#the other had no one to guide him but now is the law upon himself

[whumpbby]

You ever think that this whole "Lan only love once" legend is a result of their upbringing leaving them unable to deal with negative emotions in a constructive way? The only options seem to be "get over it and we will never speak of it again and all is well" and "you can lock yourself up and if you never emerge that's sad but okay". Eh?

Like, a Lan would have a crush - the crush turned them down - and because of the insanely stoic way they're supposed to live as they can't just cry about it/get drunk/be visibly unhappy/express their sadness 'excessively'. And thus the normal thing that happens to normal people all the time boils into the Worst Thing Ever that Happened To Me and No One Can Understand This Pain and they decide that they'll never go through that again.

You know like normal people do.

Doesn't that make sense tho?

[blueiscoool]

Rome’s Ancient Arch of Constantine Struck by Lightening

During a storm on September 3, lightning struck Rome’s Arch of Constantine, chipping the structure’s marble surface. The 1,700-year-old arch and its neighbor, the Colosseum, were two of several sites affected by the thunderstorm, which produced 2.36 inches of rain in less than an hour. Usually, the city sees a similar amount over the entire month of September.

“A lightning strike hit the arch right here and then hit the corner,” a tourist at the site told Reuters’ Alberto Lingria. “We saw this fly off,” the tourist added while pointing to a fallen block of stone.

Finished in 315 C.E., the Arch of Constantine is one of Rome’s three surviving ancient triumphal arches, each erected to honor a person or event. This arch commemorates Constantine I’s 312 victory over the emperor Maxentius. That same year, Constantine devoted himself to Christianity—the first Roman ruler to do so.

The fierce storm also felled two large trees near the Circus Maximus, flooded the Trevi Fountain and flooded the Colosseum’s subterranean tunnels, reports CNN. After lightning struck the arch, staff of the Colosseum Archaeological Park quickly gathered its dislodged pieces and placed them in a secure location, according to a statement from Italy’s Ministry of Culture.

In the days that followed, some tourists stumbled upon additional pieces on the ground.

​​“My American group found these fragments, and we’re handing them over to the workmen,” tour guide Serena Giuliani told the London Times’ Tom Kington on the morning of September 4.

Specialists are now examining the condition of the fragments. Officials say the damage was limited to the monument’s southern side, where unrelated restoration work had started just days earlier, allowing for quick repairs.

At roughly 70 feet tall and 85 feet wide, the Arch of Constantine contains three separate arches, each framed by columns. The intricately decorated structure is adorned with recycled fragments, or spolia, taken from other ancient buildings, including monuments honoring Trajan, Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius.

The arch is also decorated with carvings of Constantine, including a series of reliefs depicting his victorious fight against Maxentius in the Battle of the Milvian Bridge.

In 306, Constantine was leading Roman troops in Britain—then part of the Roman Empire—when his military declared him their emperor. His brother-in-law, Maxentius, also declared himself the emperor around the same time. After years of complex power struggles, the two rulers ultimately faced off in 312 at Rome’s Milvian Bridge, which overlooks the river Tiber. Panels on the Arch of Constantine depict the battle’s conclusion, showing Maxentius’ troops drowning in the river.

The arch’s recent encounter with lightning may have carried spiritual significance for its ancient builders, as “the bolts were believed to be the work of the gods,” per the Times. These spots were sacred for the Romans, who sometimes erected temples at such sites.

By Sonja Anderson.

[madame-fear]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

— ☆ amira speaks : lucerys survived storm's end in this. — pairing : lucerys velaryon [ jacaerys velaryon ] x reader | jacaerys velaryon [ lucerys velaryon ] x reader. — genre : unrequited love, angst (??)

♡ Jacaerys : ♡

• Since childhood, it was always quite obvious Jace fancied you. From calling you 'pretty' to trying to impress you when swordfighting with his uncles, it was notorious he was head over heels for you.

• He had an intense, continously growing puppy love for you; and he even promised to himself at a young age that he'd, one day, marry you under the tradition of Old Valyria.

• But unfortunately, that one day never came for him. Instead, the Seven blessed his brother Lucerys to marry you.

• Rhaenyra could see that Luke and you were both very close, and she decided that not only she'd betroth you together at the age of six-and-ten as to make the union between your Houses stronger, but because she knew you both had mutual feelings for each other.

• This sparked bittersweet feelings for Jace. He could notice how both of you were two happy little lovebirds upon hearing the news of your betrothal, and even if he tried to be proud and joyful for the two of you, truth was he seethed with jealousy.

• And at that moment, he knew his feelings would have to remain hidden inside of him. Now, not only you and Luke were betrothed together, but himself as well — and he had been betrothed with Lady Baela Targaryen, his cousin.

• Even if he deeply appreciated and respected his now betrothed, she wasn't you. But, there wasn't much he could do about it, much to his dismay.

• His deep-in-love feelings for you would never change. And even if he can't admit to you that he loves you in a more-than-friends way, Jace would often try to show his love for you — and seek your attention — even if it had to be in a "friendly manner", and in a way that could calm his intense jealousy when he sees both Luke and you laughing and holding hands.

• For example, if you're all together in the dining hall being festive for something (such as a name day), he'd stand from his seat, approach you, and ask for your hand to dance. Being your brother-in-law, you would naturally say yes in a heartbeat, and Luke wouldn't even mind much, of course.

• His heart would thump hardly against his chest at the feeling of your delicate hand taking hold of his, as he guides you to the centre of the dining hall to dance. And in that moment, he'd forget about everything that surrounds him; he'd like to ignore the fact that you're actually betrothed — and deeply in love — with his brother, and would like to imagine as if you're actually his betrothed, and you're together as a happy couple.

• Occasionally, Jace would try and shamelessly hint his love towards you by gifting you things such as roses or any other flower from the gardens, jewellery, heirlooms, brooches with Targaryen symbolism, etc. And you merely pass it as a simple way of being shown affection by your beloved Lord Husband's family, and that is quite hurtful for him.

• You'd often find his coffee eyes fixed on you, but when you catch him, you flash him a broad, sweet grin, not thinking much about it. Jace would immediatly return it with a sheepish smile, and an intense crimson fluster on his face, then trying to look elsewhere.

• But again, it hurts knowing that you think of him as another childhood friend. And it hurts even more when he catches his brother and you sharing kisses, giggling between them, cuddling, holding hands, or simply showing affection to each other like a proper, joyful couple would.

• The dreadful mix of anger, angst, and jealous feelings would even worsen when Lucerys and you finally celebrate your wedding.

• Jace would've preferred to pass himself as "unwell" rather than assist to the ceremony, but being deeply fond of both his brother and you, he assisted, and hid his feelings rather well, clenching his jaw at times, but in general terms, he hid it as well as he could; even if he so badly wanted to leave before he could feel anymore sick of the stomach than he already felt.

• Much to his own dismay, Jacaerys had to swallow his own feelings, and accept the reality — treating his own betrothed the same way he'd treat you if you were his, being the gentleman he is, even if his heart never stopped pounding harshly for you.

♡ Lucerys : ♡

• Both of you met when your house travelled to Dragonstone, as you had been betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, the son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the future King of the Seven Kingdoms.

• At that moment, Luke was already betrothed, and of course, he didn't think much of his brother's betrothal, other than being truly joyful for Jace, and to have another member added in the family.

• But, the moment his eyes laid on you and noticed how sweet and gentle of nature he were, Luke was absolutely mesmerised by how graceful you were in every possible sense.

• During the betrothal dinner, Luke could never take his hazel eyes off of you, even if he wanted to. A sense of guilt washed over him not only because he already had a betrothed himself, but because he was dreadfully beginning to take a special liking for his own brother's future Lady Wife.

• The best he can do is try and force himself to ignore his feelings towards you. Try to advert your gaze from you unless you're speaking and he has to stare at you, when he notices himself getting drowned on a train of thoughts at how pretty you are he would immediatly focus on something else (such as his duties, or lessons), etc.

• But... it's far more complicated than it seems when it comes to you. Noticing that he's a bit shy — especially around you — you try to approach him and make a conversation with him, and he could painfully feel himself slowly falling into a deeper emotion of pure love when you kindly smile, or cutely laugh. You are so, so pretty both physically and personally, it's hard not to find himself swooning over you and thinking his brother is lucky to have you as his future Queen.

• Seven Hells, you even gifted him a brooch with symbolism of your own House! Which, if he wasn't already on cloud nine with your personality and beauty, your kind gestures make him feel even more dumbfounded, especially by your gifts. And of course, he'll proudly wear that brooch in every clothing, every ocassion, and every day. And a smile will be brought upon his lips at seeing how thrilled you are at the fact that he uses the brooch and gifts you gave him!

• Even if Luke tries to ignore the fact that he's slowly having feelings for you, he can't help but treasure every single moment you have together, and, sometimes... he can't help but wonder if, perhaps... you also have hidden feelings for him? By the way you look at him lovingly, place your hand on his shoulder at times, hug him tightly, compliment him, etc.

• ^ But, Lucerys knows his mind — and heart — is playing tricks with him. He can see how you broadly grin when Jacaerys takes you dancing, how he makes you laugh loudly, or the way you stare at him with love and admiration. And it hurts, deeply; but he's genuinely happy that you're being treated like the Queen you are.

• With every passing day, you grow closer. Very, very close — and he tries to make his feelings evident for you often, much to his brother's eventually dismay. Especially, when Luke says how pretty you are, and goes a bit too far complimenting you, or notoriously stares at you for too long; making his feelings evident.

“Don't forget (y/n)'s taken, Luke. Don't you have a betrothed to compliment and stare this much, hm?” jace retorted with a playful tone, yet with a hint of honesty at his brother, whom intensely blushed at Jace's comment.

• Maybe he's a bit too obvious, but he can't hide it. Luke nurtures a deep appreciation for you, and frequently finds himself wishing he were on his brother's place.

