#darkness feeds on apathy

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [2 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: As you begin to acclimate to life in the pack, your new leader seems to take a keen interest in your ability to survive. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

A/N: i really hope you guys enjoy this next piece! mind the warnings ❤️

You run your tongue across your chapped lips before reaching for the skin of water hanging from a long strap across your shoulder. The liquid inside is over-warm from the sun hanging mercilessly overhead, but you are grateful for it still. 

Where are we even going?

The river had been days ago—three, perhaps four at your best estimation—and the pack had been pushing on ever since, riding out into the grass sea further than you had ever thought possible. When you had asked, your father had told you simply that there was nothing out there, his breath stinking of ale as he reminded you to keep your mind to your housework, else he would ensure you found out for yourself. And now, for all the fates cruel humor, you had found out anyway. 

You had been spared death at the river, but the same luck that had kept you breathing now also bound you to the blue-eyed-orc and his pack. You had tried twice already to sneak away in the darkness, only to find yourself practically nose to nose with your captor, his eyes bright even in the dark.

Dangerous out there in the dark, Sweetmeat, he’d said, turning you around with one huge hand on your shoulder, tapping the flat of his blade against your backside as your cheeks flamed with hot anger and embarrassment. If you’re looking to raise an army for vengeance, you should ride in daylight. Even now, your face heats with anger. You had no intention of riding to the capital to raise the alarm—even if you knew how to get there, you doubt anyone would care for the fate of a tiny village in the borderlands. 

You slip dangerously in the saddle, yelping as you grab for the reins, righting yourself. You had never ridden a horse before now, much preferring to watch the huge beasts from afar rather than subject yourself to them up close. The stallion beneath you seems to know it, tossing his head irritatedly as you pull back haphazardly. 

“I’m afraid the saddle is too big for you.” The voice startles you, and you almost slip down out of the saddle again as you whirl to look at its source. Mirthful blue eyes meet your own. “We shall have to find you a smaller one.” 

You glare at him, your mouth stubbornly shut. 

“Oh come now. Are you still angry about last night?” He makes no effort to hide his amusement. You keep your jaw locked, refusing to answer—which only serves to amuse him further. Finally, your ire loosens your tongue.

“You would have killed me three days ago,” you bite out through gritted teeth. “And left my corpse in the dirt.” 

“Aye,” he answers, cocking his head. “Yet I did not.” Somehow, this enrages you even more. 

“You hunted the others for sport—” You half choke on the words. “You ran them down like dogs.”

“What use is a lame horse, Sweetmeat?” He asks. “Or a dog that won’t hunt?” There is no derision in his words, only indifference. “I cannot ask my riders to carry that burden.”

“So you kill them.” 

“Aye.” You see reflected in his eyes the same cool apathy a wild dog might give a rabbit. “Would you ask a wolf to apologize for feeding its strongest cubs, Little One?” You bristle, but he continues before you can speak. “Perhaps because it is removed from you, you do not see it. But I have seen it. I have seen your great cities of men, and the bodies that line the ditches of their streets. There is death for them everywhere.” You want to deny the truth of his words, but they settle on your skin like oil. “Better a quick death by my steel than a slow one beneath the heel of the man you call King.”

He stops his horse, and you mirror him, watching the orc warily. 

“If you wish to return to it, you’ve my blessing to do so, Sweetmeat. May you go and die in whichever way seems best to you.” 

You are overcome with the urge to dig your heels into the stallion’s sides and take off, to cut through the swaying sea of grass like a clean blade—but you hesitate. 

Your life in the village had been one of little note and much misery; tending to your father as he sickened himself with either too much ale or for the want of it as the days ground on and on. You’d felt little sorrow at his passing, considering he’d blacked your eye only three days prior. There were, no doubt, several villagers that had escaped on horses of their own, racing back toward the mountain to warn others of the orc-pack roaming the borderlands. You suppose you could rejoin them—the same people who had watched as your father’s druken rages consumed him and done nothing to help you. 

Your skin prickles with distaste. 

“No?” He asks after a lengthy silence. “Then let us ride on.” 

You watch sullenly as he takes his place at the front of the group, the other riders falling into a loose line behind him. 

—

No one offers to help you as you struggle down from your horse when they break to make camp, and you drop unceremoniously to the ground. For the most part, the rest of the pack ignores you completely, regarding you with the same indifference one might pay a rock as they go about setting up their bedrolls and hobbling the horses. They dwarf you as you all line up to fill your water skins, and the one with chestnut hair—-the blue-eyed-one had called him Buck—narrows his eyes at you. 

“What’d you do to earn water today?” He sneers. “Get to the back. We’ll see if we have any left for you.” You dig your heels in gritting your teeth despite your fear. The protestation is there on your tongue, but before you can voice it, someone else speaks instead. 

“Give her the water, Bucky.” The blue-eyed-orc rests a hand on his shoulder. 

“Steve, she will do nothing but slow us down and rob us of our food, our water—”

“Calm, Bucky.” He holds up a hand. “The human will hunt tomorrow, and tomorrow she will earn it. Tonight, give her the water.” For a moment there is tension between them, a charged current you can’t see, but it soon breaks. Reluctantly, Bucky fills your water skin, shoving it into your hands with a grimace. 

“It was fine to give her Roth’s horse—he fell, he’s got no need for it now,” Bucky spits irritatedly. “But Tarrath’s a fortnight’s ride from here. She’s going to need to earn her water.” He frowns at you. “Like the rest of us.” Steve nods his understanding. 

“Aye. She will. Consider it half my portion.”

Angrily, you shuffle back over to your horse and begin unstrapping your bed-roll from its back. Nothing has been said outright, but you sleep away from the others, setting your roll up at the edge of camp. You know you aren’t welcome. You know you shouldn’t care at all for your usefulness, but you aren’t sure you’d fare any better wandering the grass sea alone. Your horse—Roth’s horse—stares down at you judgmentally while you wind the length of rope around his front legs, and you frown deeper. 

“Even the blasted horse,” you mutter, kicking aside a few loose rocks as you lay down the roll beside him. You don’t know how to hunt—it wasn’t as if your father had taught you, and you doubt he had the knowledge to do so in the first place. There is large bow strapped to the saddle, thus far untouched by you, and gently you undo the bindings. It is heavier than it looks, and you hold it aloft clumsily, the string biting hard into your fingers as you struggle to draw it back. 

“You won’t catch anything like that.” 

You don’t turn to look at him. 

“You didn’t have to give me your water. Steve.” He chuckles at the sound of his name on your lips. 

“I won’t be doing it again, Sweetmeat. So you’d better learn how to use that thing.” This time you do turn. He is closer than you anticipated, and you squeak with surprise as he plucks the bow from your hands with ease. “Hold it up, like this.” He draws the string back, the muscles rippling across his bare chest. “This is the sight, here, this notch.” He runs his thumb over the place where the arrow head will sit. “Come.” 

