#raging grace (2023)

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

SUMMARY: An undocumented Filipina immigrant lands a job as a care-worker for a terminal old man, securing a better life for her and her daughter. But a dark discovery threatens to destroy everything she's strived for and holds dear.

[gebo4482]

Raging Grace - Official Trailer (2023) Max Eigenmann, Jaeden Boadilla

[kristenswig]

#277. Raging Grace - Paris Zarcilla

3.5/5

[letterboxd-loggd]

Raging Grace (2023) Paris Zarcilla

December 23rd 2023

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

267. Raging Grace (2023)

[genkinahito]

Raging Grace (2023) Director: Paris Zarcilla [Chicago International Film Festival 2023]

Raging Grace    Release Date: 2023 Duration: 99 mins. Director: Paris Zarcilla Writer: Paris Zarcilla (Screenplay), Starring: Max Eigenmann, Jaeden Paige Boadilla, Leanne Best, David Hayman Website IMDB Raging Grace is British-born Filipino writer-director Paris Zarcilla’s debut feature. His UK-set horror film has all of the hallmarks of traditional gothic horror as it has a haunted house,…

[boinin]

Batten down the hatches: Rin's ego is about to land

The latest chapters show Rin playing with an unfamiliar aura: what looks like swirling rivulets of water.

This represents the refinement of his ego and playstyle since the under-20 match. But what exactly are they going for with the swirling water? Here's my two cents.

Rin is strongly associated with water, specifically the sea. He grew up by the coast; he and Sae shared a love of watching the sunset over the water after training together. Those childhood memories are turbulent now, like dark clouds on the ocean's horizon.

It's here he realises that he can no longer play the puppetmaster football that helped him thrive in Blue Lock. As good as he is, it wasn't authentic... and it's nowhere near where he needs to be to compete with his brother, or even Isagi.

Rin's flow state is the most unique out of any others we've seen. Let's dig into it. All panels are from the official translation, which is important as the translation choices are 1) consistent and 2) likely chosen carefully.

In the dying moments of the match, Rin complains about feeling restrained. Being Itoshi Rin is eating him alive.

Cool, calm and aloof.

A genius. Prodigy. Puppetmaster.

Team player. Team captain.

Isagi Yoichi's partner. Shidou Ryuusei's rival.

Itoshi Sae's little brother.

The prospect of defeat rudely wakes him up. His pretence comes crashing down hard, triggered by his ineffectiveness in spite of the teammates around him. It's one of the best rugpulls in sports manga.

When the power of friendship comes knocking, Itoshi Rin tells it to fuck off and die.

What a glorious moment... and not just because it posits Rin as a Uchiha Sasuke kinnie. I prompt you to examine his eyes in this panel.

They're a swirling vortex of hate and destruction, befitting Blue Lock's angstiest character. The shape reminds me of this:

Satellite images of Hurricane Franklin and Hurricane Idalia, August 2023. Image credit: NOAA Satellites.

Rin's true ego, which he unleashes against Sae, is a storm.

Optional soundtrack for the rest of this post (because Rin 100% listens to this once it comes out in Blue Lock's universe).

Although it isn't portrayed visually as such in the under-20 arc, the metaphor fits Rin's evolving playstyle. What is more destructive, more uncontrollable, more senseless than a hurricane? A violent force of nature that we can predict but never avert?

When a storm approaches, all we can do is rank it, track it, then attempt to mitigate the inevitable damage.

In football terms? Sounds a lot like playing Rin.

It's even alluded to in chapter 250: the graphics for Rin's formation are similar to the satellite images of large storms.

Within the U20 match, there are exchanges that support this theory. Darai calls Rin's evolving playstyle arrogant and avaricious. The latter (meaning extreme greed) is evocative of a force that pursues what it wants without regard for anything in its surroundings. What it can't have, it destroys.

Niou is confident enough in his physicality to try withstand his opponent's attrack. Rin literally flips him into the air. Niou's hubris brings to mind all man-made constructs which are supposedly storm-proof... until a cyclone comes along and proves otherwise.

The contrast between Rin and Sae's egos are interesting. If we accept Rin's is a storm, i.e. a destructive force of nature that cannot be controlled, Sae's is the opposite despite being as impossible to defy. Sae's motif is defined in the manga as "beautiful destruction", plays and passes depicted in graceful data strings. Rather than natural, his playstyle is sleek and controlled, and dominant to the point of appearing pre-ordained by his opponents.

Their attitudes are equally different. While Rin drools and loses composure in the final minutes, Sae does little more than raise his eyebrows throughout the entire game. He's completely emotionless.

It's the extremes of human nature: animalistic rage versus robotic detachment. This time, the latter wins. Will Rin have an opportunity to face his brother again, with a better grasp on his ego? Here's hoping.

My final thoughts on Rin are speculative. How does one beat a storm? Not just endure—but subdue and calm one?

It's beyond human capability. The ability to control the weather exists only in myth and fantasy, and even then it's usually in the hands of powerful entities, not mere heroes or wizards.

Subduing something as powerful as a hurricane would require a god.

Is this Isagi and Rin's endgame?

Time will tell.

[primoredial-jade]

to you, 500 years from now.

" i wonder if you remember me as i was. sometimes, i think of those days. do you? " —dishonored

prompt: he wishes to see you again one day, in a world that is kinder for a soul as beautiful as yours.

pairing: neuvillette x gn!reader

cw: reincarnation alternate universe, heavy themes and depictions of death, neuvillette story quest spoilers, fontaine archon quest spoilers, a light-hearted scene sprinkled in, reader is an oceanid in their past life, reader is a geoscientist in their current life

as a part of @seraphiism's 2023 writing event 🤍 merry christmas!

500 years ago.

seldom did visitors grace the presence of the hydro dragon.

adorned with shimmering scales that reflected the hues of the deepest ocean, piercing violet eyes that sparkled like the shiniest amethysts, and hailed as one of the strongest sovereigns of the world– his reputation preceded him. thus, the hydro dragon chose to live in seclusion in the salacia plains.

time worked differently for a being such as him. in a momentary lapse, the hydro dragon had shut his eyes for what he thought was a brief respite, only to be roused by the gentle murmur of bubbling water. as his eyes fluttered open, he remained unaware that several years had slipped away during his tranquil slumber.

with seemingly no fear at being in the presence of the hydro dragon, a beautiful oceanid floated before him, blowing bubbles in his direction. twirling around him, the oceanid radiated a warmth that the hydro dragon could not resist. drawn by the mesmerizing glow of his scales, the oceanid came closer.

the hydro dragon sat up in his full form, extending his wings and towering over the oceanid, gauging its reaction. he knew he was terrifying like this. the oceanid did not flee in fear, rather, gazed up at him in amazement and wonder.

"what is your name?" the hydro dragon asks.

you offer it to him, easily.

days turned into nights into years as the hydro dragon finally had someone to call his companion. you followed him everywhere he went, offering him countless condessence crystals on your trips, "because it resembles your eyes."

with time, the hydro dragon had discovered a love that transcended ordinary within you.

fate, as cruel as it could be, had other plans. the heavenly principles had descended to wage war against the seven sovereigns. the hydro dragon urged you to stay away, to not get involved. yet, you refused, promising that you would never leave his side.

the heavenly principles, having sensed the unconventional bond between the hydro dragon and his oceanid, instantly killed you before the hydro dragon could even think to intervene. dying in his hands, you apologized.

"hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry," you murmur, placing one last condessence crystal in his palm.

filled with agony and rage, the hydro dragon unleashed his elemental fury upon the heavenly principles.

still, it wasn't enough. he couldn't save you, he couldn't avenge you, and now, he was to also perish by the hands of fate.

as he lay dying with the condessence crystal in his hand, he wishes to see you again one day. in a world that is kinder, and more forgiving for a soul as beautiful as yours.

500 years later.

the stars are keeping you up tonight.

ever since furina had given up her position as the hydro archon and the prophecy was deemed to be untrue, you had felt a shift within yourself that you could not really explain. when you had been enveloped by the water of the primordial sea, you had felt... at home. tranquil, even.

fontaine's winter festivities were in full swing, and the city's lights twinkle slow as children zip past you through the streets. red and green decorations are adorned on every wall and lamp post. you raise a hand to catch a delicate snowflake– rarely did snow ever reach fontaine, but it was a welcomed change for the season.

you shiver, pulling your coat closer to your neck. it was probably reckless to be out this late when the night was this chilly, but you just couldn't shake the feeling of having to be out here. something was pulling you here, but you didn't know what.

"good evening," a voice calls your name and you startle, hand over your heart. you turn to meet piercing violet eyes and an easygoing smile, one that you meet sheepishly.

"good evening, monsieur neuvillette," you answer, inadvertently straightening your posture.

"i thought it was you i saw..." neuvillette trails off, clearing his throat. he gestures up to the palais mermonia, quite a ways away. you tilt your head in bewilderment.

"you could see me from there?"

"well, not at first," he answers, lightly tapping his cane on the floor. "you could say it was instinct, perhaps. i cannot find the words to really explain it, but it had to be you."

you would be lying if you said that one of the reasons as to why you had felt so on edge since the flooding didn't have anything to do with neuvillette.

as a geoscientist investigator for the marechaussee phantom, most of your interactions in the past had been strictly professional in solving cases and exonerating or indicting those on stand. after the failed prophecy, neuvillette had begun to seek you out for casual conversation. of course, you welcomed it. you were easily drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

something about the way he had interacted with you since then with a longing gaze in his eyes had you feeling as if he knew something that you didn't.

it did not do any favors to your heart. he was a gorgeous man with a kind and respectful personality to boot.

you shouldn't get this excited about him finding you, but your blood thumping in your ears betrays you.

"ah- i see... it's funny you say that, because, well- likewise," you manage to say, flustered and feeling the urge to bolt on the spot.

neuvillette smiles at you, nodding toward the brightly lit street. "would you take a walk with me?"

speechless, you nod. what would fontaine think seeing you strolling around town with neuvillette this late at night, shoulders so close?

"there are a few stands around with festive goods and the likes. there's actually a..." you pause, a sudden memory making you laugh, "a water taste-testing booth made by your fanclub. would you want to check it out?"

neuvillette's eyebrows raise in amusement. "it would be my pleasure. i had not even been aware i harbored a fanclub."

you absentmindedly lean closer to his side, "well, you are quite popular among fontainians, monsieur neuvillette. many of them admire you for everything you have done for fontaine."

"and what about you?" his eyes meet yours expectantly.

you're caught off guard by his teasing. ears burning, you focus your attention on the path. "well, of course, i do too," you mumble. you can't see it, but he smiles.

a brightly lit booth in blue finally comes into view. its banner reads, "water around the world!" with a small, cute drawing of neuvillette's face in the corner.

"surely that's breaking a law in copyright infringement?" you joke.

"the oratrice would surely find them guilty," he nods, and you cannot suppress your laugh.

"hello, and welcome to- monsieur neuvillette?!" the teenager running the stand jumps out of her seat at the sight. she sputters, waving her hands around frantically. "it- it's so nice to see you, monsieur! are you interested in trying out some of the water we've collected?" her outburst spawns members of neuvillette's fanclub whispering excitedly behind her, to your amusement.

"i would be delighted to, along with my companion, if you would be so kind." he gestures to you, and it is only now that the fanclub seems to notice you. a few of them audibly gasp, and you already feel the dread of having your name front and center on the steambird come tomorrow morning. "monsieur neuvillette and the esteemed geoscientist: on a late-night excursion?"

they're quick to place multiple cups of water in front of you. respectively labeled cider lake, samudra coast, dadaupa gorge, sal terrae, and the suigetsu pool. neuvillette takes the one from cider lake, swirling it, and taking a leisurely sip not unlike wine. he hums, encouraging you to take your sip as well.

as you go down the line, truthfully you cannot tell much difference between them all. but, your heart warms seeing neuvillette take this very seriously, to the delight of his fanclub.

"did you like them?" you ask as you both depart from the booth, truly curious.

neuvillette nods, a smile on his face. "they all tasted quite fresh."

you cannot repress your own grin at his honesty. "i'm glad, monsieur neuvillette."

as the snow gets heavier and the night turns darker, booths begin to shut their lights down with people scurrying back to their abodes. you get the occasional double take at being with the chief justice, of course.

you watch neuvillette as he slows to a stop to stare up into the sky. delicate snowflakes fall into his long hair and eyelashes, and yet he seems completely unbothered by the cold. he's beautiful.

you heart suddenly aches in a way that feels like the breath has totally escaped you. the feeling is so unknown that you wonder if this moment is even real at all.

you'd had nightmares about it that you didn't dare tell a soul, of how you had died once. it was impossible- unfathomable.

but if it was, then how could you vividly remember in your last moments the feeling of being held by warm, protective hands?

neuvillette is already looking at you when you come to, like he knows.

"maybe we should call it a night." your voice is thinned.

neuvillette takes a step closer. "may i?"

you can only nod, breath hitching. he's standing closer than how he usually allows himself to be. you move, but one of his hands lift to gently cup your cheeks.

instantly, tears begin to well up in your eyes. his touch feels so familiar. "i'm sorry," you whisper.

with his free hand, neuvillette unclips the brooch at his neck and places it in your hand. seeing it up this close, your eyes widen.

"this is a condessence crystal."

neuvillette's eyes meet your own. he closes both of your hands around the crystal, and you see white.

"what is your name?"

"it resembles your eyes."

"i love you."

"i won't ever leave your side."

"don't leave me by myself."

"hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry."

your knees suddenly grow weak, but neuvillette is quick to catch you.

your mind is running at a thousand miles a minute, swirling with questions that repeat themselves in your head, what is wrong with you, what is wrong with him, what is wrong with fate.

"so it is real," he finally says, eyes so solemn yet relieved. his words, resolute and cutting, make you still.

"i– what is?"

"us."

you didn't realize that you needed to hear it from him to finally understand. his eyes are darting across your face, trying to get a read on your expression.

"ever since i was given my authority back on the day of the prophecy, i remembered everything of our past life together, traversing across the seas of the teyvat," he explains, thumbing a stray tear that escaped your eye.

“for a long time, i wondered why i had this when i was reborn into this form,” he squeezes your hand with the condessence crystal, “and then it all made sense.”

"i remember now too," you say, "neuvillette, i remember."

this world is much kinder for a soul that is as beautiful as yours.

"would you give it a chance?" he asks.

"why, neuvillette?"

"because i know," his beautiful eyes don't falter from your own. "i know of the one life i spent where i lost you."

the chill that runs up your spine is not from the cold.

"and now, i have finally found you again."

you don't know who moves first, but his lips are on yours in the next breath you take. you are anguished, confused, happy, at peace.

even in the snow and the pretty lights, all you can see is him.

[kyu-piddy]

Sweet Strawberry Delight

An: Holy crap… this got way longer than I thought it would. This started as a very small drabble all the way back in December 2023, but then it spiraled into what it is now. Don’t ya just love reframing canon events as things revolving around the reader? I do :3

Ps: This piece has some slight angst, but a happy ending.