• When the Battle of Storm's End happened, Luke came home much later after his brother returned from the North, and came with a very messy hair, scratched clothing, and intensely bleeding wounds.

• Even if he was obviously traumatised at having nearly faced death at the hands of his one eyed uncle and his dragon, Luke forgot about everything that happened the second you threw yourself at him — embracing him in a tight hug — and telling him how worried you were for his safety, while intensely weeping.

• It took him a bit to return the hug from the shock, but he eventually hugged you back, and gave into your warmth and your sweet vanilla scent — his heart dropping at seeing and hearing you sob badly.

“Oh, Luke,” you began, your voice notoriously shaking from the weeping as you leisurely pulled apart from the hug. your eyes were fixed on his green ones as your hands cupped his cheeks — your thumb rubbing tenderly a bleeding wound. His badly trembling hands mimicked your actions mindlessly, cupping your own cheeks, and lovingly wiping away a tear. “You have no idea how worried I was for you, Lucerys!” once again, you hugged him tightly, pressing your head at the crook of his neck. “You are such a good best friend, Luke. What would I do without you by my side?” Good best friend. Good best friend. Good best friend. Ouch. For you, he was only your best friend. And, he could feel his heart stinging with pain at the thought of it.

• Much like in Jace's headcanons, he'd realise he's not going to have much options but to swallow his own intense lovesick feelings for you, and accept that you only see him as your best friend.

• Though, he appreciates your company a lot, and he'll never stop having heart eyes for you despite him being betrothed himself — and you being his brother's betrothed — and showing you how much he fondly cares for you.

• This includes gifting you sweet little things as well, protecting you no matter what, taking you to see Arrax and pet him if you wish, and being your shoulder to cry on, if you need to.

• His deep love feelings for your beautiful self remain there with him until his last breath, but he'll keep that to himself, and would try to have the best relationship he can with you... even if, unfortunately, he can't be your Lord Husband like he truly desires to.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @damatheirin @jacesvelaryons

[kamisatomay018]

May I request a Wriothesley version of the legend of the red string of fate please??

Yes of course!! Thank you so much for putting in your request and giving me the idea🫶

Soulmates huh? I like the sound of that..

Wriothesley x fem!reader

Fluff, based on the Legend of the Red String of Fate, Will contain spoilers from the chenyu vale world quest!

I hope you all enjoy reading!

“Tea bags, check..gift, check, tea leaves- check! Okay I’m ready to head off.” You muttered to yourself, cross checking your luggage before you depart from Chenyu Vale to Fontaine for a very important meeting. With whom you might be wondering? Well, it was none other than the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself.

Chenyu vale is known widely for its famous and aromatic Adeptea, and has always exported copious amounts of tea to Fontaine. However for the past 2 years, the tea’s quality started to decline, and so did the exports. It had come to your attention that out of all the Fontainians, the Duke of Meropide was particularly displeased about this situation, going so far as to penning a kind yet stern letter to the head of the village, asking about what has been happening to their tea. It was safe to say that this letter had raised quite the panic, for the fortress was the major buyer of the Adeptea and losing such a buyer was something your small yet humble village could not afford. What’s worse was that none of the people were able to understand what was going wrong with the tea, except of course for you and Grandpa Lu.

You were a prominent figure in Chenyu vale, known for your artistic pottery and fine brewing skills. You would handpick the slots of tea that was being sent to Fontaine yourself, knowing that they needed the best quality tea. Not only that, but you were also skilled in the Adepti art of Adeptus Fujin herself, which made you understand that the harmony of nature had been disrupted, leading to the tea quality’s decline.

Thankfully for all of you; the renowned traveler had arrived with their companion and with your aid and Fujin’s power, the problem had been resolved. The only problem that now remained, was the displeased Duke of Meropide. So you took it upon yourself to travel to Fontaine and offer an explanation and apology, for no one else understood the true depth of the situation. As compensation, you made him the most beautiful tea set, infusing in it a little bit of your power which would allow the tea to remain fragrant and hot for extended hours. You truly did hope that this would placate the man.

After bidding farewell to your mother, you got onto the boat that would take you to the renowned and magnificent nation of justice. Fontaine truly seemed magnificent, with its technological advances and strict judicial system. You had always desired to visit the city, although not in such a diplomatic way. No matter, you would make sure to get a tour of the city later. Upon hearing of your visit, the duke had been kind enough to write to you personally, informing you of basic but important laws that you must not break if you didn’t wish to extend your stay in the fortress from a few hours to a few days. The letter was…extremely lengthy, given the amount of ridiculous and extensive laws the land held. Archons, how did the people even remember them all? Well no matter, it’s not like you were going to stay there for long….right?

As you arrived at the Lumidouce harbour, you noticed two officials waiting for you, probably to guide you to the fortress. You bowed at them politely, following their lead while admiring the beautiful scenery of Fontaine.

“Welcome to the Nation of Justice, Ms. Y/N. We have been tasked by Monsieur Neuvillette to guide you to the fortress of Meropide through the Opera Epiclese. Please, follow us.”

Thanking them you boarded yet another boat, and then an aquabus where you met a cute little creature. Ah, that must be the melusines that the duke had mentioned in his letter. The melusine was so sweet, giving you a detailed explanation about the city, even answering your curious question. In the end, you quickly rummaged through your bag, giving her a little Qingxin flower as a thank you for her service. The smile that adorned her little face truly made your day better.

Eventually you headed to the back of the grand Opera Epiclese, where you saw a dignified tall man with a black fur coat hanging on his shoulder standing with his back faced to you. His aura seemed intimidating to you, however you kept your composure. “Duke, we have brought your guest.”

“Ah, you have my profound gratitude. You both may leave, I shall escort my guest from here.”

“Yes sir.”

At that moment, he turned around to face you, and you felt your entire world stopping. Your jade green eyes met with his ashy blue ones, and you swore you felt a spark through your entire body. A beautiful and delicate Res String tied to your little finger made its way to tie itself around his thumb, making you freeze in place. You had found your fated Soulmate. He was a godly man, perfect from head to toe. You had never seen a man as handsome as him, his every feature truly was perfect. You didn’t fail to notice the scars on his face and neck, making you realise he truly had been through a lot in his lifetime.

Meanwhile, Wriothesley was utterly stunned, yet confused. In front of him stood perhaps the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen, her delicate figure adorned with a pastel green outfit and jade jewellery, matching the colour of her eyes. A dendro vision was tied to your outfit while your long hair flowed freely down your shoulders. He was in awe of your beauty, it was as if some kind of force was pulling him in to you. However he was baffled to see a delicate red string connect the two out of you, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Your equally shocked look did not escape his watchful eyes. What in Teyvat was going on? He cleared his throat, talking rather softly. “Uhm, Miss Y/N, how about we..head back to my office to talk?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, nodding immediately as you felt your cheeks blushing like anything. “Yes, yes of course Duke..”

He let out a raspy chuckle, shaking his head. “No need to be so formal, you can just call me Wriothesley.” Oh archons, why was everything about him so attractive?! You looked down with a shy smile, nodding. “Understood. Please, lead the way..”

He smiles slightly, enjoying your flustered state for some reason. As much as he desired to ask you about this mysterious red string, he chose to wait. Such important and private discussions were better suited for his office, where he could guarantee no one would eavesdrop. He led you down the elevator and through the boat to the Fortress, noticing how observant you were about every little detail. Hm..that would explain the Dendro vision. “Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide. I’m sure you must have heard a thing or two about this place, but I can assure you it’s not as awful as it sounds. Here in the fortress every exile and every prisoner is given a chance to start life anew, to work hard and earn their freedom and dignity back. If I dare say so myself, the fortress is essentially a place of rediscovery and rebirth. The law treats everyone fairly, and the fortress is no different.”

You listened to him in awe, admiring the way he spoke like a dignified gentleman. Although he looked intimidating and cold, his demeanour was quite relaxed and welcoming. “That is quite admirable, to give a chance to the offenders to start life anew.” He nodded at your words as he led you to his office. “Of course, that is not to say that criminals do not get their punishment. No one leads a cushiony life in here, and those who have broken the law and hurt others get treated the same way. The rest who actually wish to turn over to a new leaf are given the chance to do so. Many prisoners choose to stay here even after their sentence has concluded.”

That surely came as a shock to you. As…magnificent as the fortress was, it was devoid of sunlight and nature, it felt suffocating to you. Why would people live here willingly? Noticing your silence and the unasked question in the air, Wriothesley laughed a little. “I’m sure you must be wondering why they would choose to do that. Well Fontaine is a nation much different than the rest. Here, status, reputation and wealth matter a lot. Life up at the surface is full of pretensions and dramatic situations. Here in the fortress; everyone is equal, everyone is straightforward. They start with nothing, and through sheer hard work, earn their daily necessities. Perhaps that equality is what attracts people to stay here rather than going up to the surface and continue to play the part in the endless opera that Fontaine is.”

Only you knew how much you were admiring him at this point. Not only was he fair and just, he was also respectable and empathetic, treating humans as they were supposed to be treated rather than declaring them as unruly criminals. “I really admire the way you manage this place Wriothesley..to be able to view offenders as something more than their offence is an admirable quality. No wonder you are the Duke.” As much as he wished he could deny it, Wriothesley felt his heart skip a beat at your words. “You flatter me Y/N. here, this is my office. Let us go upstairs. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you. Ah before I forget, I brought you a small present to compensate for all the inconveniences you have had to face due to the small crisis in Chenyu vale.” Taking out a box, you opened it to reveal the most beautifully embroidered tea set that Wriothesley had ever seen. “This is a tea set I crafted myself, and I have infused it with a little bit of adeptal power. That will allow the tea to stay fragrant and warm for hours on end. I imagine that your work must be arduous and time consuming. So, you need not brew a hot cup of tea every now and then. I hope it is to your liking..”

