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harvatat · 3 months

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heaven help a fool who falls in love || alhaitham, kaveh, tartaglia, wanderer, zhongli

alhaitham falls for your kindness and bravery- he finds both equally foolish traits, for they are traits that do not help anyone in the end, since they are as volatile as an architect he refuses to name, but when he is the recipient of said kindness and bravery? he has no answer to give. he sees your bravery in completing the most arduous tasks the Adventurers Guild can offer with devastating ease and your kindness in the distance. he sees more kindness in the space you give him when a certain task rubs him the wrong way and in the food you cook for him and the massages you offer him. he has tried so many times to leave you behind in the dust- he is not fit to be a lover, love does not come to him easily, but oh, you leave him weak in the knees and with a heart stuffed to burst, and despite his fears, he finds it hard to let go.

kaveh falls for your carefree nature- you do not let life hurt you, despite bleeding so many times. If it were him, he would have screamed and cried, and cursed the gods over and over and over and over again until he bled to death. but you are not like that, he surmises when he sees you at Puspa Café, chirping happily like a Dusk Bird with Aether and Paimon. however, your nonchalance does not extend to peers you care about deeply, and somehow, that includes him. you are overly concerned for him, kaveh thinks, and you will only stand to get hurt. everyone has only ever gotten hurt, there has never been anything good for him. but all of that is lost when he sees you in the market, chatting happily and cheering on friends and acquaintances alike, and wonders if you'd do the same for him.

tartaglia falls in love with your self-worth, or as most people call it, your arrogance. he knows better than to call it that, of course- as a soldier, it is important to be acknowledged for your efforts and rewarded for the pain you go through, and you, despite not being a soldier, demand that from your kith and kin. you would never have to demand it from him, tartaglia thinks as he sees you bow in thanks when the alchemist in inazuma lets you use the booth. you give as much respect as you are given, and that is the trait of a harbinger, a mastermind, no, the tsaritsa herself. such blasphemous thoughts should never be entertained, the delusion on his waist and his blood-red mask remind him, for who can be compared to the god of Cryo herself? she who has advanced snezhnaya and given him a home? but you too, have given him a home, he argues back, his delusion glowing a faint purple, mocking him silently. he attempts to avoid you, running in the other direction when he sees the ends of your hair shine in the sun- until you make your way to him one day, and ask why he'd been avoiding you. maybe the goddess of love would forgive his blasphemy, tartaglia thinks as he cooks up an apology, satisfying you with his silver tongue.

wanderer falls in love with your honesty- you tell him, the scorned one of the Vahumana darshan, about his attitude and how it hurts people, about his apparent good looks, about his intelligence and wisdom, all compliments and insults to which he responds with a scoff. a mere child should not be able to affect him this way, so why does his lead heart stir so uncomfortably when he sees you with your friends, running across darshans to attend madam faruzan or tighnari's lectures? you wish him a good morning, treat him just as horribly as he treats you that day, and have an infuriatingly large amount of self-respect- and he loves you for that. you do not judge him for his past, just his present, and just the 24 hours that reset every day. after everything he had done, everything that had happened to him, he supposes he can let you in, but he could never lie to you, so wait for him until he is honest, please.

zhongli falls in love with your wisdom. no, you would not normally be considered wise, in the typical sense, for your hair is not yet grey, and you do not have wrinkles or crows feet that symbolise a long life well-lived. no, your wisdom shines in the way you treat the people around you, interacting with them with due respect and kindness, with an extra dose of patience for the children. and he fears this flutter in his heart and skip of the beat when he sees you smile. he was never meant to be at peace or be happy, after all. but you draw him in, gently and with open arms, calming like the ocean that draws the sand in and he cannot help but drown in you, your wisdom and inherent sense of understanding comforting him more than his allies who lived and died and fought for him through the archon war and the war against khaenri'ah. maybe one day, he would reveal to you who he truly is, and maybe, he hopes silently, you would love him even then.

another repost lolol (from my old account @.ameleii)

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #kaveh #tartaglia #wanderer #scaramouche #zhongli #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #zhongli x reader

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murdockparker · 2 months

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Roses and Regrets - Part 1

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Freshly out of mourning, Lady Barlow, née (Y/L/N), makes her re-debut in society. If only she could simply ignore a certain viscount...

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: none. enemies to lovers!!

A/N: I didn't expect this lil requested fic to turn into such an event, let alone a multi-part story! so, you're welcome or I'm sorry?

next part

She was perfectly happy.

Well, supposedly right now she wasn’t.

Her husband, Lord Barlow, had passed away ten months ago, leaving her with an empty estate, a shiny title and more money than she knew what to do with. Lord Barlow was an old viscount, desperate for an heir and willing to do anything to get one.

In came Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

Young, beautiful and well-bred, she was the perfect choice for any man of the ton. If only her father hadn’t a penchant for gambling. Perhaps she’d be married to a man more suited for her rather than the oaf of a dustbin she was forced to be with. She was no fool in believing in a love match for herself, rare and far between as they were, no, but she did have half a mind to imagine a kinder man as her husband. A man who perhaps cared even a little bit for her wellbeing.

No matter.

A dead man cannot care for her wellbeing either.

“Lady Barlow,” a maid knocked, entering the ornate drawing room.

“Yes?” (Y/N) did not look up from her reading—the newest edition of Whistledown had just been delivered. While she herself was never one to gossip terribly, it was quite fun to keep up with the circus of the season.

“Do you plan on attending the Danbury ball this eve?”

“I do not see the point,” she scoffed playfully, “after all, Meg, I am but a widow in mourning.”

“Perhaps her ladyship should reconsider?” Meg asked gently, placing a new pot of tea next to her lady. “I rather think it has been a socially acceptable amount of time since your husband’s passing.”

“If I am not to enjoy the perks of being a widow,” (Y/N) sighed, finally looking up at her favorite lady’s maid, “whatever is the point?”

“Perks that Viscount Barlow has graciously allowed you to use during your time of mourning—”

“The current viscount is all but twelve,” (Y/N) reminded. “He has no use for this estate in Mayfair until he himself becomes an adult, in which, I am sure he and his mother will come to make use of it. I believe if my maths are correct, that leaves me all of six years or so to use this home.”

“Forgive me my lady, but should you not be looking for a new husband, then?”

(Y/N) smiled at Meg. She enjoyed their friendship, her maid being only a handful of years older than herself, it made for a likely pair. “No one wishes to marry a widow,” she said simply, “widows are damaged goods. Every sensible man of the ton will be wanting a pretty little virgin instead.”

“My lady!”

“What?” She barked a laugh. “You know it to be true.”

“Regardless,” Meg said, clearing her throat. “Lord Barlow passed nearly a year ago, the period of mourning is rightfully over. You are expected to rejoin society.”

“Dreadful.”

“It is expected,” Meg repeated.

“It does not make it any less dreadful,” (Y/N) said. “Very well. Pull a dress and prepare a bath, it seems the ton gets to see my dreary face once again.”

—

Anthony Bridgerton was a man scorned.

Particularly by his own mother in this very instance. How foolish he had been to share his intentions of marriage this season with her—for now she spread the news like a wildfire. Every desperate mama and her equally desperate daughter came flocking to him like bees to honey.

It was only now, in the dark corner of the ballroom, that he found a respite.

“Looking a bit green, Lord Bridgerton,” a voice beside him called out.

“I am not—” Anthony had huffed a reply before even knowing whom he was speaking to. “Lady Barlow.”

“I am shocked you can recall my name,” (Y/N) laughed over her champagne flute. “Considering how many new ones you’ve had thrown at you this eve.”

“You are out of mourning.”

“Is that a question?”

“It was an observation,” Anthony corrected.

“What gave it away? My bright dress? No tear stains left on my cheeks?”

“You are here, out and about,” Anthony said. “And, forgive me for not playing along with your delusions, but I do not think you cried much at all for Lord Barlow’s passing.”

“How dare you assume such a thing,” (Y/N) faux gasped. She had intended on pressing a hand to her chest. Intended, anyway. Somehow she forgot all about the champagne currently residing it her grasp. “Damn… this was a new dress too.”

“Good God,” he laughed. “First you are spilling all over yourself like a child and now you are cursing—tell me, do all married ladies act like you?”

“I am a widow,” (Y/N) had found a cloth and begun dabbing up the spill. It had only dribbled at most, but still, it was a new dress. “I rather think I can act the way I please.”

“Like a drunkard?”

“Like a free woman,” she said, fighting every childish urge to stick her tongue out at the viscount. “I am only here to show my face, prove I am still alive and I shall go about my merry way.”

“Lady Danbury is a widow,” Anthony noted. “Yet she still mingles with society.”

“I am not Lady Danbury.”

“You are not.”

“Do you not have young misses to go and woo?” (Y/N)’s eyes hardened. “Take your pick from the litter, Lord Bridgerton, any of them would be pleased to spend such valuable time with you.”

“Are you insinuating you are not?”

“I rather thought it was a statement, yes,” (Y/N) said.

Anthony’s eyes went only a fraction wider, nostrils flaring. “Well, if that is what you wish—”

“It is not a mean of wishing,” she laughed, “but really a necessity.”

“Good evening, Lady Barlow,” Anthony sneered, smoke practically coming out of his ears. If (Y/N) had half a mind she’d call for the authorities to put that fire out, instead, she simply finished her drink and smiled wistfully at the dancing ballroom, feeling fulfilled.

—

Dearest Gentle Reader,

The season is in full swing thanks to the mark of Lady Agatha Danbury’s ball, a notable and traditional first event of the London scene. Eligible young ladies now on the Marriage Mart were enjoying their first taste at what fine society has to offer, however taxing or daunting it may be.

Our resident Capital ‘R’ Rake, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton is finally deciding on a wife, surely making him the finest catch of the season. Matchmaking mamas and their young ladies alike were seen flocking to him like petulant children asking their parents for pin money, thanks to his own mother, Lady Bridgerton’s declaration of such an idea last night. The viscount seemingly had enough of the attention, taking like a wallflower and hiding away in the back of the ballroom near the end of the evening.

