stones beginning to degrade from age and lack of care, dead and wilted flowers not cleared or replaced with new ones by thoughtful visitors.

You trudged through it all and for once you could not ignore the agony in your neck. It was allowing the pain of the physical or the pain of your heart — and you didn’t think you had it in you to feel anything but the inclosed walls you built for yourself.

You kneel onto your knees once you reach the matching headstones. Moss was starting to grow on the edges and inside the grooves — but you let it stay. You started pulling out the decayed flowers from the in-ground flower holder, tossing them aside and dusting off the area.

“Still so attached to the past,” a husky voice mused in no one direction. Your head jerked up and you began to look around, palm resting on your father’s headstone for support. A cheerless — but darkly amused — laugh. “You tend to it like a garden or a herd of sheep. Maintaining its needs and working on it like it’s keeping you afloat.”

You used your free hand to rub your forehead. You couldn’t see anything — the voice was clear as day and that is what had you spinning.

“Angel with stone wings, angel with no reach,” the sultry lilt continued. Your eyes locked onto the damp statue of an angel feet away, eyes echoing endless depths of nothingness.

You forced your eyes back to the graves. Your hands were shaking as you continued to clear them, hands aggressively tugging the weeds from around the stone.

“Oh sure, ignore me. That’s worked out for you just as much as burning your leash off has.”

“This is a figment,” you responded out loud.

Large, aged oak trees swayed angrily around you in turn and howling winds scraped against your skin. You needed to make sure of it — ground yourself before you lost yourself in the delusion.

Your knuckles slammed into hard stone, pressing until they turned white and stung from the impact. Your breathing was heavy and your ribcage felt like it was being grabbed from the top of your spine and pulled backwards.

“You really thought that your little magic trick could defy the sigil of Death, angel?” You could imagine her face. Mocking, smirking with full teeth and eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

She wasn’t here.

And then it felt like you had a rope thrown around your throat so tight that you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. The force of it sent you sailing onto your back, feet kicking, gasps sounding out into empty air.

Your hands flail upward in animalistic instinct, clawing at your neck.

Nothing was there. Nothing was there. You opened your mouth more, to breath, to scream, to —

The pressure left as quickly as it was there. You turned over and dug your fingernails into the damp ground, getting into your knees and breathing in as much air as your lungs would allow.

A billow of green and black took up your line of sight as your vision began to clear. It decreased its length toward you with lazy speed and only stopped when you were inches from the fabric.

The figure crouched and a cold hand took your jaw to tilt your head up. Your stomach became a pit of liquid when you saw exactly who it was above you — and she was no figment.

“Hello, angel. Thank you for walking into my trap. I didn’t want to have to hunt you down.”

1953

You slam on Rio’s front door despite the crudeness of it. It was cold and your tears were freezing over on your cheeks. You were numb and you needed . . . Comfort. Something. Anything.

The door opened almost immediately to your best friend. She had a lazy smile that quickly fell once she saw you.

“Angel,” she offered a soft crow, “what happened? It’s dark out and you should be at home right now."

Your throat bobbed and you manage to cup your mouth before a loud, ugly sob can escape and wake the entire neighborhood. "Oh, God, Rio."

Now her eyes flickered with alarm. Dark swirls of it as she stepped forward and immedately wrapped two arms around your shoulders and tucked you close. "Let’s get you inside. Come on.”

Her voice soothed you as she guided you into her home and you remained unaware of the malice that crossed her features as she glanced outside at the street for any sign of threat before closing the door.

She sat you on her couch in front of her television. She was watching John Daly discussing the news on the black and white set with his stoic professionalism.

“Do you want a glass of water? Ginger ale?” Rio questioned and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You glanced upward at her. Your fingers twisted into your dress and you crossed your ankles, pressing them into the couch as you sat up straight and stiff.

“Yes please, if it’s no trouble,” you murmured.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.” You ignored the odd quip, having gotten used to Rio’s strange ways by now. Most of your neighbors wives’ — when you met for the monthly update while husbands drank and played cars — found her to be much to odd for comfort.

You didn’t mind. She wasn’t nosy like the other women were and didn’t have the tendency to berate you about how you iced your cookies or strung your laundry on the line when laundry day came. She took little interest in petty gossip and didn’t prod for details about why no children came to fruition within your marriage.

Perhaps that is what drew you to the long-haired widow while the others felt repelled by her.

Your brain was lost in this forest of thick fog and thoughtless wander so deep that you jumped when a cold glass was brushed against the back of your clenched hands.

Rio said nothing about it; she simply waited until she was satisfied that your water was safely in hand before sitting down in the chair next to the television. She reached over and twisted the dial until it flickered off.

“What happened?” she asked plainly, picking something off of her finely fitted pants. Waisted pants today that ended at her ankles, fitting her loosely. Some days she wore styles that mothers would roll in their graves over — a man’s wear.

Today she decided on a more fashionable approach in women’s attire, it seemed. The pants were dark blue in color with a cream long sleeved shirt tucked in.

You tried to focus on her question, but answering it meant you had to tell her in the first place. In doing that — in doing that you would be left in a situation where you could break down completely.

“Hey.”

She was next to you as if by magic. Her hand rested on your knee lightly. Her hand was cold. Anytime you were together she always seemed to be cold . . .

Your mind started melting into itself again but a finger directed your chin to meet Rio’s intense gaze. It was a gentle gesture, but also a command. One of her eyebrows was raised questioningly.

“Angel,” she says, a low noise in her throat, “I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Your fingers curled as tight as the glass would allow, as tight as your grip could be. “My husband,” you started, a stuttering whisper fading after it. You couldn’t bear to finish.

Her features remained unchanged, but her head tilted. She let her finger brush away from your chin as she moved that hand over yours on the glass.

“What about him?” she asked.

“He’s — the factory owner called, you see. Told me I had to get to the hospital as quickly as I could.”

It was a terrible, bloody mess. They didn’t let you back into the room to see him because of the severity and instead had her wait until the doctor could come and speak with her privately.

You weren’t in tears at all — the nurses had commented. You were being very brave. You must be so scared.

You could only nod at them, smile shakily maybe.

You did cry when they asked you to sit down to tell you that he did not survive their attempt at surgery. It was a machine incident, they said. It broke down during use and your husband was the one on the line during the process.

You sobbed like a stricken wife, now widowed and left by herself. The nurses came to comfort you, offer tissues and take you somewhere quiet.

You weren’t devastated.

You were so relieved.

You felt like you would go home that night and not have to worry about if doing the dishes would be what set him off.

You could make a meal and not sit in a silence that you feared ended in another bruise to cover up for a few weeks.

Your husband was never good at cleaning up his messes. That’s what you were there for. That’s what his lack of complaints at the extra makeup in your grocery bags meant.

“He’s dead,” you choked out loud for the first time. “He had an accident . . . And . . .”

“Hm, I see.” Rio did something else and tucked you close into her side. She started stroking your hair and you took on the comfort even if you weren’t used to it. “It saddens me to see you so upset.”

Over him, she didn’t add. She didn’t need to with her tone.