Looking up, you felt your heart flutter at the way Wriothesley was smiling, his eyes shimmering as he admired the tea set. “This is simply divine, I cannot thank you enough for your hard work. There was no need for a present Y/N..but thank you so much, I will gratefully accept it.” Smiling happily, you stood up, getting the tea leaves out. “Well if you’ll allow me; I can brew us some tea right now. I do believe we have a lot of things to discuss Wriothesley..” He smiled and nodded, accompanying you as he watched you brew the tea. The aroma of fresh tea filled his office, instantly relaxing him. A while later you both sat down, drinking tea. “This is exquisite tea, you are exceptional at brewing.” You blushed at the praise, shaking your head. “Thank you..well then, I believe it is time I addressed something very important..” You raised your left hand, bringing to his notice the red string that connected the two of you. “Yes please go ahead, I am quite curious about this string.”

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for the worst possible outcome after you explained everything to him. “This is the red string of fate..Inazuma and Liyue have a..tradition where the gods have destined two people together as…Soulmates. The red string appears when two soulmates lock eyes with one another, and it signifies the union of two fated lovers…The red string may stretch endlessly, but it can never be snapped or broken. Of course…some people can…reject this bond, but that won’t erase the existence of this string..”

Wriothesley listened to your words carefully, also noticing the way you held your teacup close, caressing the edges anxiously. You weren’t looking into his eyes, and he knew that you were afraid that he would reject this bond. Truth to be told, as strange as this entire situation was, he felt so comfortable in your presence, so soothed and happy that it felt like home. He knew he was attracted to you, and wanted to be with you. Whether it was the string acting or his heart, he did not know and nor did he care. He gently held your hand in his, making your jade green eyes look at him with an expression so hopeful that it melted his ice cold heart.

“I do not wish to reject this bond. Even though I’ve only met you today; your presence has..comforted me. The fortress has always been cold and stuffy but your presence here feels like a breath of fresh air…I know that I feel connected to you. And if the gods themselves have fated us to be together then who am I to overrule their judgement?”

You smiled ever so happily, not being able to hold back as you hugged him, resting your head against his chest. Meanwhile wriothesley, though tense at first, melted into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you gently. His bigger frame completely engulfed you, as if hiding and protecting you from all evil. He was your home, you knew it. “If you are not rejecting this bold, then I pledge you my devotion and loyalty until my last breath. From now on, I am your soulmate..” you spoke, looking up into his beautiful eyes. He chuckled at your words. Gently cradling your face, smiling at the way you leaned into his touch. He knew you both would have to work a few things out, but everything would turn out to be just fine. He then held your left hand, tenderly kissing the place where the red string was tied.

“Soulmates huh? I like the sound of that. Then from this day forth, I am yours, just like you are mine.”

[raphaellight]

Mike vs Harvey: Genius and talent

Suits does present us Mike as a genius. Fotographic memory, mind capable of analyzing enourmous number of data in a span of minutes. He is also charming and fast-witted. A perfect lawyer.

And it was made a thing thruout most of the show. Mike is the Genius, the mind like no other. It would usually be a story about a scientist curing cancer or creating new technologies and exploring cosmos if it wasn't a show about lawyers.

And yet, by the end, Mike is not THE best lawyer there is. Even in his prime, Mike Ross never topped that one guy. The one that took it upon himself to mentor him.

How is it, that the Golden Child with superhuman brain can't top this man?

There are plenty of things to unpack. Just looking for a appropiate pic of Harvey I found an article discussing how to build confidence by emulating Harvey Specter. Suits isn't exacly the deepest show, but that one thing we can all realise on this particular fictional story. Brain power is not all there is.

Don't get me wrong, I do not sign under "there is no such thing as IQ, everyone is smart" ideas and Harvey is definitelly one of the smartest fictional characters. It just shows brain power doesn't always equals competence and greater talent doesn't always mean greater succes.

While Harvey can't recite hole passages of lawyers guide book he read 10 years ago or memorize hole aggrement down to a coma in ten minutes, his experience, lessons and passion he has for his craft make him excel at things brain power alone can't equate to. He reads people like books and knows exacly how to use it to judge the best business partners for decades in advance and how to convince said people to work with him. He has experienced enough to know when he can take a risk and bold enough to do it even against his own boss opinions. Even if Mike can quote all of the American corporate law, Harvey can quote enough of it needed to win any case he needs. And he is passionate enough that everyone knows he will do anything to win any case that comes his way.

I'm not here to give definitive answer on who's better lawyer. Seems like a contradiction to everything I wrote up until now, but at the end, Harvey specializes in corporate law where as Mike, driven by his idealistic ideas and need for helping others turns more towards lawsuits against unethical corporate practices, which he excells at. In later seasons, when Mike stops being MC, he is often referred as "jury charmer" or something like that, while Harver is "the closer" that rarely brings a case to actuall court. They have slightly different styles, take on different cases and, most important, have different motivations for practicing law.

A phew years back, a friend of mine told me to "stop focusing on whether or not can I understand a field and just enter it" when I voiced my own anxiety about finishing high school and putting myself on a more specialized carrier road. In the show about top of the top, lesson we need to take away is that, we can always fill in if we are passionate and hard working enough. Talent and genius can put people only so far ahead. Even Genius like Mike Ross can't top a man that puts his hole heart into something. And remember, both of them had to look for Louis Litt advice when they delt with finance law.

[heartfullofleeches]

Maunder Labyrinth Character Intros/General Information

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A concept blurb for my haunted attraction yan series in which the Reader applies for a position at the location to make some extra cash for the upcoming season. This post lists the main cast plus a few of the rules they have to follow. Feel free to ask any questions

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SawBones (she/they)

Doctor; grouchy 24/7

A woman of science looked down upon by peers and loved ones for her unorthodox methods. Tricked into visited the Labyrinth by "friends" and betrayed by that same group right before the exit. Seeing the talent in her twisted mind she was given a second chance. Was gifted the bodies of all four members as a welcome present to her new home which she then stitched into a new pet who carries out patrols for her. Turns every guest she gets her hands on into a new guard or another trophy on her shelf.

Sawbones lost an eye to a guest before being fully twinned to the Labyrinth. Hates Hound for stopping her from chasing after them once they had safely escaped her section. Her sole comfort is a cassette player she had in her pocket before venturing to the attraction with a mixtape of the songs it once loved. It serves a deeper purpose as her real name is on the tape.

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Martyr (He/Him)

"You can trust me!" You can't trust him.

A once shy and awkward body with a tame love for horror now a homicidal fanatic. Lost his mind to the horrors and wonders of the Labyrinth, and slaughtered his friends as offerings for a hope to appease. Bangs himself up and dupes his way into large groups to slowly bump them off one before breaking into a frenzy and killing the rest in his lust.

Welds a chainsaw he decorates with stickers and prints guests might have on them. If something they own is cute enough he will let a guest go - if a ten minute headstart means anything.

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Jumpscare

...

...

....boo

Not much is know about Jumpscare. They reappear and disappear mostly as they please. There one second and gone the next. Devoid of expression and is alot jumpier than they look. Half of their scares are from being startled upon finding living guests while disassociating, and screaming their head off because of the realization.

Jumpscare is one of two actors who will not actively kill guests (unless they have a heart condition). They are interested in the outside world and offer places to hide in exchange for knowledge. Pulls back from this habit once Reader joins the crew and dumps their questions on them instead.

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Bedevil

"I see dead people...." "B, that's a mirror." "I know...."

Plagued by wails and visions of the damned. Has trouble telling guests from living or dead and will fly into panic when they attempt to interact- adding another voice to the choir that haunts them. Reader's name tag helps Bedevil differ them from others, but they cling to their side to assure their companion is still among the living. Has thought of asking Reader to quite, but is too afraid of being alone again.

-

Hound (they/them)

Do not remove their muzzle. Do not interact.

Hound is the other member who will not kill guests - they are also the most monstrous in appearance. Hound is reluctant in their cannibalistic urges, but feels they deserve to live same as everyone else. Eats the corpses of guests littered around and offers sanctuary for survivors in their bunker. It is the only safe zone in the main building.

Twins - Leader (he/him) & Follower (whatever you want)

Follower and Leader swap between manning the front and being guides for the tour. Follower is very assertive, dominant, and boastful. Leader is reserved, submissive and self hating. Follower will lead a tour safely through the maze unless a guest acts against them. Leader will do just about any order giving to them, but has a walkie-talkie at all times to receive them from their bother. If a guests asks for a discount - they will give it. If they ask to be let go - Leader will let them go.

Spector [It]

Enforcer of law, order, and punishment. Has free range of all corners of the Labyrinth and the ability to phase through walls. A tell tale sign of their arrival is the temperature dropping. The cameras around the attraction are their eyes.

-

Boogeyman

Your Boss.

-

THE SEVEN IMPORTANT RULES ACTORS HAVE TO FOLLOW

Do not attack guests until signaled.

Do not fight amongst each other.

Once inside Hound's bunker no actor is permitted to attack guests until they exit.

Do not leave your assigned area.

Do not cover the cameras.

Do not take the hired helps name tag. Failure to comply to this rule will be met immediate termination.

Failure to comply otherwise will result in the mask given to you sewn into place. A second strike will give the jailer free range of punishment.

[neonscandal]

Do you think that when Gojo first heard that Itadori ate a cursed object he was instantly reminded of Geto? Do you think that somewhere in his heart he knew what was going to happen because nothing good came to the person, his Suguru, who ate curses. Do you think that's why Gojo was so insistent on helping out Itadori, because in some cruel way every time he looked at the teen he was reminded of Geto? Of Geto and how he didn't notice his best friend lover spiralling until it was too late already? Do you think--?

I love literally all of those observations because they imply, so heavily, that Gojo is always looking at the world through Suguru colored glasses. To an extent, I absolutely think that’s right.

But with that and before anything else, Gojo's understanding of the situation was observed and influenced through Megumi. Despondent, isolated Megumi.