His company? None other than Lady Barlow, evidently out of mourning as of last night. While the this Author is under good authority that the match between Lady Barlow and the late Lord Barlow was not a love match, given their fourty or fifty year age difference, it has taken the new dowager viscountess longer than most anticipated for her to get back into the season. A woman as young as Lady Barlow would be eager to find another husband to support her, but something tells me that she is quite enjoying her time as a widow and will not easily give that up.

While this Author has very little idea of the actual nature of the relationship between Lord Bridgerton and Lady Barlow, it is only to be assumed that it is simply not a favorable one. The two were seen making a scene by the refreshment table, a scene that went unnoticed by many prying eyes of the ton, leaving Lord Bridgerton storming away and Lady Barlow with the winning hand.

Good show, Lady Barlow.

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

—

“Brother! You are in Whistledown!” Eloise sang to no one in particular.

“I have no care that I am in that gossip rag,” Anthony ground out, rustling his newspaper. “I can only imagine it is just another advertisement of my search for a wife this season.”

“Er, yes, however—”

“However?” Anthony’s attention immediately shot up to his sister, newspaper be damned.

“Who is Lady Barlow?” Eloise asked.

“No one of importance,” Anthony could feel his temperature rising.

“Lady Barlow?” Benedict laughed. “Is that who you were talking to last night dear Brother? Is she not still in mourning?”

“No.”

“No it is not who you were talking to, or no she is not still in mourning?” Benedict gave his brother an amusing glance.

“Oh, according to Whistledown—”

“Sister—”

“Eloise, you may not recall Lady Barlow, given you only just came out this season,” Benedict began, deciding that this conversation was very much worth his time this morning. “But she used to go by Miss (Y/L/N) before her marriage to the late viscount.”

“(Y/L/N)…” Eloise looked to the ceiling, finding nothing in particular. “Oh! Is she not the woman who—”

“I am taking my leave,” Anthony said abruptly, newspaper all but forgotten.

“Escaping, Brother?” Benedict asked.

“I have calls to make,” Anthony sneered, ignoring the pleased face his brother was making. “Excuse me.”

“It seems Lady Barlow is a touchy subject,” Eloise noted as her eldest brother left the drawing room. Benedict snorted. “What?”

“You do not even know the half of it, dear Sister.”

Anthony Bridgerton, did not in fact, have any calls to make. He had no impressionable interactions last night to warrant such a visit to anyone—the Queen was still in need of naming her diamond, after all—but he had no desire to stay and be berated by his family this morning. He truly had no plan, no thought in his head on where he was going, he just simply was.

Apparently he was going to the park.

It was still early in the day, few people graced the park at such an hour. The few who did, however, were too busy reading the latest Whistledown to even notice him. Anthony saw a handful of post boys running opposite of his direction on his way here, it was only natural they scoped out this location. He knew it was going to be a problem the minute they finished reading—if Lady Whistledown truly wrote about him, which he had no reason to believe his sister was lying about, all eyes would be on him.

“Might as well enjoy the peace and quiet for now,” Anthony exhaled. He took a quick glance at his watch—half past eight. Hardly could he recall a time he took a turn about the park on his own, usually he was in the company of his family or holed away in his study worrying about expenses and the like, never did he take a moment to actually enjoy the grand weather such as the kind today. Determined to enjoy it, he sat down on a favorable bench and watched the birds swim across the pond.

“Unbelievable.”

He turned his head, only to find Lady Barlow dressed in a rather pleasantly pink dress and matching hat, a look of distaste on her face.

“I didn’t take you as the park-going type, Lord Bridgerton,” she nodded, folding her hands. She had been carrying a small red book in one of them. “Especially at such an early hour, too.”

“Lady Barlow,” he nearly sneered. “Can a man not enjoy the park?”

“Oh surely a man can,” (Y/N) agreed. “But you? You are no man.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It seems to me that you’re sitting in my spot,” she ignored his quip, readjusting her stance in annoyance. “This is where I come to read.”

“Can you not read elsewhere?” Anthony asked. “There is an entire park at your disposal.”

“No,” she hummed. “Afraid not.”

“No?” He laughed. “Surely out of the entire park you can find a suitable spot to read your—let me guess—romantically inclined fodder?”

“Poetry,” she corrected, “and no, I cannot simply read elsewhere. The shade is just right under this tree and I rather like overlooking the pond between my chapters.”

“Shame I got here first, then,” Anthony clicked.

“You…!” (Y/N) scoffed, fighting every urge in her body to stomp her foot. “You are an impossible man, surely you know that?”

“I thought you said I was no man?” Anthony’s brow quirked. “Or perhaps I misheard?”

She scowled. “You are not amusing.”

“On the contrary,” Anthony leaned back on the bench, stretching his arms and taking his claim. “I find myself very amusing.”

A duck quacked from the pond, either laughing at the viscount or agreeing with him—it was hard to tell.

“You leave me no choice,” (Y/N) said sternly, taking a seat on the other end of the bench—feeling worlds apart from the man on the far side. In actuality, it couldn’t have been more than two feet, three at most.

“Truly?” Anthony laughed humorlessly. “You cannot be serious.”

“Hush,” (Y/N) said, opening her book in earnest. “I am trying to read.”

While there had been no guns drawn, this was a duel, in every sense of the word. Both parties sitting still as statues, Anthony’s gaze trained on the pond, (Y/N)’s on her book. Occasionally, she’d flip her page to the next, huffing every time Anthony still did not get up and move on.

Stubborn. Both of them.

“Will you be quiet?” Anthony said, growing exasperated. “I cannot think when you are breathing so loud—”

“You wish for me not to breathe?” She shut her book. “I never anticipated you’d wish me dead—”

“Please,” Anthony said. “You know that is not what I mean at all.”

“I never know with you. You, Anthony Bridgerton, are an enigma and I hope I never have the pleasure of truly understanding you,” (Y/N) said, fingers whiting from her grip on her book.

“So you admit it would be pleasurable?”

She wanted to wipe that grin off of his face, how, she was unsure. Idly, she thought about how a good smack to his cheek would feel. Painful in the moment but oh-so wonderful after, cathartic, probably. “I am not getting up.”

“Neither am I.”

“I am willing to die on this bench,” (Y/N) spat.

“Funnily enough,” Anthony’s voice dropped, “so am I.”

“How are you to find your viscountess on this bench?” She asked, angling her body towards the torturous man. “Surely you do not expect her to just walk past?”

“I am sure I can manage,” Anthony said calmly. “Many young ladies will walk this way when they see me sitting here."

“Even with another woman sitting beside you?”

“I rather think they’ll find you easy to ignore, I know I do.”

“Ha! You are truly something else, Lord Bridgerton,” (Y/N) sat straighter. “Insulting a polite woman in public?”

“You are the furthest thing from polite,” Anthony leaned in. “Rude, ostentatious, quite full of herself—”

“Might I offer you a mirror?” The grip on her book tightened, cover bending from the force. “Or are you afraid you’ll see horns?”

“Oh, do they match yours?” He nearly sang.

“Funny,” she clicked, finally setting her book down, lacing her fingers together in her lap. “You should run a comedy act at the circus, seeing as you are a right clown.”

Anthony stood up, whether by the force of his breath or sheer spite he will never know. “You are the most ridiculous woman I have ever met.”

(Y/N) met his height, now standing as well. “And you are the most irritating man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“I am going to walk this way,” Anthony said, forcefully pointing to his right, eyes not leaving hers. She did have the most remarkable eyes.

“And I will walk this way,” she pointed to her left, less force in her action but seething all the same. “Have the day you deserve, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Why you little…!”

She had already turned and stomped away, a fuming smudge of pink against the greenery of the park, growing further away with every step.

“What a wretched woman,” he mumbled, looking down at his watch again—nine on-the-dot. In the corner of his eye, something bright red caught his attention. Her book. She had left it behind.

Perhaps he would burn it.

Perhaps he would just put it in his pocket and carry about his day.

In the pocket it went. For now.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #enemies to lovers #multi-part fic #reader insert #whoops i didn't expect this request to turn into a multiple part thing but here we are #unsure of how many parts but probably no more than 4-5?#idk

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ystrike1 · 6 months

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Ashe: the coveted maid - By Yoo Rang Baam (9/10)

This is a lovely yandere fairy tale. The art is fairly generic in some panels. It is short. If the art consistently matched the cover page it would be an instant classic. Two lost, unwanted young lovers take over a corrupt mansion. They're damaged, and devoted. There's mutual love and happiness galore, after the true heir dies a gruesome death.

Ashe is a pretty dummy. She's been sold to a certain family. The heir, Lance, is a giant perv. He uses his maids as his personal harem. Ashe is just another body.

Lance is handsome. Perfect. Most of his maids are noble women who are actively trying to marry him. His blue blood protects him from any and all consequences. Ashe fears him. She humiliates herself for him, but it's never enough.

Ashe is skittish and uneducated because her mother disliked her. Her sister was even prettier than her. Her sister married a wealthy man. She secured a huge dowry for her mother. Her mother put a huge amount of pressure on her. Told Ashe she somehow had to bring home more bacon than her super lucky Goddess of a sister.

She, of course, collapsed under the pressure. Her mother eventually sold her to Lance to make a buck.

Ashe eventually meets Tristan, the bastard son. He's sort of like her. Everybody treats him like a ghost. He must live in a secret basement. He is the son of a maid. Nobody really knows why he's still alive. Lance could have killed him, but Lance is evil.

He likes to taunt his brother, and leave him in squalor.

Eventually, Ashe and Tristan become lovers.

Lance hates his competition. He's the type of heir that knows he isn't that impressive deep down. All he has is his family name and money. He scarred Tristan to make him a monster. A tainted thing. He knows he's not that smart, so he calls Tristan a fake. He abuses his brother to make himself more powerful.