“It’s just . . . Oh, you may find me very crass if I tell you what’s been heavy on my heart.”

Rio grasped your chin firmly and quickly, forcing you to meet her eyes. Her lips were thinned and she said with a steady, stern tone, “I could never think you crass. We are both outcasts in our own way in this world we’ve been born into. Whatever you tell me will change what I think of you — would you like me to swear it?” She paused. “On your God?”

You pulled back briefly, but her hand went with your tug. She had a tight grasp on your chin and wasn’t letting go, determined to keep your attention.

“My God?” you echoed, visible confusion coating your features.

She didn’t give you a response. Perhaps she felt as though she had been clear enough even if you felt entirely puzzled.

She tapped your cheek with her index finger. “Admit to me your heart’s truths, angel.”

The sick feeling in your stomach — the way you liked how she spoke to you, touched you . . .

Her touch suddenly felt like the hottest flames and you snapped out of the foggy daze. You were too close, she was too near. Everything about this broke the law of nature.

“I’m glad he’s dead.” Your mouth snapped shut and she allowed you to jerk away from her grasp to the other end of the couch. You hadn’t . . .

Why did you say that.

Rio’s lips were painted black today. An unusual color to decide on and very much not within the fashion of today. Your catalogues and magazines always pointed at which colors to lean into and which to avoid. Black lipstick was hard to find and it was often discouraged; it was seen as unappealing and unapproachable.

Rio wore it like she owned it and you hated that you seemed to tingle and grow hot in ways your husband was unable to do.

She tapped her chin with her nails, lips quirking into a small smirk. “Oh, my my. A wife who grieves not for the loss of her dear husband — her protector in life and guardian . . . But perhaps the comfortable lifestyle he provides?”

Your lips trembled. “How dare you,” you whispered, flushing from the neck up from the shame. She was right. She was right and you hated it. “That’s so mean to . . .”

“Stop with the act, angel.” Rio leaned back into the cushions, one leg crossing over the other. “Own how you feel for once. Take that relief and dig deep — see what else you’ll feel.”

The water glass had grown slippery in your palms. Either from how sweaty you got or from the melting ice. You were glad for the cold it provided, to keep you from floating away.

You sipped at it in quiet and refused to talk to her. Childish, perhaps. But what you couldn’t do right now was face what she was shoving in front of you: that you feared for your comforts as creaturely as they may be. You were raised to be a housewife and your parents didn’t know how to encourage much else.

You weren’t an educated woman — and didn’t have the money to become one.

“You’re depressing me,” Rio stated, slapping her hands on her knees. You jumped. Her head tilted low and she regarded you with something that should have sent you running, “I’ll keep you safe and pampered, angel. Sell your home, move into mine. I have three extra rooms. I could use a woman’s touch.”

“You’re a woman.”

A feline grin was your first reply. Then, “A working one.”

You supposed you could have realized that in the time she’s been around. No husband, widowed — how else would she have managed on her own without?

“It would . . . Isn’t it rather odd to have two women together? Especially one as a housewife?”

“We’re widowed, angel,” Rio reminded her as she removed the empty glass from your hand and set it on the coffee table. “Gossip will see a sad woman who need comfort from another woman who knows what it feels like. You will be truly devastated, simply unable to recover normally.”

You licked your lips and glanced around. It was darker in certain corners and the living room lacked color. “. . . Everything has a fine coat of dust,” you mumbled.

Rio laughed, standing and pulling you with her. She leaned forward and for a moment you held your breath, scared . . . Perhaps maybe filled with anticipation, as she did. Soft lips brushed your cheek.

“It’s a very good thing I just found myself a housewife to fix that.”

2024

The ache was gone — you could come to understand that as feeble awareness started to come to you in bloated masses.

Your body felt heavy and as though it had been pressed through your mother’s clothes wringer. Should you open your eyes? Would that even matter right now if all you could do was lay there and try not to vomit?

A sudden wave of pleasure that seemed to hurt coursed through you, and you let out a garbled moan as your body lifted and your hand frantically reached down to find the cause.

A soft, breathy chuckle greeted you against your wet pussy as your hand messily gripped hair and pushed the figure against you instead of pulling away.

“Mph.” Rio. It was Rio — she was — you ground your face down as her tongue delved deeper rather than pulling out of you to speak to you. You kept your eyes screwed shut — not wanting to see her but chasing that high she was making you seek out.

Her sharp nails gripped your bare ass and squeezed, nose rubbing purposefully into your clit as she used your body like an old instrument she pulled out of the closet.

It had been so fucking long and yet she knew you so goddamn well. Like it hasn’t been damn near seventy years and she hasn’t collared you with her magic and trapped you again.

With more force and anger driving you, you rode her face harder, knowing Death needn’t breath and how too entirely much she enjoyed the goddamn desperation she could soak up from you.

It flipped like a switch. One moment you’re angry and chasing something that you don’t want and the next you’re clawing at the brink of your orgasm like it was being veered over the edge of a cliff for years.

You cursed and kicked, but Rio saw the entire thing through. Only when your shivers eased and grip loosened did she come up for uneeded air, smug and eyes twinkling.

“Welcome home, angel.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you breathed, shoving her away with a shaky foot and sitting up on your thighs.

Then she was behind you, leaning over your shoulder with a weighted hand on the back of your neck. “I am going to enjoy seeing you try.”

Rio and reader will return in Part Two

PART TWO

[archangeldyke-all]

hii idk if you’re still writing the cowboy sevika fics but i’m actually obsessed with them you have no idea!! anyway i was thinking a fluffy little fic about sevika being depressed after shimmers death and reader, vi, and jinx do their best to cheer her up/support her!! do whatever you want i’ll literally take anything i just love your characters so much🙏🙏

YEEHAWWWW i miss cowboy sevika

men and minors dni

it's been a month since you and your girls buried shimmer by your garden. not a night has passed where sevika hasn't cried herself to sleep in your arms. it's breaking your heart.

watching shimmer die was hard enough. you were never much of a horse person before meeting sevika's trusty mare, but shimmer converted you. before sevika settled down with you; one of your greatest comforts when she was out wandering the desert was that she had shimmer there with her. the horse was so in tune with sevika, and they'd been riding together for so long, that they practically moved as one. you worried less about sevika losing her mind when she had shimmer to listen to her rambling. you worried less about her losing her life when she had shimmer to run her back home to you if she ever got too beat up.

and as sweet as sevika is when she claims you're her best friend-- you know that title really belongs to shimmer.

"we should do somethin' for sev." vi mumbles one night. jinx is fast asleep between the pair of you, after insisting she wasn't tired for an hour straight.

"like what?" you ask.

vi shrugs. "cait and her dad go hunting sometimes."

you giggle. "you're crazy if you think we're giving jinx a gun."

vi laughs. "no, no, we wouldn't hunt. we could just, y'know, go camping or something. there are some cold springs thirty miles west of here."

"and how would we get there without a horse?"

"we could borrow one of grayson's." vi suggests.

you smile and turn to face her. "you've been planning this?" you ask. she smiles guiltily.