Upon Gojo's overly casual interjection into the situation, I think his first impulse was curiosity with a sprinkle of ego. Like, is the kid saveable? But also, let's see how much stronger I am than Sukuna. We know Gojo loves the opportunity to go all out and it's so infrequent so why not take it out on the awakened King of Curses? But even his first notion was more geared toward whether Yuji could be a vessel.

Giving Megumi some autonomy over the situation was, I think, a bit of a test. Gojo isn't exactly a black and white judge of morality and Megumi is probably as endeared to Gojo as he is integral to Gojo's vision for the future of jujutsu. Less from a papa-Gojo standpoint (as much as we love to see it) and more strategically. I'm not one to overly imbue Gojo with the capacity for affection. Man is clearly plotting.

But, with a simple question, Megumi is prompted to outline what jujutsu law dictates while also refuting it due to his personal discretion.... It's a test of his character. As if Gojo wants to be sure the person under his tutelage will have the resolve to take on the current status quo as intended (like father like son ✨).

Now, seemingly acting at the behest of his young charge, he acts as Yuji's benefactor but we already know this isn't uncommon re: Yuta. As Yuji is integrated into society, we see how Gojo relates to him but I think he sees more of himself than Geto.

Please, just look at them.

His history with Geto remains a guiding force in why he does the things he does and why he seeks to protect the youth. But I question whether Gojo really had the emotional complexity to grasp the inequities of his strength and technique as compared to Geto's and how it subsequently weighed on his friend.

I do think he's able to exploit saving Yuji and pivot it into something to draw Megumi out of his shell. Perhaps to correct his own failure for the way he couldn't help Geto toward the end because he and Megumi have a similar disposition. It's why, in an almost completely abandoned school, he puts Yuji right next door to Megumi. It's the first step in curing the isolation of being The Strongest but also maybe the best chance they have of keeping each other sane.

[distant-velleity]

anyone want TGTWST lore? no? well too bad lol

~

Once upon a time...

If every universe is its own self-contained “seed,” and every alternate of it a new “sprout” branching outwards, then “Earth” and “Wonderland” must be two seeds planted in the same field. So close as to share concepts, but vastly differing in natural law and history. 

The flow of time in Wonderland had long since been corrupted. It became encased in an isolated samsara, where the same few people would be reincarnated and history would repeat itself. Their stories became twisted, lost to time and faded memories. Everything changed, and yet everything remained the same.

“I see,” observed a certain being who had taken it upon himself to watch both Earth and Wonderland. “Their desires for a ‘happy ending’ have changed the fundamental laws of that world. Then, if it’s a ‘happy ending’ they want… I will write it for them.”

So he undertook his next task, indulging himself in the name of ‘order.’ A story he wrote by taking bits and pieces and fragments from others, a System he programmed, a method of fixing the error as much as his powers allowed him to.

“Now… What shall I name this story? Ah, yes, this one sounds fitting—Twisted Wonderland. It’s what they call themselves, isn’t it?”

It was complete—or, rather, it was almost complete. There was only one problem: his story lacked the perfect main character. A novel is pointless without a protagonist; a game is pointless without a player. As the ‘author,’ the ‘administrator,’ he could not fill that role.

Therefore, he created a blank vessel and waited. And waited, and waited.

Until finally, a soul with that same desire for a “happy ending” came along. It was a pitiful soul, one that had ended its life on Earth far too early. It even bore resemblance to that of the Spectator’s original body.

“How amusing. Then, why don’t I give you this second chance?”

Gently, he guided the soul into the blank vessel and allowed natural desires and magic to adjust its shape. 

“You will gaze into their memories, get to know them, and eventually set them on a new path.  But for you, there is nothing but the vague promise of a ‘happy ending’ waiting. So I’m looking forward to seeing it—what choices you will make along the way and where that will take you.”

He smiled, and allowed the story to take its course.

“All things considered, it's a win-win situation, isn’t it? After all, 'endings' are just new beginnings.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Present day.

The presence before the 'protagonist' feels overwhelming, but not oppressive. Still, it sends an eerie chill through his whole body - he's survived eight overblots, and yet to come face to face with this kind of being...

“Who are you? Why do you… look like me?”

[farfromstrange]

just read ‘long distance’ and i was wondering if you could serve pain? jen walters was mentioned and reader exists, that means angst and maybe cheating (or even a hint of it?) please??? i love your fluff and smut pieces. also the angst (but i dont dwell too much since self harming is better left in the past for me) but i really like how you deliver pain. i hope this gets chosen and written, but no pressure ofc. thank you and may the spirit of creativity live within you.

Hi, nonnie! I'm sorry you had to wait so long. I wasn't sure if you wanted a part 2 or an entirely new fic, so I kind of used part of what I already mentioned in Long Distance and continued in this fic. I didn't do full-on cheating, but it's still angst, and well... there is no comfort. I hope you like it!

Burn | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt comes home after his work trip and tells you something that changes your life forever.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of Smut, cheating

Word Count: 2.7k

You’re not sure what happened. 

Matt spent a few weeks in Los Angeles to work on a case that would bring in some money. You didn’t mind; he does it sometimes. Since he, Foggy, and Karen opened the doors of their law firm again, work trips between the three have become more frequent. They’re making money now, and you would always support it.

You have also never been insecure about your relationship with him before. You and Matt have been together for years, even before the Blip, and you held onto each other when all of your friends disappeared. You thought you were happy. His job is going well; you are happy and don’t have to live paycheck by paycheck anymore. At least you thought so. 

While he was away, you talked over the phone regularly. He always seemed so relieved to hear your voice. You often talked for hours, and you texted him sweet nothings during the day. He told you he appreciated it. 

Every other night, you would retreat to your bedroom and he would guide you to orgasm after orgasm with the sound of his voice, and you would do the same. The toy he got you before he left for LA came in handy more than once since you could be connected over the distance now and still somehow control each other’s pleasure.

When he texted you he would be home earlier than expected, you were so excited, you took the day off, put on your best lingerie, and cooked dinner. You thought he would be happy to be with you again; he told you how much he missed you. He compared it very dramatically to a lack of air and that you were his oxygen, and you remember laughing at him. You have never loved a man as much as you love Matt Murdock, so it is only natural for you to get excited, right?

You talked about marriage before, maybe even kids. You planned a future together. Deep down, you’ve been waiting for him to pop the question. Foggy is an idiot and he let something slip one day, and ever since you have been vigilant. You thought that he might finally ask you after coming home from his trip. 

You thought. That seemed to be the common denominator. You always just believe and hope for the best; in the end, things don’t turn out how you want them to. 

You’re really not sure what happened, but something did happen because when Matt opens the door, he’s not even smiling at you. 

“Welcome back!” you greet him with the brightest smile you can offer. Maybe he’s just tired. 

But you know him and you know the difference between exhaustion and guilt; the man before you may be tired, but he is also struggling with the shame he inflicted upon himself, and it is not his duty as Daredevil this time. 

He drops his bag by the door. You lean in for a kiss. “How was your flight?” you ask.

You’re in denial. Something happened, but you don’t want to ruin it. You don’t want to ruin this. You keep telling yourself it’s going to be okay, but you just don’t know what happened to get you here–

He evades your lips, simply hugging you briefly before answering, “Good.”

Your body trembles. “Matt.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” he retorts. He moves to the kitchen and grabs himself a bottle of beer. “I’m just tired.”

You frown. “Is that why you can’t even look at me?” you ask.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart–” the usually so endearing nickname sounds so bitter now. “You know I can’t see,” he says. 

“You know what I mean.” You cross your arms. “Something isn’t right.”

His expression is serious, and it sends a wave of unease crashing over you. You try to push away the worry that gnaws at your insides, but it's hard to ignore the change in his demeanor.

He avoids your gaze, his eyes flickering around the room as if searching for something, or perhaps, avoiding something. Silence hangs heavy in the air, stretching the seconds into eternity.

That’s when you know that something happened, and it affects you because if it didn’t, he wouldn’t be so distant toward you. You taught him to always be open with you about his struggles, and he has managed to learn how to voice his needs, so it confuses you when he does neither and treats you more like a stranger than his girlfriend. 

There was only one time in your relationship he acted this way and that was the day Elektra stepped back into his life, and with it, yours. 

Your stomach churns. The hope you had built up crumbles, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. “What happened?” you urge again. 

He leans against the kitchen counter, turning his head away from you. Tears are glistening in his eyes behind his red glasses. 

“Matthew, please,” you beg. “Talk to me. Tell me!”

The room feels heavy with tension. His shoulders slump, and for a moment, it seems like he's about to break, to let the words spill forth. But just as quickly, he straightens his posture and averts his gaze.

"I can't," he whispers. "I can't tell you."

You step forward, but he shies away as if being close to you is somehow toxic. It breaks your heart. He looks disgusted, and you wonder if it's because of you. Maybe you used the wrong body wash, but that would elicit a different reaction. You didn't do anything differently today, you're simply excited, that's all there is, but as you look at him, he seems to be the exact opposite. Stoic, empty, cold...

“We've always been honest with each other, Matt," you say, still walking up to him even as he recoils. "I cooked dinner for you, took a shower, got dressed... and now you won't even fucking try and look at me. You've been gone for weeks! Please, just... I deserve to know what's going on." You reach for him, but this time, he moves away wholly.

The distance between you becomes a void that you could easily slip in and drown. His body language is a storm, causing the waves to crash into the shore and choke up with their cruel claws. 

His grip tightens around the neck of the beer bottle, his knuckles turning white. You can see the faintest scars; you know he brought his suit with him, you just didn't think he would actually use it. "You deserve better," he says, more to himself than to you. There is the guilt you have been waiting for, but it still affects you because he is talking about you.

Your heart skips a beat. You have had this conversation many times in the past. "Better?" you ask. "Matt, what are you talking about? I don't want better, I want you." You laugh in disbelief, but he doesn't even smile. He's not trying to hide how much pain he is from the weight of his guilt, and it makes you scared for what's about to come.

