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cuckoo-on-a-string · 1 year

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Hello, Mr. Monster (One. Sand)

Morpheus x OC/reader (female), Soulmate AU, Eros and Psyche retelling

Chapter track: "The Killing Moon" by Echo & The Bunnymen

18+ (smut/spice kicks off in next chapter)

Warnings: (non-sexual) violence against a child, tarot, herbal medicine/witchcraft

TAGGING: Tag lists break my posts, BUT I reply to comments the day of new chapters, so you'll get a personal update every time you stop to chat. ;)

A/N: Welcome! Enjoy. Holy shit, friends, we're gonna have some fun.

@moon-tracks: Your much delayed prompt has born fruit! Goblin fruit, I'm afraid. Hope you enjoy!

One: Sand

Soulmates were more dream than reality.

Not that they weren’t real and true in the waking world, but humans liked nothing better than to bury their truths, especially the dangerous ones, the beautiful ones that blossomed with thorns and teeth. Everything that made a soulmate – dreams and desires; destiny, delirium, and despair; even death and destruction – tallied among the Endless and thrived in the subconscious.

And true to humanity’s intrinsic contradictions, each soul wanted nothing more than to find its mate and feared nothing so much as a true match.

Such beautiful, sharp things. The unseelie who kept the little tent at the gates of the goblin market under Brown Bridge liked making terrible, terrible gifts of them. The process was bloody, and the results devastating. Revealing a soulmate required some scratching – deep inside, through a human’s mortality, which kept the conscious and unconscious apart. But what happened next in the months and years of their tattered mortal lives is why they did it.

Parting the veil so one soulmate could know the other without any kind of reciprocity always led to doom. A human would do anything for their soulmate once they found them, knew them. Their intense affections led to obsession more often than not. Sometimes it turned violent, and they destroyed the thing they loved, the one who did not recognize their mate. Despair claimed others who turned destruction on themselves. Because of the damage to their mortality, that often took great effort and multiple attempts.

High drama. A wonderful show.

And the unseelie found the softest victims to dance for their amusement.

Their tent sat just outside the gates of the market proper, where any mortal might see them and mistake them for a homeless citizen warding off the river wind in their simple tent.

The trap was simple: they glamoured a few leaves into dollars and let one or two go tumbling down the way. Any human who snatched the leaves and ran earned a curse. Their pockets and wallets would grow holes. Or they’d lose all love, passion, and interest in whatever they spent the false money on – it could be a bowl of chili or a bauble for a lover. Whether they lost interest in eating or forgot their lover, they quickly lost the unseelie’s attention, too.

The mortals who returned the money had a darker fate. A lovely dream with hidden razor while to tangle them deep. The unseelie thanked them and offered to reveal a bit of the victim’s fortune, to see who they would fall in love with. Most accepted the offer, simply to humor them. An unseelie could be most persuasive.

One snowy day, after the festive season had passed and all humanity’s generosity dried up in the harsh winds of the new year, a little girl picked up the tumbling leaves.

She brought them back, pinched in mittened hands, a smile glowing under her breeze-chafed cheeks. A little adventurer who’d escaped her parents’ attention, all unbroken hope and unsullied naivety. The sort of pretty fruit, the unseelie might be tempted to pluck from her mortal life – if it weren’t for her damned eyes.

They knew what the child saw the moment they looked. The girl saw with true sight. Fighting the urge to cringe away from the attention cutting straight through their glamour, the unseelie smiled back, all teeth. The child didn’t even flinch, only holding out the money out for long, black nails to pluck from her grasp.

“I think these are yours,” she said.

The unseelie snarled through their smile, seething with hate. It flared like a fresh blaze from a banked fire at the child’s presumption. “Thank you. I must give you a boon in thanks.”

Shaking her head so the pompoms on the end of her hat’s ties swung around her neck, she said, “I don’t need anything.”

“I don’t offer toys or trinkets, child. Don’t you want to know the name of the one you’ll love?”

“I already love lots of people.” The child pondered. “That sounds like it would take a long time. I meet someone new to love every year at school. Or when we get new neighbors, or –”

A little sharper than they intended, the unseelie injected. “A soulmate, child. Your true love. Like in the stories your kind so loves.”

That gave the child pause. The unseelie could practically see the animated films rolling behind their eyes, the pretty picture books and saccharine romances.

Careful to maintain their smile, they added, “It’s a secret only someone like me can reveal. You’ve done me a favor. Now I must return it. You would not keep me bound, would you?”

Little eyebrows flew up over wide eyes, and the child all but leapt to accept their offer. “No! I don’t. Okay. You can tell me the secret, and then you’ll be free, right?”

With one long arm, they lifted the flap of their tent, revealing a space much too large for the sagging frame to contain. With the other, they caught the girl around the waist and pulled her gently within. “Of course, of course. Come inside where it is warm.”

The little fool did.

She looked around with eyes of wonder, eyes the unseelie desperately wanted to pluck from her face, but a lifetime of suffering would hurt far more. And they’d promised, after all.

They ushered the child to pile of cushions, and she plopped down like she was about to hear a story before bed. Far too trusting. Far too confident in the kind world shaped by her parents’ guidance and protection.

Their anguish and grief would taste so deliciously sweet.

Without preamble or further misleading truths, they let the fabric fall, sealing them in a bubble realm where no one would interrupt the procedure. Then they lunged, pinning the child to the cushions by the shoulder as they scrabbled between planes of matter to find her mortal shroud.

The impact briefly knocked the air from her lungs, but she started bleating as the unseelie’s talons scraped against the partition between aspects of the human soul, those only united in death. Those cursed eyes watered, overflowed, and the unseelie hissed with naked malice and pleasure as they scratched away more and more of the golden curtain, hunting for the promised name while inflicting as much damage as possible.

The tiny thing struggled, trying to pull the arm away from where it disappeared into her puffy coat. But she was neither strong or magically savvy enough to accomplish the deed. All she could do was shriek and suffer, calling for help that would not come in a world apart. Her tiny fingers, flashing with glittery nail polish, tried clawing back, angling up at her attacker’s face, but her arms couldn’t reach.

The pattern of the child’s wyrd emerged from her subconscious, the weave of action and fate intertwined as paths and crossroads to create a life. The unseelie felt it hum and shudder under their questing talons, watched as subtle shifts adjusted around their presence, forever altering the girl’s course.

And finally – a name.

Morpheus

They froze.

The girl nearly wriggled free as they stilled, elbow-deep in her essence.

For the first time in their long life, the unseelie felt unspeakable dread. They knew the name caught up in the girl’s fate, the one thrumming through her heart, waiting to be found and kindled into waking fire.

They studied their work, looking for an accident, a misunderstanding, some confusion of the patterns behind the tattered veil. But, no.

The little chit was bound to an Endless. No games would work here. Yet the damage had already been done. Should the Dream Lord ever return, he would see what clever fingers tore apart his soulmate’s mortality and come for terrible vengeance. The unseelie was no mortal. The rules that protected humanity offered them no shelter.

Perhaps the Dream King would not return. Maybe he would stay lost for the long, long years of this broken mortal’s life. And it would be such a long life now. She would carry on past missed appointments with Death, a breath away from everything she should have had. It was the unseelie’s doing, that long life.

They pinned the thrashing child flat again and stared into her reddened eyes, the eyes they hated to very, very much, and had an idea.

But broken mortality wasn’t really immortality. Anything might kill a little girl, or a flood of anythings.

The Dream King couldn’t be angry if they filled her heart with him. And if all those lose dreams and nightmares flocked to the tiny, tasty morsel glittering with a bit of their lord’s power? Well. Hardly the unseelie’s fault.

They’d only given her a gift.

Pinning the girl with their knee, they freed their hands to conjure a vial no bigger than the girl’s thumb. They barely had a thimbleful of Dream’s sand, collected over decades from sleeping minds and a couple cursed souls, and now they must use it all. They dipped one long claw inside.

Their arm sank back into the girl’s chest, summoning fresh screams and tears as they groped for her heart. Her wyrd wrapped tight around the pulsing core, and the unseelie worked carefully as they made the first cut, letting the sand fall into the open wound.

The screams – impossibly – rose in pitch.

The Dream Lord’s name took shape in a more literal sense, visible now to anyone with the vision to see it. Fae, gods, and Endless. Gifted humans, dreams, and nightmares. Anyone with a grudge to settle could take it out on her tender flesh. Anything hungry for a taste of the Dreaming need only take a bite.

Morpheus’s name shone with power, and the sand had already started through her blood, binding her even closer to the missing king and his realm. Every inch of her.

Satisfied with their work, they pulled their hand free – away from her heart, through her wyrd, through the tattered curtain of mortality – and licked their talon clean of blood.

Sweet. A shame their first taste must be their last.

Glowering down at the girl lying in a sweaty mess of wet hair and winter clothes, the unseelie felt the tug of their deal on their own heart. They must complete the bargain or be extinguished.

Well.

They’d give the girl a warning, the closest they’d come to kindness. As she panted, drenched from tears and sweat, they leaned low and rasped a truth into their damned eyes.

“Your soulmate a monster even the gods fear.” They felt a shiver wrack the little girl’s prone body under their weight and sneered. They still owed a name. “He is called Morpheus.”

Deal finished, vengeance for the true seeing eyes acquired, they rose, pulling the girl by her hair to the tent’s entrance and hurling her onto the icy pavement. No farewells. No explanations. No offers.

Done and done.

The tent left its place under Brown Bridge, looking for a new market in a new city. Preferably one without unwary soulmates to missing Endless wandering into traps and making life difficult. They would not meet again. The unseelie would make sure of it. The world was a big enough place to get lost in, and an unseelie prospered in the shadows.

Back under the bridge, a little girl stumbled to her feet, clutching her aching chest, aware that something terrible had happened to her, but too confused and upset to explain.

She stumbled home with a name and injuries her parents couldn’t see.

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Two Decades Later – 2022

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The Magician reversed. The Devil. The Star.

The cards stared up at her with a story she struggled to read, a simple three-card draw she’d hoped would explain what pulled her back to England time and time again, regardless of expense and frustration.

She’d meditated before she drew each card, focused on her question, on her present, on her own energy.

But it didn’t feel like her story.

“Aisling?” the voice on the phone crackled. “Still there?”

Still glowering at the tarot on the bedspread, she reached for her cell, pulling it closer to physically remind herself of the conversation. The puzzle frayed her attention, and she found herself torn between friend and fortune.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

Tea. She needed tea. Leaving the mess on her bed and bringing the phone to the rental’s kitchenette, she set the electric kettle to boil while explaining her distraction. “The cards aren’t behaving. I’ve pulled nothing but major arcana all week, the same three cards. It’s like someone else’s reading.”

On the other end of the line, her friend hummed. Aisling’s distraction was already a red flag, she knew, and now there’d be questions.

Much as Constantine liked to pretend she had no fucks to give about heaven, hell, or those trapped in between, she had a few attachments she hadn’t fully accepted as such. Good news, really, because once Johanna realized she cared about someone she hacked them out of her life with vicious efficiency.

“Sounds like weird shit. Where are you? What are you doing? You said you were in England but you haven’t come to bother me.”

Aisling peered out the leaded window as she popped a tea bag into the pot. Across the blooming garden, the towering gothic edifice of Fawney Rig loomed.

“Oh, you know.” She turned away from the phone, like she couldn’t even meet the screen’s black stare as bubbles of guilt fizzed in her stomach. Looking for a teacup gave her an excuse. Like she needed one. “Somewhere you’d disapprove of.”

Johanna’s growling sigh made her smirk even as the guilt rose to a boil in her gut.

“I’ve told you: you’ll always find trouble when you looking for it. So, stop looking.”

Despite knowing about – and using – her true sight, Constantine still clung to the belief Aisling could make her life better by ignoring her intuition. But she’d never found that to be true. Normal people could choose to ignore omens and portents, could pack up house and start a new job in a new town to avoid their problems. Aisling’s problems followed her wherever she went. Tenaciously. Her intuition just helped her keep a couple steps ahead. Sometimes, it even let her help other people. Like Constantine, in fact.

Anyway, unless she cut her eyes out of her head, she’d never be rid of that first curse.

“Yes, well, that’s always been my problem, hasn’t it?” She tried not to sound bitter, but she could taste the acrid bitterness as the words left her tongue. Lot of feelings there. Not Johanna’s fault. Even if she didn’t get it. She heaved her own sigh and decided to steer the conversation to new ground. “Anyway. What are you up to?”

Johanna shrugged. Aisling didn’t have to see her to know. “This and that.”

Thready plumes of steam escaped the kettle. She grinned, waiting for the beep that would announce tea time. “Trouble and turmoil?”

“The usual.” Johanna paused and the line went quiet. Aisling could vaguely hear the city traffic echoing through the speaker, and she wondered if Constantine was on her way to a job. “Whatever you’re getting yourself into, be careful. Stop by and see me in London when you have time.”

The kettle beeped, and the hot water burbled into the little teapot like it was rushing to meet an old friend. As the faint aroma of the simple black blend hit her, she looked at the white roses nodding around a nearby trellis, considering what Johanna might need.

“Out of salt?”

“Nah. Just want proof of life.”

She shook her head. Four minutes until the tea steeped.

“Hilarious.”

“Practical.” Spoken like a true magic user. Less fairy tales and pixie dust, more blood and obituaries. “I mean it, Ash.”

She couldn’t ignore the note of warning in Constantine’s voice, and she didn’t fight the urge to reassure her.

“I’ll try.”

“To be careful or come see me?” Johanna asked like she didn’t expect either.

The tea was ready. Steeped or not. Too hot or too cold. She needed it.

And she needed to figure out the damn reading.

“Both. I’ll talk to you later, Johanna. Bye.”