"sevika's just been so sad. i wanna cheer her up."

your heart bursts with love and you dart forward, squeezing jinx between your body and vi's as you attempt to hug her. vi giggles. jinx wakes up with an annoyed groan.

so, a week later, you, your wife, and your girls set out with a horse drawn wagon and one of grayson's newest additions: a young colt named 'teddy.' grayson was happy to lend you the horse, muttering something about him being a pain in the ass to train. "if there's anyone i know who can get through to a stubborn horse like teddy, it's sevika." she sighed.

the ride out to the springs is rocky and bumpy, sevika getting used to riding a horse that isn't shimmer-- teddy being an ass just for the hell of it. at least the girls find it fun. their giggles and squeals are the soundtrack for your entire ride to the springs. even with all the curses she's spewing at teddy, sevika looks more relaxed than she has in weeks back on top of a horse.

"what're we even gonna do once we get there?" jinx asks. you snort and ruffle her bangs.

"well, i'm going swimming. you losers can do whatever you want." you say. the girls giggle.

"do you think there are cliffs we can jump off of?" vi asks. you shrug.

"i'm sure we can find some. we've got a whole river to explore."

"none of you are doing any exploring until we set up camp and get a fire going." sevika huffs from on top of teddy's back.

"boo! boring." jinx whines.

'setting up camp' ends up being sevika building the tent and jinx feeding teddy while you and vi attempt to make a fire the old fashioned way.

"how did the cavemen ever do this?" vi huffs as she rubs two sticks together. you snort.

"i'm sure they had tools. blubber to make it catch better, or something."

vi rolls her eyes. "i don't understand why she won't just give us her lighter."

you laugh and look up at sevika as she wipes her sweaty brow. "she doesn't trust us not to burn down the whole riverbed."

"or she's just bossy." vi mutters. you cackle.

"i think you're right, kid."

you don't make it into the river on your first night, but you don't mind much. when the sun sets, the heat of summer fades and the cool dark forces you all to squish together on a log in front of the fire while sevika cooks up beans and weenies on the fire.

"is that a planet or a star?" vi asks. jinx looks up and hums.

"i think it's venus."

"yeah?"

"i think so. sev?" jinx asks.

sevika glances up at the sky, smiling proudly and ruffling jinx's bangs. "you nailed it, kiddo."

"what constellations are out tonight, sev?" jinx asks, tucking herself under your wife's arm. sevika hums, leaning back to study the sky.

you don't bother to look at the sky. pretty as the stars are, they're nothing compared to the sight of your three girls, cuddled together and illuminated in the firelight.

"follow my finger. you see those three stars close together?" sevika whispers, her voice melding with the crackle of the fire and the roar of the river.

"yeah." vi whispers. jinx nods against sevika's shoulder.

sevika drags her finger across the sky. "see how they lead into a cross? there?"

"is that the northern cross?" jinx asks. sevika nods, her smile growing.

"you know it. anyways, the cross is in the center of cygnus the swan. backbone of the milky way." sevika's eyes flick down and catch yours, and she smiles shyly. you grin. there are more stars in her eyes than in the whole night sky.

you spend the next day in the river with the girls, laughing and splashing and squealing when fish nibble your ankles. vi and sevika ride upriver to try to find cliffs to jump off of, and you teach jinx how to doggy paddle. when the girls return, they're soaking wet and cackling.

that evening, with the girls fast asleep in the tent, you and sevika smoke a joint and go skinny dipping.

"did you have fun with vi?" you ask, your arms and legs wrapped around your wife. sevika giggles against you.

"i shouldn't tell you." she says. you giggle.

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"means she almost jumped onto some rocks several fucking times. gave me a heart attack."

you groan, shaking your head. "no, you shouldn't've told me." you agree. sevika giggles.

"but, we both lived, didn't we?" she asks. you laugh.

"y'know we're gonna have to adopt teddy from grayson?" you ask. sevika snorts.

"what makes you say that?"

"jinx is obsessed with him. braided and un-braided his mane like six times today. calls him 'teddy bear.' plus..." you trail off.

sevika darts forward to kiss you. you hum against her lips. "plus?" she asks, her lips brushing yours.

"plus, you need a new horse. you look good in the saddle."

sevika hums and kisses you again. "you take such good care of me. how am i supposed to keep up my bandit appearance when i got a wife that talks me into adoptin' horses and takes me out on vacation?"

you laugh. "you haven't been a bandit in half a decade. and the vacation was violet's idea. she was worried about you."

sevika sighs and leans forward to rest her forehead against your shoulder. "you still take good care of me." she says. you kiss her scalp.

"well... y'know. you're my dingus the duck."

"your what?!" sevika asks with a cackle. you groan and shrug.

"i dunno, those stars you were talking about last night!" you whine.

"cygnus the swan!?" she asks. you nod.

"that's the one."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" she asks though her laughs. you snort.

"y'know. you're the backbone of my galaxy, or whatever."

sevika's teasing expression melts, stars sparkling in her eyes. "that's awfully corny, darling." she whispers, her voice shaky with emotion. you smile.

"what the-- what are you two doing?!" vi squawks from the riverbank. you and sevika giggle guiltily, caught by your kids canoodling in the cold springs.

"go back to the tent!" you shout.

"awe, gross, are you guys naked!?" jinx whines.

sevika snorts. "we all bathed together three hours ago!"

"yeah, but you guys weren't all up on each other-- vi, let's go before we overhear something nasty." jinx groans, tugging on her sister's arm.

violet laughs and stumbles behind jinx. "don't drown!" she calls.

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taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - two

⇽ part one

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.6K

🍒 summary: Faith faces the blowback from her decision to end things with her now ex-boyfriend. Conflict stirs between her and her sister. Rio's curiosity grows and he finds himself not able to stay away before getting to know about Faith.

🍒 two ~ life traps

“Where’d you go last night?” Char asks as she comes in from the gym.

“To have a one night stand” I respond being facetious.

“Faith, Jason is the kind of man women pray for” Char starts.

“I don’t want to hear it” I groan, needing some peace.

“Why not, he’s romantic, attentive, emotionally stable and makes good money?” Char continues.

“And he’s boring, closed minded and pacifistic” I add.

“Life isn’t all about excitement!” Char shouts.

“I think you’re mistaking life with death” I retorted, earning a grimace from my sister.

“He wanted to marry you!” She snaps. “He asked mom and she gave him her blessing, he was planning a party and everything! Your ring is gorgeous!” she says like it’s the thing that makes me stay but I couldn't be more relieved.

“If he knew me even a little he’d know I don’t want a public engagement” I respond.

Char huffs in exasperation “Anyone who’s in love does!”

“Well then, there you have it!” I sigh, reinforcing the obvious.

“Faith.” she fusses.

“He’s a great guy just not for me. Now he can return the ring and find someone who’s grateful and appreciative of the perfect man he is.” I fake a smile.

Char sighs, folding her arms in frustration. “You’re being unreasonable and taking the ungrateful thing out of context.”

“He’s not the man I want to wake up with forever or who I want to raise my children” I explain speaking in terms she can understand.

“Because you have commitment issues!” She snaps.