Tristan changes when he watches Lance abuse Ashe. He decides to let it all go. He cannot win. He wants to be happy. He tells Ashe he will run away with her, after he scrouges up some money.

He's free of the stupid chains Lance wrapped around him.

Her honest love saves him from life as an abused doll.

Lance falls down a cliff.

Now, I don't think this is a coincidence. The author specifically mentions that Lance abuses noble ladies. No doubt an angry father paid off his coachman and well...now he's even more horribly mangled than Tristan.

The house turns on Lance.

They lock Lance in the secret room, bloody and angry.

Ashe has no idea what's happening, but the house needs a leader. Tristan has been given the chance to take over.

He plans to marry Ashe (she was sold, but her mother is a noble)

Ashe runs to the secret room. Tristan used to see her almost every day. When he doesn’t visit for a week she panics.

When she checks his bed she finds Lance.

He stabs her eye out.

He has gone mad.

Why?

Well, everybody abandoned him as soon as he became disabled. He has no friends to speak of and his only good feature was his looks. One sign of weakness was it. He was deemed unfit and left to rot.

He stabs Ashe because she truly cares about Tristan, even though he has nothing to his name but kindness.

Tristan fetches his foolish love.

She tries to run.

She tells him she is ruined.

He laughs and says he will destroy anyone who dares to mention her disfigured face. She belongs by his side, proud and happy.

When they have their blowout wedding he wears lace over his scar from Lance. She wears lace too, to cover the missing eye Lance took from her.

They live happily despite his cruelty.

He definitely died off screen on Tristan's order, after he stabbed Ashe.

A tradition becomes the norm in the mansion. Every staff member and every guest must wear lace on their face. No one will ever see or comment on Ashe's face, or Tristan's. They are above reproach, and the lace masks represent them moving on. Forgetting about those who abused them.

Also, of course, it is a warning.

Any comments about the disfigured Lord or Lady will not be tolerated.

Beware.

It's not easy to anger the Lord of the house, but if you do you will lose.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #Ashe: the coveted maid

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bonefall · 5 months

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I kind of feel evil for asking this, but how does the fact that Brightheart is considered the hottest molly in the forest while Cloudtail is considered rather ugly affect their relationship? (Also the love the Better Bones Au!)

I think in other couples, it might, but for them it doesn't. Y'know? Other cats might be shallow, or insecure that they're considered so unattractive while their mate is "out of their league," but that's simply not Cloudtail and Brightheart.

You see, a short king like Cloudtail only has a certain amount of floorspace with which to store their confidence. In a tall guy, it spreads all out and gets thin. In a boy who is short? It's concentrated. Absolutely distilled to its purest essence. You cannot divide him. This man is a carbon molecule, and babey, Brightheart is 6 electrons.

He's like Danny Devito. When does Danny Devito ever stop and lament his appearance? That man is a comedic orb. That's Cloudtail.

Brightheart ironically is the one who's more insecure. The death of her cousin and Bluestar's Dishonor Title, Swifthound, really wrecked her. She has a bad habit of feeling like she doesn't deserve the good things she has.

In BB's Clan Culture, scars are desirable. She feels like she doesn't deserve to have such markers of strength. What she did in following Swiftpaw towards the dogs that night wasn't noble, it was foolish. So walking away from it with trophies that she feels she didn't earn is painful.

In a way, she feels like that with Cloudtail, too. What did she do to deserve him? He supports her in everything she does. He does everything in his power to make her feel better. When she suggests surrogating for their friends in other Clans? He thinks that's great! If she wanted to go on a trip with Cinderheart to the town? He'd cheer! She knows, deep in her heart, if she ever DID want to become a Cleric, Cloudtail loves her enough to let her go.

And that hurts, sometimes. When she struggles with self-worth. She feels like it's not fair she's loved so much.

So... basically, maybe in another couple who was more shallow. But these two have something a lot deeper going on.

#better bones au #BB!Brightheart #BB!Cloudtail #My favorite Cloudtail is the ones where he's short. Fluffy. And full of shout. Someone who loves aggressively.

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dealwithadeer · 4 months

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Okay but what about onesided!Radiohusk with Husk being the one unfortunate enough to love the Radio Demon.

Hear me out:

It would have started during one of the Overlord meetings. Husk would have been relatively new to the scene but already having made himself some kind of name. And even though they both came from different times, considering how Overlord!Husk looked and that Husk has a weakness for magic shows and music and that he grew up in Las Vegas they both had a sense for style and showmanship. Although Husk was not really a fan of Als cannibalism, but Alastor can be quite charming when he wants to be.

Maybe Alastor frequented Husks casino from time to time, played a few round 'just for fun' and lost more often than not. The House always wins and all that jazz. Speaking of jazz, maybe they even had a few songs together, considering Husk can play the piano and the saxophone.

And Husk, even though he should and does know better, actually started to feel something for the Radio Demon.

Then he started to fall on hard times and Alastor offered to help with a few games. One thing came to another and he was foolish enough to believe that whatever they had would dissuade Alastor from actually wanting to win Husks soul, a foolish part having thought and hoped that Al would have let him win. Which explained the way he had reached out with a somewhat sad expression.

Husk had at that moment not yet figured out, that 'what they had' amounted to Alastor to a simple 'You are entertaining and useful and so I am going to keep you'

Alastor stripped him of everything he once owned except for his powers, treating him like nothing more than an amusing pet and subordinate from that day on.

Except for the few times at certain times, when Alastor was bored enough to ask Husk to make him 'the usual' and for a short time things were like how they used to be.

'I lost the ability to love years ago' And in a way he did, whenever he would think of Alastor and that stupid, dumb feeling would come up, Husk would grab the nearest bootle and drink it empty until whatever he had been feeling would be washed away by drunkenness.

Husk was the only one in hell who cared about Alastors year long absence. Of course, there were rumors and of course Husk would not even admit it to anyone even if you were to rip out both of his wings, let them regrow and then rip them off again that he was worried for Al but after the third year he was. Well, he would always have alcohol and gambling. The two things that had yet to betray him although gambling had betrayed him a multiple of times.

He is both relieved and a bit scared when Alastor summons him to the Hotel but they both only meet or interact rarely, Husk becomes too busy with the other Hotel residents and Alastor is too busy with .. whatever Al is actually planning behind the scenes.

Husk has a certain distaste for Mimzy. It has nothing to do at all with the fact that Mimzy even though she only came by when she needed something from Alastor, mainly protection from problems she caused, still gets better treatment from Alastor than him.

When Husk goes to tell Alastor, his boss as he loaths to but has accepted to call him, once again about his opinion on Mimzy and that Alastor should tell her to leave he also lets a few drops of his honest concern in about Alastors absence.

Husks concern however has its limits as it ended with Alastors basically telling him that yes, Husk was his 'pet'.

And Alastors patience with him, despite something akin to a friendship in the times before he lost his soul, despite the centuries of service and drunk nights spent , despite Husk being one if not the only person in all of Hell to actually give a damn about the Radio Demon, apparently had its limits too.

#may make another one where Alastor is the one 'in love'#of sorts #yes I know he is canonically aroace but creating an AU where he actually cares about #any other person beside himself is at this point already wild #but yes #Husk being the one who had at one point fallen in love with Alastor before he lost his soul #would be quite something #your choice wether Alastor knows about this or not #radiohusk #Husk Hazbin Hotel #Alastor Hazbin Hotel #husk x alastor

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terapsina · 2 years

Text

Reasons to watch Love Between Fairy and Devil.

A Chinese fantasy romantic drama with a dash of comedy in the beginning and a huge wallop of angst in the second half.

One, the romance.

(take careful note of this gesture, please, it will break your hearts in the future)

Okay, so this is honestly one of the best told love stories I've watched in recent memory. And that is honestly very impressive when you consider how very easy it is to mess up this kind of love story.

She's Xiao Lanhua (or 'Little Orchid Fairy'), bright and innocent and kind. And in the beginning more than a bit naive and foolish. A fairy who is looked down on because of her damaged immortal root, who bends under the pressure of the bullying she's always known from the other fairies. Lonely in her home of Arbiter Hall where she looks after the destiny books alone by herself because her shifu left to wander the mortal realms.

He's Dongfang Qingcang. The Moon Supreme, the leader of the Moon Tribe who has been imprisoned following the last war between his people and the Heavenly Realm 30'000 years ago. He's cold and unfeeling and quite literally heartless (this involves fantasy reasons and some pretty horrible childhood trauma that gets slowly unraveled through the story).

And in the beginning the only reason he doesn't kill her as soon as he's free is that there's an accidental curse that ties his life to hers. If she dies so does he. If she's cut, so is he. And whatever emotion she feels, he will feel too. Whatever order she gives, he must follow. And sometimes, under certain conditions, they switch bodies.

(the actors have great fun with it, warning of huge amounts of second-hand embarrassment in two out of 36 episodes, I nearly died, it was worth it)

He keeps her safe because he has no choice.

And the thing is that he doesn't actually ever try to seduce her. The normal formula of this kind of story is 'he lies, seduces her, then falls in love, but still breaks her heart, she forgives him' right? This show though? It plays with the formula, yeah, but it twists it in a very interesting (in my opinion) way.

There's a misunderstanding between them. And here's some of the comedy of the show. She thinks he's fallen in love with her and she's trying to gently let him down. Meanwhile he's not actually pretending that he's in love with her, he's just not telling her exactly why he can't let her out of his sight.

And the development in both their characters is incredibly detailed and intricate. They both grow immensely through the story. As Dongfang Qingcang first experiences emotions through her and then as his own emotions begin to wake up following that. As Xiao Lanhua starts out wanting to return to her normal life and then falls in love not only with him but also his land and his people.

They're very Hades and Persephone (minor kidnappings including). And very Romeo and Juliet (though more mature about it, she isn't actually willing to compromise her own morality just because she's fallen in love with him).

