#this is only part one btw

[applesofdaventry]

The Princess of Daventry, Rosella, is atop the mountain in the far corner of Daventry. She is waiting for the fearsome hydra to eat her, or, for a person to save her and slay the hydra. She is not holding out much hope for that.

Or: I have written some delectable King's Quest fanfic. The first part is under the cut. :)

Being tied up on a pole waiting for a hydra to eat her alive was the second worst thing Rosella had ever suffered through. The first, unfortunately, would always and forever be the shovel talk her father had attempted to give to her first crush a few years back. It was incredibly embarrassing on all sides and her father had to refer back to a scrap of parchment several times, and by the end she wanted to just go ahead and die. ...Even if during it he looked more energetic than he had in months.

It was uncomfortable, and cold, and the hydra’s roars were not pleasant to listen to. Then a storm suddenly formed. The wind howled. And thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Lightning struck frighteningly close to her, and she screamed from the loudness of it. It struck again, and the hydra shrieked in pain. The hydra readied itself to take flight, but then lightning struck again. And again. With each strike the hydra shrieked again in greater and more terrible tones than before. Until it thumped against the earth from a final strike and became frightfully still. The freak storm had killed it. Well then, that was one of her problems solved. But now she had a new one.

“Hello?” someone asked suddenly, “Is, Is someone here? I heard growling and thumping, so I used my bottled storm and then I heard a scream.” Shuffling, in the sudden silence. The storm had gone.

Well then! There’s a solution to her being tied up. “Here! I’m over here, by the edge of the cliff. I thought that the hydra would have been my end! I need help getting untied.” She called back.

Slowly, from around the bulk of the hydra’s collapsed form, emerged an, admittedly, handsome young man. If you ignored how it looked like he hadn’t seen a bath in weeks. His clothes were tattered, and he had tied around his face some sort of ripped cloth that, even from this distance, she could tell were of far finer quality than his clothes. He had a hand touching the hydra. “Uh, I’m going to need you to tell me what direction to walk in order to do that. I don’t want to fall down a cliff again.” He started to make uncertain steps towards… the entirely wrong direction.

“You’ll need to go more left, oh savior mine.” She called. He turned in more or less the right direction, “That works,” started towards her, and when he drew near she gave him some further instruction. “You’re just a few steps now, really, and then you’ll be able to untie the ropes. What is your name? How did you end up on this mountain? Wait, did you say fall down a cliff again? Are you blind!?” She immediately winced at the last question, as it was rather insensitive of her. Are you blind? How rude of her. She was mentally castigating herself when the young man’s seeking hands caught her arm. They were rough and callused.

“Uhm, My name is Gwydion.” He faltered and then continued on. “I’m not really sure how I ended up on this mountain but there was a cave at some point, and.” He paused. “Yes. It’s a… recent development.” He cautiously feels out the rope. “I have no idea how to undo this, but I think I have a knife?” He starts to rifle through what seems to be an entirely unreasonable amount of pockets and then yelps. “I found it.” He pulls out an old knife and wavers. “Hm.”

The cloth on the front of his face was visibly stained and wet. It was clearly tied very tightly. The smell was indescribable. “Perhaps you could give me it and I cut the ropes?” Rosella allowed some faint humor to tint her voice, “I think I might have better luck with cutting the rope, Gwydion.” What was under that cloth? Gwydion, after a few moments of careful fumbling, pressed the knife into her hand and then stepped back. After a minute she was free. “Thank you.” She pressed the knife back into his hand. “Why don’t we head down the mountain and to the castle. I am sure that we will be able to figure out a suitable reward for you.” He cocked his head in confusion. Reading this on what she could see of his face, she elaborated “I am the princess after all.”

Gwydion startled, badly, and if it were not for Rosella catching his arm he would have pitched himself down the cliff. “Really? I have never see- been in the presence of royalty.” he course corrected himself quickly, maybe being blind was a recent development. Rosella started to walk, keeping a grip on his arm. He stumbled to keep up. They did this in silence for a few minutes. Rosella warned him of sudden drops or large amounts of rocks in the way. He continued to stumble a bit as she led him like this. He broke the silence, and did so very quietly. “...Could you lead me in a slightly different way? It’s just- I fear that if I were to fall I would take you with me, and the way you hold my arm.. it is awkward to walk like this.” He then ducked his head, as though in preparation for recrimination, though she could not understand why.

Rosella stopped walking to think about this. “Maybe if we held hands, and I walked a little slower?” She offered. He nodded his head and held out his hand. She took it. They started walking again, slower. There were a few awkward, nearly heart stopping moments, but they managed to get down the mountain within an hour or two. “The walk from here should be much easier from here.” She said, looking back at Gwydion. Whenever she had looked back at him while they climbed down he had looked worse and worse. She frowned. “Are you okay?” His hand was clammy, and his face was creased in what was likely concealed pain.

“I’m fine, …though I’d like it if we kept holding hands. I haven’t been this worry free about falling in a while.” He said. That first part was the worst lie she had ever heard, but okay. I guess.