“You don’t? Where’s your Prince Charming?” I ask and she goes ridgid. Her eyes bug out and I realize I’ve gone too far.

“Char” I call but she storms off to her room.

———

Char hasn’t been speaking to me all week. She’s hardly been coming home. I feel bad but there’s not much I can do if she won’t talk to me.

Big game? I could use some back up.

- D

I smile at the phone and D’s perfect timing. I get dressed and go where I’m wanted. I drive to the bar and park out back. I can hear from out here the place is packed and head in. D doesn’t look as happy and he usually is to see me. I hug and kiss him and he makes me my favorite drink with a smile. I get started and make things easier for him. I work the bar until there’s a lull and I can enjoy my cherries. Diego smiles at me.

“I’m glad you texted, Char and I are fighting and it’s all bad at my place”  I tell him.

“What about?” D, asks.

“Breaking things off with Jason” I explain and his cousin walks in. “Am I okay to be here?” I whisper, putting my cup of cherries down.

“Yeah,” Diego nods. His side of the bar fills up and he steps away to tend them. His cousin sits on my side. I head over to him.

“Whisky neat” he says before I can ask. I head to the top shelf pouring him what he asked for. I place it down on top of a napkin and I’m shocked when he pays. Doesn’t he own the place?

“Thanks” I smile, putting the money away. I work my side of the bar finding time passes and the game ends, music replaces the previous entertainment. When things settle I go back to D and my cherries. We joke around with some of the patrons doing shots and keeping them in their pockets. There are no fights tonight which is a win and when the night’s over I’ve made twice as much in tips as I did the other day. I’m cleaning off the bar when Diego’s cousin comes in from outside.

I continue cleaning up and Diego mops this time. Security takes all the dirty glasses to be washed and I make sure the register balances. We have at least fifteen empty bottles and I pack them away making space on the shelf.

“Where else do you work?” He asks from behind me.

“I’m not a bartender,” I respond.

“You know your way around a bar.” Diego’s cousin remarks.

“Diego taught me” I explain and he smiles nodding. His dark eyes miss nothing, it’s like he can smell my uncertainty and is amused by it.

“So what are you?” He asks again.

“I work in interior designing,” I explain, omitting my shinier accolades.

“Pays well?” He asks. It's a strange question. If he were anyone else I'd roll my eyes and walk away. One thing my Ma is right about is that a woman's pocketbook is none of mens business unless he’s adding to it.

“I’m not complaining,” I respond. The answer doesn't seem sufficient as he looks down trying to read me. We both give each other nothing. “You into nature?” I ask stacking glasses and his brow raises. I’ve thrown him off.

“Nature? Outdoors?” He asks and I steel my expression in genuine curiosity as I motion to his neck where the bird is permanently inked into his skin. He looks affronted, so much so my facade breaks. A smirk plays on his lips and he nods.

“I was just messing with you. D’s my friend, he loves this place and I’m here to help him out - not cause trouble” I tell him and he looks me over again - his energy less distant.

“You’re a woman, this is a guys bar and I’m a businessman. Women mean trouble. More security, more fights and more egos. It’s not personal, don't help him every weekend and don’t use your real name. You getting stalked or followed isn’t my problem and D’s not built for it. He’s crazy about you. Told me I need to apologize for the other day” he says completely relaxed. His expression is back to giving nothing away as he speaks matter of factly. 

“Gotcha, and It’s fine, you don’t seem like you apologize much” I tell him and he nods, holding back another smile.

“Is everything alright?” Diego asks with an uneasiness that makes me reconsider the ease I feel next to his cousin.

“You don’t bring women around often, I’m just curious” his cousin says and I sense tension between them. 

“I’ll do the rest Faith, let me walk you to your car” he says protectively and I look between them a moment before getting my jacket.

“Thanks” I tell Diego who is standing ramrod straight and tense, in juxtaposition to his cousin who looks both relaxed and amused. He empties my tips into a paper bag.

“Goodbye Faith” his cousin waves.

“Bye,” I respond.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Diego once we’re outside.

“Rio” he sighs. “I wish I could just strangle him sometimes,” he snaps.

“Rio is your cousin’s name?” I ask and he nods.

“Nickname, his name is Chris but don't call him that.” D warns.

“What's going on between the two of you, does he think you're into me or something and how does he own the bar? I thought it was yours?” I ask and D takes a deep breath before letting one out.

“He doesn’t think I'm into you, he knows I’m gay. He’s part owner, not full owner although he thinks he’s the boss of everything ” D sighs.

“I’ve never known you to huff and puff instead of knocking someone clean out” I comment looking outside as Rio strolls cooly into a G-Wagon.

“Rio doesnt get mad, he gets even, he can be spiteful and petty and he’s patient. You’ll never know you’ve fucked up until you’re wading through shit. Be polite and keep things short with him” Diego says, giving his cousin a less than glowing review.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth as the G-Wagon pulls out driving into the night. D follows suit and silence befalls the car until he presses me for information on Char and I. When I tell him the full extent of everything the look in his eyes tells me while he’s on my side. Diego agrees with my sister in regard to my commitment issues. Unlike Char, D understands why I don't want to run from where we came from. Why I’m in no rush to commit to a life of pageantry or rush into an engagement at 24. He calls it survivor's remorse which is kinder than the assessments given to me by my shrinks. A life with Jason would be a lie. I’d have to pretend my step-dad is my father. Not my real father who’s no longer on this earth. The result of a life selling street pharma and the violence that comes with it. I’d have to hide that part of my story and heritage and even do away with D as a part of my past. Jason and his family would see it as a character defect instead of character building. It would be bad PR and so it would be filed away in a safe and kept away for comfort and convenience. No one understands not wanting to hide yourself from people like D.

He watches me sitting shotgun as the sun dawns.

“Be gentle with Char, she's a marshmallow - all soft. You’re a jellybean.” He smiles and I lean on his shoulder. He presses a kiss onto my forehead. “You know ChaCha means no harm, she doesn't like to rock the boat or disappoint anyone.” Diego speaks knowing us well.

“I was gentle, we didn't have a screaming match” I smile but his phone ringing gets my attention. Rio’s name flashes on the car’s console shifting the mood.

“I gotta take this, text me when you get in” D says and I nod.

“D, if you need money-”

“I don't, I'm the oldest. You need money you come to me” he asserts and I nod exiting the car. I hear the call pick up when I grab the lobby door. I place my fob on the console and the automatic door opens.

Mercury must be in gatorade because I don’t know what the fuck is going on.

authors note: thanks for reading, what do we think D's deal is with Rio and the girls? Why is Rio in our girls business? don't forget to ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog & vote on open polls

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[hillbillyoracle]

At the risk of destroying my notifications again, I'm back with another fundamentalist Christian translation.

A friend of mine who is studying to become a nurse mentioned that the CDC website on STI treatments had been taken down and she needed for her homework. I tried getting it myself and couldn't. I then tried accessing alternative guidelines I remembered and couldn't get those either.

She was frustrated and said "Why would they do that? Treatment is like the least controversial thing!"

And I was like "Well..."