And their love story isn't at all rushed. It takes nearly three quarters of the story for them both to fall in love, it is gradual and believable and mutual. And then once they have fallen in love despite the fact that there are all kinds of very familiar angsty plots thrown at them, none of them get dragged out to annoying lengths and many of them get resolved in very refreshing ways.

(angst, there will be such big whallops of angst, my friends)

But the romance is not the ONLY thing this show has going for it. It is what changes the fate of all three realms, yes, but there are other relationships that deserve to be mentioned.

And other characters, because this is actually a pretty beautifully built ensemble show.

One character is Dongfang Qingcang's brother Xun Feng, the character that in a different show would be the malicious underhanded brother who wants to steal his brother's throne and cares only of power.

Here though, after an old secret is revealed and he finds out the truth behind the reason (a good one) he's hated his brother for thousands of years his wish to rebuild his relationship with his brother is genuine. And though there are things he does after that which could have been because of cruelty in a different show, here they are simply misguided.

(there are lots of awkward Dongfang Qingcang trying to show affection for the first time since childhood scenes, they're adorable, and hilarious)

Then there's the false friendship between Xiao Lanhua and Jie Li which slowly develops into a real one through the power of Xiao Lanhua being simply too stubborn and too good and too genuine for Jie Li to remain stone against.

(here portrayed scene of Jie Li flinching under horror that is Dongfang Qingcang doing his very best to make Xiao Lanhua as ugly and unattractive as possible)

Jie Li is an orphan of the Moon Tribe from Haishi City who has spent her entire life scrapping for survival by lying and cheating. Including by selling to Xiao Lanhua fake cures for her damaged immortal root.

Again, there are certain ways you'd expect her story to go. You'd be wrong.

And then the relationship between Dongfang Qingcang and his most loyal guard, the Black Dragon Shang Que.

(here shown the reaction to the miracle of his lord patting his brother on the shoulder).

Poor dragon needs to deal with a lot and deserves a raise. He's also just as dumb as the rest of them. And FYI falls in love with Jie Li.

And then of course is the very healthy way this show portrays unrequited love too.

There are two characters who this is shown through. One is fairy Dan Yin who is in love with the God of War Chang Heng and is introduced as a spoiled bully but very quickly is shown being capable of fairness and ultimately gets developed into a character that you want to see gaining happiness.

The other character is Chang Heng himself who is secretly in love with Xiao Lanhua (who actually does have a crush on him bourne from gratefulness and a little hero-worship at the start of the story), but he ultimately loses his chance through inaction and silence that he abandons too late. But I want to make clear that he is not an unlikable character. In a different show he would have been the other lead. Just... not in this one.

Anyway, the two characters experience unrequited affection and though both go through stages of denial and unwillingness to abandon hope, neither do either one of them ever turns into something despicable - and when the time where they must choose between selfishness that would hurt the ones they love, and selflessness that would save them comes around both do the right thing.

Which is something I found refreshing and a relief.

And this show has so many relationships that get fully developed and explored. Not simply between the main couple and those around them. But between the secondary characters themselves. Other than the relationships I've already mentioned, other ones that have their chance in the sun are Xiao Lanhua and Dan Yin, Dan Yin and Jie Li, Dongfang Qingcang and Chang Heng, Xun Feng and Xiao Lanhua. And more besides.

And then there's the villain of the story who is both monstrous and utterly unforgivable and yet also has a very sad story and motivations for what they do. I can't really say anything more though.

Basically I just really recommend this show to fans of fantasy and people with a weakness for a very compelling, well developed love story.

For those interested, the first five episodes are available to be watched free on the official streaming site here (at which point you can decide if it's worth subscribing for a single month to finish watching).

I think it's also going to be available on Netflix on September 18, 2022 update: September 9, 2022.

That's of course for the... official sites. There are of course other options available 🏴‍☠️.

P.S. I finished the entire show with all its 36 episodes in three days (despite it being my first time watching a live action Chinese TV series) am now going into withdrawal. Seriously, this show is SO GOOD, I PROMISE.

P.P.S. It's got a happy ending. I will not tell you anything other than that. But yes, it's got a happy ending.

#love between fairy and devil #xiao lanhua #xiao lan hua #dongfang qingcang #xun feng #jie li #shang que #dan yin #chang heng #terapsina rambles #can lan jue #苍兰诀 #tv rec #tv recs #otp: in thousands of identical orchids i will find you in an instant #terapsina's lbfad rambles #moon orchid

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dross-the-fish · 7 months

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Please please please

fem pronouns anon comforting Adam after Dorian Gray. Angst to fluff, if it's not asking to much a romantic kiss and some spice?

I will fucking PAY you if you give me this.

Feel free to tip me via my Kofi if you like it. This is actually going to cover about 3 of the drabble requests. 2 of them were specifically for fem-pronouns anon comforting Adam after the Dorian incident so this should cover quite a few bases.

....

Following the incident at Dorian Gray’s mansion I retreated into a state of semi-solitude. I rarely left my quarters and only came down when I required food or when I was needed for some duty that could not be handled without my great strength. To describe my mood as morose in recent days was inadequate. I was consumed by a stew of miserable emotions such that I had scarcely felt before. Dorian had accomplished something no other ever had. He’d made me feel small. Even Victor, hurling abuses at me, had never managed to strip me of my pride the way Gray had. I misliked the feeling and there was a deep need within me to show Dorian Gray that I was not to be trifled with. I’m sure he thought that one so ugly as myself must be grateful for crumbs, that I would simply tolerate his mistreatment of me because he was fair of face and I was not.

It was true that I was too easily moved by beauty, but I was not so foolish as to allow myself to be enslaved. I had proven as much and I longed to do more still. There was a desire in me to grasp Dorian’s pretty head by those golden curls and hold his face into a scorching pyre until he came away as wretched and grotesque as myself. Can one still smile so cruelly if they no longer have lips? Perhaps I would hate him less if he were charred and forced to walk the world in the new face I’d given him. My own brand on him, showing off my “conquest.”

And yet, there was some part of me that could not relish the thought as much as I wanted. I knew that no amount of fire could ever burn away the touch of his hands from my skin.

I do not like to be mastered.

There was still more to the matter. Loathe though I am to admit it, what had drawn me to Dorian’s beauty was how much he had resembled the others. The bride, the child, the face in the locket. Golden hair, blue eyes, and rosy-pale skin, mocking me and taunting me with that which I could never have, reminding me with their loveliness that I was monstrous. They had all looked upon me with horror and fear. It was foolish of me to think Dorian might look at me with tenderness instead. It had not occurred to me that there could come a day where someone, lacking in fear of me, would choose to dangle that which I craved before my eyes and use it to mock me.

One thing was for certain, I would not allow him to walk away from this unscathed.

It was in this state of pensive melancholy that Anon found me, seated by the fire place in a comfortable chair that had been built to accommodate my large size. When I glanced over at her she took a halting step back. I willed my face to soften, aware that I must have looked dreadful in my enraged state.

“I-I just wanted to check on you. I brought some tea” she stammered, holding out a tray for me to see.

I lifted a hand and gestured for her to approach, sharply, crooking my fingers inward towards my palm “Fine, I will allow it. Come here,” I was, perhaps, more curt than I had intended for it took her a moment to summon her courage before she crossed the room. She paused again half way and glanced back at the door. Clearly she was having second thoughts…

I fought to keep from saying something harsh. In my current state of emotional rawness her hesitance risked raising my ire. Anon was the most recent addition to the group, yet I had hoped in the weeks we’d been together she had become accustomed to me. We had seen each other almost daily and I found her company agreeable, for she was quiet and thoughtful. Though maybe that was only because a certain fear of me kept her reserved. Still, she was making an effort now and she had brought me tea, I could not deny that I felt ingratiated to her for her kindness. I was fond of her, even if she did not yet think me her friend.

She set the tray on the end table beside me. I noticed something intriguing about the arrangement. Something which did much to improve my mood.

“I see you have provided two cups,” I commented, flickering my eyes back at her. Even seated I didn’t need to look up to meet her gaze. When she smiled and nodded, I indicated the vacant chair across from mine.

“Sit, join me. I have been too long in my own head tonight. It will do me good to have company,” recalling Dr. Watson’s lessons on courtesy and feeling slightly guilty over my gruffness, I took to filling both cups and even managed a smile as I handed hers to her. I was a gentleman now. I must not forget that. Watson had stressed to me the importance of conducting myself as a gentleman if I wished to be perceived favorably. He reminded me often to mind myself. Kind as he was it was as if he was afraid that if I forgot for even an instant the fine manners he had taught me I would devolve into a beast. I was sure my behavior at Gray’s breakfast had colored his perception of me.

He hadn’t looked me in the eyes since I had nearly killed Gray.

“I heard about Dorian Gray. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Anon said timidly.

My cup stopped halfway to my lips. I held it there, staring her down as I resisted the urge to curl my lip, “I asked for your company. I don’t need your pity,” It was difficult not to be sharp, my pain was still fresh and my patience thin.

She frowned at me, “It’s not pity. I’ve known people like Dorian Gray! You don’t deserve what he did and it’s not fair that he got away with it!”

I was taken aback by her passion. She had risen from her chair and was standing, hand clenched in a fist with her whole body vibrating. She truly was angry on my behalf. I set my untasted tea down and stared at her in mild shock.

“No, it is not fair and I do not intend to let him get away with it.”

Anon flinched at the cold resolve in my voice. She seemed to mull over her words very carefully before she spoke again, “I don’t think you should go after him. As much as he might have hurt you, I don’t think hurting him back is the answer.”

