#watchman on the wall
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igate777 · 2 years ago
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hellgram · 1 year ago
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also with all the damage the show did to jon's reputation as a good northern lad and wildling i hope germ comes out with like. yeah he's rhaegar and lyanna's son and the name she gave him while bleeding out on the birthing bed alone but for her big brother holding her hand in a tower with no way to know that baby aegon had been murdered leaving the title of Egg 6 up for grabs was like. howland.
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Headcanon: Mance Raydar's given name came from his mother mishearing the word lance, and wishing it it would make her son appear more southern and thus worthy of being guarded by the Wall.
His last name came from the word raider, a taunt shouted at him when he was a child. When he defected, he added the "y" to appear more properly free folk.
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hailthedragonmaster · 1 year ago
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local tech critter finds more things at thrift store heehoo
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i gotta see if the watchman works cause the power testing strips they had don't work and i don't have the batteries it needs but for now it simply Looks Cool
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gothsoyl · 2 months ago
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vampire!rio vidal x reader
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✧. ┊ rio has been a vampire for hundreds of years, if not thousands. she has seen nations rise to the top and burn down in search of their own greatness. she has seen the deaths of billions of people, with the blood of millions on her hands. she stopped being surprised by anything, but... then you appeared.
✧. ┊ initially, rio didn't think too much – you were just another victim, just a piece of meat for her. she killed so many young girls that she stopped feeling anything, but there was something strange about you. probably your desire to serve.
✧. ┊ you joined the rio’s household as a maid – her palace was huge, but it was so empty and cold that you felt uneasy at first, and memories of all the horrors that people told in the streets, when it came to the vidal estate, began to pop up in your head.
✧. ┊ you needed money and a roof over your head, so you weren't picky. the manor was gloomy, except for the fireplace in the living room, and the furniture was covered with dust. of the inhabitants of the house, there were only two old women, servants, and an equally old watchman.
✧. ┊ you saw the owner of the estate, rio vidal herself, only after a week of your stay here. she was pale and tired – it seemed a little more and she would collapse from dehydration. you immediately approached her with a desire to help, but instead she pinned you against the wall and clung to your neck with sharp fangs. you wanted to scream, and tears immediately sprang from your eyes, but not a single sound left your lips. you froze, and then completely lost consciousness.
✧. ┊ you woke up in the living room. head was buzzing and body was in pain. you couldn't really move your neck, but you noticed her right away – lady vidal was sitting in a chair opposite you, lazily turning the pages of a book. she no longer looked so painfully pale, and there was a sly smile on her lips.
✧. ┊ “you don't have to get up – I'm going to have a second dinner now,” her voice sounds like honey and you don’t argue. just lay there and stare at her as if fascinated. she's threatening to kill you, so why not try to escape?
“do you rarely eat?” you don't know why you asked, but you've clearly attracted attention to yourself. lady vidal immediately looks at you, and her eyebrows knitted, “I can help.”
“why do I need your help, child?” a logical question. the woman slowly gets up from her chair and takes a few steps towards you, stopping only in front of the sofa on which you’re lying.
“you’re starving. give me a day and I'll find food for you,” your voice sounds even quieter than before, and your neck hurts unpleasantly from any sound.
“and what do you want in return?” bingo. lady vidal is interested, or is having a dialogue with her dinner out of boredom.
“a place to stay”
✧. ┊ you kept your promise – once every couple of days you started bringing a human to the estate, listened for ten minutes as they kicked under the onslaught of rio and entered the room to clean up the mess. you helped kill people, so why didn't it bother you in any way?
✧. ┊ but it also happened that rio invited you to her place, and you didn't hesitate – you gave her a taste of your blood. it still hurt, but rio found a way out. her hands slide over your bare body, her lips press against your neck, and soft moans escape from your mouth. her fingers persistently stroke your crotch before entering inside, pushing the warm walls apart with a squishing sound. and only when your breath catches from the sensations of her finger, which moves so rhythmically inside, she bites your neck. your back arches and you hug her, scratching her back and exposing her neck even more. she growls back, burying her fingers deeper.
✦✧✦✧ it's worth helping with the murders for that ✦✧✦✧
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deithe · 2 years ago
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jon at the top of the wall, looking out into the night: oh gods. honour and duty against love. but what of free folk? are they not people too? do I not a duty to them, even if it goes against my duty as a watchman? may the gods strike me down for what I do. And what of my siblings? Do I not have a duty to them? But, aye, it is love that drives me away from my Honour™, and so may the gods strike me down for ever wanting what is not rightfully mine (having a family)
Everyone Else at the Wall: god i can't wait to eat this boar.
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neoneun-au · 4 months ago
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ARRIVAL; C.SC
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―PAIRING: choi seungcheol x reader ―GENRE: angst, romance, floaty in between sort of fic, lite!farmer au ―WORD COUNT: 2.3k ―WARNINGS: rewritten from my old blog for svt.
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The old house comes into view over the horizon. The weathered white boards of the house’s exterior are bathed in the soft pink-gold of dusk as it sits as a proud sentinel on the hill overlooking the expansive fields and orchards before it. Gnarled apple trees, trunks twisted with time, heaving their bounties towards the home; sun dappled honey wheat fields rippling with the wind but always sighing towards the white watchman above. And you, similarly facing, steady gaze directed like a ship to a lighthouse.