Gn Reader x Riddle

Trigger warnings: Controlling parents

4k words

Riddle clearly remembered the first time he saw you.

It was one of his very first outings with Trey and Chenya, when he was but a small child.

They had invited him to a croquet match in a park near Trey’s house, and he couldn’t be more excited, spending hours poring over a rule book he had found stashed away in a shelf.

But when they arrived at the park, all of his thoughts changed to you.

A being covered in mud, grass and leaves stuck to your clothes, disheveled hair pointing to every direction.

You gave him a bright smile, a gap from a missing tooth breaking the streak of white, something he couldn’t quite decipher glimmering in your eyes.

Riddle blinked. If his mother ever saw you, she would be sure to give you the reprimand of your life. He himself felt rather taken aback by your appearance.

You were… wrong. Every single part of you was like a cosmic horror, beyond anything that he could ever fathom.

You stretched your hand out to him, mud caking your nails and palm, seemingly a mockery of a polite greeting.

He looked down at your hand, then at your face, shy reluctance seeping into his face.

If he had been any older, he would have rejected you and your kindness.

But he wasn’t, so he too broke out into a smile, albeit a small one, and shook your hand back.

On that afternoon, Riddle learned how to play croquet.

You were a much better player than he, but his inability didn’t bother you. The mistakes he made didn’t fuel a fire of rage in you, fueling instead a calm stream of perseverance.

At the end of the match, when the sun began to give signs it would soon go to rest, you approached him with a gift.

It wasn’t quite a gift per say, but more of a small offering of friendship.

In your palm, a small white and pink wrapping rested, protecting a sickly sweet trap.

“I can’t eat that. It’s bad for you.” he remembered saying, a sad tilt to his voice.

“I think it’s only bad for you if you eat too much of it. Here, look.”

You took another wrapping out of your pocket, deftly unwrapping the pink and white and leaving only a red square that you promptly popped into your mouth.

“See? It didn’t do anything bad to me.”

You extended the candy to him once again.

He could have not taken it. Refuse the sweet temptation and keep his perfect streak of health.

Riddle took it from your hand, taking the candy into his mouth and chewing slowly.

The taste of strawberry filled his senses, drowning out his mothers reprimands from his mind. Never had something tasted so sweet as this secret act of rebellion.

“So, do you like it?”

“Yes. It's really sweet!”

Another wrapped delight graced your hand, quickly being shoved into his pocket.

“Keep this one for later. It’s our little secret.” you murmured conspiratorially, not even letting Trey or Chenya hear the both of you. The extra red square was for him, and only for him.

As he rushed home, Riddle kept thinking of you, strawberry in his mouth and on his mind.

Hopefully, he would see you again.

…

The day everything went wrong didn’t start out as such.

He had once again sneaked out during his time of self studying, a moment of stolen freedom that made his world so much sweeter.

The park where the four of you played was always filled with new possibilities, the little time he got there never seeming enough to satiate his curious mind.

It was a bright day, fluffy clouds littering the vast blue sky, passing your little group by like strangers waving goodbye.

“Let’s cloud gaze!”

You lied on the ground as you said so, letting your head hit the soft grass.

Riddle looked down at your face.

“Won’t we get dirty if we lay on the grass?”

“We’ll be fine. We just have to be careful. Come on! It’s really cool, Riddle.”

He sat down by your side, blades of grass tickling his body.

“Have you ever gone cloud gazing?”

He shook his head.

You let out a loud gasp, turning to the side to look him in the eyes.

“It’s really fun! You just have to look up at the clouds and figure out the shapes they make. Like that one for example! It looks like a rabbit.”

He squinted his eyes. Truthfully, it only looked like an amorphous blob.

“It looks cloud shaped to me.” he replied.

“That’s because you aren’t looking hard enough. You have to really look.”

On that afternoon, Riddle learned how to cloud gaze.

Finding shapes in the ever changing clouds wasn’t his forte, but your finds were always delightful.

As the sky became less blue and more orange, cloud gazing was abandoned in favor of a strawberry tart Trey had brought.

The four of you indulged on it giddily, messily eating every last crumb.

Frosting stuck to the corner of his lips, your soft hand gingerly cleaning it off.

But it all came crashing down as an angry figure stomped over the grass and flowers, disgust evident on their face as a bit of mud dirtied their shoes.

A cold voice echoed in the almost empty park, Riddle's heart dropping to the floor and splattering into tiny pieces.

“Riddle! I cannot believe this!”

Her angry glare terrified all four of you, each step she took getting her closer and closer to the small group of children.

“Mother, I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry!”

Riddle cried, warm tears streaming down his face and cleaning any remnant of the tart he had just indulged in.

Riddle’s mother grabbed his arm, dragging him towards her with unexpected strength.

“We’re going home now. And you hooligans, how dare you incite my son to participate in these dangerous behaviors?! I will have a stern talk with your parents, as they seem to have forgotten to raise their children as respectable members of society.”

She turned back around, iron grip on her crying son's arm, his tear stricken eyes widened in fear.

Riddle had turned back to his friends, their terrified faces mirroring his.

Your ever smiling face was now devoid of any warmth, fear pooling in your eyes, mouth slightly open, whatever words that would have been spoken stuck in your throat.

More tears welled up in his eyes, as his friends' figures got smaller and smaller.

A small pink and white wrapping fell from his pocket, being promptly crushed by his mothers foot.

…

For years, you had remained but a distant memory on the back of Riddle’s mind, strawberry flavored snippets of a time he could never truly forget, for as much as his rational mind told him he should.

His mother had identified Trey's parents and given them a piece of her mind, but she couldn’t identify yours.

At least you had been spared of that.

He thought he’d never see any of you again, but destiny had decided otherwise, as on his first year at NRC, he reencountered the people who had once made his days so sweet.

Trey was part of his dorm, a dependable upper classmate and his vice dorm leader.

Chenya studied at RSA, close enough for Riddle to see him at every inter school event.

And you…

At the tail end of his first year, as summer came knocking and the strawberry bushes in Heartslabyul sat heavy with fruit, he received a letter from his mother, bringing with it Riddle's most dreaded topic.

Marriage.

His mother had found someone she deemed appropriate for him. Someone who she believed to be a good match to his career prospects.

As summer vacation rolled around, a meeting was in order. His mother would observe it, and decide if she had truly found the correct person for Riddle.

Strangely, Riddle felt reticent. He knew his mother was the most correct, the one who always knew what was best for him. But part of him ached to make this decision on his own, a small rebellious voice tugging at the back of his brain.

He merely ignored it, letting his rational thoughts drown it.

On the day of the meeting, Riddle sat on a plush chair in his intended’s tea room, his mother sitting nearby.

A man entered the room, tall and imposing, followed by a smaller person.

The man sat in front of his mother, while the smaller person sat in front of him.

Perfume tickled his nostrils, a sweet intoxicating scent.

As his mother and the father of his intended spoke to each other, the person in front of him managed to whisper a secret.

“It’s been a long time, Riddle.”

Your voice had changed, becoming more mature and wiser, but the kindness that seeped through was the same, as warm as the day he had met you.

Even your eyes were the same, a playful twinkle that shone brighter when you looked at him still decorating your gaze.

At the end of the meeting, your parents shook hands, an agreement being reached, and you and him did the same.

In between your palms, a small square rested, surprising Riddle.

As you retracted your hand, he held the secret object tight in between his fingers.

When his mother was not looking, he peered at the mysterious square.

Pink and white stared back at him, unchanged by time.

…

That summer was perfumed by your presence.