“What is the answer then?” I snarled, all attempts to be restrained forgotten, “Do I continue to go through life letting people abuse me? Shall I watch every other soul around me experience the joys of good will and compassion while I must be eternally grateful if those individuals do not choose to strike and curse me? Shall I take an absence of outright cruelty as benevolence?! What generous charity it is that people do not beat me or shoot me! Yes! For one as ugly as I it is an act of kindness when those who are themselves beautiful do me the gracious good of withholding their violence!” I had worked myself in to a rage and there was no stopping it until it had run its course, “I will not be content any longer! I tell you this, Anon, if a man dares to strike me again, I will not turn my other cheek to him! It is my teeth he will get! If I am to be made no better than a dog who may eat scraps but never be welcome at the table then I will tear throats!” seeing her cower I quieted, heaving a deep sigh and feeling remorseful for my outburst. At any rate, I was too wearied at the thought of continuing to curry favor with mankind to be passionate any longer.

“I thought when I left the arctic the world would be different, but it is not. Kindness for those like me does not exist outside of this group and even within it I must always be wary of breaking invisible rules lest my tenuously granted humanity be revoked,” I could feel my eyes begin to sting. My heart ached, as it always did when my anger ran its course, “I am so tired…” I confessed brokenly. I held out my hand to her, I was pleading with her and I no longer knew for what.

Her hand met mine and held there. Through the language of touch something passed between us, an understanding that reached me despite myself. Trembling a little I held her gaze and lifted her hand to my lips. I am not a monster. I am a gentleman.

I am…

I am only a man. No more good nor evil than any other despite my countenance.

I needed someone to see that. I kissed her hand, as delicately as I could with my malformed lips. She never broke my gaze and when I released her, she reached out to touch my face. It was then I shut my eyes. Wanting nothing to exist in the moment but her touch. When she traced the scars of the stitches that had held my skin together. I came undone, tears slipping through my closed eye lids. She kissed my brow, I tilted my face up, silently begging for more. I had no pride left, only a hollow ache that refused to go away.

With the softest, barest, touches her lips lighted against my face. They whispered over my cheeks, fluttered against the tracks of my tears and finally landed once upon my mouth. She drew my head to her shoulder and stroked my hair. I held her to me and cried into the soft material of her blouse. She cried with me. If she lacked in courage before she made up for it now in kindness and what she gave me I took greedily.

She kissed me again, longer, more lingering. My hands found her waist, drawing her closer, needing more of her. There was a growing desperation in my kiss and it was with great reluctance that I finally forced myself to pull back before I took more than had been offered.

“I’m sorry. That was not appropriate,” I stood and straightened, forgetting my cold tea and my brooding.

She grasped my arm and shook her head “I care about you, Adam. It wasn’t pity that brought me here tonight. It wasn’t fear that made me nervous either,” a blush crept across her cheeks as she confessed shyly.

My shock must have been obvious for she squeezed my arm fervently, “Adam, please-kiss me again?” she asked.

I traced my hand along the curve of her cheek, slowly, almost reverently. I was sure the look on my face must have been akin to wonder, “Are you certain? Is-is it really what you want?” I asked in a low whisper.

She nodded and reached out her arms for me. I gathered her up, lips eagerly meeting hers again. When we parted she gave me a meaningful look and told me that I didn’t need to be alone tonight if I didn’t want it. As I carried her to my bed she wrapped her arms around my neck and promised me that I would never be alone again…

#drabbles for anon #adam Frankenstein x reader #adam frankenstein #crossover au

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ladyrhaerhae · 1 year

Text

An Accountant’s Nightmare - Zhongli

Synopsis: Being the Wangsheng funeral parlor’s accountant and financial manager wasn’t as difficult as one would think. However, reigning in a certain walking encyclopedia’s spending habits from causing the establishment to go bankrupt is the true challenge in both keeping the parlor afloat AND your soul from ascending to Celestia with the amount of IOUs piling up on your desk. Never mind the wrath of the rock, but heed the wrath of a frustrated financial manager! (and the taxes demanded of from the Liyue’s government.)

Where Zhongli is a shopaholic and possibly in crippling debt, yet somehow it’s your problem.

Genre: SFW - Fluff and comedy.

Word Count: 2,359 words

“Master Zhongli, kindly explain this.”

Pausing midway from sipping his tea, the amber eyed consultant turned to face you as you held what seemed to be a small piece of paper in between your fingers. He placed the cup down on the table, confused as to why he was being disturbed during his allocated break hours, but heeded your request. Zhongli blinked once, scanning the contents of what was scribbled neatly on the piece of paper you were holding in front of him.

“I believe that is payment for the twin Cor Lapis and the jade bracelet I have purchased a few days ago in one of my walks down the harbor.” Zhongli explained, a small smile gracing his lips. “Yes, the quality of both items are superb as the artisans behind the craftmanship took great care in unearthing the Cor Lapis. As for the jade bracelet, the shine of the green ore was fascinating and reflected through its surface when the daylight hit. It would be a shame not to purchase such art.”

As Zhongli continued to speak, you couldn’t help your eyebrow twitch with every flowery word that dripped from his lips.

Crossing your arms, you scowled and tapped your foot impatiently. The man in front of you sensed your displeasure, but having no idea what caused it, he simply tilted his head to the side as he cupped his chin with his thumb and his pointer finger in question.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked in concern.

A sickeningly sweet and insincere smile curled up your lips. Behind you, Hu Tao and the other accountants of the parlor exchanged nervous glances. Well, the accountants looked pale enough with anxiety one could mistake them for nearing their death bed while Hu Tao was jokingly saying how she could prepare some extra caskets for the poor souls foolish enough to evoke your wrath.

“Master Zhongli!” You yelled, slamming your palm on the table loud enough to cause the other workers to flinch. “You spent almost half a million mora for the price of 3 items! It’s absurd!”

Zhongli was unbothered from your wrath, which somehow made you even more irritated. His nonchalance towards the matter certainly did not fan the flames of your temper, nor did hearing the prayers uttered under the breaths of the other workers in the parlor to Rex Lapis with the request of you sparing the poor consultant from his impending doom.

“The quality of the items matched the price it was sold. I’m quite confident that the mora spent for this transaction was of equivalent value to what has been received in exchanged.” Zhongli continued.

“That is not the point!” you said, ready to tear your hair out in frustration.

Upon seeing Zhongli’s clueless expression, you knew that this conversation would go nowhere. Zhongli had made himself a valuable part of Wangsheng Funeral parlor as a consultant. Liyue is an old nation rich with lore and myths, stories of old and traditions that had long been forgotten from the passage of time. His knowledge for the funeral rites of different people and cultures within Liyue has helped the parlor pay the proper respects to the dearly departed and, in turn, has allowed the business to thrive and gain reputation as a respectable establishment.

Despite his undisputable value and work as a consultant, his spending was a source of your never-ending battles against the financial forces of Liyue. Where Zhongli seems to know traditional rites, historical facts, and even the most forgotten lore about Liyue like the back of his hand, his inept ability to purchase anything lower than 50,000 mora for a single meal and the amount of IOU tabs being sent to the parlor was piling up more than a camp of hilichurls gathered around a precious treasure chest in the middle of nowhere. No matter how many times you have scolded and warned Zhongli not to purchase such expensive items and send the expenses for the parlor to cover, the tabs have yet to cease.

You sigh helplessly.

“Master Zhongli, I understand your appreciation for grandiose items, but I implore you to at least attempt to live within your means.” you said, voice on the verge of breaking. “You can’t keep walking around as if you can produce mora straight from your own body! Mora is very valuable and I’m sure the Geo archon himself would be astounded with your casual disregard for its importance in our daily lives!”

“Is... that so?” Zhongli said, strangely looking amused by your words. You didn’t let this stop you from your lecture.

“You have your own earnings, do you not?” you said, feeling your temper wane as you saw the consultant thinking carefully. “The economy and citizens of Liyue is still recovering after recent events, so mora is much more valuable now and spending it frivolously without thinking carefully would lead to more problems.”

“I do think carefully before purchasing,” Zhongli protested lightly. “In fact, before I purchase any items, I contemplate on the history and effort behind each and give the appreciation due its work and existence.”

Seeing how the point of your conversation completely flew above his head, you released a short sigh and clasped your hands together in a praying position as your face turned into a neutral and blank expression.

“Oh Rex Lapis, bestow upon me patience and grace.” You muttered to yourself. “If you grant me strength, there will be a job opening for a consultant by late this evening and an extra filled casket in the parlor.”

(While Zhongli was no longer the Geo archon, he could still hear any prayers mentioning his name. He may not see you as a threat, but there was a brief tingle of nervousness that ran down his spine upon hearing your words.)

Behind you, Hu Tao snickered at how hopeless the situation was. While she did agree with your reaction to the unbelievable expenses being sent their way, she wasn’t particularly bothered. The parlor would never be in danger of bankruptcy, seeing as it is the only funeral parlor in the entirety of Liyue after all. But seeing you so adamantly lecture Zhongli on how even the Geo archon himself would shame him for his spending problem (unaware of how the funeral parlor consultant was the former Geo archon himself) and seeing said consultant look like a scolded child was too amusing to miss.

“I meant for no trouble to come for anybody.” Zhongli said. “However, it seems I have caused such with my actions. So tell me, is there a way to rectify what I have done?”

You huffed and crossed your arms before looking at the amber-eyed man in front of you evenly. Try as you might to stay upset, it was difficult to maintain with how sincere Zhongli spoke. You knew he was always the eccentric individual, but was a kind-hearted and considerate friend to those he held dear. Neither of you two had grown close enough to be considered more than acquaintances, but only a fool would be blind enough not to consider Zhongli a respectable and sincere man.

And perhaps, you were overreacting. The expenses may have been ridiculous, but the items themselves can always be pawned or is in the ownership of the parlor as per contract terms and statements, so really the items Zhongli purchases could also be seen as an investment in its own sense.

For the nth time that hour, you released a sigh.

“We can start by discussing on only purchasing things you actually need or use.” you mumbled, chastising yourself for letting Zhongli off the hook simply because you didn’t want to admit you had a soft spot for him. “In fact, the items you purchased just a few days ago made no sense. Cor Lapis, jade bracelets, a bouquet of silk flowers, tailored suits- and an order for a pair of flower hairpins, you don’t even use hairpins- What are these even for?”