When you don’t move, he grips your hands firmly, winding them around the bow. 

“Like this, put your hand here.” His hand curls over yours, covering it completely. You’re practically trembling when he pulls away, your palms sweaty against the lacquered wood. “One last piece of advice, Sweetmeat.” 

“What?”

“Don’t miss.” 

to be continued

next

#chris evans #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfiction #cevans fandom #cevans fic #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #boxofbonesfic #bones drabbles #Orc Au #Brave fic

[vmpiires]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, mentions of anxiety (once), non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; it’s finally fall during the mid 90s in shibuya, tokyo, japan. choso is a pretty hard working guy. he works as a bartender at a local bar on the evening shift. his baby brother yuji, who he thoroughly looks after and loves unconditionally, is babysat by some trusted neighbors. they also had a kid, so yuji wasn’t lonely. aside from his tendency to be disassociated, he meets someone so different…yet so alike.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.O4K

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; i really like this concept. i just randomly thought of it because i was struggling to make up a plot buttttt i think this gone be good. hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D

another note: might make a part 2 of this. if this does good i’ll do it :P

₊❏❜ ⋮ continue to part two ⌒

it was a breezy autumn morning and sunlight started to creep through the cream curtains that hung up over the window. a groan rattled from under the large navy covers on the king sized bed. an arm slowly slid out from under the covers and pulled it down from over the owner’s head, revealing the one that was hidden underneath.

the digital alarm clock on the nightstand read ‘9:55 AM’. it made the male groan at how early in the morning it was. sitting up, choso would thread his hand hand through his brown medium length hair before slowly getting out of bed.

choso entered the bathroom and took a look at himself. the male wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of joggers with his boxers partially showing underneath. the drawstrings were untied. he didn’t even bother to tie them up again since he was about to shower.

after he had done his hygiene, he would take the rubber bands that were wrapped securely around his wrist and put his hair up in two high ponytails, making sure to tie them tightly. choso would examine the weeping wound across the bridge of his nose before covering it up with a bandage. something he normally did to forget about it being there. it made him insecure.

it was 10 AM now and choso was making breakfast for him and baby yuji. well, he wasn’t really a baby. he was five years old at the time so that meant choso didn’t have to fuss while feeding the pink haired boy baby food and he was old enough to eat foods like scrambled eggs and bacon.

with half-lidded eyes, choso’s signature face of apathy and boredom was plastered onto his pale skin. the male would light a cigarette and inhale the smoke before exhaling again shortly after. he was aware that smoking would lead to his demise but it wasn’t like he cared.

“yuji, wake up.” his deep voice echoed throughout the house, pushing the cigarette back between his lips when he realized that yuji wasn’t answering his call. he glanced at the now cooked food on the counter, carefully placed on two plates before making his way to yuji’s room.

the small boy was sleeping peacefully. curled up in the blankets and hugging the pochita plushie that choso had gotten him for his birthday. choso couldn’t help but smile. he quietly walked over to the bed and sat down on it.

“come on, yuji, get up. i made you breakfast and it’ll get cold if you don’t wake up.” he said quietly, gently rubbing his brother’s shoulder. it took a moment but yuji finally woke up, his eyelids fluttering as he did.

“morning, choso,” yuji answered drowsily. choso smiled and returned the greeting before picking the boy up and carrying him to the kitchen.

“alright, after you eat, get ready to take a bath, okay? you know i have work today and i want you to be ready before later.” choso would place the plate down in front of yuji simply watched as he quickly cleared his plate.

‘i guess i’m the one that needs to finish my food.’ he thought.

bath time was a bit of a hassle…like every other time. yuji would splash water everywhere, getting the bathroom floor and choso wet. the male was lucky to not be wearing his violet eyeshadow because he knew if he wiped the water from his face, it would smear all over his face and sweater.

“calm down. you know that’s more for me to clean.” choso mumbled as he cleaned his baby brother with the soapy rag. yuji would only laugh and play with his bath toys, not completely listening to what choso had to say, regarding the bathroom turning into a watery mess.

noon rolls around and choso is picking out clothes for yuji to wear. it was getting a little cold out, so he made sure to take out a long sleeve shirt, some joggers, and some clean socks that would keep his small feet warm.

though, choso’s shift didn’t start until 5, the male always liked to be ten steps ahead. he’d pack yuji a lunchable and a turkey sandwich, neatly placed in a ziplock bag with two capri-sun’s along with a pack of chips. in yuji’s small backpack, there was his DS with the charger just in case and all of his favorite games, a couple of his action figures just in case he got bored with the DS, pokémon themed headphones, a couple more snacks, and a change of clothes just in case.

“choso, can i take my coloring book too?” yuji asked. the tall male looked down at yuji and sighed.

“your backpack is a bit small, you know. i don’t think your coloring book can fit.” choso said. “unless you want me to get you a bigger bag to take with you.”

“a bigger bag, please.” yuji answered. choso wanted to roll his eyes. everything in the bag was neatly packed. now he had to do it all over again…but in a bigger bag. he couldn’t be angry, though. he wanted yuji to be comfortable while he was away for a few hours.

everything was completely in order when it was time to walk yuji next door. there was a boy around his age that went by the name of megumi. he always looked bored for some reason, which choso thought was odd for a five year old.

“okay, you have a good time. don’t lose anything and keep everything close to you. um…call me if you—” choso rambled until he realized yuji was already off playing with megumi.

“call me if you need me.” he finally added.

choso was at work now. he got there earlier than he usually did, so he was able to clean the space off quickly before starting his shift.

the night went on smoothly. with him being so quiet and disassociated, it was easy for him to avoid interacting with others if he didn’t have to. as he worked, choso’s hair flowed gracefully as he moved around. he didn’t want to look too childish as a twenty three year old man, so he removed his high ponytails in the bathroom. like that morning, he had his rubber bands secured around his wrist, worn as bracelets.

that’s when you entered the bar area. you’d sit down on one of the stools, watching as each bartender made their way around. tonight was one of your nights where you just wanted to get away from your life’s problems. you needed a break.

“can i help you?” a tall male with medium length brown hair and tired eyes spoke. his voice was deep as if he hadn’t spoke in a while. his voice catches you off guard but you play it off and throw a small smile on your face.

you order yourself a strawberry lemonade that came with a cute little lemon on the side of the glass. you also ended up getting some mozzarella sticks that came with both ranch and marinara sauce. you weren’t much of a picky person, so you dipped the cheese sticks into both condiments.

“how long have you worked here?” you start, trying to spark a conversation with the male that served you. you noticed that he was getting ready to go on break. he had a pack of cigarettes sitting on the counter with a black lighter on top.

he had a black earring in the cartilage of his left ear, a couple rings on both of his hands, and violet eyeshadow around his eyes. that’s what made him look like he didn’t get any proper sleep.

he had on a black formal shirt with black pants. the same outfit the other bartenders had on. the only difference is that he wore black combat boots and everyone else had on sneakers.

choso was a bit taken aback by the question since no one else really asked him anything unless it was work related.