It looked the same as it did the day you left, all those years ago. Watching it fade into the quiet mist of the morning as you left it behind to walk forward into the unknown. And now it sits still, unchanged, if a little more weatherbeaten, watching as you walk back into view–travel-worn suitcase clutched tightly in your grip. 
Gravel crunches underfoot as you make your way down the path towards the house–nervous anticipation fluttering in your chest with each step. Hope and fear intermingle in the hollow of your stomach–dancing together like two birds. 
You hadn’t planned your return. Not really. 
When you set out to find yourself in the world beyond the village, you left without a plan in mind. Simply answering a call to your soul. You couldn’t say how long you would be gone or even what it was you were setting out in search of,  but somewhere inside you knew the day would come–whether it be the next day, year, or decade–when you would hear a similar call to return. Back to the fields, back to the house, back to the boy you left behind. 
The splintered boards of the veranda creak under your weight as you walk to the front door–an audible sign of your approach. For a brief moment you pause, hand poised over the doorknob, and inhale deeply. The air smells as crisp with the scent of the morning air and the apple orchard nearby as you remember it. The faint scent of spring lilac and inherited dust. 
Suddenly you feel out of place. An intruder at the threshold of someone else's home. Someone else's life. It was easy to convince yourself as you explored the world that everything would be the same when you eventually made your return. That the house, and Seungcheol himself would still  be there, frozen in time, waiting as he had said he would. But now you were not so certain. The walls of time collapse around you, and you run your hands along the length of them. Feeling the passage of it. How long it has been. 
With a shaking breath you pull yourself back to the present and retract your hand from the knob, opting instead to rap your knuckles against the door. 
You sent no word ahead about your return. No letters or postcards. Just hopped on a train and then all of a sudden, here you were. So you weren’t sure what the welcome would be like. Whether or not you would even be welcome. Was he even home? 
Footfalls on the staircase inside answer your question as your hand falls back against your side and you wait–body coiled in a tight rope of tension, ready to snap at any moment. You take a small step backwards as the door swings open to reveal Seungcheol–sleep still crowding at the corners of his eyes as he blinks you into focus. 
“You’re back,” he states–voice a half-whisper–eyes widening with the surprise of your presence before him. Standing on the porch, coated in the soft morning glow of the sunrise. 
“I am,” you nod slowly, adjusting the suitcase in your grip. Time stretches between you for a moment–thousands of unspoken words flitting in and out with the speckles of dust in the air–and you stand across from each other in silence; the closest you have been in years, but still miles apart. 
Seungcheol clears his throat and steps aside, gesturing for you to enter the house and you let out a shaky exhale before stepping across the threshold. 
The interior of the old farmhouse, much like the exterior, is virtually unaltered from your memories. The same generations of Choi family portraits hang along the staircase, the same light blue eggshell paint adorns the crown molding, and the same floral wallpaper covers the bare boards of the walls. You take a cursory glance around, heart beating with the pulse of a thousand memories, and breathe in the past. 
Seungcheol takes your suitcase from you as you look around and hauls it upstairs without a word. In his absence you take a moment to walk around the ground floor of the house, running your finger along furniture and tabletops. Curious as to how he has filled his time and his home while you’ve been away. The vase of fresh flowers you always insisted he kept in the kitchen window are still there–slightly withered and in need of replacement soon. A small stack of books you had left unread on the side table still sits stacked in the same order you left them–carefully dusted, but unchanged. You briefly wonder if he had picked them up at some point–seeking some answers, some connection to your thoughts in the wake of your departure. 
“Have you eaten?” he asks as he steps into the kitchen behind you, hand ghosting over your back as he slides past you towards the fridge.
“No,” you shake your head, slipping your coat off and draping it over the back of a kitchen chair before taking a seat. With a soft smile you watch as he busies himself gathering a last minute breakfast of assorted fruits and breads. His back is turned to you but you can see the change in him even through the fabric of his sweater. His muscles are more hewn with seasons of work–formed in careful dedication over time. The Seungcheol of your memory is fresh faced with the kiss of youth. Rounded and soft. But the Seungcheol before you now has grown into himself; his jaw has sharpened slightly, his mouth is set in a straighter line. Seriousness creases itself around the skin of his eyes. You try to adjust your image of him to match the current reality but the boy you remember stealing kisses from in the orchards outside remains. 
“If I had known you were coming, I would have gotten some more groceries,” he says by way of apology as he sets the platter of food down in the center of the old kitchen table. 
You shake your head in dismissal and reach for a slice of green apple. Crisp and fresh–no doubt plucked from one of the trees just outside the windows of the house. “It’s fine. This is perfect.” 
You make no move to speak further and he follows suit. Instead you settle into a rhythm of eating in silence. Allowing yourself to slip back into space together–atom by atom getting used to the proximity once more. Birds chirp outside the window, passing the time in chatter and short flights to and from their nests as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. 
Seungcheol heads into the fields after breakfast. 