“A-ah, those purchases are actually-” one of the accountants tried to say behind you, but when you snapped your head towards them and scowled, they quickly shut up and looked away.

“I did indeed purchase those items three days ago from an antique shop and requested for a services to fix my suit.” Zhongli admitted casually. “As for those items, I planned to gift them to someone as a token of my gratitude for their hard work and hopefully ask them to enjoy a calm dinner with me.”

A small burning feeling of jealousy sparked inside of you, but you managed to keep it low enough so as not to let it reflect on your facial expression. Thankfully, your scowl of irritation was easy to mistake as due to Zhongli’s expenses instead of the discreet feelings you harbored for the amber eyed man in front of you.

“Is that so?” you said haughtily as you tried to mask your soured mood. “Well, then perhaps they should shoulder the cost of all these items.”

An amused smile appeared on Zhongli’s lips.

“That would be rather unfortunate for your case, as initially I purchased all these items for you in order to request for your time and spend the evening with you.”

“If this person is as grand and as deserving, maybe they should even shoulder your paycheck-” you continued to mumble bitterly until Zhongli’s words slowly dawned into your head.

You stared at Zhongli in disbelief. A small but mischievous smile quirked up ono his lips as he watched your face slowly redden at understanding his words.

“M-me?!” you said, unintentionally speaking 3 pitches above your normal voice register. “These- these absurd gifts were for me...?!”

“Yes, well-” Zhongli answered. “I did notice your fondness and hobby for collecting hairpins- especially those with a unique floral arrangement- so I procured a custom made one created from an old flower arrangement dated long before Liyue’s age as a center of commerce, the silk flowers were a part of the bouquet I planned on readying, and the jade bracelet simply caught my eye and I thought would suit you perfectly. I asked a dear friend of mine for pointers on how to ask another on a date.”

Any and all rational thinking quickly evaporated from your being as you were reduced into a flustered mess. Whether Zhongli seemed sheepish or even the least bit bashful of your state, he did not reveal through his facial expressions. Rather, he seemed to enjoy how you had turned redder than the ripest Jueyun Chili and how he was the source of it.

“I’m- I’m thankful-” you sputtered out. “- but it was unnecessary to go through these lengths.”

“Nonsense.” The amber eyed individual said firmly. “While I do believe the value of one cannot be measured easily in its weigh in gold, I could only hope to impress you with what I can afford to provide.”

A small and impressive ‘oooh’ echoed behind you and you almost forgot that you had an audience witnessing everything that was happening. The other coworkers seemed to look at Zhongli in a positive light whereas Hu Tao was simply watching everything unfold, sending a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows as her only indication that she was completely alright and undisturbed by the scene at hand. In an attempt to regain your dignity in front of your coworkers and boss, you cleared your throat and crossed your arms.

“Next time just ask me out normally.” you mumbled with pink still dusting your cheeks.

A deep chuckle was received as a response and you swore your heart did a somersault.

“Understood my dear friend.” Zhongli said as he slowly rose from his seat. “Now that lunch is over, I would be glad to resume my duties to the parlor.”

You nodded and was about to follow behind him until he raised his hand in a motion to stop you. Confused, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, but since you’re already here, I suppose you can directly receive this invoice instead of having it sent to you. Many thanks again for your hard work.”

You were about to ask Zhongli what invoice he meant until a soft tap on your shoulder caught your attention. As you turned around, a piece of paper was shoved in front of your face and you gingerly took it before giving the waiter who handed it out to you a curious look.

“Here’s the payment for today’s lunch!” The waiter said as they allowed you to pick up the paper from them.

“Well, Mr. Zhongli, speaking of working on your spending habits!” You said, smiling a bit as you realized you found the perfect opportunity. You were about to call out to the consultant’s name when you realized he was nowhere to be seen nearby, almost as if he was never there in the first place.

Rolling your eyes lightheartedly, you decided to let him off the hook again for this time since he had been thoughtful enough with trying to find a proper way to ask you out on a date.

‘Maybe this bill won’t be that bad.’ You mused. ‘After all, all he ordered was-’

“One serving of qingce stirfry, two bowls of tianshu meat, three bowls of crystal shrimp, one serving of bamboo shoot, one bowl of adeptus temptation, and two servings of jade parcels. This is excluding the take-out food service of adeptus temptation to be delivered to Wangshu Inn under the name of the Traveler and their flying companion.” The waiter said as they listed off all of Zhongli’s orders continuously.

You stayed quiet.

“Oh, and that would amount to a total of 350,000 mora sent to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s tab!”

A few seconds of tense silence passed before Hu Tao and the other workers started to slowly back away, sensing the quick shift in your demeanor and also seeing how your form visibly started to shake. The waiter, seemingly undisturbed nor fazed, continued to smile happily as they watched you crumple the receipt in your hand and the flames of your wrath surrounded your body.

“ZHONGLI!”

a/n: silly ol’ zhongli ufufu~ also my first genshin fanfic!

#genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact fluff #rhaerhaewrites #sfw

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historia-vitae-magistras · 2 months

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Hi, I hope you don't mind me asking but why did Zee hate being a nurse? Well, other than her being forced into the role

I don't think she hated it at first. She loved being a professional in a crisp uniform with real rank and authority all her own on the virtue of her education and experience. It's a far cry from being permitted to do more or less whatever she likes because her father is a man with rank and authority. She likes the puzzle of diagnosis, the riddle of keeping people alive, and the profound speed with which medicine advances thrills her. But even as young as she is by the standards of her own kind, she still gets a bit restless. And it's in those times that just how unfuckingfair everything hits her.

When Jack's bored, he can pick up anything he pleases. Natural history, biology, paleontology, leather tanning, winemaking. If he's tired of the city, he can just up and fuck off into the interior to be a stock hand If he wants. No one will stop him. And to a certain extent, she can too if she really wants, but it's just so much harder and riskier. What she is does give her a certain amount of protection, but it's still a hard thing to pull off. So she switches jobs, visits her father or a brother or friends or throws on trousers, and leaves gender behind entirely. But life is still so often a choice between harrowing or stifling.

Patients love her; she's an excellent nurse. She's funny, a bit naughty, and always partial to her own. She can give as much as she gets when speech becomes sparing. She continued in pediatric and community nursing over time, but I think she got heartily sick of nursing during WWI. She climbed the cliffs of Gallipoli half out of spite but still took the hill of Chanuk Bair. She left her gender behind and smashed her brains in with rocks like any other half-starved body on the trench line. She did her part to cut that hill from Turkish hands at bayonet point. She showed a talent and a propensity for violence no one wants to believe exists in pretty young women. The only real victory Gallipoli saw was hers, brought to heel by her brutality. But then the British lost the captured ground almost instantly, and it was for nothing.

She slides back into nursing not long after as Churchill's foolishness finally comes to a close, and she spends the rest of 1916 trying to preserve whatever decency, whatever sanity remains to her and Jack. And that's almost harder for her to do as a nurse, witnessing death after disease after devastating injury, one after another after another. She wanders around as she likes from unit to unit, corset or helmet on and off, but often feels guilty when it's not in a corset because nurses are in much higher demand than any grunt with a rifle. Sometimes, she just can't stand the sight of another broken body. But she does kind of redeem nursing for herself by mid-1917 when the British army commands that dominion nurses can't be trained as anesthesiologists, and she only mentions Canada and Australia. I always think of that as a sly little move on Arthur's part because it puts Zee on a pay and rank basis equal to doctors for the first time and that her forceful personality can go to some real reforming use for the first time in a while.

So yeah, too long didn't read: it's not that she hated nursing so much as she hates misogyny and the front-row seat to senseless violence it granted her.

#the ask box || probis pateo #zee || ahakoa he iti he pounamu #meatsack mechanics || the sociology and biology of nations

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idyllic-affections · 4 months

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idk i felt like posting an older draft. here's miscellaneous, mostly silly and lighthearted aeon of creation!reader thoughts:

dan heng once pointed out that they don't blink. he found that the next time he interacted with them, they periodically blinked. not often enough, but... well. who is he to judge this weird, blatantly nonhuman being? really? him, of all people? his unease eventually settles and he finds that he gets along with them quite well, especially late at night when everyone else is asleep. they're wise in a way he cannot place, cannot explain. but he knows. he knows they aren't human. and that's fine. he doesn't pry.

sometimes himeko likes to sit with them and watch the stars, generally in the early morning. she tends to be up first. she gets to hear all their stories and gossip about the other aeons. she is very very very entertained by them and the things they share with her (she's also quite surprised that the aeon of creation is so gossipy, but she wonders if they were just... lonely for a long time. perhaps they were. so, she's glad to let them talk, really, since it seems to make them so happy).

"You know, Lan is such a fickle thing. They used to never want to talk to me, but if I go find them now, they'll talk... a little, but then one time I tried to braid their hair and they told me they would kill me if I tried again. I really don't get it! Yaoshi would let me. Maybe I should tell them that the next time I see them... or would that get me wounded? Hmm. Oh well. I'll have to try and see what happens. A... 'social experiment,' as you mortals might call it."

Himeko chuckled at that. "Be careful, please. We are all quite fond of you, you know? I can't even imagine what I would tell March if you never returned."

"Oh, yes, of course. No, I— I wouldn't let down my guard around the Hunt, regardless of if I were doing something so objectively foolish like using the object of their ire to my advantage or not. It's so unfortunate, but they do not see me as an ally, due to Abundance and Creation being adjacent paths, so I would not risk my safety under this or any other circumstance. Even in the worst case scenario, it would be exceedingly difficult to kill me." They waved their hand dismissively, as if to reassure her.

"Even for another Aeon?"