His gaze flickers toward you, and his eyes reflect myriad emotions—sadness, regret, and something else you can't quite place. "You shouldn't want me," he loathes himself, “Not after... not after everything." 

"What?" You place a hand on his arm, forcing him to turn to you. "I love you," you say.

He shakes his head. He never shakes his head when you tell him you love him. It's like he's telling you the opposite, that you shouldn't love him or that he doesn't feel the same for you anymore; the feelings swirling in your chest are confusing, and you just don't understand. Your mind races, trying to connect the dots, desperate to make sense of his cryptic words. 

His grip on the bottle loosens, and he takes a shaky breath. "I- I fucked up."

Your heart sinks. The pain you had sensed, the distance between you, it all falls into place. The parallel between his behavior now and back when Elektra almost tore you apart. The pieces of the puzzle form a picture you never wanted to see find their way together.

"Did you... cheat on me?" you ask, the words catching in your throat. The mere thought feels like a knife twisting in your chest, but you don't cry, you simply stare at him, waiting for any kind of reaction. 

It's the thought you loathe the most, but you seem to hit the nail right on the head.

Matt's silence is confirmation enough. "Oh God," you breathe.

“It was just a kiss,” he whispers. 

“A– you kissed someone else?”

“Yeah.”

“Walters?”

He takes a shaky sip of his drink. 

“Oh, my God, Matthew!” The cork to your heart pops and you start bleeding out, it seems. “What?” you ask. “Please, tell me you’re just messing with me. Please!” You want to get on your knees and pray to God that he’s lying, but he’s so quiet and his face is so stern, you can’t help but believe him.

The one thing he promised you he would never do, he did. And that is something you once told him that if he ever did it, you wouldn’t be able to forgive him. 

The foundation of trust you had built with Matt feels shattered, and you struggle to comprehend how he could break his promise to you. Emotions swirl within you, colliding with one another, leaving you feeling lost and vulnerable.

He grabs your hand suddenly when you try to put some distance between you to sort your thoughts, his glasses now discarded, and he looks past you with so much pain in his eyes, you can feel your own tears near. He whispers your name. 

“No,” you say. “I can’t–”

“Please, listen to me. I can explain,” Matt says. “I can–”

“You can’t! You promised… I– wasn’t I good enough for you? What happened, Matthew? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. Please, it was a stupid mistake.” 

“A mistake?”

He tugs at your arm again. When you don’t seem to budge, he sinks to his knees. Your throat tightens, your heart shattering on the floor next to him. He has torn it out with his bare hands, squeezed it too hard and now you’re nothing more than an empty shell, your very essence broken on the living room floor. 

“Please,” he begs. His hands rest on your hips and his unfocused eyes try to search for yours. 

The fact he only now thinks he has to fight for you instead of coming clear right away makes you angry, not just sad. You turned your back and that’s what prompted him to fight, even though he should have tried so much sooner. 

You loved him with all you had, and a foolish part of you still does, but hearing the words coming out of his mouth that he betrayed your trust in such a cruel way tears down the walls you have been seeing through rose-colored glasses and cut your love for him into pieces with a sharp dagger. 

Your best friend once told you that you should be careful, Matt would do anything to survive. Yet, you stayed around through the sleepless nights and the heartache. You worried about him every day and every night he went out as Daredevil to cleanse the streets, and you stitched him up without knowing what you were doing. You held him as he cried, offered him your endless support, and then some more, anything just to be loved by him, but he treated you so well. He gave you everything you needed, showed you a love no one has before and he was so dedicated, you felt at home with him. You trusted him with your life. You owe him your life, and yet, after everything you have been through together, one work trip to another State is all it takes for him to throw away years of history and kiss someone else? And Jennifer Walters, no less? 

You never thought you had to be worried about anyone catching Matt’s attention. You had been so confident before, but now? Now you just feel useless, imperfect, and like a damn fool. 

“Matt,” you whimper. 

He holds on even tighter. “Can we talk about this?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You look up, but the tears are flowing freely now. 

“I’m sorry. Please, I don’t want to lose you. I love you so fucking much, baby. Please! I can’t live without you. Don’t leave me. I can make it up to you, I promise, just… give me another chance.”

“Yeah?” It pains you to tear his hands from your body, but you have to. “If you didn’t want to lose me,” you say, “you should have thought about it before you decided to kiss someone else.”

He says your name, begging you once again to just stay. Talk this through. Stay. He is like a serpent in your ear, and you want nothing more than to give in, but when you reflect on your time together, you don’t know if you should even think about giving in. 

Matt has been obsessed with justice from the start. He chose it over you more than once, and it took you many nights and many fights for you to get him to stay even for a night or two to be with you, the person he claimed to love most of all. And now you are supposed to stay after he did what he did? It may be stupid to react this way if it was just a kiss, but he never once said it was accidental, and that means he has thought about cheating on you. He kissed someone else, someone who isn’t you, and he set your heart on fire the same way he has set your life together alight. 

Maybe he kissed her because she’s like him–maybe he kissed Jennifer Walters because she understands, and he has often accused you of not understanding. Maybe in her, he has found someone who won’t keep him from New York City just for one date night. Maybe in her, he has found someone who doesn’t break down crying when he comes home late because she thinks he died in a fight with a criminal. And maybe in her, he has found the woman he actually wants to marry. 

Marry. The word makes you choke up. 

As if he read your thoughts, he crawls toward you and stops you from walking away. He digs his fingers further into your hips, retrieving a small box from his pants, and God, do you want to punch him right now. 

You were right about the proposal, but he was planning to propose and still kissed someone else, and that is a betrayal on a whole new level. 

“The audacity,” you whisper to yourself. 

Tears are streaming down his face and he looks as if he thinks pulling out a ring after telling you he made out (no, kissed) with Jennifer Walters in Los Angeles is going to fix everything. 

“Please,” he begs, “I only want you. I wanted to ask you–”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t you fucking dare, Matthew!” You pull away. “This is… I’ve been waiting for you to do this for so long, but you… what the fuck? No! Especially not now!” Your body Wracks with a sob. “I need time, and I can’t do this right now. Kissing Walters is one thing, but telling me you bought a ring for me and still kissed someone else? It hurts,” you say.

It hurts too fucking much, you can’t breathe. He was your oxygen too, in a way, but he has cut off the supply and now you are dying a slow and agonizing death.

“I’m so sorry.” His arms drop to his sides in defeat, but he remains on his knees. “I never meant to hurt you,” Matt cries, “I promise! I just… I made a mistake.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I–“

“I’m sorry for falling in love with you. That was my mistake.”

Ouch. Now you have taken his heart, pulled it out and shattered it with one twist of your wrist. But he deserves it.

Matt listens to the sound of your hasty movements as you pack some clothes. He listens to your tears, your sobs, and the shaking of your muscles as you shudder. He listens and stays right there on the floor, his head lowered as God’s judgment comes upon him. 

And within minutes, your heartbeat leaves his ears and you are gone. 

You left him, and he deserves every last ounce of pain it inflicts on him. 

He’s an Icarus who has flown too close to the sun, and you deserve better than him. 

It wasn’t Jennifer who brought him back to life, it was you and it will always be you, but he screwed that up, too, and he has to live with it now. Without you. 

The ring box slips from his hands and then, he allows himself to break down. 

Matt Murdock Angst Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife

[kaigarax]

And... You

Or This is How to Yearn For

Trafalgar Law x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone even if it's just a dream."

It is of the utmost importance, regardless of someone’s age, gender or race, to be excellent in at least one thing. One must not merely excel at this single task but be fundamentally better than anyone else within similar circumstances attempting to accomplish that very same task and in a location relative to yours.

Of course, this entire theory can be ultimately tossed out and entirely forsaken if one does not wish to become important (in any way whatsoever) and hopes to maintain an ordinary life. It should be noted that by choosing to ignore this most radical and sensible piece of advice you are outright denying oneself of all human pleasures that fall into either category of dreams or desires.

This piece is, of course, only one of seven different instructionals to help guide you into a world of excellence. One should hope to not just entertain themselves with these pieces of work but look to apply them into their everyday life. Once again, it should be noted that all pieces should be read and thought on for a maximum absorption of the materials.

Now, without further ado, this is how to yield results.

---

Meetings.

Countless and countless amounts of meetings. All equally useless as they were time consuming.

If Law had known about how many early meetings the World Government, specifically the Marines, would have requested from him after becoming one of the Seven Warlords he likely would have reconsidered the idea entirely. He still would have gone through with the plan but more consideration would have been had.

Fortunately, the current meeting didn’t seem to be going as bad as he thought.

Usually, at least according to what he’d been told, Warlords don’t get involved with Marine issues unless absolutely necessary. Most didn’t even attend the meetings in the first place unless their position of power was threatened to be taken away. And even then it was still up for question how many of them would really show up.

Law, while a Pirate, was also a man on a mission. A task he needed accomplished in spite of everything else in his life. A need.

So, he’d bite his tongue and do what was asked. At least until the moment to strike would finally rise.

And then he spotted you.

---

Dr. Trafalgar Law, unsurprisingly, thought a lot about death. Not just did it come with the territory of being a doctor but also one of being a pirate. The lives of your crew heavily depended on you in both occupations.

He thought about all the lives he saved as a doctor.

And all the one’s he didn’t.

All the lives he took as a pirate.

And the one’s he didn’t.

Mostly though, when he thought about death, he thought about his own. About how, one day, death would finally come to reclaim him. Embrace him back in the grasp he had escaped so long ago when he was young. When it would finally reunite him with the members of his family that had all unfortunately died young.

Sometimes, he imagined that his death would come alongside revenge. A painfully fought battle that would require every single part of who he is and who he would be. A battle to the death.

Other times he imagined himself with gray hair, aging away the years until he was nothing but a pile of bones to be buried beneath the ground when he ultimately passes away from old age. A mundane way to die but peaceful nonetheless.