On the less extreme end, I know lots of fundies who don't want information on STI treatments to be available because then people will think they can go sin without consequences.

The ideal sexual life in fundamentalist Christianity is to be a virgin, court and marry another virgin, and then get married and only ever have sex with that person for your entire life (and have lots of kids). And STIs are seen as proof of that because the only way (in their mind) to avoid them, is abstinence so it must be what God intended.

On the more extreme end, there is the occasional fundie who thinks that treating an STI (of someone who got it through sinning) is actually immoral because "the wages of sin is death" and that is God's design. This was not most people I knew but I certainly heard it enough.

Look, you can poke holes in this all you want but at least spare my notifications of it. Make your own post. I was in sex education on the practical and research side for a few years in part because of this specific issue so it hits close to home.

I mention it so people can know what to expect from this administration and hopefully prepare. Collect quality information especially on marginalized health conditions and be ready to spread it around. If you or a group you belong to have the equipment to run tests and treat them, stock up on supplies.

[purplerakath]

School Spirits S2 Theories - Ep 1-3

So the first episodes did a lot of things, they mostly feed into my theories from last season. I don't plan to distinguish between the three episodes as I don't have time to rewatch them one at a time so I will just- do all of them.

Spoilers, and junk.

Despair Theory

For those that didn't see any of my theories before, despair theory is the way that heartbreak ties into connecting to the spirit world. Both in the creation of Ghosts, and being able to hear/see ghosts. This has gotten two big additional pieces of evidence.

Janet is just as much of a despair pit as the other ghosts. Thanks to her dad. (I hate her dad.)

Xavier can't see ghosts, because in spite of everything, he isn't heartbroken enough to see them.

I would add that the next living person closest to the despair event horizon to see ghosts is Claire, thanks to her whole... everything. Ironically the two that want to see Maddie are too hopeful to see Maddie.

This feels a little too solid to break apart with new information. The themes of the show feed into it too much to really argue the point any other way. The only real question marks to the theory are the band kids (they're weird) and Xavier's small stint in the ghost world while he was dying.

But the latter is less evidence and more anomalous, he was dead a few moments. And the second part of what we know comes into play now.

The Doors, the Keys, and Crossing Over

So the path to the Other Side is blocked off by... whatever snarl of trauma has these ghosts trapped. Which is physically accessed with the key (an item from your death) and the scar (the location of your death). That was pretty well set-up already.

Because we've seen it before. The Reverse Seance. Dawn didn't have her room, or her key. She just... recalled all of her trauma, faced it, and found whatever her answer was. We assumed, at the time, it was Maddie calling her a friend. But now?

I don't know how to tie that into the rooms and the keys. The structure of the rooms makes it seem like you have to find the answer in yourself, but so much of the show is about the characters as a comradery. And if the mechanism for crossing over is built on a little help from your friends, it means someone doesn't get to cross over.

I dunno, I'm curious where this will go. And it's the thing we haven't investigated yet since it was the end of Ep 3.

Janet and the Dead

I don't think Janet can see the dead, right now. At least, that's what I think they were setting up with the flashbacks to her leaving? It'll make the whole thing more complicated if she can't talk to the dead kids, but know they're there.

I do think Janet and Maddie interacting is going to be the juiciest drama when it happens, and I do want that very much.

Other Thoughts

Quinn is adorable. I like Quinn.

Charlie kind of feels underwritten so far this season, but this season has been a lot of Wally and Rhonda thus far.

Again, Janet's dad is the worst. Hate that guy.

Where is Theater Ghost!?

The living buying everything Simon said about Maddie feels weird but also not that weird. Because the more they see how nothing Janet does makes sense for Maddie, the easier it is to think 'that's not Maddie.'

Yuri is pretty adorable, not gonna lie. I do appreciate how every ghost used as evidence for Mr. Sketchy Ghost Teacher's teachings is in fact not evidence at all.

Except for the Band Ghosts, who are still very weird.

...I'll do one of these next week with the next episode, hopefully better put together.

[auguryofjellyfish]

random day 25 thoughts let's go

another otherwordly Tetro Friday? what's with chap 4, I swear, so far it's been a stream of endless bangers.

first of all, I hope Hiroaki and Tamba had a good day 😭 it was strange to not see Hiroaki at all....

[Oyasumi]

is that a goddamn Omori reference?? naw, it's not, but that's where everyone's mind went first and mine as well lol.

Oyasumi, oyaaasumi, close your eyes and you'll leave this dream....

normally something like this would make me worried, but honestly? i'm not. because Wada is not going to die. I'm not even considering the possibility. he's going to be okay. he might suffer but he's definitely going to make it. i'm not even scared of his death at all cause it's not gonna happen (except if they kill everyone in endgame). if he survived chapter 3, he can survive anything.

either way....such a sweet episode <3 loved the amount of focus Wada is getting like, THAT'S MY GOAT!!! I LOVE WADA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! please give him all the love and hugs.

HE'S NOT EATEN FOR 3 DAYS!! ?!??! Wada...i thought he'd not eat one day at a time, but, three...? no wonder he's crashing again. if the starvation motive hits, nnnnn holy shit but no he's going to be okay. trust.

I still need time to fully process [Bruise] but good lord, while watching it made my chest feel so heavy it felt like it was caving in. fucking concave. just. Mai. Ojima. it was so painful and so heavy but, i was overflowing with pride for them both. they're so incredibly strong. i love Ojima sm....

[Refulgence Post Mortem]

he loved Kamimura. he loved him. he didn't need to say it at all. i just knew from the way he talked about him. the way his voice went soft, the fondness, the light amusement... how Kamimura was stubborn, argumentative, funny, smart, kind... he made him sound so special. he painted such a lovely picture with his words.... and he had so much to say about him. he thought and worried about him a lot, Kamimura was interesting to him (!!!!!) ..... I hope Kamimura at least could tell that Ken really really liked him...he probably did.

he didn't always care about what Ken was talking about but he cared enough to pretend, always...this just...just. Kamimura cared so fucking much too.

on one hand, this is kinda nice, because Ken would never say all of this to Kamimura, so if he were alive we'd never hear Ken gush about him... but jesus, I'd rather have him back....

he was worried about Kamimura because of his suicidal tendencies, and when it seemed like he wanted to live again, he was just so relieved... the depth with which he said that, I just. wow. I know... I KNOW!!! I KNOW HE WAS GETTING BETTER! I know, Ken...!

Ken was so proud of him. so happy for him, so moved. HE WAS TURNING HIS EYES TOWARDS THE FUTURE!!! he tried to end it so many times because life was an unchanging never-ending hell BUT the instant he felt like he might not be doomed forever after all, that he could have people who love him, that he could find a place for himself in this world once more, he wanted to try again, he wanted TO LIVE.

and then she took him away.

...what the fuck. what the fuck, it's not fair...it's not fair. i can't get fucking over this, i can't, i can't. i can't. fuck. me. fuck...i hate this...