Constantine snorted. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

The call ended, and Aisling poured a cup of very hot, half-steeped tea. She took a sip as she arranged herself in front of the cards and decided she’d had worse, even if it was weaker than her New Year’s resolution to give up caffeine every January.

She should’ve used one of her herbal blends, a magical tisane to open her third eye or ease the gap between her dreaming and waking mind, but she was a little worried her hosts would come knocking and pick up on the smell. Logic and reasoning would have to do.

The reading still didn’t make sense as a whole, no matter how much she stared at it, so she broke it into parts.

She could place herself in it – sort of. A tangential connection or two linked current events to the first card.

The Magician.

It clearly represented Roderick Burgess. Inept, weak-willed, and insecure.

He’d been quite a character back in his day, styling himself a magus when he was nothing more than puffed up cult leader.

In the century since his golden days, the Burgess family sank out of the limelight. While hardly destitute, they found themselves facing the same class struggles as other rich, landed Brits with dwindling incomes and rising costs. Their grand home, once their greatest pride, became the millstone around their necks.

Aisling had no idea what economies they’d taken, but they’d put the outbuildings to use. Or one of them, anyway. A few renovations, and the gatehouse became a small apartment up for rent. The cramped quarters made for an awkward little utility flat, but it served buckets of charm and hinted at a haunted history. Crack for tourists. The house wasn’t open for tours, and the owners requested no photos of the main residence be taken, but it was enough to draw guests for a night or two. Everyone liked a good ghost story, and Fawney Rig was rotten with them.

Aisling rented the space for a week, yanked by the nose after she found the innocuous listing online. Her intuition screamed to go – hunt – search – find… something.

It should be in the middle, though, if it represented her present. The Magician sat to the left, the past position, and her intuition insisted it referenced the magus, not his mansion.

The Devil took the present.

It wasn’t a friendly card. Its range of meanings all tied back to physical or psychological bondage. She’d heard the stories of Burgess keeping the Devil in his basement, but Constantine’s work proved Lucifer was safe and well in the bowels of Hell. Maybe he trapped something else in the cellar. Weak magic users like the magus often pulled on secondary powers, unable to draw from their own. It wouldn’t explain the family’s decline, though, if they still had the beastie in chains.

Her cards were rarely literal, but maybe her intuition simply wanted her to get into the basement.

A nice, obvious suggestion. She’d already tried.

She carried what she considered three curses. First, her true sight. That was an accident of nature or fate. The other two she blamed on the fae she met on a winter night under the bridge. She only understood what it had done when she was older – destroying the veil between consciousness and intuition, then carving a monster’s name on her heart with a fragment of the monster’s own power.

The last two curses made her a powerful oneiromancer. She walked between dreams and reality when she slept, like a mix of lucid dreaming and astral projection. When she entered Fawney Rig her first night as a guest in her sleeping shape, she found all doors open to her. All doors except the one to the basement.

Intent blocked it like a magical ward, dying wishes to keep out magic and dreams.

She’d never seen anything quite like it, and wondered how many members of Burgess’s cult died with visions in their minds’ eyes before they passed.

Roderick’s ghost scowled at her as she examined the door, and she’d flipped him the bird on principle. He couldn’t hurt her. Too weak. An abandoned soul who’d done something to piss off death, he faced an eternity of powerlessness, watching with no control. They hated each other at first sight.

She had three more days in Fawney Rig’s gatehouse. If things went well, she’d reach the basement that evening with a different approach.

Which led her to the third card. The Star, a predictor of opportunity and help unlooked for, a symbol of faith, hope, and dreams.

They were all too close to being meaningful without actually slotting into any order that made sense. Together, the three cards suggested a path tangential to hers, one she crossed or play a part in.

But it wasn’t her fortune.

Which begged the question: whose was it?

She chugged the rest of her tea – a little cooler and still weak as fuck – before sweeping up the cards and tapping the set back into their painted leather holster. As she fasted the clasp, the pattern caught her eye. The pattern wasn’t unusual for a magical tool – a star set in a geometric pattern for inspiration and protection.

Her thumb brushed over the four points of the white mark. Did it represent her? If so, what aspect guided her role, and whose future would she influence?

Her left hand rose to her chest, rubbing slow circles as she considered. The ache was her most faithful companion. It grounded her when she lost focus, anchored her to her physical body and dreaming self with every burst of throbbing pain. People waxed poetic about heartache, but she knew it in all its forms, and there was nothing romantic about any of them. She hadn’t met her soulmate. Probably never would. But the bastard made her hurt regardless.

Tea finished and cards packed, she checked her phone for trains leaving the local station in the wee hours. Once she finished whatever she’d come here to do, she imagined she’d need a quick exit, stage left.

Possibly pursued by bear.

Hours passed, shadows circled the room, and she watched the day melt behind Fawney Rig’s gables.

Her suitcase – carpetbag, really – sat by the door, ready to escape the consequences of her actions. An ocean should be enough distance. The paper trail didn’t worry her. She paid in cash for a reason. But whatever was in that basement… hopefully their fortunes only tangled briefly.

Full again, the teapot waited for her to pour a cup and begin her spell.

Since her sleeping self couldn’t breach the door, she’d need to walk through in her corporeal body. All fleshy and vulnerable to things like the security guards who came and went twice a day through the servants’ entrance her window overlooked. They had guns, and she didn’t want to find out if they were the type eager to use them.

If she had to be awake, they had to sleep.

Fortunately, one of her curses could help with that. It would cost her, but Fawney Rig had good security, and she had few options left. Besides, there should only be five people in the house. She’d survived five days without sleep before. She’d be fine.

So she filled her cup and made her circle. Witch’s salt whispered between her fingers as she drew the shape, leaving black smudges on her skin. She didn’t bother wiping it off. The muted scent of burnt herbs filtered through her senses as she lifted the cup to drink. Skullcap, wormwood, and rosemary washed her mouth and throat clear of waking worries, and as the magic warmed her belly, seeping into her blood, the sand sleeping there woke.

Johanna’s sorcery followed strict rules. Words and symbols summoned and channeled the power. Without them, things went sideways, or they didn’t go anywhere at all. But Aisling was no sorcerer. More of a witch. And while she needed tools and potions to do her best work, she preferred the quiet over chants to guide her.

In silence, she gathered the depthless sensation of REM, honed it with fatigue and a desperate need for rest. Heavy lids. Closing eyes. The sweetly inescapable call of a good night’s rest after an endless day’s work. She held the urge. Fed it. Let it steal her own sleep. When swelled, stretching like a restless child trying to doze, she threw it all in an invisible wave towards the house. Her hands pushed out, physically mimicking the force, and held the pose until the wave crested, crashed, and washed into foam, drenching Fawney Rig with her intent.

She felt the waking minds within sink under the spell’s influence, and she spared herself a minute to release the focus, come back to her thoughts and plans and body. The ring of black salt remained undisturbed. Nothing fought back, then. That was good. It meant she had less to worry about while she broke a few laws.

The empty cup joined the teapot on the counter, unwashed and abandoned. Until she knew if her pretense of a polite guest would see the light of morning, there was no point, and her spell wouldn’t keep them asleep forever.

Blank-faced, the man in the moon watched her stride through the garden, hunting for the little pot near the gazebo where Paul kept the spare key.

They met her first day in the gatehouse when she paused to admire his flowers. He was a sweet old man, and he was happy to share about his beloved garden. His first love at Fawney Rig, though not his greatest. When he explained he used to be staff, she’d given him her very best smile and laughed.

“I guess that makes you Cinderella.”

Clearly a romantic, that one. He smiled at his feet, saying it “Wasn’t quite like that,” but obviously pleased with the vision she’d spun him. When he found out she was staying by herself, he’d shown her the key.

“For emergencies. The gatehouse isn’t the most secure, and we’re a ways from town. You know, just in case.”

If both hosts were so sweet, she might not have heeded the mysterious call to the old house. Her world had more dark than light, and she’d hate to leave tar and ash in Paul’s beautiful flowerbeds.

But then she met Paul’s husband.

She couldn’t say exactly why she didn’t like Alex, but he had a brittle edge like a rusty knife lifted against the world. He wore the fragility of the perpetual victim, eternally on-guard, someone who’d been hurt but could never move on from their pain, because if they did, they’d have to admit they were also an abuser.

He had ugly secrets locked away in his grand house, festering away like septic boils, and every inch of her being insisted it was her task to lance them.

She took the key with regret, but she still took it, and the heavy front door opened like she’d been invited in.

Everything she’d picked up in her days outside the manor proper landed twice as heavily as she stepped inside, shoes tapping over the polished floor. Her dreaming form had limitations. It walked a path between awareness and the unconscious, and it had trouble picking up on much beyond what she went to sleep intending to do or find. Now, she breathed in every detail.

The old manor creaked with the burden of death obstructed. It choked on lives unnaturally extended, ghosts kept alive by magic and petulance until the world left the estate behind. It had become more museum than home, and though Alex and Paul had cleared out a few places to call their own and wired in modern conveniences as they were invented, the place seemed to hold its breath. It laid largely undisturbed with the glassy eyes of balding taxidermy guarding the sins of a dead man.

Because Roderick Burgess was a sinner for sure. Wild tales aside, the angry ghost silently raging at her from on high wasn’t that of a benevolent soul. Sleeping or waking, her eyes looked true, and a ghost was a ghost in any world it walked.

She spared him a middle finger again. Just for funsies.

Prick.

He wasn’t worth any further attention.

The door, however, was.

She pulled back the curtain shielding it from the hall and examined the lock. It had many keys. She’d seen the heavy, jangling rings of them the guards carried, and Alex Burgess must be paranoid enough to keep one on his person. But in her sleeping quest, she’d discovered lots of things about this door. No one needed to tell her where the spare key hung on a hook under the aged buffet in the hall. It practically glowed to her dreaming eyes, and her waking fingers found it quick enough.

It slotted in the hole and released the bolt with a click. Easy as could be. Just like the key from the garden.

All these little treasures stashed away in case of emergency were about to cause one.

The portal to the basement yawned wide. At long last. The hollow silence warned her away, but the place under her ribs twisted. Determined.

So, through the door. Down the stairs. Trotting, quick and quiet on her nameless mission into the bowels of the Demon King’s estate. She could imagine Johanna’s voice cutting across space and time, picking apart her plan, shitting on her magnetic attraction to the cursed and unfortunate corners of the world. No back-up. A vague idea of an exit strategy. No clue what she was walking into.

What could possibly go wrong?

The goosebumps on her arms forecasted doom, but she couldn’t ignore the sparking current running through her chest. The farther she went, the clearer the sensation became.

Despite the electric lights, shadows clung like dust, growing deeper and wider as she neared the bottom of the stairs. The basement sucked the life out of the LED bulbs, refusing to share its secrets with an outsider. Hush, it whispered, hide it, bury it, keep it from the daylight.

Each step charged the static creeping over her skin. Her heart threatened to fall out of rhythm with the little shocks as it swelled around her like the sea. Something she could taste. Something she could drown in.

She didn’t have to look into the room to know the guards slept. She felt it. Their resting minds hummed in the space like a pair of bees. If that wasn’t proof enough, a snore echoed between the bare walls, carrying up the stairwell.

At the end of her descent, she found an iron gate. Whatever the Burgesses had ferreted away, they feared it. But she’d have time to find her own fears in just a moment. First things first. An important life lesson, even in darkest dungeons.

Especially in darkest dungeons, actually.

She didn’t look through the bars, keeping her focus on the lock. Bolted from the inside, a simple keyhole begged for a pick or a spell to let her pass. It wasn’t her area of expertise, but the mechanism had soaked up decade up on decade of magic, and it was nearing the tipping point between magical artefact and mundane tool. Magic stained everything in the basement, to the point she wondered if she might see her own footprints lingering, like marks on a sandy beach down the stairs.

Johanna had taught her a few tricks to handle locks over the years, and this one begged for something more than traditional keys. She slipped her fingers between the bars, resting her finger over the keyhole as she listened for what it wanted. It asked for something. It was tired of standing guard for so, so long, and it just wanted a reason, an excuse even, to let go. It wanted a fucking rest.

Poor old thing.

She found a word, matched it to her intent, and whispered.

“Deditionem.”

The lock turned with a creaking groan, and the gate sighed open on rusty hinges.

Sparks rippled like fire through her chest, and she shoved her hands deep in her pockets to stop herself from rubbing the ache.

She was not alone.

Her eyes swung along with the gate, drawn to the bright center of the dungeon, where a prisoner sat in a glass cage, like a hollow moon in the void of the underground.

Human eyes might’ve mistaken the hostage for a man, and damn if he didn’t look like one. A beautiful one. But she saw something more.

Even in the smothering dark of the cellar, his shadows glowed sharp. Threats whispered through the angles of his stiff posture, and the stars in his eyes glittered red.

He sat like a king, straight and cold, holding himself apart from the petty creatures who’d snared him with dignity and poise of inexhaustible grace.

He’d already noticed her. Unblinking eyes fixed on her face, unimpressed, but attentive. Not friendly in the least.

She held the staring contest for a full minute before she snapped, lashes fluttering as she floundered for something to say, not quite ready to look away.

“Hi.”

Inspirational. Truly.

Still, it broke the standoff – or at least the quiet – and she moved further into the room, looking over the moat, the glass cage, the arcane circle painted on the floor. Her eyes stayed on the restraints. The… whatever he was sat very naked in that globe, and she’d gladly bet it wasn’t voluntarily. That gave her plenty of reasons to look away, and a beautiful excuse to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

She made a full circuit, and though he didn’t turn more than his head to watch her, his attention prickled. Her own footsteps haunted her, filling the room like a shadow army. If he wasn’t going to participate in a conversation, well, she wasn’t above talking to herself.

“You are angry.” Somehow, he sat even straighter, and she tripped over herself to explain. “I don’t blame you. If I was in your position, I’d be pissed, too. But I have to be… careful.”