You watch as he disappears over the horizon, tools slung over his shoulder, and gets to work tending the crops and plants. There isn’t much to be done this time of you, you recall. Just simple trimming and harvesting a few ripened fruits before they fall to the earth and belong to the insects and critters below. But even what little there is to do takes time, so you take the opportunity to head upstairs and finish recollecting your memories of the old house. 
He had set your suitcase down in the guest room immediately at the top of the stairs. The blankets were pulled taut over the mattress–clean with lack of use–and your favourite pair of slippers were placed on the floor next to the nightstand. You drift out of the guest room and venture further down the hallway, sparing a passing glance into the reading room and the bathroom as you make your way to the bedroom at the end of the stretch. 
A similar feeling of not belonging settles back over you as you lift a hand to push open the door but you brush it aside–curiosity overwhelming any desire to tread lightly. 
The whole house feels like a time capsule. You felt it earlier as you stepped cautiously through each room–your presence a traveler through the ages, unbidden and disruptive to the daily minutiae. As if all of those years you spent chasing some unknown aspect of yourself across the other side of the world ceased to exist the moment you crossed the threshold into this old wood-framed home. No where is that feeling more potent than inside the master bedroom. 
You feel twenty again. Standing on the precipice of your new life. Kissing your first love goodbye and making promises that you didn’t know you if you would even be able to keep. The comforter on the bed, slightly messed still from sleep, is the same as all those years ago when you tangled yourself up in them with Seungcheol–skin against skin. The only indication of time that makes itself known in the room is the collection of postcards on the nightstand. 
Dozens of them. More from the first few years of your journeys, when you still dotted your ‘i’s with hearts and ended each letter with ‘xoxo’. 
With a swelling heart and shaking hands you pick up the stack of letters, flipping through each one and noting the smudges of ink and indentations of fingerprints on each of them. Some are more worn than others; all clearly read over a hundred times. 
You absorb yourself in the postcards–trying to place yourself in Seungcheol’s shoes when he had received them. Monthly at first, as consistent as you could be considering the complications that invariably accompany a life of travel. Then every few months, every six months, and finally almost no word for a year and a half until you arrived at his front door out of the blue. 
He could be difficult to read when he wanted to be. When his thoughts and feelings felt like heavy burdens to bear and  were thus kept close to his chest, unvocalized until they had to be. Simmering under the surface of steadiness that he presented on the outside. Aside from the small alarm bell you saw ringing behind his eyes this morning, you weren’t sure where you stood with him currently. Whether he felt you as much of an intruder in his space now as you did. 
You lose yourself in reminiscence and don’t notice Seungcheol’s arrival in the room behind you until his arm snakes around and plucks the stack of postcards from your grasp. “I wasn’t sure if you would come back,” he says, dropping the cards into the nightstand drawer. 
“I said I would,” you respond softly, voice on the edge of cracking. “I didn’t think you would still be waiting.”
“I said I would,” he says before slipping past you and heading back down the hall, leaving you with your swirling thoughts.
The day dissolves into night. The thread of the unknown is pulled taut between you as the hours drag onwards and you get ready for bed down the hallway from Seungcheol. Owls hoot in the distance–the only sound breaking up the running of water from the shower in the master bathroom. 
You slip under the covers, curling up on your side, and close your eyes. It had been years since you had been somewhere so quiet. It was almost disconcerting. No sirens, no people, no traffic. Only an owl and the quiet footsteps of one man as he slips into bed two rooms away from you. You lay awake for what feels like hours–blinking into the darkness of the guest room. The silence, unlike the idyllic calm of the daytime, was almost suffocating. It had been so natural when you were younger. Darkness descended and along with it, the world went to sleep. Sound disappeared. But now, after so many years of noise and colour, it was difficult to readjust. It felt like at any moment the long arms of darkness would reach out and grab hold of you where you lay. 
You sigh and before you can rethink the impulse, you push yourself out from under the covers, slip your bare feet into the prepared slippers, and pad down the hallway towards Seungcheol’s room. The door creaks slightly on its hinges as you push it open–a hallmark of its age–and you wince, but Seungcheol makes no indication of waking as you step further into the room. 
Seungcheol lets out a soft sigh as you climb into his bed next to him–eschewing all thoughts of propriety and hesitation that flood your brain as you do. “Is this okay?” you ask, and as soon as he hums his approval you sink into the mattress. Tucking your body into the familiar curve of his side. 
“Where have you been?” he asks, voice quiet–reverent. He shifts his body next to you, adjusting so that your head falls onto his shoulder and his arm is tucked up underneath you, hand coming around to rest against your back. Finally, you think.
“All over,” you answer, afraid that if you give too many details you might break the spell of the moment and remind him of the distance.
“Well,” he sighs, shifting once more. His breath fans out of the skin of your cheek as he leans in to press a soft kiss against it, “welcome home.” 
“Happy to be back,” you smile, feeling the warmth of tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you do so. The final remnants of the lingering energy of intrusion melt away in his arms. You do feel at home–finally after so many years of trying to find it elsewhere. 
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks, words broken halfway by a yawn. 
“Yeah,” you nod, sinking further into him as he drifts off to sleep, “I think I did.”