...I've seen a lot of discussion on whether Ken is gonna die this chapter. it's still a little too early to say for sure, but in my opinion, nah. he doesn't seem like he'd be a victim right now. he is a little vulnerable, but frankly in these people's place I would be scared to go at him cause he's tall, strong and has nothing left to lose.

as for whether he'd kill...mmmnnnneehhh.......no...? not in chap 4 at least. he is in a really bad way, and that "she destroyed....everything." was so good, it sounded really dark and wrathful, but, yanno. i'm mostly just side-eyeing the "everything"...

if okazaki was somehow still alive i would def be concerned about him going for her head but lol. that's taken care of already. i guess it's not impossible for him to find another outlet for his anger, COUGH watari COUGH but still, he is more depressed than angry.

he said "there's nothing left." he still has his family but he can't even take them into consideration right now. that's what he truly feels- utter desolation. how could he have the motivation to plan a murder in this state? when he "lost everything"? i'd be much more worried if he continued with his total isolation arc but with this episode, he's not too far gone. just feeling overwhelming malaise. doesn't help that he's off his meds.

then again, we might be going back to unintentional murders, so it's not out of the question. it would just be weird for Ken to try to kill everyone on purpose??

also he won't try to kill himself people 💔 he won't. although.

i was 100% sure he wouldn't before this ep, and now i'm just a little less sure. 🙁

everything is gray now.

the biggest thing i took away from this week's episodes...I really...really don't want anyone else to die...I really don't. none of them. not Ojima. not Hayashi. not Hiroaki. not Wada. not Hasegawa. not Watari. not Tamba. not Yanagi. not Hama. none of them. i really don't want anyone to die anymore.

[iamthezip]

So I have more thoughts! Once again, its a ramble. I'm not editing this cause its 2 am. Enjoy! TW: We're talking about grief due to death of a loved one.

Okay, I have to come back to this. Because I looked at Edwin, Charles, and Crystal dealing with the grief of losing Niko. But then I was thinking about Niko's grief. Because Niko is still grieving when we meet her. She's grieving the death of her father, being sent away by her mother, the loss of all other connection. Niko is as cut off as the others - the boys via their deaths, Crystal via her amnesia. She's no less alone and grieving. Her's is just not from some supernatural involvement. But more than just the idea that Niko is grieving is that the grief we see almost flips the grief we see the others go through as a result of her death. 

Edwin freezes in grief, running into a mountain, but I think he'd eventually process the grief and does come to accept the loss at least a little in the bedroom scene - "she has moved on to her afterlife". On the other hand, Niko does try to move on. And the timeline isn't really clear. When I watched the show, I assumed Niko's trip to the dandelion shrine was AFTER her father's death as I don't imagine she was infected when she was home for his funeral. So my analysis assumes that Niko tried seeking courage, not just to attend the boarding school across the ocean but to grieve and be without her father in her life. Niko tries to move beyond the mountain, but ends up being halted, not by her own choice but by others. We'll come back to that.

For Charles, I looked at the idea of grief taking things that are familiar and making them foreign and the continuance of his habit of hiding behind a smile and placing his needs and wants aside for others. Niko is quite literally thrust into the foreign. She is sent away. For her, there is no familiar after her father's passing. She left the familiar, again not really by her own choice/action, but "the sadness came too". That grief, that loss is the most familiar thing she has when the others meet her. She also doesn't hide it and she doesn't set it aside for anyone. She is open about her loss and her grief, open about her sorrow, and about how it has impacted her. She lives with her grief in the open, even if she doesn't quite process it or address it fully. 

Finally, Niko isolates where Crystal connects. When we meet Niko, she's a shut in and she's refusing to read her mother's letters. She dropped out of school. She doesn't reach out to the only family she has left. She doesn't have an friends. And we know later that she was probably pretty social at school or at least had social connections - she knew Brad and Hunter, she knew the rumors about them, she knows the football chants and cheers and happily sings them, even doing the hand gesture. Niko had connections. She lost them when she withdrew and isolated. Now, this is how some people respond to grief. Maybe the loss is too heavy and they get buried under the mountain. Maybe it's fear of losing others so better to cut ties now. Maybe its not being able to look at anyone without wondering if they're gonna die too. But for Niko, this lack of connection, this withdrawal isn't actually due to her own actions, but the intervention of others. 

And I think this is a huge part of grief that the show helps explore. Niko's first loss of connection is her loss of home and her loss of family - her mother sends her away. Her mother may have meant well. She writes Niko and Niko says that her mother tried to "send her away from the sadness". Though, her mother may have sent her away because she is one of the people that responded to grief by withdrawing and therefore forcing the same response on to Niko. Her second loss is her school and her eventual shut-in status, which results from the Dandelion Sprites. Niko says that she left school because everyone kept staring. And its so easy, when your grieving, to perceive people staring as a result of grief. I definitely felt that - this idea that people looked at me and only saw my grief or talked to me and only heard my grief. People would ask me "how are you" always with this tone of assumption, this weird sympathy, borderline pity thing. Like I was glass or needed to be handled with kids gloves. And if I said I was fine or doing okay, they'd get this look on their face like "awe, look at her being brave". And yeah, part of my perception was colored by some initial interactions. Most likely, only some people made that face or had that tone, but I got to seeing it and hearing it in almost every interaction. And I hated it. I wanted for my grief to be left alone. Now imagine that except people won't stop looking. The Dandelion Sprites made people look at Niko, not in pity. Not even at her grief, but at her. Except, she couldn't tell that. All she knew was that her father died and she went to school and everyone kept staring at her - staring at the girl who lost her father, staring at the girl who's mother sent her away, staring and staring and staring. So she fled. That progress she was making with her courage to climb that mountain grief threw at her - the progress came to a shuddering halt and she cut her connections and she isolated. 

But Niko's journey with grief doesn't end there. Because there's a third intervention - the Agency. And not just in regards to the Sprites. They do resolve that for her, which removes that driving force of her isolation. But they also offer connection and support. Niko eventually reads her mother's letter and sends her own because of seeing how much Crystal misses her own mother and wishes for that connection. Niko talks to the others about her loss and her grief on more than one occasion, not just a single one off of "this happened" and nothing else. She even has a bit of "wait, can this new supernatural world help me and bring my father back" but she accepts the answer of "no, you wouldn't want him back that way." Niko doesn't just form connections with the Agency, but due to the Agency's support, she reforms connections with others - her mother, Jenny, the wider community. She even finds new purpose in helping the Agency solve cases and helps the others process their emotions, especially Edwin. She starts moving past that mountain grief created. And its through the support of others.

This is how we compare the grief journey's we see. Niko didn't have anyone. She didn't receive support from her mother. She didn't receive it from her friends or school (again, supernatural involvement, but this mirrors common real world scenarios with grief). People don't always know how to handle someone grieving. They worry about saying or doing he wrong thing, so they do nothing or they do end up doing the wrong thing. We don't often teach how to handle grief - our own grief, let alone the grief of others. So its hard. And for Niko, this inability of others to support her in her grief led to her isolating and being buried under a mountain. And the later support from Crystal and Edwin and Charles helped her move forward and form connections again. And this support is something we see immediately with the others - especially Crystal. She tentatively asks to join the Agency in that scene in Niko's room. Edwin could hold his usual line of "we don't need Crystal" but he doesn't. He accepts her. Charles does to. They are there for each other from the beginning of their journey through grief. They have what Niko didn't.