She squinted at the golden circle, baffled by the sigils. She needed a better look.

Backing away from the edge of the moat, she got a running start and jumped over the long pit. It was a close thing, and her arms pinwheeled on the brink of a fall. Gravity took pity on her, and after tipping back and forth on the balls of her feet, she recovered her balance.

There wasn’t much space on the island, and she found herself very near the glass – and very near the entity within. He regarded her with the same, impassive judgement, but one eyebrow had drifted higher than the other. He didn’t need to speak to tell her she was an idiot. There was a bridge, after all, between his island and the rest of the basement floor.

She shrugged. “Never trust the obvious.”

Never trust clear routes when their owners had reason to boobytrap them. Never trust pretty men kept under glass.

Looking away before she got lost in those starry eyes, she crouched at the edge of the symbols trapping him. She recognized most of them, but the configuration eluded her. A summoning circle, but for what? All she could see was what it couldn’t do.

“You’re no demon,” she muttered to the floor. “You’d have offered a deal by now. Or a few choice threats. Hellfire, and brimstone, and all.”

The quiet remained undisturbed as her voice faded, and the pressure mounted in her chest. Trying to soothe the sting, she let herself rub over the invisible damage, aware she was revealing a weakness, but even more aware of the gross imbalance of power. She could strip down and show him every scar, tell him every mistake she’d ever made, and it wouldn’t make him any more powerful. It wouldn’t help him out of his cage, either.

Too quiet. She needed to think. As her fingers skated in a figure-eight above her heart, she continued her debate aloud.

“You’re beyond any dream or nightmare I’ve ever met. I doubt you’re a djinn or a faerie.”

She looked up with a question blooming on her lips and froze in place.

He’d moved.

As she studied the magic keeping him prisoner, he’d shifted closer, balancing with one hand against the glass as he scrutinized her. His burning gaze dared her to look away again, demanding something, and for an instant, she forgot how to breathe.

He had hair like the night wind. She imagined if she broke the glass, that wind would become more than a metaphor, sweeping the world clean of the house, the people inside, and any soul foolish enough to earn his wrath through the long years of his imprisonment.

She didn’t need to know the entity’s name to feel his presence, the chained power ringing through his cage. Whoever – whatever – the Burgesses trapped, they had good reason to fear setting it free. When the defenses fell, that power would tear through the immediate vicinity like a river breaching a dam. Intelligent eyes tracked her, analyzed her, judged her. But a force of nature sat in that bubble. Not a man.

Pieces of an old story sat around her, and she took her time, anxious as they grew into a simple tale. Roderick Burgess snared a power beyond himself, confident in the way men looked at mountains and saw gold, the way clever folk tamed lightning and harnessed the wind. But he’d miscalculated. This creature moved in spheres beyond mortal reasoning. He trapped his family with a curse, a burden they could never release, that would never bow to bargaining. Something that never should’ve been locked away in the first place.

And now she’d gotten tangled up in its wyrd, according to her cards.

She must be very careful if she wanted to survive this. Intact. Wrath had a tendency to spill over on bystanders, and she stood very close to the boiling cauldron.

Holding that demanding gaze, she said, “I’m going to help you. Whatever you are, I don’t think you belong in there.”

Doubt soured his expression, but some of the red faded from the stars. He heard her. He was listening. And he was jaded as all hell. She wasn’t the first to make promises.

“I am going to get you free. But –”

He sat up again, hand still on the glass, to peer down his nose in naked distain.

She scoffed. Gods. All men-shaped things really were the same. Proud, impatient bastard. “Calm down and let me finish.”

Whatever the summoning circle’s origin, it stank of fragile, dead magic. It remained as a rule, but nothing living fueled its power, and she could break it easily.

As she drew her athame from the sheath at the small of her back, she continued, “I don’t think I want to be here when you get out. Like I said, you’re angry, and I have people depending on me.”

She held the blade up so he could see it, and she wondered if he could feel her comparatively feeble magic as she lifted it across the magical boundary. Simply cutting the air over the marks weakened them, and she saw him stiffen, nostrils flaring before she bent to finish the job.

Her athame was beautiful – a steel dagger crafted in a friend’s forge. Silver filigree twisted down the blade like a gale between seven-pointed stars, and lacey wormwood leaves glittered in the same material over the handle. The basement air left the shapes cool against her sweaty palm.

The tip touched stone just within the ring, and she pulled the sharp edge through the concentric rings of gold paint in a clean stroke, encountering no resistance as she severed the lingering power. The fine cut was invisible to the naked eye, but the magic crumbled like a dead leaf under a boot.

Smirking to herself, she tucked away the dagger and gleefully thought of how upset old Burgess would be. No wonder the family needed two damn guards to protect such shitty casting.

Her eye wandered back to the entity, and she slowly rose to her feet, rubbing her chest as he stared with wide eyes.

He looked like she’d slapped him. Surprise mingled with awe or horror. He wasn’t easy to read. But it wasn’t gratitude glowing in his expression.

Something had happened.

Did she do something?

Her heart was on fire.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer, though his lips parted. Either he wanted to speak and had forgotten how, or he feared to share his thoughts, though they begged to escape into the open air.

It wasn’t her business. She took two steps back, sweeping the glass sphere for signs of a latch or door. It looked like it had been built around him. Hell. It probably was. Like Wendy in the little house the Lost Boys made her, but so much worse.

The cosmos in his gaze stirred, swirling like a whirlpool as the fire under her skin continues burning. Dangerous. This was dangerous. He was dangerous.

It was time to leave.

She’d done her part.

“If you need more help, you have to tell me.”

She had to check. The sphere and the circle clearly worked in tandem to keep the prisoner sealed away from the world, and breaking the sigils affected him somehow. Would he be able to break the second barrier on his own, or would she have to put herself at further risk?

He glanced at the sleeping guards. Looked her over again, eyes growing harder as he buried that raw shock she’d unwittingly triggered. The barest shift of his head relieved her of further responsibility.

“Fine. Good luck.”

One of the guards jolted in his sleep.

Oh, most definitely time to leave.

She risked the bridge on her way out. Faster that way. She didn’t look back as she pushed through the iron gate, didn’t hesitate on the steps, or in the hall, even when gunshots rang out below.

A burst of panic that had been hiding beneath the curiosity and pain sprang free, fraying her nerves with its teeth as she fled the manor. She took her waiting bag from the door to the gatehouse and sprinted down the dark road towards town.

The sun would find her miles away, on her way to someplace further still.

The tarot reading solved. The captive entity freed. Roderick Burgess forced to watch it all from limbo.

Now came the reckoning.

She had every reason to leave and not a single one to stay.

She could move on. She was very literally doing just that.

So why, as her feet pounded down the long gravel drive, did the scars in her chest burn to turn back?

Next Chapter

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader

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disturbnot · 7 months

Text

— ALL IS VIOLENT, ALL IS BRIGHT.

TIMESKIP ASH KETCHUM ( evolution tantamount to an original character ) mutuals only. 18+. originally est. july 2013 — re-est. sept 2023 — fka ferociter. low activity / minimal formatting. crossover friendly / verses available. reflecting all the stark contrasts between the coexisting horror and splendour of the pokémon world — broken realities, cosmic horror unyielding, a jagged deconstruction of protagonist syndrome, the power of connection, an absurdist's rebellion against the madness of immortality, and the indomitable living spirit.

written and drawn ad infinitum by shan. ( 30+ / any pronouns / GMT )

CARRD. COMMON KNOWLEDGE. MUN / PERSONAL.

BASICS — hi there! my name is shan. i'm a 30 year old brit and i go by any pronouns. a small few of you might remember me as ferociter. and this here is ash! a passion project of mine for thirteen years and counting. thank you so much for dropping by to spend some time with us! please bear in mind that this blog is for adults only, any minors will be softblocked.

CREDITS — as mentioned, all art and graphics here are made by me. please do not take my art or other works/lore and reappropriate them any way. it won't be fun for either of us (trust me, it's happened before).

CONTENT — i won't beat around the bush, ash is a rich and multifaceted character, and while he has plenty of good in him, his development also includes touching on some darker topics. these include death, grief, trauma, cosmic horror, substance misuse (alcohol and weed), mental health issues, mentions of suicide. any potentially triggering stuff will be tagged in simple terms, e.g., 'alcohol cw /' and so on. while i appreciate these topics aren't for everyone, i would be grateful for good faith interactions. ash is not for everyone, and that's okay, but he might be for you!

ACTIVITY — i will always try to be somewhat active here, even if it's just in the form of OOC posts (which i do a lot of, i can be chatty). i work 40+ hours a week, have my own place, a partner and a family i spend a lot of time with. i am also neurodivergent. the autistic/unmedicated adhd sort. this will also affect my activity and responsiveness in places, so please bear with me! i don't mind the occasional message nudging about replies, but please don't nag me. if it happens, it happens.

COMMUNICATION — as said above, i am neurodivergent, and this can affect the way i communicate and come across to people. i welcome being nudged when i've come across badly or rubbed someone the wrong way. i am always trying to be better than i was yesterday and be as kind as i can, but i am also very candid! which means that if i have any issue with you, i will respectfully just try to talk to you about things directly the way i would expect someone to talk to me. this isn't intended to be confrontational! i am just a direct person and i value candour/frank communication in my friendships. my DMs and discord are always available to mutuals and i am almost always happy to chat about anything!

SHIPPING / NSFW — now for the controversial bit. shipping isn't the focus of this blog, but i do enjoy shipping and am indeed open for it. please bear in mind, though, that ash is a gay man and will not enter any relationships with women/women-aligned folks (exes on the other hand ... ) there must be some sort of chemistry as well. in terms of nsfw, sexual content will be scant on this blog, but it may very well crop up occasionally (clearly tagged and under a read more). if this is something you are uncomfortable with, i understand! but please don't come bugging me about it. i've developed ash for a long time and i consider him his own independent iteration (the way you would consider RBY!red and USUM!red different). he is a grown man with his own unique design and personality development, not to mention he's nearly 40 now. i feel i'd be remiss to talk about every single other dark corner of his life but his sexuality, y'know?

all guidelines subject to change and addition!

#pls no reblog. it's just me refreshed pin /#hi how you doing

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archaeocommunologist · 5 months

Note

"If you're not having fun, you're free to disengage. It's really, truly, no skin off my nose."

we could spend all day picking apart the fundamental problems with your assertions and arguments regarding the actual issue (as if you were ever willing to engage in a good faith discussion with someone who is, in fact, pro-Palestine) but honestly? i think this post of yours really encapsulates the actual "quiet part" with you.

you went from rape threats, stalking, and very rabid & violent forms of exclusionary rhetoric (which as far as i can tell you might still be engaging in) to this, here, now. you apologized for the rape threats/stalking and claim to have stopped. i am normally someone who genuinely believes in redemption and hates when past, apologized-for actions are hung over someone's head indefinitely. the problem is that you didn't just need to apologize; you needed to mean it. you needed to actually, truly examine the source of this disturbing, vicious rage and do some very serious deprogramming. and you BEYOND needed to step away from the harassment.

it is just not healthy that you can't stand up for something without suicide-baiting or tagging a call of "kill [x]" or insulting/baiting (for the record, i'm talking about the way you stole phrasing from the people you're attacking, too).

i am very passionately pro-Palestine and I'm sorry, but your absolute refusal to believe that spending our efforts humanely & strategically is a good thing, that it's better to avoid spreading misinformation, that Nazis are sometimes latching onto solidarity with Palestine to spread their poison, and that "Zionist" (more specifically "Zionist Occupied Government" but yes, sometimes just "Zionist") can be a Nazi dog whistle, is just batshit. none of those truths are in any way talking points against Palestinian liberation. The truth is just nuanced.

Of course you "find these liberal 'I’m-not-a-Zionist-but' American Jews' more despicable than the out-and-out settlers." They are accessible to you. Of course an American Jew questioning the best way to stop this genocide and liberate Palestine in the most humane way possible is, to you, worse than actual war criminals, rapists, and mass-murderers. They speak English just like you, have blogs on this platform, taggable usernames, and inboxes. They are a "great evil" YOU, personally, can hurt.

"If you're not having fun, feel free to disengage." What a sad thing this was to read. It all really is "fun" for you, isn't it? To you, "disengage" means surrender, surrender means you win, and that's what's actually important to you here, just like it always is every time you repeat this ghoulish cycle. You need to literally print out some of the shit you've written & done, take it to a good therapist, and have them help you do some serious self-examination and growth.

First off, I wanted to thank you for this message. Despite what people say about me, I really appreciate this kind of feedback and I am very open to conversation and criticism. That said, the fact that you are an anonymous and hostile stranger does undermine what you're saying. Also, the fact that I am open to criticism doesn't mean I value all of it. Like it says in the Big Book, we grovel before no one, and that includes you.

Second: I don't think you understand that this is a two-way conversation, that I have my own perspective, and that I am under no obligation to accept your framing of events. I know exactly where that "disturbing, vicious rage" came from: the multi-year harassment campaign I was subjected to, first by radfems and later by a loose group of (mostly) women on Tumblr. I was sent death threats, rape threats, and suicide bait. I was told that I deserved the sexual assault I've experienced. I was denigrated in every conceivable way, compared to a plague rat and a rabid dog. I was told over and over again that everyone I know would be happier if I were dead, and that I was a dangerous threat to everyone around me.

So forgive me if I'm not interested in whatever "deprogramming" you think is appropriate. If you're still confused as to why I was angry, and why I lashed out the way I did, you are welcome to review my old blog at sobercommunist.tumblr.com.