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© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.
if you read and enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought ! its really the only reason i keep writing anything
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theworldbrewery · 2 months ago
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1d8 Places to Rest in the City
The upstairs of the Coronet, a seedy and rundown public house in the industrial district. The pub is under new management, and has been undergoing extensive renovations in the hope of cleaning up its image. Despite the owner’s best efforts, pickpockets and thugs loiter outside. And most nights, a smuggler by the name of Smiley Sam can be found in the barroom, ready to trade in secrets, coin, or illicit goods.
The roof of the Third Regional Bank, an imposing edifice with an atrial dome and a cluster of gold statues above its grand doors. From this height, you can see the sprawl of the whole city, its flickering lights and flares of magic. The night watchman might need paying off, and it’s none too comfortable in rain or snow. But the gargoyles have formed a sketch comedy group, so there’s built-in entertainment.
The Magnolia Pink, a fabulous hotel with genuine silver floors. The suites are worth the expense, from the liveried servants who attend the guests’ every need to the plush, indulgent beds and decadent room service options. But rumor has it that for every night you pass in the Magnolia Pink’s embrace, the less likely you are to come out again — at least until you can no longer scrounge up the cash to afford just one more night.
Under the Bodhi Bridge. This brickwork overpass provides excellent shelter from the elements, particularly because some enterprising vagabond has knocked in part of the supporting wall and created an accessible niche roughly 15x15 ft. in size. In time, other vagrants have left their marks: symbols in thieves’ cant, broken bottles, worn-out boots, and a pile of logs inoculated with a variety of mushrooms.
Inchibald Quingle’s Lodging House, a crooked three-story structure with drafty rooms, narrow hallways, and two hearty meals a day. The elderly Mr. Quingle has handed the reins to his son, Inchie Jr., whose passion for cookery has earned the Quingle Lodging House its place on the map. Inchie’s other passion—taxidermy—does put some guests off their supper, however.
The Asylum of the Ragged Saints, a humble almshouse dedicated to housing the poor, the pensioners, and the downtrodden. Available only to those in need, the Asylum’s rooms are clean and orderly, but offer little privacy and even less comfort. Its patron, Lady Parsimony Cross, is a crotchety and bookish young woman who inherited responsibility for the Asylum from a more kindly and warm relative. She is greatly concerned with the idea that the Asylum is being used by those who do not truly need its services, and has begun imposing increasingly high standards of poverty and desperation to its residents.
An abandoned underground transport station, dating from a time immemorial. A rusting metal wagon rests on a sunken track, its doors jammed into the open position. Moth-eaten seats line an aisle within. The track extends into the darkness of an enclosed tunnel, which emits an eerie buzzing noise. If the wagon doesn’t hold any appeal, you can always remain on the buckling stone platform and examine its illegible signage and explore the chambers lined in cracked, mossy tile which branch from the main cavernous space.
The basement of the Ershae family home. The Ershaes are friendly people, part of a social network which offers safe housing to travelers. As members of this group, they host strangers willingly and are welcomed by other strangers in the network when they travel themselves. The sole condition of your stay is this: you must join the network and list your address among the available places to stay. If you agree, you may sleep in this place as long as you need without charge, though you are responsible for your own meals. The Ershaes’ basement is wood-paneled, with a shaggy orange carpet and a vividly green sofa bed.
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wickerfemme · 28 days ago
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about fantasizing about fattening you up. . .
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It's the dream—a 3 month artist's residency in an old historical house for the summer, dark wood floors, white-paneled walls, vintage furniture. A staff maintains the home and takes guests on tours, but you live upstairs, sharing the floor with a few other people, including one who cooks every night in the period kitchen for all of you.
But she cooks like she's expecting a dozen dinner guests every night, lobster in cream sauce, alfredo, carbonara, thick soups and chowders, roast chickens and mashed potatoes whipped hard to hold more butter. It starts to show on you before the first month is over, and halfway through the second, a button flies off your dress when you sit under a tree to sketch. Embarassed, you have to ask her for a needle and thread, but she's happy to help, insists on sewing it herself. "I can change up the food if you like," she says, apologetically. "I get too into the grand-old-house schtick sometimes." No, no, you say, her food is great. She smiles. At dinner, your plate is heaped high, but you power through and finish. When she clears the table, there's a knowing look in her eye.
As your gallery comes together, your wardrobe is coming apart, waistbands past snug into embarassingly tight, your fat belly cut in two. She starts bringing you food through the day, little pastries full of clotted cream and jam, little cucumber sandwiches with generous smears of better, heavy cream in all your coffees and teas. A few days before your exhibition, she asks what you'd like for dinner—the night watchman is on vacation, the custodian out sick, so it's just the two of you, and she's happy to cook you a nice little good-bye dinner. Yes, you say, that'd be great.
When you come to the table, you're shocked—it looks like a Christmas feast, bowls of gravy, a roast goose, mashed and scalloped potatoes, two cakes, baked carrots dripping in butter. She watches you eat intently, smiling, not talking much since your mouth is so full. You eat, and eat, and eat, and finally lean back, No more, I'm full.