More often than not, though, Law thought of drowning.

Being a Devil Fruit wielder he imagined that drowning, more likely than anything else, would ultimately be the cause of his death.

Sure, not many Devil Fruit users (according to the information he’d acquired over the years) actually died from drowning (especially when surrounded by loyal companions) but the option was always there. The most dangerous threat to his life being the very thing he lived his life upon.

An all consuming force that pulls you down, slowly draining you of everything you are and everything you have until there’s nothing left. But such is the price one must pay when the power of the sea is stolen away. The curse of the Ocean, one might say. The gift of a devil.

When Law dreamed, which wasn’t very often, he dreamed of death. He dreamed of drowning.

The blue green waves grab hold of him by the ankles and slowly drag him down until he’s fully submerged. Watching as the light from the sky disappears and the water becomes cooler.

It’s pretty, at first. A contrast to his lungs as they burn for air.

And then, just when he’s about to give up, he sees you.

He’s not exactly sure who you are but he knows for certain it’s you. Diving into the water after him every time in an attempt to save his life. You’re a dream walker, he thinks. A figment of his imagination. Not someone he’s ever seen before but someone that’s been embedded in his heart for ages. Even before he had taken to the seas and his life changed forever.

He imagines you’re noble in nature. Jumping head first into the ocean after a stranger you don’t know.

Sweet. Tending to him quietly. Waiting for him to awaken from the sudden shock to his system.

Pretty. Beautiful even. A sight for sore eyes as he opens his own after an almost untimely death. He obviously wouldn’t have died, it was just a dream after all, but in the moment he didn’t know that. It wasn’t something his mind had yet registered.

And it’s a shame.

Law always tries his best to remember the features of your face. To remember the curve of your lip when you smile and the swoop of your hair. Tries his best to memorize even the slightest of imperfections but your face disappears from his mind and memory the instance he looks away. Much like how one might grasp for smoke is how he grasps for your name.

“Law?” You wave a hand in front of his face.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, “yes?”

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Curious, are you about the inner workings of my mind?”

You lean forward, a curious look in your eyes. It’s as if you’re inspecting Law for the first time. You reach an arm out to touch him but don’t actually choose to make contact. Hovering over him as if contact will make him disappear.

You're hesitant.

Afraid.

And more so than everything else, you’re curious.

He can see the curiosity in your eyes. It’s something akin to a child’s excitement on Christmas day. Filled to the brim with an emotion he once so wholly felt. Just a moment away from bursting out.

But you stay still.

Hovering just inches away.

You’re a gentle lady through and through. If the term were to ever need definition, Law most certainly will point to you. And he likes that. Finds it, amongst other things, attractive. He’s never had anything against loud or outspoken women but something about a gentle soul like your own makes him curious. Gets his own soul stirring.

Law, on the other hand, is by no means a gentle man. He’s rough, rude and frank. But you don’t seem to mind. Especially not as he takes your hand on his own and places it on his cheek.

You flush.

Your hands are warm. Warmer than he thought they would’ve been. They remind him almost of clouds or a dream. Oh wait, this is a dream isn’t it? A memory of a dream? A dream of a memory? Simply something long forgotten?

“Are you real?” Law asks, his voice ringing throughout the empty field the two of you find yourselves in.

You laugh, “I was considering asking you that as well.”

“Well I think I’m real.”

“And what does that make me?”

Law hums, “a figment of a memory of a dream that I desperately try to hold onto as I wake up in the morning.”

You laugh again, “you’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

Law flashes you a grin, displaying the tattoos on his hands for you, “only for you~”

“Well then, I’m flattered.”

“As anyone would be, I expect.”

But you weren’t anyone; and that fact alone both worried and intrigued Law.

In his short time upon this world there had been a large plethora of people Law would get to meet. There were, of course, the obvious various amounts of different pirates from a nameless amount of crews; most men and most loud mouthed and ill mannered. Then there were the locals; often large communities of relatively harmless people with usually the best of intentions. And lastly, there was the Marines; mostly low leveled Marines until Law finally took it upon himself to make it known.

Well, there was also that one time where they ran into a Warlord and Admiral but that was hardly a fault of his own.

And then there was you. Little Miss Dream Walker, swaying her feet through the waves of the water as though he weren’t just drowning in it moments ago.

He asked you about that once. Why you always chose to save him. And you, in the most you fashion that Law thought possible, simply smiled. As if it were the choice that anyone would make. As if it were the only choice to make. Law would, of course, beg to differ but considering he was the one being saved he decided that it was an argument best left unargued.

You fiddled around with a series of multicoloured strings. Where you pulled them from Law is clueless of but he’s certain they must have come from somewhere. You frown slightly as you pull a white one out and throw it into the ocean. Law’s almost a little sad. He’s always been quite fond of the colour white. It does happen to be the only other colour apart from his wardrobe. Not that he’d ever tell you. It disappeared with the flowing of the waves, pushing it back and forth until it’s been pulled under.

“Have you ever been in love?” You asked, pulling out a green string from the bundle.

Law shakes his head in response, “not in a world like mine.”

“Mine?” You raise a brow, “do we happen to live in different worlds?”

“You never know.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“As I usually am.”

“Calm down smart Alec.”

Law smiled at that and so did you.

Your fingers looked tangled themselves up with a blue string. Law wasn’t sure why but he found that colour particularly distasteful. He reached into your mess of a pile and unwrapped the blue from your fingers meticulously. When he had finally unwrapped it from your hand he tossed it as far as he could into the ocean.

You laughed, “what’re you doing?”

Law shrugged which only seemed to cause you to laugh more.

He flushed, “so have you ever been in love?”

“What,” you teased, “curious about my love life?”

“No!” Law was certain his face was bright red as it was burning hot, “I only asked you because you asked me first! If anything I should’ve asked why you want to know about my love life.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Law rolled his eyes in response but that was one of the things he liked about you most. Even if he didn’t admit it you seemed to understand what he meant (even if he didn’t). And, yes, he was curious about your love life. About what kind of person might have captured your attention in the first place and if he might be the kind of person too.

He imagines you like someone smart. Kind? Most girls like kind guys, don’t they? Someone that likes them? And Law’s nice, isn’t he? Sure, civilians and other pirates (and Marines) might not think he’s a good fellow but his crew mates do and that’s got to count for something, right?

You think of him as a nice person, don’t you?

Ah, he’s too much of a coward to ask.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Yes, I’ve been in love before.”

Oh.

“Here.” You hold out the jumble of strings which has now transformed into a series of black threads woven together intricately.

Law hesitantly picks it up from your hand, bringing it up to the light in an attempt to inspect it better, “what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Wear it. It’ll help me find you.”

“How so?”

You smile, “because only you would wear a black bracelet like that.”

Fall in love with someone even if it’s just a dream.

---

“Hey!” Law called out.

You turned, the cape of justice hanging off your shoulders, swishing around your body, “can I help you?”

He approached you, grabbing your hand and leaving practically no distance between the two of you, “who are you?”

“Vice-Admiral Sengoku.”

You…

You?

You were Vice-Admiral Sengoku?

Law’s eyes narrowed, “are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you smiled playfully, “I’m pretty sure I know my own name Sir.”

“And what’s that?”

“Sengoku. Sengoku (Y/n)."

[askcarlislecullen]

Will you and your family all live together one day again? Maybe even anytime soon?

You know, I very rarely answer questions that are at the top of my inbox. These days, I sift through them with a good bit of discrimination and some of them sit for years and still others I never deal with. But this is a provocative question which the asker may not realize is very timely, as Esme and I are preparing our home to be closed for a month while we make what has now become an annual sojourn to Europe. So as we pack, and prepare gifts, and reminisce, and think about the time soon to come with our children less than two weeks from now, we have also been asking ourselves this rather thorny question.

And I think—I think—I am at peace with the fact that the answer is likely no.

I never intended to be the leader of a large coven. No one is more surprised than I that seven others found fit to stay with me all these many years. That those I turned chose to stay, and that two others saw reason to travel and hold out for years to find us, and that my daughter-in-law chose to join us in this very life will never stop being surprising to me.

We've lived in many configurations in the little over a century we've lived as a coven of two up to a coven of eight. As a man and his brother in law, as a man and wife and her brother, as a couple and their boarders, as two couples and their brother. It wasn't until Alice and Jasper joined us that we even broached choosing cover stories that more closely resembled the family we imagined ourselves to be, and even then, some frequent and sudden moves in the early days there necessitated that we take different covers and often, live apart.

Then came those intense seven years over the turn of the last decade, in which our sense of family was abruptly sharpened as if by a gravitational pull by raising our miracle child. We got to experience for the first time the visceral realness of existing as parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents. And if I had to put a finger on it, I suspect it was that moment, of for once, not playacting at being a family, that allowed our family to evolve.

The distance forced upon us by the pandemic was painful, I won't lie. But this new reality where we can travel when we choose to, when our adult children or our adult granddaughter and her fiancé freely come to us for a spell and then go their way, is strangely healthy.

I lay a great deal of blame for the dysfunction of our family dynamic squarely at my own feet; when I turned Edward I needed badly his adoration and his unwavering love. I needed someone to guide, to counsel, to bring into manhood. But there was always a part of me that was a little bit afraid of letting him fully step into that manhood, holding an iron grip, terrified that if my child was no longer a child, I would lose the identity that a century ago saved my life. And without consciously intending to, I arranged everyone else so that I wouldn’t have to let that go.

Isabella and Renesmee changed that. When Edward became a husband, and so soon after, a father himself, our relationship shifted. And I found that in adding "Renesmee's grandfather" to my identity, much to my relief, I didn't cease being "Edward's father" but that there was suddenly room for me to live even more fully into being "Esme's husband" and also sometimes just "Carlisle."

I put up less of a façade with my children now. It is easier to admit to them when I also am afraid or worried or sad. They in turn don't seem to worry as much about pleasing or disappointing me. We feel free to treasure one another's company, and, when we feel we can't treasure it, to be apart.