Where once he had spent his days bent over his desk, book after book studied in great detail, he now spent them studying you instead.

Various outings were arranged for the two of you to get to know each other, strolls along gardens, afternoon teas, candlelit dinners, and many more.

As you both walked languidly through a park, warm wind caressing your hair and clothes, Riddle couldn’t help but inspect you.

You looked much too happy whenever you were with him, happiness that he had only ever seen in children.

You glanced at his face, smiling contently as his eyes met yours, Riddle quickly looking away to evade your gaze.

Suddenly, your feet carried you faster through the dirt path as you broke into a slow run.

“Look!”

Excitement laced your voice as you pointed to a croquet court up ahead.

“Let’s go play!”

Excitedly, you grabbed his hands, tugging him towards the court.

“I don’t believe croquet is an appropriate courtmanship activity.”

“Just this once won’t be so bad. Come on, Riddle!”

You kept tugging his arm with vigor, undeterred by decency or common sense.

Riddle wasn’t so easily swayed as he had been as a child. Naturally, he could say no to you.

In a matter of moments, he was holding a croquet mallet, standing on the field, observing your dexterity at the game.

Time had only sharpened your skills, while his hadn’t flourished quite as much.

Even so, as much as he did not want to admit it, it was fun, glimpses of his childhood happiness resurfacing as he once more competed against you in an elicit croquet match.

“I win!”

A victorious cheer erupted from your lips as you sat down on the grass, letting the mallet fall by your side.

“You played really well too, Riddle.”

“I did not. My skill is far from being on par with yours.”

Frowning, you motioned for him to approach you, pulling him down to the ground with you as soon as he was close enough.

Riddle felt his cheeks warm up, a furious red crawling up his body and tinting his face.

As his eyes met yours, the heat melted from his face, your saddened eyes and half smile a balm to his irritation.

“I’m sorry, Riddle.”

“For what?”

“For everything you went through. For everything you are going through.”

“I’m not going through anything. My life is adequate.”

Your smile dropped, and you turned your face to the sky, as if afraid to look him in the eye.

Riddle felt his heart squeeze. He had no motive to be sad. His life was indeed adequate.

His grades, his meals, his friends, his betrothed, his future were all perfectly correct, handpicked by his mother or influenced by his mothers teachings, a mother he knew to be the epitome of perfection.

The weight in his heart was unfounded, irrational. He only needed to keep following his mothers rule and he’d be happy.

“That cloud looks like a rabbit, don’t you think so?”

You pointed to a vagrant cloud above the both of you.

It was unfair. How could the moments he shared with you, unchained by expectations and presumed perfection, sweeten the bitterness in his heart?

Following your outstretched arm, he found the supposedly rabbit shaped cloud.

He still couldn’t discern any sort of shape evolving from the cloud, but part of him wanted to. He wanted to see the world through your eyes, feel that guiltless happiness that had stained your eyes and voice for as long as he had known you.

“I can’t quite make out such a shape from that one. Perhaps if I… look at another one I’ll be able to.”

Your eyes met, words unnecessary, a silent understanding being reached, your hand on the ground, palm facing up, an invite sent with gestures.

An invite he accepted, fingers interlocked shyly.

Riddle closed his eyes, his heart beating rapidly, any weight there temporarily lifted.

A smile bloomed on his face.

…

After all those years, Riddle had returned to his childhood habit, but instead of stolen moments playing with his friends, now he was encouraged to spend time with you.

Time with you was addicting. You were always happy to see him, smiling gleefully and eager to take him on a new adventure.

He felt guilty, his mother’s angry gaze burned into his very core, a warning to the reality that could transpire if she ever found out the things he had been participating in.

However, any fear that hid at the back of his mind was supplanted by your sheer presence.

One night, both your parents called for a meeting.

Four people sat in his mother’s study, expressions closely guarded.

Riddle sat in front of you, side by side with his mother. You sneaked him a wink, highly improper.

He gave you a small nod in return, almost imperceptible.

“I believe that our children have already spent enough time together for a decision to be reached, Mrs. Rosehearts.”

His mother sat upright on uncomfortable metal disguised as a chair, sharp eyes dissecting your father.

“I believe so too, Mr. ___.

Your face was indecipherable, as if the conversation was disappearing from your mind as soon as it entered.

The adults spent the next hour discussing the details of your future marriage.

After finishing college, you were to be wed and move to a house owned by your father. Riddle would study magical medicine. You would study magical engineering.

The words kept coming, and Riddle’s dread kept growing.

This was just how things were. This was the best path for his life.

As the details were settled, the adults shook their hands, and everyone got up to go have dinner.

You spent the dinner playing with your food, his mother side eyeing you, yet you didn’t seem to even register her flaming gaze.

After all the courses were served, you excused yourself. Five, then ten, then fifteen minutes passed, your visage still missing from the table, worrying Riddle.

Excusing himself, he searched for you.

Searching through the house yielded no results, the garden being the next logical step.

The quiet lull of the night stretched far, flowers and bushes dipped in darkness, his own feet shrouded in mystery.

A small noise captured his attention, leading him to a big rose bush hiding your form.

You sat perfectly still, just as you had during the dinner, hands tucked underneath your knees, wide eyes and closed mouth.

He sat by your side, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t part of his vocabulary, “not knowing what to do”, but this time he truly was lost.

“I always dreamed of my wedding as a little kid. I was a bit of a romantic, after all.”

Your voice came out as a whisper, trembling words uttered in fear.

“I dream of far away places, where I could be… free. I thought that as I grew older, I would have options. Real options. Yet, here I am.”

Silence settled between the two of you.

“We should probably go back.”

You got up after uttering those words, your eyes never meeting his.

As you walked back inside, Riddle sat on the ground for a little longer, watching your back grow smaller.

The pain in his heart, a constant prick he had learned to ignore, had grown and grown until he no longer had a heart, but instead thousands of small pieces.

For once in his life, he had seen your eyes, sparkless, hopeless.

If you, who was so sweet and full of life, had your flame burned out, how could he hope to ever be happy by following your ways?

It was time for him to face the truth. His mother was right. The only way to live was to follow the rules.

…

Going back to NRC was a return to form.

He was once again in control of himself, of his surroundings. He’d make sure the rules were followed to perfection.

The reason he was unhappy was because he was surrounded by troublemakers, dissidents of the very laws that made life adequate, people who couldn’t appreciate the perfect order of things just as the Queen of Hearts had defined.

Slowly but surely, he was getting closer to the ideal, to a dorm filled with exclusively rule followers like him.

And yet, happiness still evaded him, like a cloud passing by, something to be appreciated from afar and never to be held.

It was unfair. Why did those around him, troublemakers, rule breakers, appear so happy? How could they be so happy?

You had once been like them, consumed by your own folly, the end to such presumed happiness a bitter pill to swallow, but a necessary one.

Because that happiness wasn’t real happiness.

It couldn’t be.

For if your way was the true key to the joy Riddle so coveted, that meant his mother was wrong, that the path he had been forced to forge would never lead him to what deep down he desired the most.

Day in and day out he kept at his mission with fervor.

He would punish a tart thief.

He would punish those that disrupted an unbirthday party.

He would show to the rambunctious first year duo that they were no match for him.

No one was.

Something was thrown at him. An egg, broken into tiny pieces, flakes of the shell on the floor and on his face, the gooey center slipping down his face.

How dare they?! How dare the ungrateful brats not listen to him?! How dare Trey tell him that he’s wrong! He was always right!

Everything turned black. Inky tendrils obscured his vision, melding into his body, wet and warm like spilled blood.