"But there's so much left," she says, walking slowly to you. "I'm sure you have some more room." She nuzzles into your neck, and when you gasp and pull her closer, she laughs kind and cruel and ties your wrists tight behind the chair. "Let me help you finish. . . and for God's sake, take this off." Your belt falls useless to the floor, your stretch-marked belly pushing your dress—the blue one she mended—to its limits. She brings one of the cakes, orange-flavored sponge layered with chocolate, in front of you, feeds you gently, caresses a chubby cheek. "I worked so hard on this, is that all you can eat?" Another bite. "Hours and hours slaving away." Another bite. "That dress needs a lot more work than just another button." Another bite. Your eyes are closed, your mouth open, when you feel her free your wrists, and you're shocked when the plate is empty. "Thank you," she says, wiping a chocolate smudge from your pretty face.
You end up needing a new dress entirely for your exhibition. She helps you find it, hems it for you, and while friends and colleagues mill about, talking color and composition and framing, she stands near the door, eyeing the way the fabric rounds over the top of your new belly, how it catches on your wide hips, and when your eyes meet you know you weren't the only person with a project this summer.
I'm blushing; I'm swooning 💞💘💫
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vibingandsimping · 1 year ago
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I hope this is okay >< but i love the idea of an injured tav x Raphael. Maybe he finds them in Gortashs prison or im not sure, but I love it. 💕 please and thank you if you do it
The confinement you were in was damp. A leak from the stone wall dripping. You knew that the sound would eventually drive you crazy.
You’d have gotten away if your leg wasn’t so mangled. You disobeyed and insulted Enver Gortash. The details of what led to it were lost to you- but he wasn’t a man to sit and take that simply. He offered you a chance for redemption but you turned your nose at it. You claimed you’d have his head. The steel robot was quick to grab you and restrain you. You must’ve struggled in it’s hold too much because it’s mechanic hand clamped down onto your calf. The bone fractured and the pressure left a gnarly bruise. He instructed the watchman to bring you to a cell while he decided what to do. Hopefully you’d have a change of heart when he approached you once more.
The cell was musty and cramped. If you stretched your legs out the toes would practically touch the opposite wall. On your uninjured leg was a shackle that firmly planted into the stone underneath you. You grew used to the smell in there. Which is why it was odd when an overwhelming scent of sulphur filled the air. It was revolting. Head shooting up from your knees, you scanned the area. Outside the cell bars was Raphael in his human form. A smirk played on his lips as he approached the bars keeping you apart. “My favorite mouse caught in a trap that isn’t mine. What a shame I can’t enjoy the torment.” You frowned and looked back down at your feet. Of course he was here to mock you. Slayer of Ketheric Thorm trapped so helplessly. He noticed your shame and chuckled.
“Mouse, I am here to help you. Only I should get to play with you. Especially if the man is Gortash, damned fool.” He growled the last sentence and with a snap of his fingers you flicked from the cell into his arms bridal style. You gasped loudly and cried out when the position your leg in changed. He gave you a pout and tucked a stray hair from your face. “Poor thing.” You weren’t sure if he was genuine in saying that or not. Could you bring yourself to care at this point? It was minutes before he was back in his House of Hope. Leading you down the halls until he was in his chambers. He stripped you of the confining clothes and laid you out into a sauna pool. The water lapped at your skin and eased the ache of your muscles. Within moments your leg shifted back into it’s proper place. You watched as the pain faded and the bruises disappeared. Raphael drew you from the water when he figured you had enough of it and led you to his bed. His touch was surprisingly tender.
You wanted to question him why he was so gentle with you as he dried your skin and dressed you in silk. Who were you to look a gift-horse in the face, though? You were thankful that you weren’t in the cell of Gortash’s prison anymore, at least. Whatever Raphael had in mind could be your forefront later. He offered you some rest and you gladly obliged. Sleep weighed heavy on your mind and eyes. The morning would bring lots to come.
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thisisnalkan · 4 months ago
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What if Harry Dubois had the Cultlist Sim Aspects in his mind?
Cooking up a Cultist Sim x Disco Elysium Fanfiction that involves the aspects of Cultist Sim rattling around in Harry's mind. Here's how I plan on writing/characterizing each of the aspects.
Heart [Challenging: Success] - You walk down the street with a pep in your step. Your heart is beating. It feels good to be alive.
Heart would encourage Harry to have fun in the non drug fueled ecstasy way. Dance, skip, feel alive. Heart would also be steadfast in it's resolve against, persevering you even when the right move is to give up and come back.
Grail [Formidable: Success] - Tis alright, but thy are craving more. This... commoner shit won't do anymore. Thy needs real stimulation.
All the worst parts of Pain Tolerance mixed in with Electrochemistry? Grail is the pleasure seeker of... exotic flavors. It understands high class vices, none of this lower class speed in an alley way that other skills(Electrochemistry) suggest.
Moth [Medium: Success] - The light of the watchman twinkles in the night sky. Their lights guide your way. Perhaps they may guide you farther than you think.
In-between Inland Empire and Shivers. Moth makes more esoteric / occult connections than Inland Empire, but both work in tandem often. They both start long monologues together.
Lantern [Legendary: Success] - You feel a presence behind you. The large mirror on the wall. Look at it now.
Lantern is a light in the brain. A guiding force in the dark. Lantern picks up higher order thought from the Pale and the Universe at large.