Third: If you're going to assume I'm a liar, you should expect the same in return. I don't believe that you "genuinely believe in redemption," with me as an unfortunate and grotesque exception. I don't believe that you are "passionately pro-Palestine" either. You've even misrepresented my positions in this ask, whether intentionally or not: I never said that "Zionist" couldn't be a Nazi dogwhistle, nor have I ever supported spreading misinformation.

Finally: when I wrote "settlers," I meant something more like "settlers and the Zionists who support them." The latter definitely speak English and have blogs on this platform, because they're in tributary's notes.

Hope this was helpful! Have fun out there.

#tributary #receipts

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toloveawarlord · 5 months

Note

Hi!!

You mentioned an OC in one of your tags. Aika. That's so fun! Can you tell about them??

Hi!! Oh my gosh yes I can give some information on my baby girl Aika!!

The Timeline that I am currently working on is the Bonten Timeline - however I do have plans to also explore final timeline Aika and Ran (which may have some alterations due to the new extended chapter of the final chapter that is floating around) -

Aika Oshiro is her full name and she has a younger brother who is 9 years younger than her and her father is the warden as a Juvenile Reform Center.

She is paired with Ran - and they met when they were 17 and Ran and Rindou were remanded to the Juvie that her father is the warden of. It's the only reform center left around Roppongi that would take the Haitani Brothers due to their reputation and time spent in other detention centers.

Ran approached first - interested in Aika, but she was in a relationship at the time and didn't respond much to his invitation of friendship. He decided the day that they met that he was going to break them up and have Aika - even albiet for a short time, just because he liked the challenge.

That was for the best as Aika's ex was taking advantage of her. And even before Aika broke up with him, she was falling for Ran - because he was everything that she wanted - strong, protective, sweet, and of course, he's ridiculously handsome.

Aika is the kind of girl who falls in love hard and fast - and is completely loyal and devoted to the right boy (aka Ran).

Aika is a bit of a yandere when it comes to Ran - not full on yandere as she isn't prone to violence herself - but she will provoke a situation to have Ran resort to violence to protect her. She adores watching Ran fight, especially when its over her. She quite often will antagonize others to their faces, but when Ran shows up, she goes full on damsel in distress - teary eyed and acting weak.

Rindou really dislikes her at first - mostly because all the girls Ran "dates" never last for more than few months, but also because Aika is overly "big sister" energy with him. Aika adores Rindou because she thinks he is cute when he gets embarrassed about her doting.

Also, her father hates Ran with a passion because he is a violent deliquent - but over time he does learn to tolerate and be cordial with Ran - because Aika rarely visited due to his constant complaining about Ran, to the point that she didn't invite him to their wedding. After he missed out on that big event of his only daughter, he began to understand how much Aika truly loved Ran and that Ran was devoted to Aika as well. Aika also made it clear that he would not be involved with his grandchildren if he was going to be disrespectful and talk bad about Ran to them. So he changed his attitude - even if he still hates that Ran is a criminal.

As for Aika's little brother - when he and Ran meet for the first time, her brother is about 10 years old and acts disinterested anytime Ran is around, however, he actually thinks Ran is really cool but won't admit it.

Some NSFW things about Aika - The two are both 18 by the time he gets of Juvie

that one post that I reblogged that had the "sweet relationship" "hardcore sex" and then the girl going "why not both" - pretty much sums up her preferences.

Aika isn't sexually experienced when she meets Ran - admitting to her ex having her give him oral but she was still a virgin. So Ran is basically her first everything.

They don't dive headfirst into bdsm or anything - but over the course of their relationship, they do develop a dom/sub relationship that can occasionally spill over into master/slave play when they both agree to it.

One hard no for Aika has always been anything in front of Rindou - she is more than willing to put on a show for anyone else - but not if Rindou is in the room or could see. Ran couldn't really care either way - but he respects her wishes without complaint.

Honestly Aika and Ran are one of, if not my favorite TR pairing that I have. She was my first TR OC and is one that I have pages of information about and timeline for them. I want to actually write their story some day soon because I have so many ideas and scenarios in my head about them.

Thank you so much for asking!! I love to talk about my babies!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers oc #aika oshiro #ran haitani #bonten #tokyorev #asks #my baby girl #or rather ran's baby girl

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bitch-butter · 8 months

Text

tagged by @im-chinese-believe-it-or-not for the WIP game, and I'm just manic enough rn that I Will share

(excerpt from pretty on the inside (pretty from the back) (au!web's grimdark origin story) below feat. my Contribution to Hot Roy Summer, ambiguously motivated sw, and implied sexual content).

thank you for the tag ~

tagging: @airsignss (post a letter from the alphabet postaletterfromTheAlphabet)

That got him through his first month of summer in Cambridge, providing nighttime distractions to the guys who didn’t go home for break, for the friends of those guys in Boston, for the friends of those friends and the acquaintances of those others. But it wasn’t until he fucked Roy Cobb that it was ever suggested he make a website to advertise his services.

“If you Harvard brats were as smart as you say you are you’d be doing more than getting passed around the same group of assholes all summer,” the other man had said, pulling up his sweatpants as David watched him with a raised brow, skin cooling down from its violent flush and ass as raw as ever. Cobb wasn’t a student at Harvard, but he knew guys who were, and as such knew that for the right price he could get David to come out to this moderately priced hotel room for a whirlwind Saturday night fuckfest. David had never been a working man himself, but he understood these were the kind of weekend getaways that needed actual saving up for, and as such he was obliged to let Cobb speak to him however he liked. Even if the guy hadn’t proved to be the most long lasting screw he’d ever had.

“Is that so?” he’d drawled, wishing absently for a cigarette.

Cobb perched a pair of Unabomber-esque reading glasses over the bridge of his nose as he sat against the edge of the bed. “Do you want to be a big fish in a small pond?”

David smirked, easing himself across the mattress until he could lay his head against the other man’s clothed thigh. “What kind of fish do you want me to be?” he asked coyly, gazing up at the unamused man with lidded eyes.

“You’re worth more than $500 bucks a pop,” Cobb answered, undeterred by David’s antics, even as he reached to comb a hand through his mussed curls. “And I think you know it.”

Humming, David moved into the touch. “Even if I was, I don’t think I’m going to do much better than that given the current state of my clientele being college boys eating off daddy’s money.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Cobb said irritably, giving his hair a tug. “Do you know The Social Network?”

Rolling his eyes, David huffed. “I’m familiar with the work of David Fincher, yes.”

“Well, you know in that movie when they move Facebook to Stanford?” he prompted annoyingly, as though David hadn’t been made to watch the fucking movie by everyone he’d come across in the last few years who knew he was bound for Harvard. “That’s because they wanted to be seen by the right people.”

Breathing in a deep breath, David reached to brush an errant speck of dust from the other man’s cheek. “You’re saying I need to transfer to Stanford?”

“You need a website,” Cobb clarified, accepting the touch without a thought. “You should be seen by the right people.”

The laugh startled out of him as fast as anything, and he bent into it gratefully, finding it the most genuine expression he’d had in almost a month. “Oh, really?” he’d pressed, more curious than anything else at the way Cobb just looked unerringly down at him. “Are you going to make it for me?”

Cobb shrugged. “That’s what I do.”

“Really?”

“Development, design,” Cobb said easily, his face blank behind his glasses. “It’s my passion.”

David had been stunned by his generosity. “You’d do that for me?”

“Well,” he’d trailed off, using his grip on David’s hair to turn his face into the burgeoning bulge in his crotch. “For a price.”

It had ended up being a more productive weekend than he had expected, the two of them on the bed before Cobb’s laptop as he divulged more about his sexual proclivities than he’d ever shared with another person before. It would have honestly been halfway sexy if Cobb had not been as clinical with it as he would be speaking with any other potential client. By the end David had been presented with a discrete, classy looking interface describing him as every old, rich closet-case's wet dream, and after a quick hook-up with a reputable but moderately priced photographer he had a miniature faceless portfolio of risque pictures to match.

David had the sense of a door opening, but what was behind it was something he really couldn’t guess.

His first date with a man he officially considered to be a client had been with a man named Michael who ran a hedge fund. He had booked a room for them and paid for a long, long night with an envelope embossed with creamy, silvery initials stamped in the center. The sex itself was not anything particularly memorable, but David found the longer he did it the easier it became to do things he’d never done before, and for the very first time he’d been asked to get on top. Finding that he liked it just the same wasn’t even the wildest revelation of the night, as he found that Michael had perused his site carefully and had taken note of the things David would be willing to do, seeming to almost take it as a challenge to have him do nearly all of them.

If he hadn’t considered himself experienced before he certainly did in the light of the dawn: bruised, sore in good and bad ways, skin tacky with fluids. He had pressed his mouth to the seal on the envelope and thought of how his father would feel if he knew his son enjoyed being fucked, enjoyed being paid.

He had sat at the desk in the room after Michael had left and wrote it all down on the notepad beside the phone, the hotels seal a blue ribbon over his words, feeling relaxed, sated even if that had barely been the point.

#wip game #still Hot Roy Summer for a few weeks i'm just happy i got to be here for it #nothing but respect for MY president (roy cobb)#one day i'm going to give in and go full cobbweb and when i do i hope you all remember me as i was #this au is so fun i Apologize for all of it most ardently

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

Text

I posted 478 times in 2022

That's 478 more posts than 2021!

246 posts created (51%)

232 posts reblogged (49%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thatscarletflycatcher

@taciturn-nerd

@firawren

@redwooding

I tagged 412 of my posts in 2022

Only 14% of my posts had no tags

#jane austen - 282 posts

#mansfield park - 135 posts

#pride and prejudice - 116 posts

#fanny price - 67 posts

#sense and sensibility - 62 posts

#emma - 52 posts

#elizabeth bennet - 48 posts

#persuasion - 45 posts

#northanger abbey - 43 posts

#reblog - 42 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#i want to make a huge spreadsheet and rate every physical description by reliability and objectiveness but when would i find the time!

My Top Posts in 2022:

Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society... Having now a good house and a very sufficient income...

I really dislike adaptations have made Mr. Collins older than his actual twenty-five years. It seems like they want to lean into the Gross Older Relation I Must Marry trope but that is NOT what is happening here and I think it’s more significant to recognize the truth.

As far as Elizabeth knows, there is nothing wrong with Collins. He doesn’t gamble (or he wouldn’t go on about it at the party), we don’t see him get drunk (Uncle Phillips is hinted to do that), he doesn’t seem violent/prone to outbursts of temper (he could have when Lydia was rude while reading), and he’s not ugly as far as we know. His manners are very formal, which isn’t really shown in adaptations either. And he’s young, he’s only four years older than Elizabeth.

The point is not that he’s a GORIMM. I think the point is that he’s fine, but Elizabeth knows she’ll never like him and that’s enough. Mr. Collins offers a good deal: domestic security, future wealth, and no danger. However, Elizabeth understands that without intellectual compatibility, she will be unhappy. This is what makes her a heroine.

By making Collins old and kind of gross, the adaptations actually erase a lot of Elizabeth’s motivations and strength. The reaction to Collins becomes more visceral than intellectual, and that’s a problem.

489 notes - Posted November 15, 2022

Jane Austen Charted #4

Darcy’s Irrepressible Feelings Graphed

X Axis: Time

Y Axis: Level of Ardent Love

Also included: Proposal DANGER line

497 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

The Wickham Fund

According to Darcy, he paid Wickham 3000 pounds instead of his inheritance.

According to Mrs. Gardiner, Darcy paid approximately 3000 pounds to secure the wedding of Wickham and Lydia.

Obvious Conclusion: Mr. Darcy has a 3k Emergency Fund that he keeps having to use for Wickham.

509 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

Jane Austen’s Warning:

A lot of people tell me the Mrs. Smith/Mr. Elliot plot is a lose thread or Jane Austen would have went back and fixed it, but when you read all of her books it's a very clear repeat of an important theme: men are often not what they appear.

Northanger Abbey: Don’t just trust your brother when he tells you his friend is a good guy, judge for yourself. It was John Thorpe, your brother was dead wrong. Also, your creepy feelings about General Tilney were right, just more mundane.

S&S: The passionate, open, charming fellow who is obsessed with your sister? Turns out he’s a debt-ridden, teenage-seducer. It was good to doubt him, Elinor, he wasn’t being completely straight with you. The good ones have honour.

P&P: Superficially charming man is super bad news, man with snobby manners has a heart of gold underneath. Elizabeth is intelligent, the novel shows us that anyone can be drawn in. Elizabeth was unwilling to change her first impressions and take in new information.

Mansfield Park: Some men pretend to be in love for fun, Fanny’s clear-sighted judgement of Henry Crawford keeps her safe from his attack on her heart. We are shown that these men can seduce friends and guardians against you. Fanny refuses to “fix” Henry or accept him on his word, he needs to show her that he has changed before she will.

Emma: The superficially charming man was already engaged and was tricking you! The other charming, attractive man was actually a petty jerk! The plain-spoken, honest man was always the better choice.

Persuasion: Anne has a gut feeling that she can’t fully put words to about Mr. Elliot that he is bad news. She cannot even fully justify it to herself. ANNE, YOU WERE RIGHT.

Again and again, we are told that women need to trust their judgement, look for more evidence into a man’s character/past, and mistrust charm/looks without a basis of goodness. Anne figuring out that Mr. Elliot is evil isn’t anti-climactic, it’s a proof that her judgement is sound. It’s a reminder that one should never rush into a marriage without knowing more about a man’s past. Because for a woman especially, it can end horribly.