“Okay.” They continued walking for a while, though Gwydion had started listing and stumbling. She stopped after a particularly bad one. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Rosella asked worriedly. “It’s just, you seem to be doing poorly. Are you hurt? The castle isn’t too much farther, so I could call a cart.”

Gwydion swayed where he stood. “I’m fine.” He insisted. “Look, I can make it to the castle fine.” As though to prove this he let go of her hand, took one step forward, and immediately crumbled to the ground.

[afterthelambs]

Ann's confidant wins the most sapphic confidant award in the game. Obviously there's rank 9 with Shiho saying "I love you" but there's also whatever the hell Ann has going on with Mika? Mika spends the entire confidant being rude and mean and underhanded, and Ann just goes "ugh she's amazing"

and in the end when you find out Mika has been sabotaging other people to get jobs this is Ann's response:

GIRL GET UP??? Beautiful girls make her weak asf. This is why Ann being supportive over Joker dating his assassin is in-character, she knows what it's like to fawn over a mean hottie

[blueskittlesart]

Now that you're gone

[wasyago]

recks cleo !

she's a human btw, not a robot teehee ^_^

[captainmaxatx]

I think Deadpool and Wolverine 2 should start with them beating the shit out eachother in some nondescript field, just going full tilt completely mauling eachother

And then we see colossus come out the mansions back doors and he starts yelling about them ruining the lawn

[serial-unaliver]

[super normal guy voice] this news article about a woman being murdered and put in a blender by her husband reminds me of discrimination men face for being short

[shiineru]

reading chainsaw man and trying to piece together theories makes me feel like an insane person. like no yeah totally pochita is actually the birth devil and reze is coming back and aki isn't actually dead and its all because of this one slight detail in the background and its all going to culminate in one big story about trauma. meanwhile no one has fucking mouths in the manga right now

[cubbihue]

Did Peri tell Timmy that he was planning to become a Fairy Godparent/that he was assigned a godkid? When we first see the fam reunite in the series, Cosmo and Wanda didn't seem to know.

Timmy had known Peri might pursue becoming a godparent, because Peri had consulted with him about career tracks!! And like. Being the only one invited to Peri's college graduation tends to give Timmy more insight than his parents. Special older brother privileges.

As for being assigned a Godkid, Timmy sorta... Stumbled into it. He found out long before Peri was told he had been given an assignment!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Peri's Assignment: [Next]

[fluffyartbl0g]

ANONYMOUS SUBMITTED

I love, love, LOVE your speedrun comic, expecially the parts with Ace losing his mind and ASL reuniting. I am VERY curious as to how, exactly, this gremlin crew of half-feral children managed to negotiate an alliance with Whitebeard. My bet is Luffy just went “rearranges reality until it’s more to his liking and everybody is left wobbling dazedly”. Also, the Whitebeard Pirates thinking “this explains SO MUCH about Ace”.

—————

hahah you got the “everybody is left wobbling dazedly” part right XD. here’s my answer to ur curious musings!!!

An alliance implies equal footing, and to have equal footing with the greatest pirate alive is not something to scoff at. So good job Whitebeard for scoring an ETERNAL friendship with the pirate king 👍!!!!

Time travel/Speedrun AU masterlist

[ohitslen]

Living together.

The snail video if you are interested :)

[bluegiragi]

ghost gives konig a private lesson feat. soap as a very happy spectator.

read updates early on patreon

[asexual-shelly]

what if she was fucked up and evil actually

[theinsomniacindian]

Indian Chaotic Academia

Wanting to wear jumpers and hoodies but changing your mind after looking at the daily temperature

Scoring 97% in English in your board exams but your spoken English makes you sound like you've never studied it in your life

Messy yet (somewhat) intelligible handwriting

A weak spot for old Bollywood songs regardless of your personal taste in music

Chipped nail polish and lots of bracelets

Wanting to study in a park or a cafe but you can't as they're too loud and busy

Adrak chaha is the solution to everything

Muting the class WhatsApp group so you can read angsty fanfiction at 3 a.m. without alerting your parents

Vada pav and samosa>>>>

Buying several highlighters but still end up using blunt pencils to mark important study material

At some point, a B is the best grade you'll ever find in your report card

Reading the Mahabharata at the back of the class in the same way you would read a modern novel ("Nooo, why did he have to die 😭")

Coming up with ideas for study charts but never actually making them

Getting a lot of holidays and vacations thanks to the amount of festivals celebrated throughout the year

"Sir that's my emotional support gel pen brand that I've been using since fifth grade"

The poem you have to learn in your regional language class is actually your favourite childhood song

Rickshaw rides are better than any other mode of transport, change my mind (you can't)

Getting the 'Slytherin house' that always comes last in every school event

Only buying books from the second-hand book stalls because they have all the good ones

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[arttsuka]

Based on somewhat real events

I spent way too much time drawing this...

But yeah, Ford finally saying thank you

A continuation (kinda)

[solstrix]

TORADEEN NATION RISE UP!!!