Forge [Godly: Success] - THE LIGHT OF THE CRUCIBLE BURNS BRIGHT. YOU CRACK YOUR HANDS AS YOU OPEN THE STONE WALL.
Forge is creation, and destruction. Forge is the power to tear down a wall, to build something, to shape the world around you. Forge let's you leave your mark on the world.
Edge [Medium: Success] - This man in an honorable warrior. He has chosen the endless war rather than surrender. He is worthy to be in your presence.
Edge is Marshall prowess. Swords, knives, guns, all the expertise of Edge. It demands the utmost of honor from Harry and from others. Would adore the Deserter and Rene to a lesser extent.
Winter [Challenging: Success] - The soft sprinkling of snow flakes against your skin. You inhale chill winter air, and let the sensation of pain and anger pass through you. And then, there is silence.
Winter is reverse Volition. Instead of trying to change, Winter is about accepting the way things are now. It is letting all emotion pass through you and deciding that sometimes, things must come to an end.
Knock [Formidable: Success] - And with a click, the padlock falls away. The purpose of the door has been fulfilled. You are in.
Knock is about opening things up. It is not just locksmithing in the tradition sense, it’s also the ability to open up people and get them to talk. Knock is the human can opener mixed with regular can opener
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igate777 · 2 years ago
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Tracklist:
Union Town • Solidarity Forever • Which Side Are You On? • A Wall Against The Wind • 16 Tons • This Land Is Your Land • I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night • Union Song- Live in Madison, WI
Spotify ♪ Bandcamp ♪ YouTube
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kvetchlandia · 7 months ago
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Camille Ruf James Joyce, Zurich c.1918
“…they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldnt answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.“
–James Joyce, "Molly Bloom's Soliloquy" from “Ulysses” 1922
Happy Bloomsday, everyone.
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meepsters-world · 3 months ago
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I Love you Pt1
Whilst Levi was down with his hurt ankle my squad would be taking over expeditions beyond the walls even though Levi was not happy with this it was my job to make sure we are safe and learn who the Female Titan truly is.   After receiving my orders from Erwin I went to me and Levi’s shared quarters. I saw Levi sitting at his desk glaring at his ankle with hate and pain.   “ Don’t do that.” I sighed while walking around trying to pack my bag to go beyond the walls. Levi just glared and said “PFFFT  my ankle needs not be so weak so I can kill the female titan for killing my squad. I am not made to sit and do paperwork!” I rolled my eyes at him as I knew he was beating himself up over something he could not control as he had his own orders to follow through with. Walking around the small space and collecting my things is when he finally asks “ What are you doing?” 
“Packing my stuff to go beyond the wall I met with Erwin today and he needs this done today I will be back in two days time.”
“EXCUSE ME!!! I told you and him I do not want you going without me its to hard for a g-” I glared at him before he could finish that sentence “ Go ahead say it!  Say it's too hard for a girl, I dare you!” “Look I just don’t want you to go, is that too much to ask!!” he yelled again. “ Yes Levi it is because you know it’s our job and I am not gonna sit back and watch people die! Look I love you and will see you soon okay?” I sighed as he stayed silent as always and continued on my way out of the room upset and hurt. ~ AT THE STABLES~ I walked up to my squad and asked “ Y’all ready to go out and kill some titans?!” “YES” “YEAH” “YOU BET” “LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO!”
Once out of the walls it was mostly quite and only running into some lil ones.We went further out till it started to get dark as we needed to make it back to where the Female Titan got loose to look at clues as to who she is as Armin is almost positive but we must all be certain! We rested and then moved onward once we had rested and ate. ~AT THE FEMALES TITAN FAILED CAPTURE~ Me and my team except the look out all looked around to see what we may find. “CAPTAIN Y/N!!! ABNORMAL!!” Yelled Yoo the watchman We all shot tup into the trees and started slicing the naps of the abnormals. I took a look and saw about 10 titans running our way and knew there was no way we could fight them all and survive! “ I have an idea I will distract them and y’all run and make it back to the walls!” I shouted 
“ NO” NOT A CHANCE” THAT IS STUPID “ WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DUMB?” “ SHUT IT! I am the captain and I need you to listen to me like we normally do!” I shouted again They all shut up and hopped on the horses and ran as fast as they could. “HEY YOU UGLY MOTHER FUCKERS COME GET ME!!!!” With that I used the EDM gear and flew the other direction and started slicing again to kill as many as I could do! ~TIME SKIP~
Levi’s P.O.V Today is the day Y/N comes back from beyond the walls and looking at the sky it should be soon! I stay in the shared room as I have lots of paperwork to finish so I can spend my time with her as soon as she comes home. After realizing I have been doing this for an hour with no sign I became a little worried and then remembered that she is very smart and strong. I heard a knock at my door and allowed the person to enter the room. Yoo from the Y/N squad came in with a look on his face. “ Captain Levi I'm so sorry we tried to stop her from doing it and everything but she wouldn’t listen!!” “Where is she? Where is Y/N?????”