544 notes - Posted August 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Jane Austen associating the word "rational" with women over six books:

Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart. - Elizabeth Bennet, Pride & Prejudice

“But I hate to hear you talking so like a fine gentleman, and as if women were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures. We none of us expect to be in smooth water all our days.” - Mrs. Croft, Persuasion

She dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her. He could not meet her in conversation, rational or playful. - Emma Woodhouse, Emma

“Oh! never, never, never! he never will succeed with me.” And she spoke with a warmth which quite astonished Edmund, and which she blushed at the recollection of herself, when she saw his look, and heard him reply, “Never! Fanny!—so very determined and positive! This is not like yourself, your rational self.” Fanny Price, Mansfield Park (we know that this is very much her rational self, also after a marriage proposal)

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition. -Elinor Dashwood, Sense & Sensibility

You talked of expected horrors in London—and instead of instantly conceiving, as any rational creature would have done, that such words could relate only to a circulating library, - Henry Tilney, teasing his sister, Northanger Abbey

598 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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outpost-31 · 2 years

Text

wow atlas posting ocs? that's rare

it's hot as balls outside and I'm dying so take some jojos ocs. part 5. ask me things about them, mutuals. I love them. please. please. (chanting)

this is a thick packed-full post so it's under the cut. no art though sorry I just need to write them down somewhere

Just a group of losers that's It. Not called on often, but they deal with situations regarding debts/negotiations in certain cities. Several also work as paid mercenaries or informants for missions regarding Passione's members and their personal grudges. it has nothing to do with the boss, its not an order (and possibly not allowed), they're just in it for cash and reputation.

I like making lists. this isnt even adequate writing about them theyre interesting i promise ihave so much stuff but im just trying to dump the basics as a collective so i dont forget

_______

Malvolio " Attore " Di Maggio

- 20, 6'1" (185 cm). Afro-Latino (Venezuelan)

- Agender (He/They) + Bi and Demiromantic

- Aloof, very blunt when he speaks. Honestly, kind of an asshole. Not even in an edgy bad boy way, hes just a cunt. He does it on purpose to drive people off, because he's horrible at getting close to people and doesn't want them hurt.

- His only role on his team is as a hired mercenary; he refuses to help with anything else due to personal goal, and the fact he joined the team for something " peaceful. " The only other people he'll go on assignments with are Breve and, reluctantly, Maledetta. He also refuses to accept the term ' assassin.'

- Smoker.

- Saddled with so much regret it could kill just about 5 grown men. In desperate need of counseling.

- exploding everybody who interacts with him in his mind constantly

- Tends to go off on his own. Absent from collective meetings often, takes lone jobs constantly, etc etc. He cares about everybody else, but he doesn't consider himself one of them and isolates on instinct (get therapy)

- Surprisingly great with kids. Breve is the only one he speaks more than a few sparse sentences to, and is actually kind with them. The mandated babysitter

- Ruthless in battle. Lacks any sympathy for just about anybody he faces off against, which enables his stand to be so horrifying without any guilt. He also carries eternal grudges. But, he's not an extremely violent person- in that aspect he's actually pretty average. More bark than bite apart from his vendetta.

- His stand, My Fairy King (after the Queen song), is.. Interesting, to say the least. much like Moody Blues, it's a manifestation of his crippling guilt. However, it's in a much more offensive way than the passive effect of that stand. Its power enables him to (metaphorically) enter your head and abuse your greatest fears, warping them into debilitating flashbacks and spectres that are near indistinguishable from reality. This makes fighting him quite difficult, though it is combatable. The drawback, however, is that using it can start to affect him too- triggering him into his own flashbacks if he isn't careful. Typically, with several opponents or overuse

Personality Muse: Yotsuyu Yagiyama, Oyecomova, Risotto Nero (jesus christ, man )

Playlist

_______

Raffaela " Felice " Gelli:

- 22, 5'10" (177 cm). White Italian.

- Cis Woman (She/Her) + Lesbian

- Deaf

- Very dependable and laid-back. Chill, fun, non-judgmental- etc. etc. She tries her Damnedest to not adhere to strict rules (tending to include the law itself) and promotes a very carefree attitude, making her excellent with most people. Even Attore. Her leadership skills are just awful, though, so she more tags along on assignments than accepts them on her own.

- That doesn't mean she isn't incredibly dangerous. She just masks it under layers of serenity.

- Works mostly as an informant, since the job is at her comfort level. She's beyond capable of other tasks, and has even tagged along with Ruscello on a few jobs, but its because of preference over ability. Plus, she's probably the most capable.

- The information she can dig up because of her childhood is unbelievable. She could doxx your entire extended family and your dog within the hour.

- Incapable of cooking. You know the Dubious Food from botw. yeah

- Has never sent a formal email in her life.

- Her stand, Rain Dogs (after the Tom Waits song) reflects her carefree ideology and urge to bring that freedom to others by being an essential support stand; with touch, it is able to manipulate near any chemical in the human body- though, at different levels, and depending entirely on emotional strength. She can't heal wounds, exactly, but her stand has a habit of clinging to shoulders during fights and pumping endorphins. It can also be incredibly dangerous, if used correctly, since an overload of anything can be deadly. The drawback is its fragility.

- (Not a unique concept, by any stretch, but one that reflects her well. Is it similar to even atleast 1 semi-canon stand? yes? thats intentional. )

Personality Muse: Gyro Zeppeli, Karera Sakunami, Guido Mista

Playlist

_______

Chisaka " Breve " Hiraoka

- 14, 4'8" (142 cm). Japanese-Indian

- Genderfluid (any pronouns) + Unlabeled

- The only natural-born stand user in the group, Breve manifested their stand before ever joining Passione. As such, they've had quite a bit of time to harness and refine its ability, despite being so young

- Selective mute and a pit of repressed emotions. This child is a ticking time bomb. They're very polite in interactions and resilient despite their situation, but due to their upbringing, tend to be incapable of letting themself show any sign of emotion without guilt. Their eyes and face are constantly devoid of emotion to a worrying degree.

- They work mostly as a debt collector and assassin alongside Attore, as he's the only person in the group they feel genuinely comfortable around. Like an older sibling, as they never had one.

- If you read their mind it would be this specific scream as loud as possible near constantly. Their face is calm but their mind is sobbing and punching holes in walls

- Very knowledgeable about illegal dealings, their workings, and the art of blackmail/manipulation due to being born in a family that was.. Well-versed in that knowledge.. If they hadn't been shipped off to Italy, they'd be considered an heir

- Their stand, Dear Prudence (after the Siouxsie and the Banshees version specifically), is honed and refined to a deadly perfection. While bound to their body, and meant for defense, they have manipulated it into something more dangerous with their creativity. They're able to cloak themselves with layers of invisible shields, radiating outward from their body much like a suit or bubble. They arent indestructible, but become stronger with environmental conditions such as heat- allowing them to tank atleast one harsh blow and retaliate. They repair themselves quite quickly, though not instantaneously- and, can be used to inflict extreme damage with physical blows. If one were to strike and shatter on your jaw, it wouldn't be pretty

- While this means that for function, their stand requires knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, that isnt any problem for them. Getting your shit rocked by a 14 year old would be humiliating, but it's about fate for anybody who crosses them. Not to say they're invincible, but they're.. Definitely a small target

Personality Muse: doesn't really have one. Kei Nijimura, outwardly, if anything.

Playlist

_______

Tederich " Pallottola " Altomare

- 30, 5'11" (180 cm). German-Mexican

- Trans Man (He/Him) + Gay and Asexual

- Literally just some guy

- Collects framed insects. He seems especially fond of moths and mantises.

- Very serious and maybe even a bit dull, but he's quite caring. He is incredibly strict with himself and takes his role very seriously- he's highly protective of those around him, with a surprising tolerance for extremely debilitating and stressful situations. His climb into this position wasn't exactly merciful, though. His eyes are too full of sorrow to look at for long

- Designated leader and mentor of the team. Like Maledetta, he is quite adaptable, and takes on any available role- usually as a guide for others present. He prefers to be an informant.

- His Stand, Bullet With Butterfly Wings (after the Smashing Pumpkins song) is an object that takes the form of a small, red-tinted glass vial. Small enough to comfortably hide in your palm. The dark liquid inside seems to regenerate infinitely on a timed cycle- this liquid can be applied onto anything via any method (ingesting, splashing..), and will immediately harden into a tough crystalline substance when it latches onto a person or object.

It has to be solid, however. in liquids it remains suspended.

In this instant, it is able to immediately affect the stability of anything; person, or object. Physical or even mental, and it's effect will last until it is scraped from your body or the affected area

- While this doesn't exactly seem special, it can turn battles in his favor, even if a bit dangerous. Crumbling buildings allowing for escape and cover, immediately unbalanced or distressed enemies giving him an edge in combat, etc.. It doesn't seem like much, but his potential for creativity is.. Unmatched. He's previously used it in ways comparable to a poison, hiding the substance in drinks and simply allowing those he wants gone to succumb to asphyxiation from the sudden cluster of crystals forming on the inside of their throat blocking their airway.

Personality Muse: Weather Report, (part 4) Jotaro Kujo, Bruno Bucciarati. Due to about one trait each, but it's not nothing. he's barely like them, actually.

Playlist

_______

Thorello " Ruscello " Abadie

- 20, 5'8" ( 172 cm).... French

- Cis Man (He/Him) + Bi

- So debilitatingly anxious and paranoid that he's constantly checking behind him and scanning his surroundings. Alone, in public, with friends..

- His upbringing was essentially in a horror movie " suspicious sheltered town with ominous spooky things going on. " Residual panic from that and the town's beliefs. He thinks they're hunting him. Whether or not they are is up for debate

- Nail-Biter

- Only wears tight clothing because it makes him feel.. safe. The compression is comforting for him

- Debt-Collector. His stand can be. Surprisingly good for torture?

- His stand, Sex & Candy (after the Marcy Playground song), is automatic, ranged, and highly protective. Like most automatic stands, it is fairly simple, but ruthless. If anything the user considers a threat enters within 10 meters, Sex & Candy will activate and automatically begin to home in on them- though, slowly. While it has no strength to speak of, forcing Ruscello to defend himself, once it touches you.. It's not exactly a problem. It turns any being it comes in contact with incorporeal, unable to interact with anything or anyone but the stand itself, and this effect remains for as long as you remain in range- and, if you remain within that range while incoporeal for too long, it will begin to permanently dematerialize your body: beginning with fingers and toes. However, this process is slow (but painful) and takes atleast 5 minutes of exposure to the 10- meter span. This makes fighting him require alot of creativity, or a long-ranged power of your own.

Personality Muse: Pannacotta Fugo, Rykiel. I don't know, man

Playlist

_______

Xaviera " Maledetta " Cavalli

- 23, 5'6" (167 cm). White Italian

- Cis Woman (She/Her) + Lesbian

- Used to be a serial robber (and more! alot more!)

- " Oh she's a little bit fucked up actually. "

- Crazed. Obsessed. The whole deal. She's awful at getting along with people, and simply joined the team for sanctuary from the consequences of her.. Horrible horrible actions

- The most diverse of the team when it comes down to jobs. She takes on nearly every role depending on what they need, and takes a strange joy in seeing the cash it brings in even if the task involves the harm of others (which, it usually does).

- Her stand, Everlong (after the Foo Fighters Song), is long-range and is another with a humanoid appearance. It's abilities vary, but all seem to revolve around inflicting harm- in increasingly worse ways. Its physical power isn't too impressive, but if it manages to land a hit, it can become devastating quickly. While this doesn't apply to wounds from its fists, if the stand manages to cut you with any of the sharp barbs on its body, the wound begins to slowly spread outward from the source. This keeps it from closing, and can be especially dangerous due to these barbs also inflicting an anticoagulant affect on the victim. With no blood clotting, and a quickly spreading wound.. Defeating her or exiting her range, or simply lasting the time before it wears off, causes the anticoagulant to wear off. The wounds stay

- Uncommonly, her stand is one with its own sentience; and, thankfully, it seems kinder than Maledetta herself- almost pitying those she fights. Stupidly, the 2 get into frequent arguments. It's clearly anoyed by her arrogance, but follows orders regardless

Personality Muse: Yukako Yamagishi, Gwess, Terunosuke Miyamoto (yikes. not because of teru though.)

Playlist

#WOW thats alot #mutuals please ask me about them im begging you. i have way more ocs but i think about this group the most. i need to talk about them #also for them i refused to go with the part 5 food names im sorry. they go by alias(s) though which is close enough #no art to go with this because i cant get their designs to look right rn. tripping and falling #jjba ocs #rambles #also here this is how I'm posting the playlists #I PROMISE THEYRE MORE INTERESTING AND IN DEPTH THAN THEY LOOK ITS JUST BASIC INFORMATION

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doughma · 6 months

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some time ago i got tagged in the twst ask meme w/e and me n my friend wanted to redo them since its been a year and our tastes have changed and, i have no where else to post this big ass blog post so dont look at me

Would you be a mer, a beastman, a fae, or a human? (or other!)

most of the time i like the human option cause its the default and what i would be if i got transported in and also human/non human is always top tier BUT i also played with the idea of my yuusona being a fae or more specifically the twst version of tinkerbell so id like either human or fae

Would you be at rsa or nrc?