“for a couple years now.” he replied, his deep voice catching you off guard again. “i have a little brother to take care of. i just need money to keep the house up.”

you watch as he picks up the pack of cigarettes, his rings scraping the counter as he did. the lighter clicked before it finally caught a flame.

“you come here a lot?”

“oh, no…i only come here occasionally. tonight just so happened to be one of those nights.” you answer. life was truly kicking you in the ass. with college and everything shaking up your schedule, you found it a bit hard to focus.

“i see,” choso mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before pushing the pack towards you, subtly offering you a cigarette to alleviate your nerves. you weren’t a smoker and usually your first instinct would be to kindly decline the offer but this time you went against that.

the two of you talked for as long as you could, managing to get free refills on your lemonade without being charged at all. if you asked any one else, you’d be coming out fifty cents each time you wanted a refill.

you realized that the more you spoke to choso, the more you seemed to take a liking to him. the two of you weren’t the social types and you both usually kept to yourselves. there was a list of things you two had in common. the only difference was the fact that you didn’t have to worry about any younger siblings.

the night ended with the two of you exchanging numbers. you both seemed to really like each other.

choso had come home from work, carrying yuji back to his room because he had fallen asleep while spending his time with megumi and anyone else who may have arrived at the neighbor’s home.

he stared at the phone number on his wrist and he sighed. he enjoyed you. it was the first time he was actually pretty engaged in a conversation with anyone and not disassociating himself. but he couldn’t do it. he didn’t have time for a girlfriend.

he didn’t have the time to fall in love. he had better things to worry about. he couldn’t sit around worrying his tired mind about a woman that he just met.

choso was in deep thought, lying in his bed comfortably with his hair sprawled out over the pillow and his eyes closed, occasionally running a finger across his nose to make sure the bandage was still covering his nose. the male had on his usual tan sweater and some black baggy pants and white socks.

he was in a state of peace. the house was quiet and there wasn’t anyone to bother him. not even his odd intrusive thoughts came in to disturb him. but that peace was derailed when he felt a smaller pair of hands touch his.

“who’s number is this?” yuji asked, holding onto choso’s hand to read the number. he would mumble the numbers to himself. choso exhaled from his nose. it was a start since he wanted yuji to learn his numbers.

“no one’s. i just wrote them down when i was at work.” choso replied, keeping his bored, apathetic expression on his face but this response only made the little pink haired boy smile.

“is it a girl? do you have a girlfriend?”

suddenly, choso could feel the heat rising up in his cheeks, now having a flustered expression. a complete turnaround from his usual appearance.

“no, it isn’t a girl—it…it’s just a couple numbers.” choso was stumbling over his words, trying his hardest not to sound embarrassed by the sudden question.

“do you like her?”

choso sighed, realizing that yuji wasn’t letting up. hiding the truth wasn’t much of an option anymore. the male would smile a bit at his little brother and ruffle his hair gently.

“listen. we have a lot in common and she’s really pretty…i just don’t have the time for a relationship. i have to take care of you, i have work, and i have appointments. you know my anxiety is really bad.” choso rambled. “i’m always nervous about this stuff and—”

“choso?”

“huh? yes?”

“calm down.”

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

#anime #𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く #jujutsu kaisen #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk #jjk x reader #choso x black!reader #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk itadori #jujutsu itadori #yuji itadori #writers on tumblr #writing #writerscommunity #jjk gojo #jujutsu geto #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu gojo

[mightymizora]

What's your take on Ketheric's evilness? When I rank my Chosen on the shitty people ladder, I put Ketheric at the top.

Man I joke a lot about how I could fix Ketheric but yeah he's pretty terrible. I don't know if he quite beats Gortash for me for scale though. The wrap sheet for Gort is truly so heinous.

(Also worth noting that when I say "Orin didn't do anything wrong" I obviously don't mean that but I DO mean that I have a lot of sympathy for Orin because she beyond any of the others had basically no chance to turn out differently. She was conditioned to the point of actual madness. But anyway this isn't about Orin.)

The thing that gets me about Ketheric is the fact he weighs up what he does constantly and still does it. And unlike Gortash and Orin, it's not like he came from horror. He was a normal guy with a wife and kids (side note I still don't understand the Thorm family. I landed on Malus being his uncle, Gerringothe being a sister, and Thisobald being a bastard child born after Melodia died.) But grief just kept pushing him down and further into abject nihilism. I think that's where my sympathy with him does come in.

Ketheric just has this apathy to anything that isn't Isobel. He just put all the love and light of his whole world onto one person and that's so unhealthy and fucked up! I think that made her a target for Shar, who is always looking for ways to fell important Selunites. He thought it was Aylin's attention (and it might have been, partly) but I think Shar saw the opportunity in his obsession more than in the risk of their relationship. Even if it hadn't been though, how can one woman shoulder that much unhealthy devotion? It's not good parenting, it's not healthy, it's not right. But when he lost his wife, his only joy became her, and when he lost her he would do anything to assuage that grief. I think when you've experienced similar loss, he does become quite sympathetic there.

I think I understand why people follow Shar, from that reasoning. Shar isn't just evil, she is a nothing, she is emptiness, and when you are in the deepest throws of grief there is nothing you long for more than those tiny moments, for example when you first wake before your mind recalls, where you feel nothing.

It just feels like he carved away his humanity to starve off grief as much as he could like a man literally cutting off his own flesh to feed a rabid dog. He let EVERYTHING become a victim of his grief. And then he finally meets somebody who says to him hey, you don't have to do this, where EVERYBODY else has been enabling him for their own designs. He's the great general that Shar wants to use, that the Myrkulites want to use, that Gortash and The Dark Urge want to use and he is completely malleable to those needs. Which is a chilling kind of evil, really. He lets evil seep into him like a poison until it is too late.

#ketheric thorm #I'd be interested in your take as to why he's worse #because I think I am biased as somebody who grew up around a lot of grief in how I view Ketheric's fucked upness

[underhousearrestblog]

Forever Mine pt.2 | R.C.

(summary) with dreading suspicion you realize that Rafe has come up with an elaborate plan to keep you his forever.

(warnings) blackmail, kidnapping, implied forced pregnancy

(pairings) dark!Rafe Cameron x reader

(genre) I have no idea anymore... Sexual tension with a smidge of plot?

(reminder) Y/N – your name

(also) usage of she/ her pronouns

HAPPY READING!

Once the pilot announced that you’ve landed and that everyone is free to leave, you looked around frantically for anyone to help you escape. For anything to defend yourself with. The rest of Camerons had apparently traveled in another section of the plane because you didn’t meet anyone else during the flight.