“She sacrificed herself to save us, her squad and the facts we have found! We were outnumbered and she led them off so we could make it back! I am truly sorry.”   Time froze and my heart stopped beating as I realized I had never ever said I love you to her as I never thought about it till it was too late. “GET OUT!” “BUT-” “GET THE FUCK OUT!” Yoo looked sad and upset but did in fact leave me alone to cry and scream. It’s been a week since my beautiful Y/N was taken by the ugly ass titans and I have vowed to never love anyone or anything again! I have lost it all at this point and I am going to kill everything that gets in my way! Hange and Erwin have tried to make it better but nothing will ever fill the pain.
Y/N’s P.O.V Limping my way closer to the wall to get closer and closer to my love. It’s taken me forever to get back as I can only move at NIght as my ODM gear is out of gas and my blades are all broken. I have been thrown and tossed all about but I was able to get away from the titans after killing most of them. I have lost track of time as I am in so much pain and I can feel the dried blood and everything on my face. FINALLY THE WALL I can see it and I can hear the happy happy people that I have always never really liked till now!
“HEY!! DOWN HERE PLEASE!!!” Hange looked down with her crazy look and screamed and cried with happiness! Then she lowered down the pulley to get me to go back up and be safe for once in weeks it feels like. She looked so sad seeing the blood and twisted limbs. She hugged me so tight that I felt like I was going to die. “Are you okay hun?” “ Honestly no I am not but that's besides the point I NEED to see Levi please!” “ He has been locked in his room since your squad came back without you.” I looked at her and pushed her out of the way and ran (limped) my way to our room to hold him and tell him I am okay and that I am alive and well. I knocked on the door really hard over and over again. “ GO AWAY NOW!” I rolled my eyes and entered anyway as I needed him in my arms an I knew he needed me in his as well. “ Are you sure you want me to leave?” His head snapped up and I saw the tears in his eyes as he muttered under his breath “NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY THIS IS A DREAM!” “ It’s not a dream hun” “Y/N oh my sweet Y/N” “Yes its me Y/N” What I was not expecting was him to pull into a hug and say “ I love you so much and I am so sorry I have never said it before!”
~Time skip~
Once all fixed up and everything me and Levi made it back to our room when he said “ Can I please show you how much I truly love you?” “Please”
Like for pt. 2 with SMUT
PLEASE BE KIND AS I AM NEW TO ALL OF THIS AND AM SCARED LOL
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neonscandal · 11 months ago
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What are your satosugu fav moments? And what are your fav personal headcanons about them?
Those sweet, egotistical, baby angels. 🤍🖤
For an insane retelling of their whole deal, I kinda talk incessantly about it. I also kinda did a little head canon exercise with a template before? but wasn't sure what you might be in the market for. In any case, roll the tape!
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HEAD CANONS
Gojo has been spouting nonsense all his life but Geto was the first person to try to understand it, even when he couldn't. I'm not going to fault Geto for not being able to catch up on all that Digimon lore. But for the most part, he'd make it a point to ask clarifying questions or brush up on topics Gojo mentions in passing just to keep up with conversation.
In fact, they hated each other when they first met but bonded over one off the cuff comment Gojo made about a band, book or something and, suddenly, they found common ground. After that, they bonded over making Yaga and, later, Nanami's lives interesting ✨
Gojo is the prankster, Geto is the watchman/getaway driver. No one suspects Geto's role in Gojo's tomfoolery. Stealing Maki and Nobara's uniforms with Inumaki and Panda was a rewash of a stunt he pulled when he was in high school (with Geto's help). He fashions a lot of the pranks he pulls as a teacher off the hijinks he and Geto used to get away with. He wears a mirthful smile for his students but the modern times don't hold a candle to the good old days.
They were only children and both of their parents sucked. Actually, maybe Geto had a sibling who was either significantly older or younger (hence how he learned to be so considerate) who passed. Subsequently, Geto's parents were emotionally distant/neglectful starting when they got creeped out by the inexplicable things he could see that they couldn't. It's why he jumped at the chance when he was scouted for Jujutsu High, why he was triggered when he saw the twins, and why he always sought family elsewhere. Gojo's parents seemed to dote on him but didn't bother to get to know or nurture him, just placate him.
They make it a point to tease and call Ieri the little sister they've always wanted... though she is the oldest in the trio. Even so, they spoil her (to the best of Gojo's ability obviously). Example: if her feet hurt on a mission, Geto is giving her a piggyback ride but Gojo's goofy ass is trading shoes. Never mind the comical disparity in shoe sizes. They'd just be clopping around together much to Shoko's faux chagrin.
The three of them would absolutely bed rot together. It may have started with Gojo slinking into Geto's room for attention but they wouldn't leave Ieri out, even if it was a twin size bed. Just listless days between missions and classes where they would languidly ignore the weight of their responsibilities. Some days all contorting to fit on the bed, other days strewn about the room. It was always in Geto's room, Ieri almost always brought face masks (at Gojo's insistence).
Gojo, quite literally, did not understand the concept of personal space when it came to Geto (or Ieri, really). But, most specifically, with the way he'd casually and absently be all over Geto. Arms over his shoulders, tilting his head inward when addressing him, leaning on him during respites in the day, elbowing him in the side to punctuate a joke.. he just never became conscious of it. That is, until he was no longer around. Geto was always like second skin until he wasn't. In addition to the absence of his company, Gojo felt that physical absence so painfully that he used Limitless more and more to distance himself from the idea that anyone had ever been so close.