Rage like he had never felt before engulfed him, screaming inside his mind, coloring his world in pain and grief.

He wanted to hurt those around him. Those that failed him.

From the corner of his eye, a figure emerged, brighter than the ever encompassing darkness.

Deep in his overblot, Riddle saw you.

Memories of his childhood. Memories of your summer together. Memories he wasn’t sure if they were real or imagined.

He had spent so much of his life following rules, believing they would be the key to his happiness. His mother was happy. Wasn’t she?

But you… you weren’t happy following the rules imposed on you. You were the happiest going at the beat of your own drum, yet everyone had stifled you.

Riddle too, had tried to stifle you countless times, pluck you from the happy bubble you had made for yourself, until eventually he had succeeded.

The arranged marriage had been the final straw for you, taking away your very way of being, and he was to blame.

Riddle cried. For himself. For you. For his friends. For the life he could have lived.

In the darkness, a hand reached out.

“Hey, Riddle, want to go cloud gazing?”

A child’s voice echoed through the world of blot, some of the ink receding like it had been burnt.

Opening his eyes, he saw you, back when you were kids.

“Are you sure you want to go cloud gazing with me? I cannot discern anything special in the clouds. I will only sadden you and destroy who you are! ___, YOU CAN’T LET ME DESTROY YOU!”

He screamed at you, tears and snot making it hard to breathe.

You merely smiled, turning into your present self.

One hand in your pocket, you took out a white and pink wrapping, extending your hand to him.

“It’s only bad for you if you eat too much of it. Will you share this one with me?”

Grabbing the square from your hand, Riddle slowly unpeeled the wrapping, the small red square in his hand smelling of strawberries.

“I… If you let me, I’d like to.”

With a soft smile, you hugged him.

“I’ll meet you out there, Riddle.”

The darkness, as if it had a mind of its own, receded, leaving only a bright white light.

…

“Riddle! How are you doing?”

“I’m… well. How are you,___?”

Riddle sat in front of you, a small smile adorning his features.

You smiled back, sparkles in your eyes, hands carefully holding a cup of steaming hot tea.

“I’m doing fine.”

Silence stretched between you both, the lull of conversation from other bakery goers filling the void.

Words were to be exchanged if either of you would let them free, but the fear of breaking such pure silence held your tongues back.

“I came here as fast as I could.” you started, a careful tone to your sentence.

“Why did you send that letter to my father? Why did you break off our engagement?”

You asked sincerely, your smile dropped and your brow slightly frowned.

Riddle stared into his cup, watching the liquid swirl impatiently.

“Sometimes the rules aren’t correct.”

He started, not daring to look you in the eye, lest that sparkle that lit his days be gone once more.

“The path we must take isn’t always the one that was laid down for us. Even if the rules deem it so, they too aren’t always right. I…” the next words out of his mouth made his cheeks mimic his hair, a game of imitation that did not please him “I care much too strongly for you to force you to spend the rest of your life with me. I’d wish for it to be by your own choice.”

Lifting his head up, he faced your pensive gaze, expression lacking any substantial emotion.

With the meal over, Riddle paid and led you outside.

Small snowflakes danced in the wind, falling on clothes and eyelashes and wherever else it could.

The dying light of the sun caressed both your faces, melting the snowflakes faster than you could catch them with your tongue.

You turned to him, smiling, brushing a stray hair from his face

“Thank you so much. You’re great, Riddle.”

Riddle held his breath as your soft lips met his.

Sweetness invaded his senses, from your taste to your scent, the lingering taste of strawberries intoxicating to his mind and body.

His widened eyes slowly closed to match yours, hands stiffly by his side.

Faster than he hoped, the kiss was over.

Both your faces were flushed, the cold of the seasons and the warmth of a first kissing giving such a distinct coloration.

You held his gloved hand in yours, eyes locked to his, fireworks in his heart and hopefully in yours too.

At that moment, no one else existed in the world. Nothing could hurt him, as long as he was by your side.

And in that cold late autumn night, as his heart beat loudly, louder than ever before, he said three little words.

“I love you.”

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 5 — Cozy Morning

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, mild Smut — mild explicit content/language, implied nudity and sex.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

The December mornings were always cold, but with a raging snowstorm outside your bedroom window, it was almost freezing inside the room. Amidst the aftermath of passionate lovemaking the night before with Bucky, you had forgotten to put on extra heating, leaving you almost shivering beside him now, the comforter doing nothing to keep you warm. Bucky, still remaining peacefully asleep, seemed unaffected by the chill in the room.

Seeking refuge from the cold, you snuggled into his side, molding your body to his form. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you absorbed the warmth and comfort emanating from Bucky, your personal furnace. You planted a kiss on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin a remedy for your cold lips.

Still in a daze of slumber, Bucky began to stir, a faint smile gracing his lips as he opened his eyes to find you cuddled against him like a content cat.

In a swift and gentle movement, he pulled you on top of him, savoring the weight of your naked body against his chest.

“Mornin’, doll,” Bucky mumbled, his voice husky from sleep, sending a delicious shiver through you. His flesh arm encircled your waist, drawing you even closer. “What’s got you all cute and cuddly this morning?” He teased, nuzzling your nose with a gaze filled with adoration.

“You’re so warm and cozy,” you murmured against his lips, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “You make the cold disappear,” you purred before sealing your sentiment with a lingering, heated kiss.

Bucky groaned in approval, deepening the kiss as he enveloped you with both arms. Swiftly, he pulled the covers over, cocooning you in a haven of warmth and intimacy. Underneath the covers, you exchanged kisses and caresses, creating a shared fortress against the cold.

Breaking the kiss, you threaded your fingers through his hair and whispered against his lips. “You’re my favorite way to stay warm, Bucky.”

He kissed you passionately, switching positions with expert ease, resting comfortably between your spread thighs. Open-mouthed kisses trailed along your jaw and neck, eliciting sweet moans.

“Let me warm you up, baby,” Bucky murmured seductively, rocking inside your heat, making your back arch and legs lock around his waist—the storm outside ragging on as you and Bucky got lost in one another with fiery passion.

After the lovemaking that was as passionate as the night before, you and he lay entwined, treasuring the newfound warmth and comfort after the bliss you and he reached together. Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Bucky’s hands, both flesh and machine, danced across your back, caressing your skin.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Bucky spoke in a gentle rumble. “What should we do today, doll?” He kissed the top of your head as he spoke the question.

You tilted your head to meet his handsome face. “How about a lazy day in? We can have a warm bath together before ordering some breakfast and start on some Christmas movies, maybe?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up, and a gorgeous smile crossed his face. “That sounds perfect, baby.”

You spent a few more moments tangled in the sheets, exchanging soft kisses and affectionate whispers, before you got up to continue your cozy morning with each other.