Dead Boy Detectives - Grief

Spoilers ahead for in series character death.

I received this NGL

I have a lot of thoughts about grief and Dead Boy Detectives. The show touches on grief a bit and there were some things in the show that immediately connected with my own experience with grief. So this question and answer was a bit of an emotional exploration for me. In my usual manner, I ended up with quite the ramble. Firstly, trigger warnings for mention of terminal illness and parental death.

I think Edwin, Charles, and Crystal, in the very small glimpse that we see, show three different aspects of grief and grieving. I'd be fascinated to see how each react long-term, but all we have so far is the scene in Esther's house and the next in Niko's room. 

Grief is a difficult thing to predict. Edwin and Charles have a rather close relationship with lower-case "d" death - they have both lived through their own deaths, spend their afterlife constantly helping others deal with their death in a way, and have capital "D" Death hanging over them at all times, in the form of fleeing from her. Death isn't new to them, and I don't think grief really is either. They both have probably grieved their own deaths. Charles grieves the life he can't live. Edwin probably grieves not just his death but his time away - he didn't get to say goodbye, he didn't get to see what happened to his family. He didn't just die - he had his world ripped away. And we don't what's better - Edwin who suddenly is in a world not his own or Charles who has watched his slowly change and fade away and move on without him. But these are both losses that a person may grieve.

Edwin, with Niko, there is the added layer of connection. Edwin seems pretty determined not to form connections, by choice or false belief in his own inability to do so. He calls the living messy, even saying he'd welcome Crystal if she had died. He also seems aghast at the idea of having a living client in Becky Aspen. Charles is pretty open to befriending Crystal and Niko, so I think he's probably had a few living friends over the years. Meaning, he's probably lost some living friends over the years, either by death or them moving on from the perpetual-16-year-old.

Anyway, drawing it back to the moment of Niko's death and grief in that moment. I feel like grief hits you no matter how prepared you are, no matter how used to death you are. Because grief means you loved something or loved the hope of something or...its loss. Even if its loss you are used to or are prepared for. I see a lot of my own grief in Edwin and Charles.

To explain a little, I grew up with a mother with a terminal illness. She was given year to live when I was born and made it 28 years. She was fucking stubborn. Me and a couple of my siblings have had near death experiences. One of us even being declared clinically dead for a bit. And my father was a soldier, regularly deployed to war zones. Us kids were very aware of the fact that each goodbye when he deployed could be the last. So I grew up with death as a constant potential. It was always there, lurking nearby. And people used to tell me that at least, when someone I cared about passed away, I'd be used to the thought of it.

I wasn't. I don't think you can be, because you don't know the form that loss will take. What things in your day-to-day life it will color and which ones you won't.

I got used to the idea of death much the same way I think the boys have. But I wasn't ready when my mom passed away. And I don't think Edwin was when Niko passed away. That initial loss is like a mountain that's just dropped in front of you, that seems so insurmountable and also makes it impossible to see what's beyond, what life looks like afterwards. In the scene when Edwin, Crystal, and Charles are around Niko's body, it's Charles that grabs the other two, Charles that says they need to leave. This is the first time that is NOT Edwin inciting the flee from Death. Charles's death, the WW1 ghost, the Devlin house, the two Dragons. Each time, Edwin is the one that reminds Charles of the urgency to leave. Edwin initiate it. With Niko, Edwin can't. He's frozen. Not physically, but emotionally. He can't leave Niko. Until Charles makes him. I think this is a perfect example of the effect and weight of grief. Edwin has spent 30+ years running. He is constantly aware of the need to flee Death, the risk to himself and Charles if he doesn't, if he stops for even just a moment. But here, the grief over Niko overrides that decades built survival instinct. Edwin doesn't move. Edwin let himself befriend someone who could die, and even though he knew that people die and is so intimately familiar with death, that actual loss hits and it hits hard. On top of this, we know that Edwin doesn't always process his emotions. He has multiple comments about things being "too much emotion for one day" and again "messy" - grief is TOO MUCH emotion and is way messy. Edwin has started to explore his emotions and feelings, with his love for Charles, but I don't know if he ever actually fully explored grief. And I think he will this time. I think because it's Niko he will. Because Niko helped him explore love and open up and encouraged him in that journey, I think he'd feel he'd owe it to her to explore his grief properly. Do I think he'd do it immediately? Do I think he'd do it openly or well? No. But I think he will, eventually.

Grief also has a way of turning the familiar foreign. Charles and Edwin have been in each others space for 30+ years, and they have their roles. Its established immediately - "He's the brain. I'm the brawn." But its established in other ways, Charles being the smiley ones who charms the clients while Edwin is the fact-gatherer. Edwin again keeps them from Death's reach while Charles acts as the protector. Them moving around each other is familiar. Charles taking care of Edwin is familiar. Charles having to pull Edwin from death is foreign. Charles having to watch his friend lose someone is probably also foreign. When my mother passed away, my brother handled most things - funeral arrangements, phone calls to family and friends, reservations, flowers, everything. I supported him, keeping track of the to do list and making sure he stopped for food and water. My brother being the leader was familiar. Me being his second-in-command was familiar. Him thanking me for making sure he ate food was foreign. Him having to take 10 minutes outside the flower shop before he could drive was foreign. He was always the strong one, the one that couldn't be stopped. And while I was always his second, we never gave that words. We never talked about it. We just did it. And suddenly, these familiar things were foreign. I think this is Charles in that moment in Esther's house, and I think it'll be him moving forward. Charles takes the role that Edwin drops. Its an extension of his normal role, protector, but its still something that is solidly Edwin's job in their partnership. As for long term, Charles hides his emotions behind a smile. And yeah, him and Edwin had a moment in ep 5 about it and Crystal has called him out on it, but Charles hasn't changed in that regard. He hides his negative emotions behind a smile and he sets his own needs aside for others. I don't think grief is new to Charles. Imagine the dozen little griefs he experienced when he was alive - the grief of not having a loving father (he saw it with other kids), the grief of not having a mother who would protect him, the grief of not having any adult step in, the grief of his friends' betrayal. Charles was as used to sorrow as he was to rage and just as used to hiding it behind a smile. I think he does this here as well. I think he'll put his own grief aside, slap on a smile, and do everything he can to care for Edwin and Crystal. I think Charles will lean into the familiarity Edwin and even Crystal offer, definitely dive into solving cases - "all I need is my best mate and a case to solve".