NRC hands down, im too chaotic neutral for rsa i would go insane there i may look cute and very femme but the way i talk is anything but lady like and i dont wanna hear the gasps from rsa students when i tell them to fuck off

What dorm would you belong to?

tests gave me pomefiore which i absolutely accept, but i woudnt mind diasomnia either for the uniform lol but pomef with the poison potion makin love would be the most fun imo even if vil and i would butt heads all the time

What character(s) would you be best friends with?

imm just go down the list of every dorm Heartslabyul: tbh tbh, probs fucking none of them MAYBE DEUCE but honestly all their first impressions i would just avoid the whole ass dorm all together

Savanaclaw: all of them, idc i see fluffy ears and tails and im already making my way over to try and get them to agree and let me pet them I WILL DO ANYTHING TO SHOVE LEONAS EAR INTO MY FUCKING MOUTH also im a women so its already in my favour with them, ruggie would be easy to befriend because its in his dna to be submissive to women and we both love doughnuts, leonas gonna take some work but MY BOY I PROMISE THIGH AND TITTY PILLOW IF YOU LET ME PLAY WITH YOUR EARS AND HAIR PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE IM BEGGING JUST ONE CHANCE- and oourgh jacks so cute and big and would have the best reactions because hes tsun i cant help but wanna pet and tease him i OUGGRHU

Octavinelle: azulu, MAYBE maybe floyd maybe maybe! maybe tweels! maybe! it really fucking depends because ill give they a pass for chapter 3 because theyre fish people and my burning curiosity would make me forgive them just to be able to ask them questions about being mer folk and maybe try to ask if i could touch them while theyre fish people LIKE LISTEN I JUST LIKE TOUCHING FISH OKAY???? I LIKE THE SLIMEY FEEL IM SO DAMN CURIOUS AND IM DYING TO TOUCH AN OCTOPUS my personal need and love for fish would win over their wrong doings, that one voice clip of THEY WERE THE BEST TRIO AROUND what about the people they murdered WHAT MURDERS???? is how i feel about them

Scarabia: none. chapter 4 would have ended differently if i was there and it would have been violent. kalims also too sunshine boy for my tastes even if i would humor him if he talked to me but i would just find it too exhausting to deal with on a personal level

Pomefiore: rook! i love my fucking hunter mans! i love how weird and passionate he is and i wanna hear all the gossip i KNOW HE KNOWS AND HEARS and i wouldnt judge him for being a fanboy because honestly same lol i got that obsessive trait in me too bbgirl i understand show me more pictures of neiges knee caps i would love to see it vils a maybe but honestly, even if i wish to pull him into a deep kiss and then choke him out i dont really see the two of us getting along

Ignihyde: oh both of them easily, orthos the cutest baby brother and i would love to hug and care for him and tell him all kinds of praise and HES SO CUTE HES THE BABIEST AND NEEDS TO BE PROTECTED idia because were both reclusive gamers and i wouldnt care to hang out with him irl he can hmu on the twst discord and we can vc game together hed be the best gaming buddy

Diasomnia: i dont care for silver im sorry, hes so pretty but he has the personality of someone i would just look over and forget he was even there sebek LOL sebby my sebz,,, mr sebster,,,,, emotionally i love that stupid fucking croc, realistically? the moment hes too loud, im already leaving the room and judging from a distance lilia is my gamer bbfy #2 i love grandpa bat sm UGH hes so cute and small god i wanna hold and HE WOULD FUCKING LET ME i think my talk of calling myself mommy would amuse him malleus is a funny case tbh! his horns and whole demeanor would interest me and im walking over to ask if i can touch his horns also begging crying PLEASE LET ME TOUCH THEM his little gaogao kun would be a fun topic because i love tamagotchi and i would want one lol and wed probs let them met up and play with each other :]

What character(s) would you hate?

Ace. hes a cunt idc tho like respect ig because he doesnt care hes an asshole and doesnt change so like you do you ig? but i would hate him! like from the moment he made fun of you for not knowing the seven it was already over, i would have started a fight right then and there with him and thrown hands I COULD FUCKING TAKE ACE HONESTLY EVEN AS A GIRL hes all bark and if you start to get physically it would throw him off at first and thats more than enough time to get at least one punch to his face, hes deff the type that likes to bully out of affection but im someone who fucking hates that so it would never work out even if we had a decent first impression

epel, sorry hime it just aint happening i LOVE my cute shit and anything i find cute and he would react poorly to our first meeting and me calling him a cutie pie and im not here for people who have over reactions to the most nothing of anything like if you have personal problems with those kinds of things, thats a YOU problem and you need to work on that yourself and not snap at people you just fucking met, id forgive him if he apologized but i still wouldnt wanna get close to him and would still side eye him scarabia, chapter 4 just ruined it honestly like jamil, i dont care how fucking hot you are the canon ruined you for me. gods tho hes so fucking hot and it sucks I WOULD HAVE FORGIVEN HIM IF HE APOLOGIZED IN CANON BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOO- i also dont hate kalim but IM TOO FUCKING TIRED FOR HIS CHARA TYPE OKAY

What character(s) would you date?

i still kinda like the idea of dating rook because i do like the idea of someone being obsessed with me, but on the other hand my jealous hand....... rooks a man of love for everyone and i respect that but i wouldnt be able to truly handle it if im being honest IM SORRY ROOK I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE YOUR HUNTER PERSONALITY AND THE THRILL OF THE HUNT BUT I WANT A MAN THATS ONLY GONNA LOOK AT ME AND I KNOW I CANT FUCKING COMPETE WITH VIL OF ALL PEOPLE WAHHHHHHHHHHHH leona is honestly a chara i didnt expect to love as much as i do now because it hit hard how compatible we are- also hes a leo and aquarius can get along well with leos an- but um in my obsessive au writing for leona he really is my fucking type god do i wanna just take a nap with him and gently brush his hair and take care of him and LEONA IF YOURE LOOKING FOR A NEW MOMMY IM RIGHT FUCKING HERE MY THIGHS ARE FAT AS FUCK ugh i just love a man thats pathetic and depressed it makes me wanna give them the motherly tender love they need and fix them OR make them worse depends on how im feelin atm i also kinda feel id be a good or okay match for azul idunno? hes also kinda pathetic but in the cute way i wanna squish his face and coo at him and then violently shove my tongue down his throat, hes also someone who needs tender love and im here to provide it I ALSO WOULD BE DOWN TO FUCK AN OCTOPUS its on the bucket list idia but only because we fit the image couple thats tall skinny dark punk dude with his thick high femme pink gf, im the EXCUSE YOU HE ASK FOR NO PICKLES gf and in my monster fuckers dreams, malleus lilia and sebek are also on the list because PLEASE ITS ON THE BUCKET LIST I NEED TO FUCK SOMEONE NON HUMAN BECAUSE I GO BACK TO MY WORLD PLEASE-

What would floyd’s nickname be for you?

maybe frilled shark lol, i dress cute but im also elusive when i wanna be and dont like to personally share info about myself and not much is know about frilled sharks, im also bite first ask questions later WILL STAB AS A WARNING

and rook’s?

mademoiselle gaieté, or mademoiselle merriment is still absolutely it, im forever gonna have laughing as my talking filler/quirk its just apart of who i am as a person and how i talk i cant help it

What twst character(s) are you most like? (personality-wise)

floyd still, we are both moody bitches and can change at a drop of a hat tho im better at controlling it and getting over it without having a reaction at the other person, as long as they leave me alone for at least five mins i tend to get over it nicely if you leave me alone for a bit and let me calm myself down instead of bugging me more about it or continue to poke at me cause then im gonna get mad and violent also a little like leona with being stubborn as a person and not wanting to change and being a lazy fucking cat like bitch lol i took a test once and got trey so, do with that info as you will

Which subject(s) do you think you would excel at?

normal stuff probs math or art, but which one i would be doing my best at because i want to? potionology because it SOUNDS FUCKING COOL MAN IT SOUNDS LIEK SM FUN TO BE A LITTLE WITCHY GIRLY WITH MY WITTLE CAULDREN MAKING SOME POTIONS and because i also want to bark for crewel papa

What club would you join?

im still forever on the board games club man it just sounds like fun and i only wanna do clubs that is fun also azululu and idia are there so its a fun club with some people id be friends with so even more fun!!!! another fun one imo would be science club since theres all the new magical flowers this world has and potion making??? it would be fun to experiment and learn new things tho clubs i personally was in during my school days were art club and the recycle club

How do you think you would survive in twisted wonderland/what would your life be like in general?

i still personally think i would be okay, like im alive, tho emotionally? depends really. i think i probs would be a little more aloof and standoffish being taken away from my family and brother and would be a little worried about my brothers mental state with me being suddenly gone that it might make me crack a little when im alone at night like a bitch might cry herself to sleep and be more snappy with random students talking or bothering me but im also very used to being alone in life, at work, at school, so being the only girl might cause me to be alone further so i dont think it would bother me that much and id be able to handle it fairly well tho i might end up clinging to a teacher or crowley lol like after school im just gonna go hang out with crewel to see if he needs help with anything like IM A LONELY LITTLE PUPPY PAPA PLEASE LET ME DO SOMETHING WAHHHHHHHHHHH and tbh i probs would end up in the science club because of him kdfngfdjkgnjkfd i used to be an assistant teacher for a pharmacy class during covid and helped teach the students that were ready for iv making while he dealt with the new students so i wouldnt mind helping out the teachers with paper work and grading since its sometime ive done and enjoyed but overall maybe a little lonely life until i find friends but not anything i wouldnt be able to handle, and im not above whining to crowley for stuff since i am now in his care lol

[optional!] What would your unique magic be?

still probs anything that would freeze or petrify the people i use it on lmao a UM that would make people leave me alone is perfect imo my brother likes to joke that i am a ice queen so its fitting

#me trying to remember if having key words in the posts will make them show up in the tags #or is that just twitter?#who knows #if this shows up in the tags #20$ to fuck off

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martyrlamb · 6 months

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I'm the first anon, hi again and firstly, I want thank you for not being aggressive (most people are when it comes to this conversation) while voicing your opinions.

Before I start, please check this post out: https://www.tumblr.com/blackheartbiohazards/730522787180085248/i-dont-want-to-read-this-is-totally-valid?source=share

My opinion, as clearly as I can put it, is: the writer doesn't spread the harm of the porn industry by writing whatever they want to write. Same applies to the readers for reading whatever they want to read.

Fiction is where authors can do the really uncomfortable stuff. Where they can explore the darks part of existing, because it's good to be able to go “I connect with this and I should consider why.” Or “this brings me comfort, how can I break that down?” Stuff like that.

The writer simply doesn't spread the harm of the porn industry by writing whatever they want to write.

I support the right of everyone to read and write what they want because I don't know their situation, don't have the right to demand an explanation of their situation, and have seen what happens when people try to excuse banning and censorship of written text or harassing authors with the excuses of “it’s just the bad ones,” “we’re just protecting kids,” “we just have a few concerns,” “we’re just being good people,” and “if I wrote something gross I’d expect to get called out”

What we have to be careful about is not condoning such themes in reality. If you, somehow, get “this person is okay with harm to real human beings” or “they promote the harm and romanticize what porn industry does” out of that, you really need to re-examine your mindset.

to preface: i may come off a bit more aggressive/forward in this post because it's something i'm extremely passionate about.

okay, so, i looked at the post and specifically the quote, ""I don't think anyone should be allowed to read or write this because it is disgusting to me" is authoritarian." has stuck out to me because not condoning the romanticization + fetishization of illegal acts isn't authoritarian. if your idea of personal freedom being challenged is someone refusing to accept graphic depictions of incest, non-consensual/dubious sex, and violent kinks in writing that you're meant to take pleasure in—then the discussion ends here. there's nothing i could say that would get you to seriously consider my points. referring to some of the tags on that post, anti-censorship is meant for media and literature that is wrongfully struck down for making people uncomfortable despite the message's importance. whether they were using these terms extremely literally or you took it out of context, i'm not sure, but i'm talking about smut here and using the term "authoritarian" to try and prove why i should simply ignore people condoning illegal acts is farfetched.

... because by writing it, they are condoning it. if they need to explore why they connect with things the way they do, or why they find comfort in the taboo, then they need to take those steps alone without posting disturbing smut to the internet for countless other people to read. they aren't just writing this type of stuff for funsies. people don't get inclined to write things like that for some harmless fun. they're writing it because they at least find some kind of pleasure or release when they do, which is bad. this goes for consuming it too, but there's a few other points i want to bring up to that point later.

you may not think there's a link between this kind of extreme writing and the porn industry, but there is. these "stepcest" and "non-con" categories would either not exist, or not be as mainstream as they are without the existence of it in porn. porn is the reason that it's quite literally everywhere you look on the internet and why people are so desensitized to it in the first place. it has been increasingly worse in the writing community. especially to those, like readers, who consume it often.

i don't blame readers or writers who have been exposed to the consumption of extreme porn because it is a pipeline. you really don't realize it until it's too late and you have to take the steps to remove yourself from that kind of space. slowly, the reader will consume more and more content as it gets more extreme, and in a little while they'll find some kind of pleasure in it for various reasons (comfort, connection, trauma). they're desensitized to the illegality and violence of it. you don't keep returning to that kind of subject matter without an ounce of real desire unless you just love the shock value, which is a whole other issue.

when someone is desensitized to this kind of violence, they will think it's okay in their real personal lives. maybe not to even do themselves, but have someone do it to them. i've seen countless people believe they're into extreme kinks because of how the internet has desensitized them.

by spreading this content, they are condoning it. because even if you don't want to partake in incest or sexual violence someone does. and i can guarantee that they read and enjoy the type of smut that's being written and posted on here (and any platform, for that matter). writers are allowed to write whatever they want to write, but we also need to take a step back and look at why they want to write it and expose it to other people. that is why i have such a huge issue with it.