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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[hellwatermelon]

My top 100 favorite albums 2024

Armand Hammer - BLK LBL Cannell Laura - The Rituals of Hildegard Reimagined Selbst - Despondency Chord Progressions Vince Staples - Dark Times Grace Cummings - Ramona Crizin da Z.O. - ACELERO Various Artists - funk.BR - São Paulo (NTS) Lesser Care - HEEL TURN Omar Souleyman - Erbil Poroniec - W Pologu

The Body , Dis Fig - Orchards Of A Futile Heaven Ink & Fire - Emblazoned Visions Yield Eternity Amiture - Mother Engine Blood Incantation - Absolute Elsewhere Vitriol - Suffer & Become Djevel - Natt Til Ende JPEGMAFIA - I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU Waxahatchee - Tigers Blood Cower - Celestial Devastation Full of Hell - Coagulated Bliss

Full of Hell and Andrew Nolan - Scraping The Divine SECT - Plagues Upon Plagues Elucid - Revelator Revival Season - Golden Age Of Self Snitching KA - The Thief Next to Jesus Venus Twins - /\/\/\/\/ Kriegshög - Love & Revenge Moor Mother - The Great Bailout Chelsea Wolfe - She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She 070 Shake - Petrichor

Castle Rat - Into The Realm Darkestrah - Nomad Mary Lattimore - Rain on the Road Camerata Mediolanense - Atalanta Fugiens Haley Heynderickx - Seed of a Seed Weltenbrandt - Transzendenz Schatten Romantik Panzerfaust - The Suns of Perdition IV: To Shadow Zion Cabinet - Hydrolysated Ordination Kidnapped - Disgust

Throwing Snow - Isthmus Floating Points - Cascade E-Saggila - Gamma Tag Oranssi Pazuzu - Muuntautuja Joanna Wang - Hotel La Rut (破爛酒店) Beth Gibbons - Lives Outgrown Position Parallèle - Aiguille À Découdre Amigo the Devil - Yours Until the War is Over Elyanna - WOLEDTO Kvadrat - The Horrible Dissonance of Oblivion

Childish Gambino - Bando Stone and The New World Lowen - Do Not Go To War With The Demons Of Mazandaran Roc Marciano - Marciology The Gnashing - Forsaken Sanctuary Lhaäd - Beneath Uniform - American Standard Westside Gunn - Still Praying Denzel Curry - King of the Mischievous South Vol. 2 Kelly Moran - Moves in the Field Jenny Don't & The Spurs - Broken Hearted Blue

WILLOW - empathogen Venomous Echoes - Split Formations and Infinite Mania Blaze of Perdition - Upharsin LL Cool J - The FORCE Rome Streetz & Daringer - Hatton Garden Holdup Show Me The Body - Corpus II ØKSE Maelstrom & Louisahhh - May the Rage Burn a Path for Joy Etran de L’Aïr - 100% Sahara Guitar Toby Driver - Raven, I Know That You Can Give Me Anything

Squarepusher - Dostrotime SHXCXCHCXSH - ……t Jlin - Akoma Kelly Lee Owens - Dreamstate KASHIWA Daisuke - Titan Molok - Ne pas chercher á comprendre My Dying Bride - A Mortal Binding Antichrist Siege Machine - Vengeance of Eternal Fire Skeleton Lipstick - Death Romantique Seekersinternational + Mars89 - Dangerous Combination

Consumer Electronics - Surge Kendrick Lamar - GNX Dame Area - Toda La Verdad Sobre Dame Area Tyler, The Creator - CHROMAKOPIA Felix K - Sudbaism Heems - Lafandar Holy Tongue & Shackleton - The Tumbling Psychic Joy of Now Al Wooton - Lifted From The Earth Ab-Soul - Soul Burger Previous Industries - Service Merchandise

Ponte del Diavolo - Fire Blades From The Tomb Doechii - Alligator Bites Never Heal Lord Buffalo - Holus Bolus Tristwch Y Fenywod Mannequin Pussy - I Got Heaven Humbird - Right On Mount Eerie - Night Palace Jasper Byrne, Sonic - Mirrors Odium Humani Generis - Międzyczas Milkweed - Folklore 1979

HONORABLE MENTIONS, mostly albums I heard very late in the year that would probably be added:

Big Blood - Electric Voyeur Kir - L'appel Du Vide UBOA - Impossible light Ganavya - Like The Sky I've Been Too Quiet

best of 2018

Best of 2020

Best of 2021

Best of 2022

Best of 2023

Any of you all want to add yours feel free :)

[ateez-himari]

MAMA EXCLUSIVE STAGE: ICARUS

A tragic take on BTS' most memorable tracks and a classic Greek tale.

November 29, 2023 (1:24PM) by ATEEZNews

The second day of the MAMA Awards Ceremony hosted a joint stage between Stray Kids' Hyunjin and ATEEZ's Himari - performing to a fusion of BTS' Fake Love & Black Swan created by 3Racha in collaboration with ATEEZ's producer line.

It began with a cinematographic introduction where Stray Kids leader BangChan's voice narrated the story to be told. 'An angel walking amongst mortals, so pure and beautiful...so ignorant of the evil blackening their souls. A demon was the one who caught her fragile heart, his love burning as bright as the Sun lighting the skies. The angel was warned to stay away but it was too late...his passion soon turned to obsession, to chains binding her for the rest of eternity to his ever growing greed. In the end she who was thought by many as one with the most hopeful future of them all drowned in tears brought by the pain of her unrelenting love. A young woman with wings of such a pure white was burned by the raging fires of human desire...a damned soul mortals would remember as Icarus.'

To embody this concept both artists were dressed in outfits comprising mainly of satin, the fabric's flow emphasizing the story's tumultuous emotions. Whilst Stray Kid's main dancer is truly a radiant presence, his black clothing made him seem like nothing short of a dark prince and Himari's white dress made her seem like an apparition from Heaven.

The styling and stage set were already a sight to behold by themselves yet the complexity of their choreography managed to take the audience's breath away by offering an unexpected combination of contemporary and classical dance. As they are styles rarely used by idols it was already proving to be a challenge yet they added a layer of difficulty by being bound to each other throughout the performance. Long ribbons were tied to their wrists, connecting the artists together and requiring their bodies to move in nearly perfect sync in order to avoid getting tangled or jeopardizing the following sequence.

This stage is sure to engrave itself in MAMA history as one of the most spectacular performances to have graced the award ceremony.

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[awakenthemusic]

Fever

Dean’s hands clenched on empty air, his weapons removed and hidden away from his feverish gaze. Noise! Movement behind! Attack! Dean spun around, hands like claws, ready to tear into the threat. Strong hands caught his, easily overpowering him. Dean's heart pounded even harder as panic took hold. He snapped his head forward and felt a nose give way with a satisfying crunch. The hands shifted, something slammed into the backs of his knees, and before he could even try to counter the movement, his back hit the hardwood floor.

Tags: Short fic, ~1,000 words, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

For Suptober 2023 Day 14 - Fever

Under the cut or on Ao3

Fire flowed in Dean's veins, burning hotter every minute. His head pounded, thrumming in time with the frantic beating of his heart. The fire screamed, Threat, threat, threat! Attack! Kill the threat!

Dean clenched his empty hands, fighting down the waves of fear. His vision was stained by the flames, everything washed in shades of blood-red. He focused on the bleary shadow moving frantically across the room, mentally screaming his own litany of Sam, Sam, safe, Sam, to counteract the flames trying to consume his mind.

He willed his feet to stay glued to this spot on the floor even as the flames boiled up his throat in threatening growls. Soothing words came back to him in response as Sam scrambled to cobble together a fix for the witch's spell, darting frequent looks over to Dean.

Dean’s hands clenched on empty air, his weapons removed and hidden away from his feverish gaze.

Noise! Movement behind! Attack! Dean spun around, hands like claws, ready to tear into the threat. Strong hands caught his, easily overpowering him. Dean's heart pounded even harder as panic took hold. He snapped his head forward and felt a nose give way with a satisfying crunch. The hands shifted, something slammed into the backs of his knees, and before he could even try to counter the movement, his back hit the hardwood floor.

Dean roared as a body dropped on top of his, the heavy weight pinning him down. He thrashed in the hold, desperate to get free and heed the call of the fire, Attack! Kill! Destroy!

"Dean!" A voice Dean knew he should recognize cut across the cacophony in his mind. Cool, soothing water flowed into his veins, battling the fire raging under his skin. The red haze over his eyes cleared a little, enough for two points of clear, calm blue to shine through.