Crystal for me is a third aspect of response to grief - connection. Some people, in grief, withdraw and isolate. When my mother passed, my family became closer. I definitely ignored some relationships, tangential friendships, but I clung closer to family. Crystal I think goes this route. This feels right to me given lack of connection and new connection is such a huge part of her storyline and arc. Crystal is ready to leave, reluctantly, but ready at the beginning of ep 8. She doesn't want to hurt Niko or the boys by staying and potentially being who she used to be, but she also wants to rebuild those connections she lost with her amnesia and with her past behavior. She's seeking connection, and she's seeking it, I think, where she feels she's meant to - her family, her parents. But her parents are the connection she needs, nor the one I think she reaches for after Niko dies. I think she'll still probably try to reconnect with them. After all, she helped convince Niko to reach out to hers and there is that drive there - Niko can't ever talk to her mother again. Edwin's family is gone. Charles can only watch his family in a mirror. Crystal is the ONLY one who can still see her family, so I think she does. But I think, with the grief of Niko, Crystal is also driven back to the boys. At the end of ep 8, Crystal doesn't try to leave again, instead, in Niko's room, she asks "what about us?". Charles offers her the out, bringing up what she previously said about returning to London alone, and Crystal rebuffs the offer, asking to be part of the Agency, to remain with the boys. There are probably multiple things that factor into this, especially considering Crystal very evidently didn't want to leave before but seemed to be doing so out of feeling like she could hurt them. Crystal seeks out connection here, holding on to the familiar bonds she's started to form, and strengthening them by asking to stay and asking to be a part of them. She admits how good they've been for her and her desire to keep that. 

For the second part of this question - how'd they get to Niko's room. I'm assuming this isn't like "practically how'd they get there." Like, did the police show up. Was there an investigation into the explosion at the butcher shop and now a dead teenager also so soon after a missing child and an attempted murder turned accidental death? I assume we mean, "how'd they get to the point of standing in Niko's room and planning what comes next." And really, it makes sense to me and seems like the perfect follow-up to the previous scene. Grief and loss change a lot, but the shocking amount of things that stay business as normal is... a lot. Like I mentioned earlier, some people process by handling logistics and just making sure to get from a to b to c accordingly and keep everything moving and on track. Some people use future plans to help them move forward, to believe there's something beyond the grief and see past that mountain. Charles takes care of the others. Crystal clings to connection. Edwin sets his emotions aside until he can process them. So they move on, in little ways, in that moment - what do they (and Jenny) need to do for Niko. What's next for them. The agency is still running. Crystal still needs to go "home". They are still "alive" and business continues as normal even when its so clearly not. When I went through multiple death in a row, people seemed so confused that I was still going to work, still hanging out with friends, still going about my day. I was shocked too, at times, how a day would go by like nothing had changed. This scene sort of shows that for me - the idea that things keep moving. And we move with them. Hope this made some sort of sense.

[stars-obsession-pit]

The Half-Ghost and The Travelers

The Ghost Zone connects to multiple different worlds. So when Tucker upgraded Danny’s computer to route its internet through the Zone to have connection anywhere, it coincidentally also allowed him to connect to other worlds too.

Once he realized this, Danny started to occasionally try out games from those alternate worlds.

Amongst those was a multiplayer game called Ransack. It may not have stood out too much to him on its own, but he managed to make some online friends through it. They were members of computer gaming club from their world’s version of Madison, Wisconsin.

And then one day they completely dropped off the grid.

So of course he tried to look for them. Online friends losing contact isn’t uncommon, but a whole group vanishing at once without any warning? That was worrying to him.

The plot only thickened when he saw on that world’s news that an entire building in their city had been suddenly torn away through a rift in space.

Now he really needed to track them down…

(or in more direct words: a Danny Phantom - Worm crossover where Danny was online friends with the Travelers prior to them being pulled to Earth Bet by the Simurgh, and he sets out to try and learn what happened to them (and, once he finds out, to try to help them))

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go

[olessan]

Re: TLovM episodes 3x07-3x09

[charmtale]

before everyone gets sent to the middle of the galaxy*, we don’t see chibichibi do that much that could be described as interference with the past timeline but one thing she does do- the first thing she does at all- is rescue kakyuu. it's at least implied that kakyuu would have died otherwise- she even tells the starlights "Several times I tried to go to you. But my body's recovery took longer than expected... ChibiChibi was the one who helped me a lot." ultimately kakyuu helps usagi get to the galaxy cauldron, meaning her presence isn't inconsequential.

chibichibi also attempts to prevent the starlights from meeting kakyuu. she refuses when they ask and also did not at any point bring kakyuu's incense jail to them. now she obviously didn't feel that strongly about preventing it, she could blow up the starlights if she wanted, but i don't think she would've initially been against it for zero reason. and there is no way she doesn't already know their relationship even if you ignore that chibichibi is sailor moon from the future because she's been regularly talking with kakyuu about the starlights over the past few weeks or so.

this leaves me with some questions:

-what happens in the ‘first’ timeline that chibichibi/sailor cosmos originated from? mainly, does kakyuu live or die in that timeline? we don't actually know for sure despite the implication. does she live, but in a worse/damaged state? if she did die, how does chibichibi know her at all- hearing about her from the 'first' timeline starlights?

-why try to keep kakyuu from the starlights? attempted damage control to prevent the timeline from getting too different?

-if chibichibi’s interference caused kakyuu to live when she originally died, why do this? did she want someone to temporarily keep usagi company after all her friends died? did she just feel bad for kakyuu? did she know having kakyuu alive would get them to the galaxy cauldron more efficiently? clearly sailor moon got there one way or another in the ‘first’ timeline, and kakyuu implies that her star system (and by extension herself, as a princess) is just one of many that are all less powerful than our solar system, meaning she likely doesn’t possess the unique ability to travel there. it seems she just CAN help usagi get there because she knows where it is. but chibichibi herself could fulfill that role. so kakyuu is not necessary to get to the galaxy cauldron. therefore...?

i don't have answers. maybe to her it's like a videogame she's playing for the second time and she's like Ok This time i will see what happens if kakyuu lives. maybe she genuinely didn't know/forgot who kakyuu was and found her on the side of the road and was like 'well i might as well help this random passed out cosplayer while i'm here' and then it was thee alien princess and she was like I can't kill her now it'd be awkwarddddd. intergalactic toddler of mystery

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[infectedpaul]

"the unlucky storybook"

(yes im forever obsessed hiyokos only depiction in the kings storybook was as a sunflower but also oh my god shes a sunflower...)

[juliareed]

You still cling to naive ideals. I learned, at a very young age, the only currency worth anything in this world is power.

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Decided to make another Primarch child OC! This time it's Midna!

Currently she's Fulgrim's daughter who he has a very shitty relationship with because she's not very girlish and is more of a tomboy then anything. She has run away from home several times and at this point she has a seething hatred for her dad's seeking of perfection and doesn't want anything to do with it. Has dealt with her father having impossible standards for her for most of her life. Like yes, he is very encouraging of her arts and singing, but that's...not what she wants to do. She wants to fight!

Which is also why this woman has the thighs of a goddess that can snap you in half. Dancing is close enough to fighting, she guesses. Generally gets along pretty well with her uncles. Ferrus understands her and teaches her, even if he is somewhat grumpy. Was very close with him.

Ended up with Corvus after Fulgrim got possessed due to the Slaanesh demon having...very weird ideas of what parenting is. This was also when it was found that Midna can break a primarch's ribs. All it did was make her hate her father more and also made her feel disgusting. She knows it wasn't him, but she still hates it.