#ask #anti violent smut

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emile-hides · 2 years

Text

I love to death when the Scrybes are a polycule especially a divorced polycule because it really encompasses that mountain goat song about really fucking hating your spouse but in a really self-destructive manor

#Inscryption #Especally on the part of P03 I feel like he really gets into that song #Honestly this can also just stand for P03 X Leshy shippers #I'm here for the 'they are full of spite and rage and hate but are too co-dependent to really ever separate' ship dynamic #The 'They don't secretly still love eachother because loving them is hard but they cannot be apart from them' ship dynamic #The 'I hate you but I hate myself more and you hate me and hate yourself but we hate ourselves a little less when we're together'#You are coming down with me #Hand in unlovable hand #and I hope you die.#I hope we both die.#There's something so... I don't want to say romantic but like. Romantic.#Passionate?#Adoring..... Something around those words #About the 'hand in unlovable hand' part #Violent feelings get really muddled in my head so my understanding of this song is granted very limited #but I think about it a lot #but I kind of assigned it a Claire X Hero song. Which means nothing to nobody in the Inscryption tag #They're not OC incase you're wondering. They're characters from the book in my description that I love dearly #I'm getting off topic #What I mean by this post is a weird roundabout way to say #I think P03 is the most self-destructive of the Scrybes #Granted. Probably because he just really doesn't like himself or his situation.#But he'd too prideful to be actively self-harming or worse. He has some preservations #Being around the other scrybes and subjecting himself to muddled emotions is as close as he'll get #This is a tangent that no one is going to like #I'm in angst brain tonight for no reason I just saw someone call Leshy and P03 divorced and my brain started rolling #And it was fanart so I didn't want to dump this in the tags of someone else's fanart #so I'm making my own post to be ignored becuase it's vauge angst nonsense hidden under a kinda funny joke #I'm going to go to bed and this better have AT MOST 7 notes.#Tired of waking up to 99 notes from you people

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gentrychild · 2 years

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5+ headcannons on an au where Izuku grew up in America and became the protege for Stars and Stripes

AFO moves his entire family to the US because Izuku manifested his quirk in class and he didn't want All Might sniffing around and finding his family. Izuku has a pretty good life and he is still an All Might fan. But when he is fourteen and a drunk Cathy (who was having a very passionate debates about Batman and Robin with her brothers) declares to the world that she will take as an apprentice anyone wanting to be a hero able to land a punch on her, he jumps on the occasion.

Everyone shows up with flashy quirks and crazy support items to try to just land one (1) punch on the number 1 US hero and Izuku shows up with a silencer quirk because it's hard to use a voice based quirk when you can't talk. ^^ It's smart but Cathy still (gently) defeats him since she is a pro hero and has super strength. Still, when they talk later (because he was one of the only kids not trying to overpower her), he talks about his quirk and says that he loves how it's actually powerful because Star and Stripe uses it efficiently. Even powerful quirks like theirs are limited by how smartly they use them.

Star and Stripe: "Finally someone who doesn't think I just punch things hard. T_T

I need you to understand that the whole AU, Izuku is "Ah, I missed my chance to be Star's apprentice but I shall cherish the memory of our fight and how nice she was to me that one time." while Star adopted him, they see each other once a week, all of her brother-in-arms know him, Inko is on a first name basis with her, and so on.

In the meantime, Star has been trying to post bail for her good totally platonic friend Nagant for about ten years but the Japanese government keeps taking her for a moron, there has been no trial, and enough is enough. She's done her waiting. She is going to Japan to break the love of her life... I mean, this really nice coworker of hers out of prison.

Will that cause the most horrific international accident that has ever happened if she gets caught? Absolutely. She is just planning not to get caught.

Things get slightly more complicated whe, she realizes that Izuku has been tagging along their super secret mission. She asks for someone to get her a Japanese translator (because no one speaks a lick of Japanese in her team, not even the one member with Japanese origin) so Carl kinda grabbed Izuku (the only one they know who can speak Japanese and keeps his mouth shut), who followed along because what kind of teenager would pass the opportunity to commit a crime?

"I never asked you to take a kid along for a break-out in a foreign country! He is a kid! How irresponsible do you think I am???" *CRICKET NOISES* "I hate all of you."

Izuku is not to approach Tartarus. Izuku is to stay outside. Izuku obviously gets into Tartarus but in his defense, he was being chased by a Tartarus guard who desperately needed a promotion.

Long story short, many gets separated, there is a prison riot, Nagant is outside her cell and putting herself between Carl (hasn't seen the guy in ten years and currently hiding behind her) and this poor child whose face she can't see but he is so still and trembling, he must be terrified.

Izuku is not terrified. He is a good boy who does his best to hold his urges in check and not just steal quirks from people and he is now confronted to a treasure trove of the most powerful quirks in the country and the nice excuse of self defense. He is doing such effort to control himself that he is violently shaking.

Listen, I will not tell you about the story of 9 US soldiers, one former pro hero turned soldier and the number 1 US hero chasing after the quirk gremlin with the yakety sax music as background music but I will just say that Tartarus lost half of its quirks that day.

So of course, AFO got blamed for that.

They manage to break out and since their way out was demolished, they go to All Might and all hide in his apartment for a week. All Might is pretty chill about the whole thing, Izuku is so happy to meet him, and if you were seeing Star, you would think she was introducing her child to her father or something.

Nagant is under the impression that the US death squad + the kid were here to assassinate someone in Tartarus and that rescuing her was an accident, which is helped by the fact Star can't admit the real reason as to why she's here. All Might is incredibly amused by the whole thing.

#AFO: Someone that isn't me stole quirks in Tartar- IZUKU!!!!#closed ask game #5 headcanons game

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirstein angst #snk x reader #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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fangirlings-things · 3 years

Text

First Costumer

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x female reader

Summary: you just got hired to do the job you always wanted and your first costumer, is no other but a Peaky Blinder

Word count: 2.1K

This is based on the moodboard below, made by my friend. You can find the original post here

A/N: I wrote this for @flowers-in-your-hayr 650 followers celebration. congratulations, love!! you're amazing, thank you for understanding my brazilian jokes lol and I hope you like this 💖

TAG LIST: @sophieshelby ; @charmingvalkyrie ; @inglourious-imagines ; @fairyofvoid ; @locke-writes ; @regalbanshee ; @captainshazamerica ; @lotsoffandomrecs ; @flowers-in-your-hayr ; @too-spoopy-to-be-frukd

You heard the doorbell ring and the sound filled the bookshop. Finally, a costumer. Your very first costumer. How exciting!

You got down of the ladder you had previously climbed to fix some of the higher shelves and passed your hands through your brown simple dress, making sure it was proper and in order. Mr. Cuthbert had taken a long time to finally accept you as an employee in his establishment and now, you had to make him proud.

You had always loved books. Since you were just a little girl, you mother had given you novels to read and you grew up living in many different ones from the reality you actually found yourself in. Books were your passion, your refugee, your ideal spot. To be able to work around them and make people happy by buying books, well, it sounded like perfection!

The costumer took his time to walk through the shop, eyeing the shelves like they were unusual strangers in the street and then, he got to you at the back of the bookshop. Your first costumer was a man.

He was tall. Not too tall, but just enoguh to make him able to look at some of the upward shelves without having to raise his head too much. His skin was white, giving a nice contrast with the black coat he wore. He had a moustache and you could only see a few strings of his brown hair, due to the cap he wore.

Then, you realized. After taking notice of the cap, the fine clothing made sense. No ordinary man in Birmingham had such fine clothes to wear, especially not in the middle of the week, during the lunch break time of the factories. Oh no, that man absolutely did not work in a factory. That man was a Peaky Blinder. His only bosses were the Shelbys and the Shelbys only.

"May I help you, sir?" you asked him with a polite smile, pushing to the back of your mind the realization you had just come to. It didn't matter who he was outside Mr. Cuthbert's bookshop. He was a costumer. Who clearly, for the way his eyes were going from one shelf to the other, intended to buy a book.

He focused his eyes on you and you saw that his stare wasn't harsh or the one of a demon, as many people said the Peaky Blinders were. His eyes were kind, even though there was an agitation in them that you couldn't quite comprehend. Maybe not even he could. "Yes" he said simply and as you kept staring at him, waiting for further information, the man looked even a bit disconcerted, like he wasn't used to having such attention upon him. "It is my sister's birthday this week and Ada, well, she really likes books, has a great shelf of them at her house. So I thought it would be a good idea to you know, give her a new book as a gift"

You couldn't help but smile. That man, whomever he was, seemed so genuine in everything. You could see the care in his expression when he spoke of his sister. It was a nice thing to see. The stories you had heard about the Peaky Blinders seemed to be all wrong. He was a normal person. Not some crazy, openly violent man.

"Do you have any specific book in mind?" you asked him, hands joined in front of your body and excitement filling your body because that was apparently going to be a successful sell. The man just squeezed his lips on a thin line, eyes going to the floor as if he was embarrassed. It got to you. "Don't worry, I am sure we can work something out. What kind of books does she like?"

He watched as you moved around the place graciously. Clearly you knew every corner of that place, every shelf, every single book and where it was. You looked at a particular spot, frowned then moved on like there wasn't anything interesting for whatever you wanted him to take to Ada. "Well, she's a communist, so she does like politics"

"Very well" you walked towards the politics shelf, searched the titles, but nothing particularly got your attention or seemed fitting. You turned back to the man. "Does she like classics that have to do with politics?"

"I think so, what do you have?" he asked, seeming kinda excited for what you would come up with. He accompanied you as you went to shelf on the other side of the corridor and pulled out a book. "Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo. It's centered around the French Revolution"

The man looked down at the floor again as a quite nervous laugh escaped his mouth. "I don't think that is a good idea. France does not give my family the best memories, you see"

"You fought the war?" you asked, smile fading a bit because of the seriousness in his tone. Maybe that's where his agitation was from. Maybe, he never did get back from France at all. He only nodded in agreement, still not looking at you. "Thank you, for your service"

He gave out a little smile, but you knew by the way the corner of his lips didn't rise too much that he was anxious to change the subject. Honestly, see the obvious hurt in him made you want to change it either. "Alright, no France. What about Bram Stoker's Dracula?"

"Dracula?" he frowned, eyes meeting yours in utter confusion at such a strange name.

The fact that he didn't knew about it made you smile as you began to describe que novel's story to him with a mysterious tone in your voice to cause suspense. "It's about an old man, Count Dracula, who lives in a castle and feeds on the blood of young women to survive. Sometimes he kills them so they can join him in the after life and also drink blood from innocent people"

The man laughed due to your clearly forced misteirous tone and the way you raised your eyebrows at him while speaking, seeming to forget the previous sadness that had overwhelmed him with the memories of the war. You were glad for it. "That sounds bloody awful, love"

You could not help but also laugh, trying to ignore the heat that took a hold of your face when he apparently without thinking, called you love. "It is, actually" then you shrugged, passing your hand through the said novel's cover at the shelf. "But is a fine horror book" you crossed your arms over your chest and squeezed your eyes in his direction. "Be honest with me now, will your sister like this one?"

He squeezed his lips again, this time his features assumed a expression that clearly said 'sorry'. "I don't think so. Ada is a feminist. I think she would not like a story where a monster man kills women and faces no consequences"

"That is a very good point" you said with a sight and then turned around, biting your lower lip as you thought and thought about more options. The challenge on your very first sell was being quite exciting and you could say, interesting. Much of it of course, was because of that man. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and you turned back to the Peaky Blinder with a smile. "What about On the Origin of Species? It's a book about pure knowledge, scientific one, about evolution. No France, no monster that slaughters women"

The man gave it a minute of thought and then returned your smile. "Knowledge and evolution. It does sounds like Ada" you both felt silent for a moment and then, he cleaned his throat and nodded towards the book you had just gotten into your hands. "I'll take it"

"Very well" you motioned for him to follow you and then made your way towards the back of the shop again, placing it in the cashier. "You want it wrapped up as a gift?" he quickly agreed and you raised two options of gift wrap in the air. A green and a blue one. He chose the green one. "You can also add a small card if you want"

"That is nice, thank you" he said and again, as you looked at him, the kindness in his eyes seemed to shine out from everything else.

You grabbed a gift card from the inside of a box where they were kept and placed a black pen upon it. "You can write it or if you want, I can write it for you"

"You should write it, I bet your handwriting is better than mine" he said and you chuckled, nodding as you agreed to his request.

"What do you want it to say?" you waited as he clearly thought about the question, looking unsure. With one of his hands, he took off his cap and then passed the other one through his hair. When he claned his throat, you were ready to start writing.

"Dear Ada, happy birthday" he looked at you as if that was it but then, seeing the expression on your face that clearly indicated you wished him to talk more, he thought for a second and then continued. " Since you like books so much, I hope you will like this one, that a very nice girl helped me pick" as you wrote with a smile on your face, you did your best not to raise your eyes to meet his. "I know I am not always a very good brother, but I love you. Happy birthday, Arthur"

"That was beautiful" you told him, letting go of the pen and starting to wrap up the gift carefully, slowly, in no rush to let the Peaky Blinder go away. Arthur. His name was Arthur. It was a beautiful name. Suited him just fine.

"Alright, then" his eyes went to the floor again, seeming now embarrassed because of your words.

You finished to wrap the gift in silence, then when it was done, you sighted and looked at the man. "If you want us to deliver the gift at your sister's house, in case you're busy, we have a delivery boy for such"

"That sounds good, I appreciate that" he replied.

You nodded in agreement and got a piece of paper, to then grab the pen again. "Can you tell me her adress, please?" he did so, and you wrote it down so the boy Mr. Cuthbert had hired a little while before you could do his part of the job later. "He is supposed to look for Ada...?" you left the question in the air, waiting for him to answer, eyes still on the paper.

"Ada Shelby"

Your eyes snapped up on the very same instant.

Shelby.

His sister was Ada Shelby.

He was Arthur Shelby.

"Something wrong, love?" he asked, and he didn't seem harsh like you expected him to, for the way you not in the slightly hid just how astonished you were to know his identity. His eyes were still kind, but a part of the previous sadness had come back.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me" you wrote down Ada Shelby and then left the paper upon the gift, at the corner of the cashier.

"I'm used to that kind of reaction by now" he said with a nervous laugh, that carried absolutely no humor at all in it. Even if he was indeed used to the said kind of reaction, he clearly did not like it. You felt guilt consume you. "How much do I owe you?"

You told him the price, still lost in your thoughts and cursing yourself for being so stupid and rude. So rude. He gave you the money, you placed it in the due place. "Have a nice day" he told you and then turned around to leave, placing his cap back in his head and then his hands went to the pockets of his clothes.