"Cas?" Dean's voice was shot all to hell, rough with the screams and growls of the past eternity he'd been fighting off the spell. Cas frowned from very close above him and the pressure pinning his hands to the floor lessened. "No!" Dean rasped. "Don't let me... Can't fight... Cas, please!"

The pressure returned and relief followed in its wake. Dean finally relaxed his stranglehold on the flames, letting himself thrash and knowing that Cas was strong enough to hold him down. "Please," Dean whispered. "Don't let me hurt..."

Cas nodded solemnly and the words that followed sounded like a promise, though the only one that Dean could make out was, Sam.

Dean shook his head, his eyes latched on the dark smear across Cas' mouth. "You," he whispered. "Don't let..."

Surprise flared over Cas' face, but he nodded again.

Dean let himself sag into Cas’ hold. Time flowed over Dean in meaningless waves as the cool water Cas poured into him kept the fire from spreading and consuming him whole.

The flow of water began to stutter and slow. Low on grace, Dean remembered.

The flames burned brighter, licking back into the places in Dean that Cas' grace had doused. Dean writhed, the flames stoking his flagging energy. He twisted against Cas' hold until the bones in his wrists started to creak. Cas' forehead wrinkled in a frown and his hold loosened.

"No," Dean growled, panic washing through him again. "Don't let me..."

Cas shook his head, but he clamped back down on Dean's wrists, turning briefly away, shouting words, not at Dean, but over toward Sam. The sharp despair in his eyes when he turned back told Dean all he needed to know.

The antidote wouldn’t get here in time.

"Kill me," Dean said, the words easy and soft, a gentle landing place, a pillow to hold his head after the long fight was over. "End it."

Tears welled in Cas' eyes as he scowled and shook his head. The cool flow of water redoubled, then stuttered low again.

The flames licked greedily against Dean's mind, scorching through him. He shouted, "Kill me!"

Glass broke across the room, and Cas turned to shout over to Sam again. He turned back to Dean, eyes wide.

"You promised," Dean whispered and Cas nodded, his eyes clouding with the memory of the Mark that had burned brand-hot on Dean's arm and one last promise to save the world. Tears flowed from Cas' face to land on the parched soil of Dean's cheeks as the flames boiled in his gut.

It was too much to ask. Dean begged for it anyway. "Please, Cas."

Sharp words sounded from across the room, but Cas lowered his mouth to Dean's forehead, dry lips barely brushing the skin there before Dean's world went black.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Dean!"

He floated back to consciousness slowly. The first thing he was aware of was a comforting weight on his arms and legs, pressing him into the cool floor at his back. His throat ached, his muscles were sore, and his head swam like he was on a boat in a storm, but the flames were gone.

He cracked his eyes open slowly and harried blue eyes met his.

"Dean?" Cas breathed the word softly, his tone almost unbelieving.

Dean swallowed, trying to work some water into his dry mouth. "Cas? What the hell happened?"

Rather than answer, Cas let go of Dean's wrists, reared back, and yanked Dean up into a fierce hug with a huff of breath that sounded a bit like a sob.

Dean blinked blearily over Cas' shoulder, his arms wrapping around Cas automatically as his eyes met Sam's.

Sam sat just behind Cas, the lines in his face carved deep with stress and worry only just starting to lighten with relief. He offered Dean a brief, tired smile, then nodded pointedly at Cas and mouthed, Talk to him, before getting up and stepping away.

Dean squeezed Cas tight and said, "Thank you—"

"No!" Cas cut him off with a sharp growl, his arms tightening around Dean almost to the point of pain. "Don't you dare thank me for... I almost..." His voice trailed off into ragged breaths and Dean felt fresh wetness trailing down where Cas' face pressed against Dean's ear.

Tears prickled at the backs of Dean's eyes and he moved his hand in soothing circles over Cas' back as he buried his face in Cas' neck and whispered, "I'm sorry."

[therizino-ao3]

Hermit Horror Week 2023

Day six: Flesh

Summary: Interior decorating used to be the part of base building Gem dreaded the most. Now, she thinks it might just be her favourite.

Read on ao3

Contains: murder, permanent character death, imprisonment, taxidermy, disfiguring dead bodies, wearing body parts. There's nothing too graphic but it is quite dark subject matter, and the reason my ao3 work is rated M.

Gem has just finished preparing her final piece for the collection and she is incredibly excited. As she makes her way down the spiral staircase, she hops and skips and twirls in her long dress, caught up in the euphoria of accomplishing her mission. Who can blame her? Wels can’t! His glass eyes stare back at her, blankly.

Prancing through her basement, she arrives at her head room. And oh, the sight looks amazing already. The heads of the other 23 hermits great them, standing proudly on their pedestals, all looking as they did in life. Gem found taxidermy a little rough at first, but with some tips from Cleo (under the guise of asking for help preserving a dead pet), she got the hang of it. She’s rather proud of herself! Comparing Wels to some of her first attempts, she’s definitely come a far way. Once she adds him, everything will be perfect.

Finding the pedestal she prepared ahead of time, she affixes his head to it. From there, it’s a lot of playing with his hair and the positioning of his helmet until she gets something she likes. There! She smiles; he looks so beautiful and serene now, a far cry from how he did before he died.

She had been waiting for him for a long time, with him being off-world and such. When he did come back, he was fairly happy to see her, but did start to get a little suspicious when they came across nobody else on Gem’s welcome-back tour. When he eventually clued together the reason why Gem was the only one here and the lack of messages from other hermits for months, he attacked. And it was a good attempt too! Gem nearly died. Fighting him was hard, not only because of his skill, but the suit of armour too. It would be tough enough just trying to kill him, but she also needed to kill him in a way that kept his neck and face intact. She did it though; her dodging eventually tired him out.

Her saving grace was Wels’ honour. He could’ve stabbed her in the back the moment he figured the whole thing out. But he didn’t. He chose to ask her if she killed them, and on the admittance she did, allowed her a chance to draw her sword and fight. Even when trying to avenge his friends, Wels kept it fair. She had to respect that. And when she killed him, she would never forget the look of rage and horror in his eyes.

She still wasn’t forgetting, as she giggled and flicked the tip of his nose, but it mattered a lot less to her now. Surveying her collection, she moves to fix a few things up and add some final touches here and there before she’s done. Dusting some of the shelves, she takes the time to reminisce. It’s funny to think about how this all began, as her thinking it might be fun to have a room with darker aesthetics, just to contrast with her base. Then, designing a full dungeon and trophy room, loving how naturally the dark designs came to her, and becoming enthralled with the idea of imprisoning her friends there or even displaying them as trophies. Now, that wasn’t all she ended up doing – she can’t forget the lovely little Riftie friends that she keeps in the cells – but collecting the hermits’ heads has been her main task.

And wow, it was hard at some points! Even excluding Wels, she had some near misses. Cub was a good fighter and she beat him by an inch. Fighting Hypno in a cave was not a good idea, with her hooves being unfit for the rocky terrain, and with him dealing some rough hits. The hardest was False, though, who Gem had to retreat from fighting two separate times, once with a sword and once with a bow. She only got her in the end because she did a very good combo, and even then, she had to take a lot of golden apples and potions afterwards.

Other hermits were… not so hard to take down. Gem likes to try and make sure everyone she fights against can fight back, making sure they have a weapon and know she is rearing for the kill. What is the point if there wasn’t a challenge for Gem? She could’ve poisoned all the drinks at a server-wide meeting if she wanted to kill everyone fast and easily. Her trophies had to be earnt. Most hermits fought back in defence, but some opted to run away without trying a single hit. Zedaph, the second he saw her, ran away, before Gem even gave a hint she was going to attack! Keralis wasn’t much better, dodging through the catacombs of his shanty town.