Your scared glance met self-assured eyes of your kidnapper. Rafe had apparently guessed your train of thought because self-satisfied smirk played on his lips.

He had spent the last hour pretending to care for your needs. At least you thought it was pretending. He had ordered enough food to feed his entire family and kept insisting that he is the one to feed you because “you can’t be trusted with your hands free”. As if you had anywhere to go on a plane.

Unknowingly to you, Rafe himself had enjoyed feeding you. Having you depending on him for basic needs. You, tied up, not being able to even take a sip of water. Bringing the bottle to your lips and making sure you drink enough to stay hydrated. He enjoyed feeding you more than he enjoyed eating the food himself.

- How are you going to explain to the staff that you have a screaming, unwilling girl on the plane?

You probably felt so smart at that moment, Rafe thought. You had no idea what money could buy.

Somewhere deep in his mind, he promised to show you. To show you the benefits of his money once you had accepted your fate. He promised to spoil you rotten. All in good time.

He knelt before you and unlocked the handcuffs. When he saw the red streaks they had left on your skin, his fingers absentmindedly started massaging the bruises. To your absolute surprise, he pulled your wrist to his lips and kissed it.

You let out a small gasp.

- The staff works for us, - he explained, looking up at you. – They won’t say a word. They won’t help you. Not unless they’re willing to die for it.

The apathy with what he said it quickly pulled you back to the image of Rafe that you knew oh so well. He didn’t care for anyone. You were certain that the moment he got bored of you, he would kill you and throw you into the ocean.

You needed to get away before that happened.

A quick thought of telling Wheezie came into your mind but just as quickly you threw it away. Wheezie was a child. A child Rafe could easily overpower. Ward was a given – he wouldn’t choose his son’s random hook-up over Rafe. That left Rose and you were sure about her too.

As if read your mind again, the man in front of you grinned.

- My family has much bigger things to deal with than a hysterical girl who is taken care of like she’s a princess...

You hated how easily he could read your mind. It bothered you to no end because sometimes you could do that to him too...

He reached around you, while still kneeling on the floor, and started untying your waist from the seat. Due to the length of your skirt, you felt and were basically naked from the waist down. You could feel his fingers stopping their work, as he put his face closer between your legs...

And then the psycho drew a deep breath into his lungs.

His eyes closed and a muscle in his jaw moved, as he clenched his teeth. When he opened his eyes, the pupils had dilated so much, his eyes were almost black.

- This turns you on, mhm? – he asked, continuing his task with the restraints around your waist. – I guess I wasn’t the only one who’s really into forced intimacy.

- You are fucking mental! – you lost your temper, standing up from your seat as soon as the rope no longer held you back. – I have a life! I have school and work and famil-

Family! While worrying sick about yourself, you had completely forgot about your mother. She’s going to die from worrying! She already had a heart condition and was anxious about everyone and anything since she lost your father. She’s not gonna survive you disappearing without a trace!

Rafe immediately noticed when the stubborn, hot-headed flame in your eyes changed into fear and guilt. And, as much as he wanted to pull you into his arms and give you comfort, the strategic, manipulative bastard that he was, he realized soon enough that you had given away your one weakness.

- You can call her, baby, - he spoke softly, trying to lure you into a false sense of safety. – You can tell your mother you took a spontaneous trip with your girlfriends. Calm her down.

You felt as if you were hyperventilating. Your heart pounded in your chest. You could hear blood in your ears.

Rafe gave into his desires and pulled you into his arms. Then he dragged both of you few steps back, until he could sit back in his seat and pull you into his lap. Burying his face into your hair, he tried to calm you before this turned into a panic attack.

Once your breaths were even again, he pulled away, still keeping you on his lap.

- There’s, of course, something I’ll need in return for that phone call.

Of-fucking-course.

- What do you want? – you tried to hide the tremble in my voice. – A blowjob?

He laughed, as if you had just told a funny joke. As if both of you were just two friends, on a vacation together, joking around.

- I wouldn’t refuse, baby, however I want that to be your decision, - he leaned back until the back of his head met the seat. – I want you to sleep with me.

For a moment, your temper overpowered the fear, as you rolled your eyes practically back into the skull. You immediately tried to pull your hands out of his much bigger ones, but his grasp wouldn’t budge.

- So much for my decision, - you murmured under my breath.

He didn’t seem irritated by this new flare of bravery. His eyes lazily traveled all over your face.

- Calm down, doll, - after a long pause, he said. – I won’t coerce you into sex. But I will have you in my bed tonight.

Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding.

- You’re my girlfriend. We’re not sleeping separately. I’m not going to fuck you against your will but you will sleep in my room, in my bed, in my arms.

You couldn’t take his word for it, could you? He could still easily drug you, overpower you, manhandle you and fuck you, if he wanted to.

- Do we have a deal? – he raised an eyebrow, watching with interest your internal battle with yourself.

You thought about it.

- We sleep fully clothed and you stay on your side.

He chuckled.

- No.

- Fine, just fully clothed.

He actually seemed to think about it. After a second of hesitation, he slowly nodded.

- Fine, but you sleep in my clothes. It’s either that or you’re naked.

You realized that’s the best you could negotiate. You quickly nodded and tried to stand back up. He, seemingly ready for that, wrapped one of his arms around your middle and pushed you back down.

- We’ve landed. I’m sorry, baby, - with his other hand, he reached behind your back to retrieve something.

You were confused.

- Sorry for what?

When you looked into his eyes, they almost, almost, appeared guilty. He kissed you on the cheek and at that moment, you felt a sting in your neck.

- What the-

- I’m sorry, - he continued to apologize softly. – I’m sorry, baby. But you will try to escape me and I can’t have that.

He drugged you!

Again!

Your accusing eyes met his with so much anger. Too late you remembered that your anger, passion, irritation usually works as a turn-on for him. Seeing his lust-filled, almost black eyes, you knew that hadn’t changed.

- I promise you, sweetheart, - he pulled you into a resemblance of a hug, with your head resting against his shoulder. – I won’t do it again.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #tw kidnapping #outer banks #outer banks imagine #imagine

[olive-garden-hoe]

PLEASE SOMEONE LISTEN WHAT IF

“The Moon Will Sing” is ABOUT A PARENT

Note 1: this is in no way supposed to be definitive, it is my interpretation as someone who relates heavily to the song in this context

Note 2: this interpretation is in no way, shape, or form trying to say that the way the singer depicts her relationship with her parents in this song is indicative of her relationship with her parents in real life. It is not my place, nor anyone else’s, to speculate about how accurate this song is to her personal life. Though my wording may seem as though I am talking about the singer’s actual relationship with her parents, I mean it strictly in the context of the song. We must all respect the artist’s privacy.