You watched him leaving with a intense feeling of exasperation, tried to think fastly enough to say something and then before you could even really process what you were actually going to do, the words left your mouth. "Mr. Shelby?" he turned back around as he heard you calling, a bit of gentleness in his features. "If you ever need to buy another book, I am sure I can help you find something good"

His lips curled up in a smile, a pure one. A bit of the guilt you felt left your body like he had just taken it completely away, just by smiling again. "I'll remember that, love"

And then, Arthur Shelby left the bookshop.

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur x reader #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby fanfic #650followers

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pipipinyyy · 3 years

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Explaining why I have added every song in my entire and very long Niragi playlist because I can and because over analyzing him is my passion (I usually update it from time to time but I'll do it with the current songs)

Completely self indulgent post, but I decided to share to feed my fellow Niragi stans (*˙︶˙*)☆*°

This is entirely based on my view of the songs and how I interpret them while thinking about Niragi. I'm aware that most of them have entirely different meanings, this is just for fun :) (Also sorry if my explanations don't make much sense, English is not my first language and I might make mistakes when trying to put my feelings and thoughts into words)

This may contain manga/s2 spoilers

Hayloft-Mother Mother: Vibes

Criminal-Britney Spears: The whole song describes him ("he is a sucker with a gun") and the fandom's obsession ("mama I'm in love with a criminal")

Daddy Issues-The Neighborhood: I feel like he would act like this, using the most vulnerable spots to pick on someone ("cry little girl, nobody does it like you do")

Psycho-Jin Dogg, OVER KILL: Vibes

Riot-Hollywood Undead: He'd definitely start a riot like he did in the 10 of hearts, burning and destroying anything that crosses his path

Bitches-Mindless Self Indulgence: He most likely thinks he's a total fuckboy and popular with girls since he can get almost anything he wants out of scarying people

Baby's on Fire-Die Antwoord: Vibes

Insane in the Brain-Cypress Hill: This man is being consumed by his own way of protecting himself

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing-Set It Off: Based on how he feels towards the people who hurt him in the past ("Listen, mark my words, one day, you will pay" "You've always been a huge piece of shit, if I could kill you, I would" "Karma is gonna come collect your debt")

Death no more-IC3PEAK: Vibes

Gasoline-I Prevail: Sort of similar to Riot, ("So burn it all down, burn it all down, I don't give a fuck")

Toxic-Britney Spears: The whole fandom knows how much of a piece of shit this dude can be, but we still find ourselves liking/enjoying his character (to an extent), a toxic addiction

Nice Guy-GRLwood: As much as I love this man, he'd use the "I'm a nice guy c'mon" card just to fuck. If he wants to, he'll get it, if he doesn't, he'll most likely get mad

Dernière danse-Indila: Vibes

TRRST-IC3PEAK: Mostly vibes, I kinda see this song as how he felt the first time he killed someone on purpose inside the borderlands ("mama they say I'm a terrorist, I did nothing wrong but I got on the blacklist")

Saint Bernard-Lincoln: Vibes

Nowhere To Run-Stegosaurus Rex: Being with him at the Beach would either be ignoring each other completely or a game of tag, no inbetween. If this man wants to kill you, he'll get his fun time out of it as well ("You're gonna die, I'm gonna kill you")

The House of Wolves-Bring Me The Horizon: Based on how he sees life after being consumed by his current mental state ("Show me a sign, show me a reason to give a solitary fuck about your god damn beliefs" "What you call faith, I call a sorry excuse")

Smells Blood-Kensuke Ushio: Vibes

SIU-Maretu: Similar to Daddy Issues, don't expect this man to be a therapist. If he sees anyone crying or panicking in or outside a game, he'd most likely tell them to suck it up, just like this song.

Judgement-Kensuke Ushio: Vibes

MONSTER ENERGY GUN!-KevinKempt: Vibes + He for sure has an energy drink addiction, specially pre-borderlands

HURT-1 800 PAIN: Vibes

Fear Is The Mind Killer-Zheani: Vibes

I Bet on Losing Dogs: Based on how I know Niragi is toxic, and most likely unsaveable of his deteriorating mental state, but I still have him as my biggest comfort character ("I bet on losing dogs, I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place")

Emo Boy-Ayesha Erotica: He's been in an emo phase (and maybe still is), the lyrics are pretty self explanatory, they describe us Niragi simps perfecrly ("come on fuck me emo boy")

Crybaby-Destroy Boys: Vibes

The Fox's Wedding-MASA Works DESIGEN: Vibes

You're a useless child-Kikuo: We don't know much about his past, but judging by the unstoppable bullying he's suffered, his parents didn't care about him, or were straight up absent. He's been insulted by pretty much everyone in his past to the point of believing it and telling those things to himself ("You're a useless child, the most useless child in this world" "Drool in snot, dandruff, shit and piss" "I'm a useless child" "Nobody will save me" "I'm a lonely kid")

Take A Slice-Glass Animals: Vibes

Fighting With The Melody-Jimmy Urine: Vibes

Comics-Caravan Palace: Vibes

Rhinestone Eyes-Gorillaz: Vibes

Butch 4 Butch-Rio Romero: Mostly vibes, sort of how I think the most "peacefull" moments in a relationship with him would feel like, kind of bittersweet feeling

Suki Suki Daisuki-Jun Togawa: Yandere Niragi. If he's interested in someone, he'd go through an obsessive phase, most likely forcing the other person to "love" him. This man is so confused about the feeling of love that he's unable to tell when he loves someone or when he's obsessed with them due to his lack of attention ("Like you, like you, I love you. Say you love me or I'll kill you")

:(-The Garden: Vibes

Kitty City-Cyriak Harris: Vibes

Blood-My Chemical Romance: If Niragi went to a therapist, he'd act like this song, with his signature cocky and sarcastic personality (at least before he gets better) ("I can't control myself because I don't know how" "They can fix me proper with a bit of luck" "I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love")

A Mask of My Own Face-Lemon Demon: He feels like he needs to protect himself or else he will get hurt inside the borderlands by others again. He uses another personality, a completely ruthless one, even if he doesn't like it and hates himself for it, he doesn't see another way to deal with his fear, allowing his "new self" to consume himself. ("I'd wear that mask of my own face" "I look into my eyeholes and what do I see? A handsome motherfucker motherfucking looking back at me")

I'm a Murderer-Freddie Dredd: Mostly vibes ("I'm a motherfucking murderer")

'Cause I'm a Liar-Mcki Robyns-P: He would lie just for fun even in serious situations. If he needs to manipulate someone to survive, he'll do it his way, after all, he doesn't care anymore, he just seeks for excitement. ("Without emotion, without devotion. It's much easier to fake something happy")

I Disagree-Poppy: I don't know exactly how to describe it, but I feel like this is how he sees and feels the world and those around him, feeling misunderstood and going his own way ("If only all of you could see the world I see, then maybe everyone could live in harmony")

Personal Jesus-Mindless Self Indulgence: He has a superiority complex, that's for sure. I don't think he sees himself as a god, but I see him joking about it

Rainbow Factory-GLAZE, WoodenToaster: Vibes

Frontier Psychiatrist-The Avalanches: I kinda see this as Aguni taking the role of Niragi's "father figure" inside the borderlands, realizing he's turning insane and is unable to control him ("That boy needs therapy")

Hate it. Hate it. "JIGAHIDAI!"-WADATAKEAKI Kurage P: Jealousy. I can see it either in a pre-borderland situation where he hates the popular students in school, or inside the borderlands hating both Chishiya and Arisu. Jealousy takes over him constructing a big ego, causing himself to develop his superiority complex ("You see, I hate that popular girl!" "Does she think I don't notice? How she looks at me as if I'm trash" "I want to be praised" "I'm different from you all, I have my own ego! I'm not a side character" "I have zero common sense. I'm special")

Villain-Stella Jang: He knows damn well he's a villain, that's his goal after all, but what if someone took his point of view? wouldn't the villains be all of those who hurted him in the first place? ("We all pretend to be the heroes on the good side, but what if we are the villains on the other")

Violent-carolesdaughter: This is how I view an argument inside a relationship with Niragi. He's used to violence, to cause fear, and getting what he wants, so being in a healthy relationship would require a lot of patience and strenght. While he's getting better and suppressing those violent actions, there will be times where he accidentally uses violence or threatens the other person unintentionally, mostly hurting himself and his partner psychologically. The lyrics change between both points of view ("Don't make me get violent, I want my ring back baby that's a diamond" "She knows I'm a wreck" "I gave you all my trust and I told you just don't break it")

Hey Bunny-Baby Bugs: Based on how I think it would feel to partner up with him inside the borderlands and catching feelings for him while knowing the huge mess he is ("Hey bunny, what's with those evil eyes?" "Hey bunny, what the hell is wrong with us?" "Hey bunny, what if I loose you too? If I become the monster, together we can always be blue")

Kokoronashi-majiko: I'm pretty sure Niragi isn't able to see himself as someone able to love, even if he doesn't want to be alone (just like when he confesses this feeling while fighting with Chishiya and Arisu). If someone truly loved him and was willing to not letting him go, it would hurt. He can't see himself as someone who can love or be loved, so he can't accept the love he's seeking for in case that turns him "weaker" making his true self confront with the protective mean personality he's created. He could learn how to accept it, so he might want the other person to stay in the end, but it wouldn't be easy for him to accept it ("It's awful, I'd rather you destroy my body, tear it to sheds, do as you please" "No matter how much I'm loved by you, my heart is just one" "I don't know this, don't leave me alone")

Nightmare Parade-FAKE TYPE.: Vibes

Slipping Through My Fingers-Meryl Streep, Amanda Seyfried: Niragi seeing himself loosing his young, gentle and caring personality due to his fear, being unable to control what's happening inside, nostalgia and sadness kicking in ("The feeling that I'm loosing her forever" "That funny little girl" "Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time")

Kuroneko No Tango-Pink Martini, The Von Trapps: Vibes

YKWIM?-Yot Club: Him confroting his feelings of loneliness when he's left alone with his thoughts ("It feels like I care too much when I'm alone, oh no")

Romantic Lover-Eyedress: Just appreciating his physical appearance ("She's a killer, I love her features")

Wrecking Ball-Mother Mother: Based on how he sees himself as someone who needs to destroy everything in a way or another in order to be powerful + the fun he has with it ("Call me a reckless wrecking ball" "Let's break it just because we can")

Edge-Rezz: Vibes

Freaks-Surf Curse: Again, confronting feelings when loving someone, but not in such a painful as Kokoronashi ("I need a place to stay where I can cover up my face" "Don't cry, I'm just a freak")

Little Bit-Lykke Li: Vibes

6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro/Con)-Will Wood and the Tapeworms: Vibes

PHONKY TOWN-PlayaPhonk: Vibes

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE-Måneskin: Freaky time. He would absolutely love this song, definitely his type of thing ("You could be the beauty and I could be the monster" "I wanna touch your body so fucking electric" "I wanna make you hungry, then I wanna feed you")

#BrooklynBloodPop!-SyKo: Vibes

A Cold Freezin' Night-The Books: Vibes

A Pearl-Mitski: My most favorite song to associate with Niragi. Represents his evolution as a character. Creating an scenario where he is loved by someone,he rejects it at first, acting tough ("I don't want your touch") and then proceeds to explain why ("It's just that I fell in love with a war, nobody told me it ended" "it left a pearl in my hand and I roll it around every night just to watch it glow") the war being the borderlands and his new personality, he loved it, but nobody drew a line and it's getting out of hand. The pearl is the feeling of power, the one he has to remember when feeling weak just to feel something. At the end of the song it changes to ("Sorry I can't take your touch"), realizing that he wants love, but he's not able to take it or else he'll become the Niragi from the past

Problematic-Bo Burnham: Him acknowledging his problematic actions but not wanting to apologize because he doesn't feel the need to. He knows he's done bad things but he is going to laugh at it and be a sarcastic mf about it

First Love/Late Spring-Mitski: Similar to Kokoronashi, he wouldn't be able to accept love and how it makes him feel. He would think that he prefers for everyone to hate him and be lonely instead of sacrificing his tougher side. Also talks about how he's grown way too quickly for him to understand feelings properly ("So please hurry leave me, I can't breathe, please don't say you love me" "One word from you and I would jump out of this ledge I'm on baby" "I was so young when I behaved 25, yet now I find I've grown into a tough child"

The Other Side Of Paradise-Glass Animals: Vibes

Bodybag-Chloe Moriondo: How I feel about liking his character, confronting feelings basically ("Don't know if I hate you or if I wanna date you" "I don't wanna like you, I just wanna tie you up, then keep you in a cage and watch you sleep for ages"

Get Into It (Yuh)-Doja Cat: Vibes

Psycho Killer-2005 Remaster- Talking Heads: Vibes

HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U!!!-CORPSE, Night Lovell: Vibes

INFERNO-Sub Urban, Bella Poarch: Again, another song that describes him pretty well ("Baby I'm the reason why hell's so hot" "Terribly like terrible, she's a villain" "Think I'm getting butterflies but it's really something telling me to run away")

Bad Morning-Omori: Vibes

Trouble Brewing: Vibes

Dueles Tan Bien-Bruses: Another song about my confronting feelings with this man ("You know what? You taste better than alcohol to me. You know that and you've got control" "Because you hurt, and you hurt so good that I don't know what to do")

And that's it!! This took me the whole day to write but it makes me very happy to be able to share it :)

I've you've read the entire thing, hope you enjoyed the character analysis! ლ(◞‿◟ლ)

#Spotify #imawa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland #alice in borderland netflix #niragi #niragi suguru #suguru niragi #character playlist #aib niragi #aib #overanalyzing niragi is my favorite hobby

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