There were some good moments, like keeping Bdubs locked in her dungeon for months before she killed him – he was a fun prisoner! And some disappointments, Etho certainly wasn’t the brilliant fighter legends painted him as, and Gem overestimated his ability and killed him near instantly, missing out on a fun spar with plenty of dramatic one-liners. And she couldn’t forget the challenges she had to overcome, like finding a solution to make Jevin’s slime keep it’s shape and colour. It was a journey, for sure.

And heads weren’t all she could use, either! She got the idea after killing Zedaph - with his soft, sheep fur – and thought that it would be a shame to throw it away. So, she didn’t, and instead made an extremely cosy winter cloak. From there, she made all sorts of cute accessories, typically with hybrid features, mainly utilising spikes, claws, feathers, fur, and scales, but some other parts too. Her favourite pieces are her mega wings – a modified elytra with aspects of parrot, demon, and weird alien wings – and her tail belt – a thick, leather belt attached with all the tails her friends had; a beautiful, rainbow mismatch of features. She loves them. It’s nice to have something to carry around to remember your friends by.

Finally completed, she stands away and admires at her work. The head display looks wonderful. It’s probably her new favourite room in her base. She smiles. Her friends smile back.

[offender42085]

Post 0595

Geoffrey Tracy, New York inmate 23B0490, born 1992, incarceration intake 2023 at age 30, earliest release date 10/11/2029, with full release on 12/03/2030

Assault, Attempted Assault

In January 2023, a beefy fitness model who stabbed his roommate more than a dozen times in a fit of rage was sentenced to eight years behind bars for the sensational 2018 attack.

Geoffrey Tracy, 30, learned his fate nearly four years after he came at his rental host Gregory Kanczes with a knife, leaving the then-50-year-old man covered in blood in his Hell’s Kitchen pad.

“It is only by the grace of god that I survived your assault that nearly ended my life,” Kanczes said in a victim impact statement read aloud during the hearing in Manhattan Supreme Court.

Justice Curtis Farber cited cellphone footage of the Aug. 14, 2018 crime as he sentenced Tracy — who was convicted at trial of assault and attempted assault the month before — saying he was disturbed by the sight of “a man literally having been assaulted by Mr. Tracy.”

Prosecutors initially sought 10 years in state prison, in addition to five years supervised release, while the defense argued that five years incarceration was sufficient.  Tracy, of Gilroy, Calif., was eventually handed an eight year term on the assault conviction and a sentence of up to four years for attempted assault, to run concurrently.

The stabbing frenzy occurred just days after Tracy, then 25, moved to New York to dance at a strip club.

Prosecutors said the bodybuilder attacked Kanczes 16 times with a knife after accusing him of going through his belongings. 

Tracy, who initially fled the scene and disposed of the knife, plead not guilty to charges of second-degree attempted murder and first-degree assault in Sept. 2018.

The prosecutor cited Tracy’s alleged steroid use, noting that he made money by dealing performance-enhancing drugs at the time of the attack.

Tracy, who looked noticeably less muscular in his khaki jail clothes, was supported in court by his father, Thomas Tracy, his girlfriend, Shawley Henderson, and his employer Alex Larson.

3u

Last reviewed October 2024

[swansstuff]

Uhhhh

OK so I haven't posted a chapter of my fic for a while so have some ramblings about fankids (anyone remember those fandom trends?) and other silliness <3 some I have thought about more than others but enjoy a tasty little morsel until I can actually produce something of substance lmao

Steph and Pete: get engaged when they graduate college in 2023. Get married when they both have steady income in 2026. Have Owen in October 2029. Have Amy in December 2034. Owen starts highschool in 2044. Amy skips 4th grade, starts highschool in 2047.

Pete: becomes a highschool physics teacher at hfh. Grows a moustache, sometimes double takes that he looks like Ted in the mirror. Takes Steph’s name.

Steph: becomes a 3rd grade teacher.

Owen: got the combo of autism and adhd, thanks mom and dad, had a 1:1 in elementary school (Mrs Keane). Art kid. May or may not be in love with his best friend (Will Green). Could be mistaken for Pete on a bad hair day. Inherited the Spankoffski family watch. Favourite colour is blue.

Amy: only got the autism but it's the freaky smart kind. Loves space, obsessed with planets. Probably also in love with her best friend (Elsie Chasity). Absolutely knows more than she should about the LiBs. Favourite colour is yellow.

Skrzynka: (Box in Polish) this fucked up, mixed breed cat that wandered into their backyard at some point. May or may not be a Tinky vessel

Grace and Ruth: get engaged in 2024. Get married in 2026. Have Joseph in 2031. Have Elsie in 2034. Have Abe in 2038.

Grace: criminal psychologist. (Major true crime fan)

Ruth: musical writer and director.

Joseph: quiet nerd kid, but has the same weird, threatening aura as Grace does. Into some real left field shit. Will debate the extended family on religion, one of those smarmy reddit atheists.

Elsie: non-verbal until like 7, Amy helped her communicate at school. Autism. Gentle, sweetheart. Creative girly, into her art, will forget to move until her piece is done.

Abe: nightmare toddler, Grace and Ruth regret having a third. Hair untamable.

Watson: ratty ass Irish wolfhound. Ruth had her childhood dog called Sherlock who passed so decided to get a puppy when Joseph was 3. They are inseperable.

Max and Richie: get engaged in 2024. Get married in 2028 once Max's dad finally fucking dies. Have Marie in 2033.

Richie: film critic (specifically horror movies)

Max: park ranger and highschool football coach

Marie: her middle name is Asuka, Richie had to be restrained and this was the compromise. She fucking hates this. Mini goth kid but also quite athletic, more into running than football. Did not inherit Richie's asthma but did inherit his insomnia.

Totoro: Named by Richie. Marie calls him Toto. Golden retriever.

Oscar: Named by Max. German Shepherd.

Suzie: Named by Marie after Suzie and the banshees. Rescue.

Lex and Ethan: get engaged in 2021, get married in 2026 once everything settles down. Have William in 2029.

Lex: actor at the Starlight

Ethan: runs his dad's garage

William: Will. Sort of takes after his dad, perceived as a bad kid but just likes sticking up for people. Quite creative as well, but more on the music side. Plays the piano and the violin, doesn't own either but plays at the highschool. Also very much in love with his best friend. Also raging adhd.

Hannah and Daniel: get married in 2040, have Meghan in 2043.

Hannah: guidance councillor

Daniel: ccrp worker

Meghan: can speak, doesn't until she's about 5. Her first word is Webby. This doesn't worry anyone at all. She may genuinely be a Webby conduit.

Emma and Paul: get married in 2022, have the twins in 2024. Have Jane in 2029.

Paul: this poor man will be with ccrp until the day he dies

Emma: "plant biologist"

Henry: yes he was named after hidgens. like a slightly more outgoing Paul, does end up working at Beanie's during his highschool years. Bit of a nerd for sci-fi thrillers. Has strong opinions on Working Boys.

Penny: named after Richie’s late mom, ie Paul's older sister. Manic anxious energy, doing everything all of the time, bit like cousin Tim. Has a Ted like sense of humor, Paul regrets letting him babysit.

Jane: named after Emma's older sister. Couldn't be more different. Absolute mess, reminds Emma of a younger her. Persued musical theatre in highschool and drove Paul fucking nuts.