“Tell me once again, I could’ve been anyone anyone else, before you made the choice for me”

The singer is expressing her disbelief that her whole fate was practically determined by her parents, that she could’ve been so much different if they didn’t mold her to be a certain way

“My feet knew the path we walked in the dark… I never gave a single thought to where it might lead”

The singer was unaware of the path her parent was taking her and was kept in the dark about what the steps her parents told her to take would lead. The fact that she ‘never gave a single thought’ implies naïveté that is consistent with an exceptionally young child blindly following their parents instructions

“All those empty rooms, we could have been anywhere… else, instead I made a bed with apathy”

The ‘empty rooms’ could be a reference to the unfurnished facets of her life that her parents may have forced her to leave empty in pursuit of ‘furnishing’ other ‘rooms’ (I.e. they won’t let her explore music because she needs to focus on grades). The bed of apathy likely means that she had become too tired to debate or fight back, that she opted for inaction and acceptance of her parents’ molding for the sake of ease and because she was too tired from working on furnishing these rooms to do anything besides continue the cycle.

“My heart knew the weight, ten years worth of dust and neglect, we made our peace with weariness and let it be”

This could be saying that the tiredness the singer expresses formerly exists in her parents as well, that everyone is just too tired to address any issues within their families. I would like to note that, while not explicitly stated, this may be referencing ‘The Hand that Feeds’ where her father was established to “work all his days.”

“The moon will sing a song for me, I loved you like the sun, bore the shadows that you made with no light of my own, I shine only with the light you gave me…”

THE WHOLE VERSE IS SO FIRE OMG ANYWAYS The singer is expressing how she relates to the moon due to the way it is completely dépendant on the sun for its light. In the same way, she may be saying that she feels as though all the goodness or impressive qualities are only the result of her parents’ light. In other words, sheath be expressing a deep-seated fear that she is not quite fully a new person, rather just a combination of her parents and/or their actions

“Name your courage now”

Her parents may, in her adult life, be boasting about how good they were to her when she was a child. However, it is only putting a name to ‘courage’ that ultimately may have done more harm than good or have just been the bare minimum

“We could have had anything else, instead you hoarded all that’s left of me”

Now we’re getting into a new facet of the relationship with the parents! It seems that they also were overbearing in some way, stopping the singer from getting the experiences or friends she wanted.

“Swallowing your doubt, like swords to the pit of my belly”

She seems to be internalizing her parents’ cynicism and/or criticism and allowing that to mold her. It seems her parents not trusting her hurts her a lot, meaning she places a lot of emphasis on their approval/trust, which is supported by the first verse

“I want to feel the fire that you kept from me!”

In the story of Prometheus, the god steals fire from Mount Olympus to give to humans and gets punished for it. The reason this may be important is because the Crane Wives are no strangers to referencing folklore (look at the explanation behind their name). We can reasonably assume that they are acknowledging the double-faceted nature of fire that the myth of Prometheus displays. Fire is something that gives advancement, the basis of early and modern technology as well as a major way our world consumes energy. It also provides light and warmth, as well as an opportunity for rebirth (look at why forest fires are beneficial for forests). At the same time, fire is the great consumer, it spreads and burns as it goes, leaving ash in its wake. The Prometheus story not only references the consequences of bringing such a force to mortals, but also why Prometheus thought it was important to risk himself for. In this lyric, the singer references a fire that was kept from her, which from the previous discussion we can reasonably assume includes both the growth fire brings and the destruction it causes. I’m other words, I believe this lyric is saying that the singer desires for both sides of life, growth and harm, that her parents ‘protected’ her from.

#the crane wives #crane wives #the moon will sing #song interpretation #lyric interpretation #art is subjective #everyone is welcome to discuss any other takes #also let me know if I should add any TWs/CWs or change the formatting #constructive criticism welcome

[gloomforrestrunes]

Eden and Cinder refs!

a young dark realm recruit who desperately doesnt want to fight. became extremely paranoid and aware of their behavior after being made to watch the execution of another trainee he was close with as a warning due to their perceptively disloyal behavior. was told to keep their mouth shut in regards to the details of the execution.

has named the executioner "the deathbringer" in her head ever since that incident, due to the quickness of their claws and teeth and the haunted numbness of their gaze. one second her friend was alive, and in the next they were dead.

eden would be grateful that their friend's death was quick, if she wasn't left so horrified at the scene and stricken with gnashing grief.

born and raised in the dark realm, cinder is fueled by rage and spite. she was seen as the most promising trainee out of the average bunch, and was ready and willing to seek the justice these strangers who named themselves "the sin council" promised.

other than a couple of trainees she viewed as just as ruthless and jaded as he was, cinder found himself growing unexpectedly close with a recruit that she never cared for or even acknowledged before. (this isn't the same trainee that eden watched die)

this trainee was... kind to him. and didn't noticeably avoid her out of fear like many others would do. cinder spoke to her at first with venom, then with apathy, then curiosity, then intrigue, then feigned politeness, and finally kindness. (well, cinder's version of kindness)

the recruit managed to get through to cinder a bit, allowing him to question the intentions behind the council. why are these animals who weren't even from the dark realm are suddenly promising to lead them to the justice they were owed centuries ago? eventually, the friendship between these two turned into something more

cinder doesn't know what to do with himself since her partner mysteriously disappeared from their numbers. that only means one thing in the dark realm.

"the deathbringer feeds again" eden whispers frantically, "can't you hear it? the sound of blood staining the floor of it's cave."

#references #trainees #eden morn #cinder vesper #the deathbringer

[agattthaa]

Not simply asleep

Paring: Tyril Starfury/ F!HumanMC (implied, not really relevant to the plot)

Word count: 1.065

Summary: Some words hurt. Sometimes more than anything else.

Warnings: angst, descriptions of torture and experiments on a human, descriptions of someone being an awful friend.

Arimelda = Dearest.

-You don't know what is like. You were asleep. 

The whole florest became colder than it already was. The woman, the human, the hero slowly turned her face towards the one who had just spoken. 

Mal Volari, the boy, the human, the rougue. The first one of all of them whom she met. The first one that taugth her to truly be an adventurer. The first one to become her friend. 

It was funny how he became the first of them to really hurt her. 

That is, if she forgot about the traitor that was covering his mouth and looking at her in amusement, as if the prince knew just how upset that frase made her.

-Excuse me? 

-You were sleeping, Raine. How hard could've been for you? 

And suddently, all she could see was red. 

Red as anger.

Red as resentiment.

Red as her blood. 

-Mal... -The priestest placed her hand on his shouder, as if asking him to call down, to stop. But the damages had already been made. The words already felt like knifes, digging into her flesh, making her bleed. 

-How hard could've been for me, Volari? -Her voice was cold, making all of them shake. She, who was as warm as the morning ligth now had a look on her eyes of nothing but pain and hurt. -How can you say that?