When Haibara and Nanami come along, Geto takes his role as a senpai really seriously because the stakes are high at the school. Gojo? Does not ✨ but he does force Nanami to use proper honorifics because he knows it drives him up a wall. He makes it a point to tell Haibara to call him whatever, right in front of Nanami. For the record, Haibara does not obey him but still.
Gojo has a name for all of Geto's favorite or most commonly used curses. The same way girls will refer to their crushes with silly little code names, almost. Like Geto knows that the Rainbow Dragon curse is "Rainbow Dash" or "My Little Pony" whereas other curses might have silly names like "Garfunkle" or "Steve" for no other reason than Gojo felt like it, but he's consistent. So once a name is bestowed, Geto refers to them accordingly. He, of course, never approaches them with fear and he's just as endeared to them as he is to Geto.
Before Gojo got the hang of how to optimize his cursed energy, overuse would leave him... not weak but just not agreeable. Clearly cranky and suffering the drawback, Suguru clocked the difference and that's actually when he started to pamper Gojo. It's also the only reason Gojo ever articulated the downsides of his CT to anyone. I don't know if Geto ever told Gojo the extent of his discomfort with his technique. He either felt like he was being burdensome/ungrateful in sharing or he was embarrassed about what it would say about him (re: regularly ingesting things that tasted like vomit). It's one of the only things he remained furtive about when it came to Gojo though he always wondered if Gojo already just knew.
Supported by canon, but, Suguru absolutely carried candy for Satoru (and a lighter for Shoko) because he's just that considerate. Mans was swallowing vomit rags and still concerned about appeasing Satoru's sweet tooth.
Without realizing it, this gesture inspired a Pavlovian effect and made Gojo super clingy. He associates sweetness with Geto and, in his absence, always overdoes it. Especially after he left the school for good. Nothing fills the void.
We know Gojo became a teacher because of Geto but... Geto would have been an excellent teacher.
You see it in the way they raise kids, Gojo makes sure Megumi and Tsumiki don't simply die. They have lavish accommodations but he has no idea how to parent. I love the Papa-Gojo agenda but know he was out of his depth. He was more like a "cool" but irresponsible (read: unstructured) older cousin if anything, not a father figure per se until maybe his late 20's which was a little too late. I think Geto specifically raised Nanako and Himiko like "normal" kids (ironically, humans) instead of the in the misogynistic, classist way of traditional jujutsu society because they deserved a lifetime of young revelry after everything they suffered. It cost them their lives so maybe everything Geto touched was meant to crumble.
As a fandom, I think people like to think they met up in those ten years of separation and I do too? But, realistically, I think Gojo just kept a forlorn bead on Geto and his whereabouts, too uncertain to go to him. 10 years of absence didn't change how he felt about him though.
FAVE MOMENTS
I'm sorry but every single time Geto's Japanese voice actor purrs "Satoru"? Does that count? Allow me to do a cartwheel on a bed of nails because OH MY GOSH they nailed that. You feel the teasing, the intimacy.
Gojo acting a fool on the beach with Riko in Okinawa and Geto looking on affectionately. Geto really allowed space for Gojo to be a kid and gave him some of his youth back.
Every time Geto's facade of calm relaxed or broke entirely because something was going on with Gojo. Like checking in in Okinawa, when Toji initially got the drop on him, when Toji announced he'd killed Satoru Gojo. Every time you see what writhes beneath the surface.
Geto, in a sea of despair and perhaps a sprinkle of bitterness, still thinks to ask Haibara to bring back something sweet to share with Gojo. Attentive to a fault and crazy how Gojo still manages to occupy his thoughts in that way, even then.
Every tantrum Gojo threw for Geto. Gojo was literally stabbed and didn't break character. Gutted and killed but showed nothing until he comes back an overconfident mess. But just hearing about Geto's crimes, confronting him on the streets of Shinjuku and he's shaking with rage and disbelief. Not so confident then.
Realizing that Gojo saw the day he confronted Geto as a dark and mournful day when, in actuality, it was a perfectly normal, sunshine-y day.
The moment after Geto's dramatic ass is like "I could never smile from the bottom of my heart in this world!" and Gojo says something to immediately recant that by making him smile so genuinely. Just going to do The Worm across a busy highway.
Geto defying all reason to strangle Kenjaku despite hundreds of years without a fight from a host. Just as Gojo never forgot Geto's scent, Geto's body never forgot it's inclination to protect Gojo. Even if only for a moment.
⚠️ Spoiler warning through JJK chapter 236.
Geto's face being the last face Gojo saw before he was sealed and the first face he saw upon being freed. Then agreeing to fight Sukuna on the anniversary of Geto's death because he was sentimental right until the very end.
At the close of Gojo's life, imagining an afterlife where he sees Geto and all of the people he cares about during the point when he was the happiest. After all that time, more than a decade later and he still reflects so happily back on that era despite how grisly part of it was. Not only that but, in a perfect outcome, he imagines full blown cult leader Geto congratulating him because he would take Geto in any form over not having him around at all.
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