Now does this mean the ten of us will never again be under one roof? Hardly. For one, we already regularly do this for weeks at a stretch twice a year now, in the summer and in the winter. To say nothing of the fact that time periods which are long for humans are devastatingly short for us—in the future, we might choose to live together for years, or even a decade or more, who knows. But we will do so with the changed understanding that the arrangement is temporary, for however long "temporary" is.

And I suspect that is, in fact, the way we should've thought of it all along.

[ravcns]

Cool With You

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you are hardcore crushing on your coworker not knowing he feels the same and everyone else sees it but you two

tw: usual criminal minds stuff, violence, choking, near death experiences

You were waiting to get coffee; the kitchenette was quite crowded since everyone needed it. Your attention was on him though as he added two packs of sugar to his coffee. Then you saw something out of the ordinary he was making another cup of coffee, adding a generous amount of creamer to it. He was walking your way you hoped your staring went unnoticed. “Coffee the way you like it; enough creamer until the drink turns almost white.” Spencer said with a smile, handing it to you. Upon taking a sip you realized it tastes similar to when you would make it. You thanked him, hoping that drinking the coffee would hide the blush growing on your face. The team watched on as the two of you avoided eye contact.

It seemed the only people oblivious to your secret crushes were you two. For a team of profilers they put it together quite fast; the lingering stares when the other wasn’t looking, small gestures, things you both remembered about eachother that even the team didn’t, and of course the most obvious sign was the way you both clammed up when somebody asked you about one another. But of course it was chalked down to, “We are just really good friends.” Neither of you wanted to admit it for some reason and it was painful to watch, even for Hotch. When Spencer came over to play with Jack the ever so observant kid could see it too. “You like Y/n.” Jack said, putting a puzzle piece down. This caught Spencer off guard. He quickly replied, “I do not she is my colleague and good friend; I respect her.” Though he did stumble over a few words, causing Hotch to laugh from the kitchen; Spencer wanted to crawl in a hole. “How’s the puzzle going?” Hotch asked, coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee for himself and water for Spencer. “Daddy, Uncle Reid has a crush on Y/n!” The energetic child stated. Aaron even cracked a smile at this, “Oh really?” He said. “Hotch I don’t.” Spencer responded. “I don’t know. What do you think buddy?” He picked up his son and asked. “You do too!” Jack stuck his tongue out and laughed. Hotch wondered how you both were so unaware.

“Watch your step.” Reid warned, guiding you up the hill. “Thanks Spence.” You said. The current case at hand was catching a serial killer and the team had him cornered. Problem being was that his cabin is at the top of a steep hill; no vehicles could get up or down and the path was hard to walk. When the team finally had arrived they quickly busted down the front and back doors. You and JJ took the basement, “Clear and we found the victim, she’s alive.” JJ informed the team. You left her with the young girl and walked up the steps catching the guy making a break for the back door. “I got eyes on Carter he is making a run for it, pursing him now.” You said, sprinting after him. “Alex Carter, FBI; You’re under arrest for the murders of Lauren Palmer, Emilia Cruz, Morgan Lee, and the kidnapping of Brianna King. You have the right to remain silent anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” You had him that’s the thing the dude was handcuffed now. “We just found three unidentified bodies in the attic.” Morgan said into the comms. “Three?” You repeated back. “Yeah, Hotch and Reid are coming out to you now.” He responded.

That’s when the unsub started to struggle. He began moving erratically, irritating you. “We can add refusal to cooperate to the list of you keep struggling.” You stated. He just looked at you with this sick and unsettling expression, suddenly you could hear the sound of handcuffs breaking. Then he pushed back against your body and kicked you in the shin, causing you to lose your hold on his arms. Immediately Carter was on top of you, squeezing his hands on your neck. All that could come out strangled gasps for air. “Step away from the agent, Carter.” Hotch said when him and Reid arrived. Spencer just watched in horror as you struggled to breathe and tears streamed down your face. “Think about your sister Alex, would she have wanted this?” Hotch asked, trying and hoping to find some reason. It didn’t seem to get through and a shot rang out in the air, alerting the remaining team members in the cabin. Reid immediately rushed to you, pulling you out from under the unsubs slack body. His gun was long forgotten. Hotch was thankful it was only a shot in the arm that shocked the guy who realized what had happened. Once again he was handcuffed this time by Hotch who said, “No funny business; you’re also under arrest assault on a federal agent.”

Spencer stuck with you from helping your trembling figure down the hill to sitting with you in the back of the ambulance ride. Even in the emergency room he refused to leave your side. “Spence I’m fine.” You told him for the billionth time while grabbing your stuff and exiting with him following behind you. The team immediately greeting you in the waiting room voicing their concerns and asking how you were doing. “They said the bruising should fade in a few weeks.” You informed them. Hotch inquired since it was protocol after all that you take time off but it was declined. “Aaron if I get put on paperwork I’ll lose it, please.” His mouth formed into a straight line before he answered, “Alright then, take it easy.”

It a few weeks later during one of your movie nights with Reid that he couldn’t take it anymore. “How are you doing?” He asked with a genuine look on his face as the random horror movie you selected played. “I’m good, why?” You responded. “Y/n, I know all your tells.” He stated. “What?” You just stared at him. “Playing with the left front strand of your hair when you are in thought, you bite your lip when you’re upset or annoyed, and when lying you twist the bracelet on your wrist atleast two times as if it irritates you like you’re doing right now.” Spencer said, causing you to stop yourself mid second turn. He continued, “I’m a profiler but first I’m your friend. Did you not think I wouldn’t notice somethings wrong?” At the word friend it felt like your heart was being squeezed and you had to stop yourself from biting your lip. He really was right about your tells and you didn’t know why but this upset you. “And you’re upset now that I said something.” Reid stated the obvious. “I’m not.” You responded. “Then why are you getting defensive?” He questioned, causing you to sigh in defeat. “I think I’m going to head home now.” You said. Spencer looked at your figure sadly as you grabbed your stuff.

He was tired of dancing around his feelings; you not being aware of the fact that other people care and just continuously putting yourself in dangerous positions. He desperately wanted you to know that you didn’t need to do those things. “I don’t want to watch you just walk away.” He said in this small voice, causing you to pause. Spencer took this as an invitation to continue, “There are so many people who care about you and just want to be here for you, I care. I can’t let you leave and ice me out because your too stubborn to let someone in.” You started moving again to leave and this time he stopped you. “I want to be the person you lean on when you’re in pain, help your realize that you don’t need to go through these things alone, or the fact you don’t need to prove yourself to the team or me.” Reid stated, looking you in the eye. “Y/n I think-”, He stopped himself then looked like he was in thought. “No I know that I am in love with you, Y/n L/n, and I have been since that day in Los Angeles.” Spencer spoke with clarity in his voice.

[merlin-emrys-wyllt]

Merlin King Au

Balinor had died around a year ago, and since then, Merlin had taken over the throne of Ealdor. The kingdom had been doing well for several years anyways since Merlin had been in his late teens. Before then, they had been in constant fear of a war with Camelot. Balinor hated Uther after he had hunted down all of his brethren (the dragons and dragonlords) until he was the only left. Likewise, Uther had hated Balinor with a vengeance. He was the one dragonlord who had managed to escape him. That coupled with the fact that magic was legal in the other man's kingdom made him hate the man even more.

Arthur had been King for two years now, after Uther had died. He was showing himself to be a much more noble and kind king. His people doing well for themselves. Magic was still illegal in his kingdom, though Arthur condemned the killing of anyone simply for having magic. No such act had occured since he had become king.

It came as shock when Merlin received the letter from Arthur, asking if he would consider having talks to build a peace treaty between the two of their kingdoms. Of course, Merlin had heard the prophecies around the man. How he was supposed to unite Albion and bring magic back to the lands. He had lost faith in them quite some years ago, though his people had not. Now, the man was asking him to consider building peace.

He had called a meeting with his closest advisors to discuss it with them. His mother Hunith being amongst them, as well as his gaurds and closest friends Lancelot and Gwaine. A few druids, including one of the leaders of a druid camp Iseldier, were also there.

So now here they were. They had just arrived to camelot after many days of travelling on horseback. Hunith had stayed behind to take over ruling while her son was away. Instead, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Iseldier had gone with the young king to help guide him, along with a few other advisors and knights.

Merlin was wearing the colours of his kingdom, blue and purple. As well as a flower crown upon his head, it had magic woven into it to stop the flowers from ever wilting. He had been advised to keep his magic a secret while in the kingdom. It wouldn't do to disobey the law while there. This was much to Merlin's dismay, but he understood, though he hated having to hide such a large part of himself.

The group made their way into the courtyard and dismouted their horses. They were greeted by a servant and Leon, one of Arthur's most trusted knights, who led them into the castle towards the throne room. Merlin could feel his anxiety building. He wasn't sure what to expect out of these talks, and he had only been king for a short while. It was a lot of pressure on him.

[darkherolovercroissant]

To Understand This

Short Story Series

Alejandro Vargas x Plus sized WOC Reader

This is a Bridgerton era style fic requested by @shadofireshinobi

This was supposed to be published in 2023, but Tumblr kept flagging it and crashing before I could save so I attempted this for the billionth time.

Warnings: Mature themes, mature language, smut, my writing, and anything I come across as I write this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallways, once echoed the footsteps of happy children running while their father chased them while laughing himself.

Now, they echo the thousands of thoughts that have been circulating through my head as I walk down them. They used to hold such innocence and light, now it’s dark and full of fear.

The doors open and mother weakly smiled, she’s still grieving the inevitable pain of this family. It was no secret that father wasn’t in good health. He was dying slowly, I like to think he’s been trying to fight in order to see his family all in good hands first, but we all know that the illness takes its time. Dancing with its victims in a taunting manner.