-It's the truth, you said it yourself. It didn't felt like a year, you slept thoutgh the vast majority of it. How bad could it been? -His answer came devoited of any bad intent, almost as if he simply pointed out that the sky was blue. Now, the knifes on her twisted.

-How hard could've been for you?

-What? Raine...

-You have no idea of what they've done to me. You have no idea of what she did to me. 

-Gave you a sedative? I have no idea of why you are so upset, kit, but we have no time for that. 

She looked at him. Now, the shock, the anger and the pain could not be seen in her eyes. They where empty. Blue as the sea, hidding even more than it, and empty. 

She didn't say anything. Instead, she started unbraiding her hair and unting the back of her dress. 

-Arimelda... -Tyril tried to place his hands on hers, not understanding what she was doing when she pulled away from him. The hurt showed again in her eyes when they met with his. 

-I didn't wish you to see it like this. 

When pulled her arms out of the long sleeves and her dress dropped on the floor, all of them stopped breathing. 

An uncountable number of scars stained her flesh. Her arms were filled with purple spots and dark stains, as each and every one of her veins was pierced at least thrice. She had lost weight, a lot of it. Now most of her rib cage marked her skin and her legs were filled with scars, as if they cutted her skin and sewed it back together without any care of how they would look after. 

But nothing was worse than the one on her stomach. 

There was a thin layer of a dried mixture that she applied herself. But the mixture being effective was a horrible thought, because if that was what it looked like after the mixture, it hurted anyone to imagine how it was before. 

-By The Light, Raine, let me just.... -Nia tried to get her hand closer to Raine's stomach, but she acted as fast as a lightning, curling her arms over her. The priestess had pain in her eyes when she pulled back. -Oh, Raine... 

 -Do you know what I remember? -She looked into the Rogue's eyes, the hurt hidden again and a look of apathy in her eyes. -I remember growing up alone, stealing people's trash to survive. I remember getting a father years after any other person. I remember him getting sick of overworking himself to feed me and my brother. I remember him, dying in my arms, telling me to survive and to take care of Kade. I remember losing Kade right in front of my eyes, because yes, if you don't remember, the only person I loved in this world was kidnaped right in front of me and I couldn't do anything to stop it. But how could I ever know what it felt like for you? 

-Raine... - The Rogue exhaled regret, but she didn't stop. 

-Do you know what else I remember? I remember some flashes, like I was waking up and falling asleep again. Do you want to know what I saw? 

They were all in shock, no one dared to say anything, although the fallen prince gave a hard look to the rogue and everyone else looked guilty at the woman.

-I saw flashes of light directly in my eyes, that were forcedly opened by hands I did not know. I saw them shaving spots on my head. I saw them injecting needles inside my arms and taking my blood away and using different needles to inject something in me. I saw them taking pieces of my skin and then sewing it back together. I saw them closing my stomach and I remember that scene every time I look down. 

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she refused to let them run down. Neither the mage nor the priestess refused though, tears ran down both their faces like a waterfall, violent and unstoppable. The orc was no longer looking at the human, she couldn't stand to, and the prince looked lost, like he was watching something that he couldn't, shouldn't intervein. And the rogue looked like he was being destroyed. 

-Then, I truly woke up, on a bed full of my own blood, gathered strength from god knows where, and ran for my life. Now, please, tell me. How was it harder for you? You, who was playing house with a beautiful woman. You, who became a father. You, who simply moved on with your life. Tell me. How was it ever harder for you?

Now, silent tears also left the rogue's eyes. He didn't say anything. He couldn't dare to. 

So the woman, the human, the broken one, picked up her dress and walked towards the pond. Alone. Now that she knew that she had never been anything else.

#choices stories you play #blades of light and shadow #choices #choices bolas #tyril starfury #mal volari

[lunar-serpentinite]

very incomplete thoughts because im just pulling shit out of my ass at this point but honestly i feel like dark!harry would be dangerously nihilistic. the stress and heavy burdens of being the Chosen One who is also being unheard by the rest and slandered every other day or so would drive him to one final breakdown before he decides he has finally had enough

we know that harry is the type to feel a lot. he is regularly driven by his emotions and his morals and his wishes to actually help. so when he's had enough, he could just straight up not feel anything. after all, his feelings dont really matter in the big picture. why should he bother anymore ?

now we know that suppression of Magic, whether through conscious choice or to cope with abuse, can result in an Obscurial so it won't be too far of a stretch to say that excessive suppression of emotions can also result in something as dangerous for wixen.

so picture this : harry's had enough. he wants out of literally everything he's going through right now. and in the midst of his distress and slowly fraying sanity, he wishes hard enough to "stop feeling anything" that his own Magic obeys

harry goes from feeling too much to feeling nothing at all . there's a void in his chest where his emotions should be, and he finds that it really doesn't bother him at all. he feels the most peaceful he has been in a long, long while. the void in his chest grows larger still and slowly, he begins to think that nothing really matters in the end.

he thinks about everyone. they tout and scream to the rooftops that hes the chosen one, that hes supposed to stop voldemort, that he is destined for greatness. but then they treat him like a child, like a fragile little thing who cant do anything right. they dont believe a lot of what he says, and would rather be swayed by the words of dumbledore or the prophet or skeeter. he doesnt really matter all that much to them, he supposes. hes just their little symbol of hope, there to sit pretty and wait til the final duel.

well. none of that anymore. they can deal with voldemort by themselves. doing anything for or against them would mean nothing anyways. he's an immature child in their eyes anyways, so an immature child he will be.

harry doesn't notice that the void hes been feeling in his chest has started to affect him and his surroundings as well. it's like he has become a small black hole, draining the life and the magic of everything around him. and if someone comes close enough to him, he'd be draining their emotions as well.

he and his magic have effectively squashed any and all feelings he has besides apathy. all he cares about now is getting the rest he deserves and letting the world fall to ruins. they can figure it out, he thinks, not like they ever needed him anyways. and i feel like with the absence of his emotions and morals, he'd be more inclined to using crueler spells just to keep his peace.

he still has a bit of his dramatic flair so harry probably lays himself to rest somewhere like beneath the rubble of his family's home, which is the closest he can be to "resting with his parents beneath the snow". he pulls a bella swan, lays there all numb and uncaring, and lets the world pass him by

meanwhile, the void in his chest grows larger and stronger still. it feeds from the remains of harry's emotions and the vitality of the environment around them. eventually, it grows enough that it becomes capable of manifesting outside of harry and it becomes somewhat like an Obscurus, shapeless and near invisible but capable of dealing large amounts of damage. however, it stays in place and only acts when it perceives a threat to harry's rest, which is pretty much anything that moves within their vicinity

potter cottage becomes a little bubble of nihility. it eats at anything that comes near and people become horribly numbed if they come too close. sometimes harry can hear his friends call out to him from within, but hes getting the rest he has been wanting for so long. they can figure things out by themselves.

so

yeah

that's the thought

#harry potter #harry james potter #harry potter au #dark!harry #just incomplete thoughts #mine : au

[kalak]

A sith luke would be.. apathetic, in my mind. Something about the opposite of love not being hate but being apathy, that applies to luke. He's nice and polite but he doesn't rage, he doesn't get annoyed, he doesn't blink an eye, there's just nothing there.