"Yes. Even for another one of my kind. It typically takes two or more of our efforts combined to take down just one of us. Therefore, you should not concern over me. Anyways, where was I before that? Hmm— ah! Right. You know, Aha is perfectly fine to spend time with if I get too bored, but then they'll entirely and completely target me the second I turn my back or face another direction and I just..."

the human vessel which [name] has thoughtfully and carefully crafted specifically for this journey of theirs is... quite fragile. initially, this was quite the annoyance, but they've come to realize it's probably for the best—mortals are such fragile things, no? it makes their facade more believable when their vessel is so weak (in comparison to what they're used to, of course; their mortal vessel in comparison to other mortals and immortals is quite powerful, and [name] can bodyslam dan heng il or himeko or even mr welt yang of all people... not that they would! bodyslamming people is rude after all).

^ subsequently, they have to be careful with the amount of strength they exert. if they surpass a certain point, their poor little human body starts to crack and scar... literally. they have scars that make it look like they're being held together by kintsugi. it's quite pretty, really, and march thinks there is no one more beautiful <3 she's so fond of her silly friend and all of their odd traits.

#aphelion speaks 🌸#minor yaoshi propaganda RAHHHH #the abundance wants YOU!!!!!#/lh

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merakiui · 1 year

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Idk how much u learned about Rollo but it is canon that he hid his diary behind a brick in a furnace, now that could also mean that there are many secret rooms in NBC, so the NRC children are staying for 3 days and 2 nights

He's already shown fondness for the prefect and let's just say he slowly becomes obsessed. He asks her if she's interested in seeing something while she's here to make up for his wrongdoings and she automatically says the library. Rollo knows of all the secret rooms the school has and the library has one as well the perfect amount of space for two, to get as scandalous as possible especially since after the first day crimson flower fiasco all his thoughts immediately drift to her and the warm smile she showed him at the festival, the dance they shared at the ball, the warm, hot pants of his name called out in his dreams by her, they must be signs from a higher being are they not?

I think it’s so cute that he hides his diary and regularly writes in it. Even though I’m certain his writing tools are probably just ballpoint pens, I can’t help imagining Rollo with really cute stationery and he decorates every page in his journal to match the theme of it. orz

As stiffly traditional as Rollo may seem, he knows how to have fun. He just rarely engages in such pleasures because he’s the student council president—a role model for all of Noble Bell. If the students knew their president was falling behind in classes, avoiding his duties as bell keeper, and ignoring all of the rules that keep the order and peace within school grounds, they might think it’s appropriate to get away with all sorts of foolish antics, especially antics involving magic.

So when it comes to you, he finds that he wants to shed all of his layers and have fun. But such a feat is nearly impossible for someone who has confined himself in his own little bubble, never quite stepping out of his comfort zone. Rollo does not ‘loosen up.’ He’s only ever been stressed and sleep-deprived. But whenever he’s with you he feels less restless than usual. It seems your smile is enough to invigorate him, which is exactly why Rollo comes to you and asks if you’d like to know of the secret spaces scattered throughout Noble Bell’s campus. Naturally, as someone who’s familiar with the school’s layout, he would know of the best places for sly escapes, quiet study sessions, and relaxing naps. He’s guilty of using one of these spaces for himself, for his diary is hidden within the loose brickwork. Not that anyone needs to know this fact, though.

When you’re in such a narrow, cramped area, where the walls practically close in and force the two of you closer together, a million thoughts race through Rollo’s mind. It would be so easy to lean down and close what little distance remains between the two of you. And when you’re practically pushed against him in the dark, your surroundings lit by the faintest magical glow, he can smell the shampoo you use. He has to force all of his lustful thoughts to the back of his mind because if he dwells on them any longer you might feel the strain in his pants when you’re standing so close, your ass nearly pressing against his hips.

His dreams aren’t very helpful either. He tries to snuff this love that’s spiraling out of control. He writes about it in his journal in hopes of dispelling these feelings; they always persist even after he’s crumpled and burned the papers containing rotten infatuation. He’s written a few sonnets; those have been charred to ash as well. He tries to busy himself with council work. He spends extra hours in the bell tower, scrubbing away in an effort to chase your image from his mind. Yet you always appear in his brain in the most compromising situations.

He thinks of how intimate it would be to take you in one of the secret passages spread throughout the school, where you’re forced onto his cock in the tight space. He thinks of kissing you under the Bell of Salvation, listening to its haunting chimes and the sound of skin on skin. He thinks of how much he’ll miss you when you make your inevitable return to Night Raven College after the trip has reached its conclusion. He thinks of that dance you shared under magnificent lights, where he spun you and you’d smiled so brightly—so full of forgiveness. He thinks he might just die if he doesn’t have you all to himself, which is as codependent as it is unhealthy. But Rollo can’t help it. He’s in love with you.

This is the first time anyone has given him these feelings. And though they were unwelcome and uncomfortable in the beginning, he’s begun to embrace them. He wants to prove his devotion to you in a tiny, shadowed space between bookshelves in the library or in an attic-like space that overlooks the floor below.

Most of all, he wants to chain you to him so that you’ll never be taken from him. So that you’ll always remain at his side. So that he can love you whenever he pleases, and you’ll be able to return such sweetness tenfold. The City of Flowers is known for steamy romances and sugary, blossoming feelings. It’s only natural Rollo would want to share these pleasures with you in hopes that you might fall for him in the same way you’ve fallen for the city and its lovely charms.

He was never afforded a proper happily ever after when he was a child, but now he thinks he can attain just that when he’s with you. He is not the villain in your love story. He is not the hero. He is not the misunderstood monster. He is just Rollo, the one who will cherish you forever. You can fight him, you can curse him, you can ignore him. But one way or another you’ll come to feel his love. How can you not when it’s piled onto you in waves, leaving you suspended in an ocean of obsession? And you can only tread water in this suffocating relationship for so long before you sink.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #yandere twst #yandere rollo flamm #not to give him a breeding kink but to give him a breeding kink…#rollo knocks you up in one of the secret spaces that will soon become your prison <3

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daisyychainssj · 7 months

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I'm trying to keep myself busy in the run up to the event so that I'm not just staring at the clock waiting and i'm sat in a cafe trying to work but I'm weak and I can't stop thinking about it. I'm so curious to see what situations they get put in and what sides of the islanders it'll bring out. There are certain islanders that I fully believe would throw anyone into the fire (with the exception of other eggs) to get their kids back. Foolish and BBH specifically I feel like are the most likely to say fuck it and kill the others if they need to. During their conversation a couple of weeks ago Foolish asked bad if he believed his family was more important than others and BBH straight up said yes. He's also been so unhinged since they disappeared like he fully kidnapped a dude and contemplated killing him, he said yesterday that he would never forgive the others and would continue to hold a grudge if dapper doesn't make it back alive where as others were like we couldn't blame them it's not their fault. Foolish has been a lot quieter in his grief than some of the other islanders but he misses Leo so fucking much. I could count on one hand the amount of times he's been back to his house since she disappeared. He literally told Roier, his own son, that he wished he had gone missing instead of her. A few weeks ago Tina said she would've given her life for Leo's and Foolish was straight up just like "to be clear i would also sacrifice you for Leo". He's also shown himself to be one of the most unpredictable and willing to cross lines that others wouldn't (e.g arresting Pac and Mike when everyone else was like wtf) Now this isn't to say the other islanders wouldn't got the extremes to get their kids back, I just don't know if i can see them crossing certain boundaries (and that's not a bad thing!) Like i just can't see Phil for example being willing to throw Fit or others that he holds dear under the bus to those type of extremes despite his kids being his world I feel like betraying people who love him doesn't really line up with what we've seen of his morals so far BUT we never know!! and that's what makes me so excited like Philza could just say fuck it and murk everyone idk ahhhh I can't wait!!!

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory

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thecoddaughter · 10 months

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Something something the federation wants to divide their strength. Something something that one speech from Abe Lincoln about a divided house will fall. Something something Stanford Prison Experiment?

Literally all I can think about is how they give certain people power, take others power away, play with emotions, and pit them against each other. They are most likely always watching, especially since if you go the Truman Show/Simulation route.

Best example is pitting people against each other and still getting their end goal: Foolish, Jaiden, and Cell.

Foolish is team Cucurucho, will do whatever, is a silly goofy guy. Jaiden is a broken mom who got taken advantage of and isn’t really sure how to get out so she’s just doing her best. Cell is the double agent in too deep.

The friends trust each of them different amounts. Cell has almost everyone’s trust again but they are nervous about if the Fed can MAKE him do something. I feel like Jaiden just got people to trust her again, now Foolish is using her as a witness and lawyer. He is soon going to lose everyone’s trust 1) for straight up arresting people 2)lying to Jaiden about it.

Yeah Cell and Jaiden might be a member/helping the anti-fed group but they are still working with and for the federation. The end goal of the federation is still being met, whatever it is…

The power play here is I find it highly unlikely that they can get off the island without the entire team working together. I feel like no one has been fully connected since the Bobby visit mission.

#qsmp #qsmpblr #qsmp federation #qsmp cucurucho #q!jaiden #q!foolish #q!cellbit

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theluckywizard · 7 months

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In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 55: The Dead Outnumber the Living Part II

Chapter summary:

Rose, Hawke, Blackwall and Varric contend with an undead ambush and then continue onward to dine with the mayor. Their humble dinner in little, seemingly insignificant Crestwood village is tenser than Rose ever imagined it could be.

Fic Summary:

Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Excerpt Below the Jump ⏬

The following morning I delegate most of my companions into crews to accompany scouting missions— one resource gathering mission further to the north consisting of Solas, Vivienne and Cassandra another along the lake shore with Bull, Blackwall, Varric, Sera, and Hawke to further investigate the undead problem. Dorian remains in camp with Harding and I and I assume that Cole is around somewhere in the ether. He didn’t attend our morning meeting but he’s never far.

“I’ve been meaning to catch you alone,” says Dorian, leaning against my desk where I’m scanning through an update missive from Leliana that Harding has decrypted for me. “How are you?”

“I’m keeping busy,” I say, pitching him a half smile.

“It’s been a week and a half. Have you heard anything from him?”