Father had five children, but not one of them was a son, as such matters were obvious, father had no eligible child to pass the estate or fortune to. As such terrible laws, deemed us ladies unequal to a man, we couldn’t have been given much than the clothes on our backs.

Mother took my hand and her eyes were red from many unfortunate events. She guided me to father’s office, where my fate had been decided by a bunch of men that father knew, well before I was even born.

The doors open and the council of men had risen from their chairs and turned to welcome us as they handed mother the final papers.

“Colonel Vargas has agreed to your husband’s wishes. The colonel and your daughter will marry and the estate will be handed to him, as your husband wasn’t able to produce a male heir. Of course, no offence to you m’lady” one of the many men spoke with such professionalism.

“I hope my next words don’t carry insult towards you, but I’m on a quite busy schedule and unfortunately I must hurry this along so I can return to my men.” A deeper voice echoed from my left.

I turn to see who I gathered was the colonel himself. Much older than me, but still younger than the other men in this room. He was highly decorated and carried himself with such pride. The age difference between us was as obvious as the setting sun told us that nightfall was upon us. At least ten years to my current age, but it was common for older men to marry younger women, so they could give them as many children as they wanted.

Mother nodded and the men filed out of the once crowded room. Now, despite two remaining, it felt like I was alone in said room.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted, believe me when I say, that I begged your father to choose one of his other daughters, b-”

I raise my hand gently in a motion to stop her. I turn and I looked at my mother’s face very carefully. Taking in every small detail, maybe one day, this would be me and what I’ll look like. Full of pain and regret, just simply wishing it wouldn’t happen.

I nod my head and she sniffles before heading out to where father was laying no doubt. Probably to fill his final days with cursing him out for all the pain this has caused, but apologizing right after for ever causing him pain in his final moments.

————

The sunlight warming up the gardens as I walked through them, with my mind wandering as fast as my feet. So many questions about why this was happening. I was the one that refused to take in my duties growing up. Where my sisters all sought out company, I preferred to remain independent as I loved how peaceful the silence was. Father always said I was the most difficult to get through when it came to important matters.

He’d sit with me when I was younger and often told me what I should expect when I reached a mature age, but I simply couldn’t be more uninterested. I wasn’t interested in finding a husband and settling down.

I dreamed of having the biggest gardens, full of the prettiest flowers. I dreamed of having the biggest library, full of books that begged to be read. I dreamed of having that peaceful melody of sweet solitary playing in the background while I danced through life.

I dreamed of remaining independent until i finally came across someone that fit perfectly into my life.

I dreamed of having a choice, but atlas, I should’ve known better than to dream of things that could never happen. I was a foolish little girl, but the foolishness would end tonight, as tonight, my life would be made at the hands of others.

[larissa-the-scribe]

Terrarium Lights, Pt 2.6

Almost at the end of part 2! Last time on Terrarium Lights: Gail took her ghost for a walk to a graveyard. (Next part >>here)

His forehead creased as he followed her out, and though his eyes remained colored in, they were seeking something far off that she could not see.

That focus shifted upon arriving at the cemetery. As Gail picked her way through the overgrown stones and plots of soil, the lad kept his eyes on the ground, flitting from one stone to the other, searching for something.

Gail left her bundles of flowers at each of the graves she had come for, murmuring a small prayer over them as she did so. The lad had wandered off among the gravestones, still looking over each one carefully.

Having finished, she joined him where he was standing in front of a weatherbeaten stone, dark from rainwater and patched in moss. It read "Samuel Wayne Smytheson, 1732-1768. Beloved husband and son. May God guide you as you go on ahead of us."

"The condition of the stone means this person has long since passed, doesn't it?" The ghost asked.

Gail eyed the dates. "I'd expect so."

"Still…" He adjusted his waistcoat, smoothing it down reflexively. "I recognize the name, somehow. Not all of it, but… Samuel sounds familiar."

Gail nodded, his wandering making sense. He had been looking at names. "Is it your name, do you think?"

He shook his head. "I don't… I don't rightly know. But I don't think it is. It sounds familiar but it doesn't… it's too big on me. Or maybe too small? It's… not quite right. Not that… well, honestly, I don't know that I'd recognize my own name if I heard it."

"Maybe a friend or relative of yours goes by that name, then."

"Maybe." He touched the stone, drawing along the corner of it.

Crows could be heard in the distance, one of them cawing on the roof of the church. The grass rustled and waved, with a smell of age and wood and wind and—very faintly—the sea. It whispered of life, of change, of normalcy, of nothing really.

"I'm not exactly alive, am I?" he said.

Gail let the grass and leaves speak a little longer. "Not as far as I can tell."

"I… I don't think I'm quite dead, either."

"You are still here."

"Were… were you going to tell me?"

"As soon as I could figure out how, and not sound mad in the telling."

He nodded, and ran his hand along the arch of the gravestone, like petting a tired horse.

They stood like that for a while.

"I was reading the hymn," he said. "'Not the labour of my hands, can fulfill Thy law's demands.' There were other bits that stood out to me, but I don't really remember them now. I'm not very understanding of all that Mr. Toplady was thinking or went through, and all that the words themselves mean, but I understood well enough the feeling of it. 'I am not capable of doing anything, I don't know what I could do, but I desperately need help.'"

It was a hymn that Gail knew very well. "'Thou must save, and save by grace.'"

"Yeah. I, um, I prayed too, while you were praying. For some kind of guidance. I don't know that I've quite got it yet. But… I guess… there's still nothing I can do. I can't make myself remember, and I'm not sure how to tell what I am or have become. And I feel like… I don't know. That I was heard. That I still need to let the moss settle."

Gail nodded, moving her basket to be held in both hands. "That's true enough. Answers take a good while sometimes."

"I suppose they do." He kept running his hand back and forth, as if he could dust the gravestone off and find the answers somewhere beneath.

Taken with an idea, Gail moved away, leaving him to himself as she made her way back to her son's grave.

"I hope you don't mind sharing," she whispered, "just this once. It's for someone that needs it."

Gently, she pulled a daffodil from the bouquet and carried it to where the lad stood, still staring at the stone.

"For you," she said.

He turned, and saw the flower. For a moment, he just stood there, one hand on the gravestone, one hand hovering in front of him. Without a word, he took it and cradled it to his chest. Stepping back from the grave, he let his hand trail off of it as if pulled down by an immense weight. "I… I still haven't given you something to call me. I was hoping I could figure out a name of some kind—figure out my name—but… this is the closest I could find. I think… I think you can call me Samuel , for now."

"Oh?"

"It's not my name, but, well, I don't think I'm quite myself." He smiled in a glum sort of way, touching the daffodil petals with the tips of his finger. "It will do well enough."

Gail weighed the matter in her mind, examining the gravestone. "It's a good name. Very well then, Samuel. A pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you." He crouched down, kneeling on one knee, and tenderly lay the flowers in front of the old stone. "And thank you," he added to the grave. “I never knew you, but thank you for your help.”

Samuel stood up, straightened his shoulders, and adjusted his waistcoat once again.

"I'm ready to go back to your house now," he said. Melancholy still clung to his face, but it seemed more settled and peaceful now, and he seemed more solid.

"Alright then." Gail moved ahead to unlatch the gate for him to pass through.

He did so, murmuring thanks as he passed by.

He did not look at the lighthouse on the way back.

Previous

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[cassini-or-antillean]

Senkovi's Guide to the Torchwoods: Ruinous Arc

“People leave. Their bodies might be rotten or forgotten. Yet, for those who take their time to look for them, there always remain remnants. Monuments overgrown and houses abandoned are where the memory of them live.” - Clio Chronalectia

I have long had this fascination with the Ruinous Arc at the southern edge of the Torchwoods. Mother used to haggle with the toll collector. He was a large man, whose short legs barely held his body. Gleaming pauldrons reflected the sun, which made his forehead produce a river of sweat that parted at his tweezer-curated unibrow. Back then I thought he was a peculiar man, but years of travel have proven that that’s just what toll collectors look like. While he convinced her to pay the legally required fee, the man shielded himself from my mother’s verbal assault with a worn Code of Law. I, however, marveled at the arc’s limestone statues. They depicted heroes whose names and stories were unknown to me, and the ones I made up were riddled with outdated misconceptions and historical contradictions. The copper lettering across the inner edge of the gate read: "Angel of Rain. Bless us with your gift. Shield us from its ruin." 

The architect's plea went unnoticed. I later came upon an article in the Royal Observer, with an aptly drawn illustration. It showed the equally unibrowed master of the toll collection guild amidst a flood. He was hauling a sack of sand toward the arc-adjacent river Rubicon. Unbeknownst to him, an elemental water spirit was closing in with a piece of driftwood and murderous intent. It is extraordinary how the illustrator captured the territorial anger of what is basically just a large drop of water.

When returning to the Torchwood region, I used the same route my mother had taught me was safest. She and I were unaware, that the guild had moved their operation westward. The elemental attack had weakened the arc’s structural integrity to a point, where the toll collector’s union (No. of members: 3) had to step in. Forced to hide behind the fallen statue of one of the limestone heroes, I now spied on a small group of creatures. I dubbed them Curators, after their seemingly innate drive to collect pieces of foreign civilization. Their small heads were each hidden by skulls of various origins, underneath which they communicated in a muffled foreign tongue. Giving each other a boost, they created a fragile living tower along the Ruinous Arc. The topmost of them was the smallest and therefore their leader. Fidgeting with a screwdriver, it one-by-one carefully pocketed the copper letters. It started with the A, which was the only sensible choice, considering that the text began with it. The tower then shuffled over to the B, where one of the lower Curators made a comment. I imagine it was something along the lines of “Pick up the pace.”, to which the top answered something like “Shut it!” The tower then moved a few steps back. Rubbing the chin of its skull helmet, the leader then decided they would move onto a lowercase D and then three separate Es. 

Attentive readers will have noticed a pattern by now, but will be disappointed to hear that the Curator’s next choice was an O.