At the same time the reason for his fall is because he believes that it's for the greater good. Only way I can rationalize luke falling - it's to protect his father, or his sister, or his friends. To save the galaxy. He doesn't become sociopathic, it's more in line with like, I'm sorry that I have to do this to you but it's for a better future. His tunnel vision of 'his way is the best way' becomes such a mantra that evil becomes nothing to him.

Also - the dark side would love luke. Let me explain - With the light side, you embrace the calmness it offers you, you meditate, you accept your emotions to set it free; with the dark side it's the same but instead of letting it go, the dark feeds the emotions off of you. You aren't dispelling it healthily, you're just letting it eat you until it becomes a parasite.

So when light siders first embrace the dark side, the way they do it destroys them in some way, because the dark isn't as forgiving as the light. You can't just completely let it in without getting devoured, so you come out of it broken in some way.

But with Luke it's different. Every time Luke's emotions run high, the dark side tries to latch on, and once he falls completely the dark side finally feeds on him and luke is left bereft, except.. he's not.

Luke does treat the dark the same way he does the light, but he's not being devoured, he's not being broken, it's like he's just dancing casually with it, fully embracing it - letting the dark lead.

If an average force sensitive did that, they'd get devoured fully. But luke doesn't, because he's that powerful. Because the main thing is, luke doesn't fear the dark side - if you fear it and show your tail, you'll become prey, but Luke just lets it wash over him, feeding on him to the full, so the dark side decides not to break him. Not entirely.

#yea sure I'll mary sueify luke a little bit idc #star wars #luke skywalker #sith!luke #my ramblings #star wars headcanons

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

Hey, got a quick question for you - if you had to be transmigrated into any of the manhwas you've read, which ones would you clear with ease, and which ones would you not survive?

I think something pleasant, like 'The Villainess Flips The Script' or 'Mother's Contract Marriage' would be pretty easy to survive - they're both pretty low stakes stories, and they're really fun. On the other hand, if we're excluding Roxana's art, the story is pretty 'edgy Wattpad girlboss' kind of story - I'd survive it through sheer plot armor and apathy.

But, when it comes to ones I wouldn't survive... 'How To Win My Husband Over'. It's very angsty, and it would end up as Emotionally Absent Number 1 (me) and Emotionally Absent Number 2 (Izek, the male lead). Plus, the moment anyone puts their hands on me - Cezare, Freya, the head maid - they're getting bitch slapped, because I have the temper of a polar bear on cocaine.

I also feel like 'The Pale Horse' would end up with me going pretty much insane - the story gets pretty gory and it's got a lot of dark elements, plus Rose's own past would leave me with pretty bad scars (assuming I'm transmigrated to live her entire life, even as Rosalind and Margot, and not just her life as Rose Dupre).

A Transmigrator's Privilege I'd survive because I'm privileged duh

Surviving Romance: I'd give up after my 5th death or so and the Devil would get my soul.

Saving my Sweetheart. Nothing would change. It would 1:1 follow the same plot. I wouldn't say me and the heroine are the same but we are probably in the same category of personalities.

I would not survive 'How To Win My Husband Over'. I'd commit suicide after Cesare dashed all my hopes for freedom and a happy future with the murder of my first or second husband (the one she liked). I wouldn't even stick around long enough to have met Izek.

In The Pale Horse I would end up just like Rose. Except I would go a little yandere, I'd keep Pierre locked up in my mansion and would use him as a chewtoy whenever I feel frustrated. I'd feed him blood with a kiss just because I feel like it :3

The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass. Alive but miserable. I'd reset time after every minor inconvenience and would end up as an old grandma <- is a master procrastinator.

Vadd. Instant death.

Who Made Me A Princess: Death by drowning. If I make it until my debutante Social Death, because I wouldn't be able to resist Jennette's adorableness! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Lady Devil I'd survive thanks to my encyclopedic knowledge on incest ships. RIP to Giovinetta but I'm different. I know how to treat a deranged blonde brother right.

#anon #answered asks

[fieriframes]

[Darkness feeds on apathy.]

#s33e06 something sweet #guy fieri #guyfieri #diners drive-ins and dives #darkness #apathy

[fumblingmusings]

Overly long musings about a potential characterisation of Fem!England that doesn't match what would be canon nor should it necessarily be canon but I think would be neat here we go...

Don't get me wrong I do enjoy Fem!England's design - particularly as she's just as scrawny and thin as Arthur but I kind of want an aesthetic that's less skinny child and more emaciated and hollowed out adult.

The kind of woman who smoked excessively and had an opioid addiction throughout the 19th century not entirely of her own making (laudanum and how it could just keep spiralling from there) that she still struggles to shake through to the 21st.

The kind of woman whose hair is a dark wild curly crows nest which never reached Gibson Girl level of dishevelled glam no no it's just a pre-raphaelite mess. That's what I view her as - if Arthur's a punk delinquent then she's that tragic Victorian waif seen in so many operas and plays.

She is certainly someone who would fit right in with 80s punk or 90s grunge no problem (she certainly buys into the lifestyle), but she's someone who used to stand at the end of the hallway in a white gown holding one candle and make Alfred squeak as he snuck upstairs after drinking a midnight milk snack because she truly is as ephemeral and as solid as a ghost (he didn't mean to have her thrown in the river in the 1690s - honest - he knows she's not a witch but when she looms like that...)

And even when she 'cleans up' she's just swallowed up by the sashes and dresses and jewellery. She doesn't hate wearing them but they sure do not enjoy being worn by her.

She stops wearing red after 1918. Green is safe and alive. White are her cliffs that protect her and the pearls that Caesar invaded her for. Red is... everything that is wrong with the world. Everything that she did wrong.

She's still got a stick up her arse, just like Arthur, she's still a menace for the rules until it serves her to break them, just like Arthur. That feeling of helplessness, passivity and apathy that churns and gives way to smug superiority as a front to hold herself together, just like Arthur, is forever present.

Unlike Arthur her anger is more internally directed and set to a permanent broil rather than lashing out at the smallest infraction at the closest recipient. It's a system which rots her from the inside out, but she's nothing but a martyr (still so much like Arthur) and thus she will endure.

Her disappointment and melancholia is more feared than her anger by her kids. She doesn't get angry at them. No no. That's not what mother's do. The kids - only in glimpses - catch their mother's erratic mood swings, unable to predict the pattern of when she'll take them strawberry picking and make jam for them or leave with them with a nanny and lock herself in the attic nursery for five weeks and spend it peeling off the yellow wallpaper - It's not that they doubt she cares for them, loves them even, it's just the fact that their mere presence sometimes makes her question things that it would be much easier to ignore.