“You mean beyond his parade of dismally dry requests for signatures and permission to buy toys for our army?” I say. “Why? Do you think he’d send anything different?”

“You both care about each other.”

“I still have a foolish amount of hope inside me, but he drew a clear line. And logically I know I should accept it. Maker knows I’ll be more productive if I do.”

“If he weren’t such a self-flagellating sad sack—”

“ No . I don’t know what he told you, but he’s entitled to feel the way he does. I don’t like it, but I understand. It hurts . But I understand.”

“ Fasta vass , Rose,” Dorian sighs. “You two are infuriating. Whatever happened to talking things out like grown ups? Fighting for one another?”

“I’m sorry if we’ve disappointed you, Dorian. But some things aren’t a matter of fighting,” I tell him. “And clinging to hope��is foolish. He made that perfectly clear.”

“Let me see these notes of his,” Dorian says, scanning my desk like he might stumble upon them.

“ Dorian .”

He sighs.

“I just need someone to be happy around here, I suppose,” he says into his folded hands. I reach over and squeeze his upper arm.

“And what about you?”

“ Me ?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been making eyes at Bull these last several weeks. I may have prodded you about it while it was still a fleeting thought, but it’s a little harder to mistake now.”

“Rose, you were an appalling matchmaker then, you’re an appalling matchmaker now,” he says in an obvious deflection. The man never seems to blush, but he scratches his forehead in the sort of tell that satisfies me.

“Then I shall leave your stolen glances be for the moment. No harm in them.”

“Certainly no more numerous than your obvious looks at a certain celebrity hero.”

“Obvious? He’s the second biggest thing here next to Bull. There’s no avoiding looking at him.”

“And now you understand me!”

Read the chapter here Start the fic from the beginning

DAFF Crew Tag List:

#cullen x trevelyan #in the shattering of things #rose trevelyan #dragon age inquisition #hawke x trevelyan #dragon age fanfiction #cullenmance #cullen rutherford #dragon age fan fiction #dragon age #theluckywizard

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blackjackkent · 2 months

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OK, into the goblin camp. Rakha's dark urge bloodthirst was sated for a little while by killing the gobbos in the outer post, so we're not quite going in guns blazing, but if someone looks at her funny, heads are probably going to end up rolling. She's feeling very on edge after the Absolute's voice blindsided them on the bridge.

The most eye-catching (and ear-catching) thing happening in the celebration happening outside is, of course, Volo, who is being forced to sing by several of the goblins at swordpoint.

And the song is terrible.

"With fragulous crown and with scepter abrade, Dror Ragzlin short work of the innkeeper made! The inn burned to ash! The captives were many! Goblinkind had reduced them to cowering filfenny! So raiseth your goblets and drain them with pride! Dror Ragzlin, the True Soul, hath led you galide!"

Baffling. Rakha knows nothing of music - she didn't even get a chance to hear Alfira sing before the beast gutted her - but it's easy enough to see that this is meant to be entertainment, and in fact that the goblins seem to be enjoying it. But it is nonsense.

"I reckon Dror Ragzlin's the gobbo in charge," Wyll says thoughtfully, "the way this one's carrying on."

Rakha grunts. That explains some of it. Not all. "'Fragulous'?" she asks with some bewilderment. "'Galide'? I don't know this language."

She has wondered to herself on more than one occasion how she knows any language, when so much else seems to be lost to her. But the bard's strange tongue is most certainly a mystery.

One of the goblins gives her a disdainful glare. "Common, ye turnip," she snarls.

Rakha scowls. That very well might be true, and the words simply lost on her. She doesn't like the possibility much. Sometimes it feels as if for every bit of this world she starts to understand, she finds a hundred other things that spark no recognition at all.

-----

Wyll gives her a slight smile, seeing her confusion. "No fear," he says in an undertone, low enough only for her to hear. "They're no words I ever heard of either. He's making them up."

She feels herself relax just slightly at this gesture of encouragement. "For what purpose?"

"To make the goblins think he's smart, I suspect. And you, for that matter," he says with a soft laugh. "Though I don't think it will hold out for long - look there." And indeed, Volo seems to have lost the thread of his song, and one of the goblins is in the process of hustling him off the stage with a kick. "Ouch."

"As I told you," Lae'zel puts in dryly. "A master only of falsehoods. And perhaps foolishness."

-----

The rest of the courtyard is full of celebrating goblins. Rakha gathers, from overheard conversations, that they are celebrating a raid on a nearby settlement, the capture of some important prisoner. None of them seem to notice Rakha's presence particularly, which makes a certain amount of sense - Nettie did say they would likely take the tadpole infection as indication that they are all on the same side.

Two particular things catch her attention - the first is the owlbear cub they first spotted in the cave with its mother some days back. There's no sign of the large one, but the cub is being tormented by one of the goblins, who is trying to get everyone nearby into a game of 'chicken-chasing.'

Rakha has no interest in the game, and would happily skewer the goblin, but as for the little beast...

She remembers Wyll's guidance for befriending Scratch, and crouches down to its height, sticking a hand out for it to sniff.

Narrator: You notice a shiver run through his feathered coat - fear, a desperate longing for the safety of his nest. But his mother is gone - taken. All that's left are these creatures.

She snorts softly. Adrift. As I am.

Offer him your hand. He can follow your scent to your camp in the wilderness.

"Oh, thank the gods," Gale says dryly. "I did worry you might be about to lash out with another kick."

"That was not my choice," Rakha mutters. "I've no quarrel with the beast."

Wyll smiles. "He'll make a fine addition to camp, if we can get him there."

In the end it doesn't take much effort to frighten the goblins into letting the cub go. With a joyful hoot, it barrels off into the distance at top speed.

-----

The other moment of interest is a drunk goblin holding forth to several others in one corner of the courtyard - and who, seeing Rakha, decides unilaterally that they are going to have a problem.

"And who're you?" he shouts up towards her. "Nother pest? Think ya rule the world just cuz ya got a scary face? Hah!"

Rakha glares at him silently, irritation stirring rapidly into anger in the back of her mind. The goblin - unfortunately for him - keeps talking.

"We got the Absolute on our side now. Ya better learn yer place! Go on - kiss my foot, or I'll wipe that nasty look right off yer face!"

The anger slides into rage, like a worn and comfortable glove sliding back onto a fist. Her vision whites out at the corners and she feels the beast stir in her head.

Lae'zel hisses with similar annoyance. "End him or leave him," she snaps sharply. "But don't you dare grovel to this slug."

Rakha feels a cool smile twist her lips. In this, she and Lae'zel are very much alike. The disrespect is guaranteed to call up the rage faster than anything else. And this creature will suffer for it now - it only matters how.

Kill, says the beast. Kill. Make him bleed. Pull him apart, piece by piece by bloody piece until there is nothing left.

She feels her control slipping, the hunger suddenly surging up again, inescapable.

Ponder how it would taste to bite his toe clean off.

Yes. That would be good. Turn the tables. Pull him apart. Make him suffer. Make it hurt. Make the blood poor from his foot as he tries to fight back and dies, and dies, and dies...

Narrator: You kneel before him, eagerly feigning reverence.

Before she fully realizes it, she has moved beyond thought into movement, her knees hitting the cold, damp stone. Her head drops; she can smell the stink of the goblin, overwhelming, before everything fades out and the beast takes over completely, her jaws closing like a predator around the goblin's foot.

Narrator: But with one quick snatch, you envelop a toe in your foul maw.

(A/N: Definitely trying to take all Dark Urge choices that don't involve a companion death, but also this is GROSS lol. Ew.)

Narrator: The toe itself tastes of curd, cave-aged, with thick helpings of rancid gristle.

The goblin screams, matching the dark screaming in her head. She tastes his blood on her tongue and it is intoxicating like fine wine. The bitter flesh contrasts with it, stokes the hunger higher still. She wants more. She wants him to bleed and scream and die under her blade. He mocked her and he will suffer...

She reawakens in a blood-hungry haze. The goblin's toe is clutched in one fist, dripping hot across her palm. The goblin is still screaming with pain and rage.

"You fiend! I'll teach you some respect!"

-----

"When I said end him," Lae'zel says, unsheathing her sword as the nearest goblins close around them, "that was not what I meant."

"Now who's acting surprised when they shouldn't be?" Gale says dryly. "Ow!" he adds, as Lae'zel elbows him sharply in the ribs.

-----

Several of the goblins crowd around to join in the fray, but Rakha and Lae'zel are both of a single mind, focused on the one that started the whole business - the one currently bleeding heavily out of one foot. And when he falls, Rakha is very satisfied to see that he begs, at once.

"Wait - I yield! I yield!" he bellows, terrified, as Rakha stands over him.

Rakha could not care less. This is beyond her now, and there is only the beast, and it will not be calmed until the goblin is dead. Lae'zel clearly feels the same.

Wyll and Gale have been watching this play out with some bemusement, a little further back. Gale looks troubled, but Wyll has his eyes narrowed, and to Rakha's distant surprise, he sounds almost as angry as she feels when he speaks.

"He wants mercy. I say show it to him - decisively."

Ignore his pleading and prepare for the finishing blow.

Lae'zel smiles in satisfaction as Rakha's knife slides from its sheathe. "A fine show of force," she murmurs. "The worms shall feast tonight."

The goblin panics completely and begins scuttling away in a desperate attempt to escape as Rakha closes with him. "HELP!" he screams. Faces from all over the camp begin to turn and look towards them. "HELP ME!"

Rakha's knife slides into his mouth and pins him to the wall behind him, and a roar goes through the whole camp.

"So much for a quiet entrance," Gale says wearily. "Yes, yes, I know," he adds as Lae'zel shoots him a glare. "I should have expected it."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #this one got long :P #but yay Durge dialogue!#gross durge dialogue :P #and all the violence we could have expected i suppose :P #poor gale #i'm pretty sure he is the least comfortable in the team with rakha by FAR

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