So like. Her relationship with the colonies are arguably more fucked up than Arthur's ever could be. A genuine desire for motherhood that got conflated and wrecked by Empire so every moment like these:

Feels like propaganda to her (because isn't it???) and it's to the point where she can't tell what's genuine anymore. In reality she would want nothing more than be that sort of soft mum but she's not. She can't be. Because it's selective on who she can show it too. Because it's encouraged by the wrong people. So she thinks, and broods, and the anger continues to bubble.

Sometimes she can live in the construct, tell herself she's playing pretend, only for it then to feel very real, too real, and she panics and refuses to play house and lie.

Except she's not sure if she was lying. Like was she just feeding into this motherland mother country white woman's burden bullshit or should she admit the equally scary option that what she feels for the kids is genuine? Only she can't express it without buying into said oppressive system and...

She's conflicted for about three hundred years.

...Hmm. I just think a female England would be quite an interesting vehicle to explore that intersectionality of gender and empire - making it worse in that it is a role she genuinely wants - being a mother - and even so she cannot express it in her own way because it seems to only be used by those who make it harmful. So it eats her from the inside out until you reach... idk. Say 1945? 1956? When her government admits the idea that she's the world's caretaker is a lie. When her eldest best beloved boy has come of age and her regency has ended.

She was shit at it anyway. So she tells herself. And now she'll never be a mother again; she'll never be given the chance or the right as she does not deserve it. The older children don't need or want her anymore (if they ever did to begin with and they did, when those times did feel real and her songs and embraces were sweet memories). But the desire still leaks out. Moments still occur. And despite everything she is still lady mother to a few, even if it's not a term spoken out loud. Sentimentality remains, and she can be incredibly sentimental when in one of her moods.

She's better now, essentially. Still half rotted. Still hollow. Still unsure of what her genuine self is and where that belongs. But at least she's not frightened of that love for her kids. At least her impulsively kissing Mattie on the temple doesn't send her into fits of madness anymore.

Small victories.

#hetalia #hws england #fem!england #headcanon #arthur's parenting #this appeals to... checks notes... ah. me. #hyup! #op #historical hetalia

[bloodborne2updates]

NPC’S: Iosef

The first nonhostile npc we encounter in Bloodborne 2 comes only shortly after we first arrive in Elpium and encounter Nicehis the Flenser. Whether she slays your character or you manage to defeat her and later get pushed into the Flooded Chapel by Leogan, you are immediately brought to a dark screen as your character loses their life, and you are faced with the fist of many “YOU HAVE DIED”’s.

As the black screen slowly fades into a cutscene, the sound of dripping water can be heard, and a distinctly masculine voice greets you in apathy.

> “Ah. Good Nicehis sends her regards once again. Come then, and partake. Let your newfound hunger guide you.”

The scene gradually comes into focus, revealing your character in what seems to be a flooded cistern, on their hands and knees in the water. Though the water is dark, the area around them it is tinged with a vivid, bloody red. The camera follows the red up the side of an altar, where blood spills down and into the flooded chamber below.

On that altar lies Iosef. A dark haired man decked in near pristine holy robes, laying flat on his back atop the stone altar in an area that the game will helpfully inform you post cutscene is called the Flooded Chapel. Iosef has no limbs to speak of, though his clothing, with its empty sleeves folded carefully over his chest and the trousers tied off at the legs, suggests that he once did. Pure white in color and adorned with gold thread and lavish gems of a deep amethyst hue, his garb suggests that he is a clergyman with a high position. Yet here he lies in a crumbling chapel, seemingly abandoned.

The only blemish to break the illusion of his pristine status is the wound in his side, which appears in game to be a large gash from which blood seems to flow in an endless, free stream down into the waters below the altar upon which he lies. As your character stands, the cutscene pans back to show the rest of the Flooded Chapel. Above Iosef’s altar is a headless statue of what seems to be a large, six armed creature draped in coarse fabric. Two of the arms grasp at either side of the altar, whilst the other four are raised to the heavens above and the hole you previously fell into the Flooded Chapel through.

Behind the statue, piles of corpses prove that you are but one of many who have been flung down below.

Here, the cutscene ends, and if the player lingers long enough, or interacts with Iosef, he has the following to say.

> “Hm? What’s this? You’ve your wits about you still? Ha.. [laughter that begins slow and builds up heartily, almost to the point of hysteria] hahaha…I see. You’re an unlucky one then. Not from around here, either. The name’s Iosef.

> “Well. I’ve no idea what nightmares have called you to Elpium, but you won’t survive here long as you are. Not to worry, I still have my uses. Venture forth, and bring me the echoes that linger in the blood of those above. I shall make them into a fine feast for you. A proper Hunter needs be fed, after all.”

If the character interacts with him again, the following dialogue triggers.

> “Oh? Yes, worried about going to face the night unarmed? Worry not. Surely you see the other gifts Nicehis has brought me. A great deal of them were better prepared than you, for all the good that it did them. See if you can’t find something you like.”

Iosef serves the same function as the Doll in Bloodborne, turning blood echoes into power to fuel your characters level ups. The animation for this action is your character dipping their hand into the floe of blood that spills off Iosef’s altar and bringing it to their mouth, presumably in order to drink it. By feeding Iosef Blood Echoes, you therefore empower his own blood, which you can then consume to empower yourself. This suggests that in some way, Iosef is a catalyst for the power of blood.

Upon leveling up with Iosef for the first time, he says the following.

> “No need to be squeamish, come now and sup your fill. There is power in transfusions like this, don’t let anyone fool you.”

Further level ups with Iosef prompt one of two dialogues.

> “Very well, you may Partake.”

> ”Partake in thy sacrament, for your own well-being.”

For now, Iosef’s origin, his relationship to Nicehis, and a large amount of his lore remains a mystery, but this first string of early interactions proves promising.

Bloodborne2Updates will update when further information is available.

#bloodborne #fromsoftware #bloodborne2 #lore #bloodborne lore #oc #soulsborne #soulslike #I’m not sorry for this #bloodborne fanfiction #npc #bloodborne2updates #dailysoulsborne

[whumpshaped]

accountability bulletpoint list from my docs. i wrote out this plan based on my write me a novel challenge that's linked in my pinned. and then i could never sit down and write it. i had a plan to condense it into a miniseries with about 10 chapters and then i never did that either. meh

exposition

chapter 1: friends (craven doesn’t have any. lol. loser.)

chapter 2: kidnapping (craven gets kidnapped and brought to the facility)

rising action

chapter 3: tied up, darkness (craven wakes up restrained, in the dark)

chapter 4: hostility, locked away (what use was hostility? and also, he’s locked away)

chapter 5: misfortune (or is it? that’s definitely the central theme. was it actually fortunate that he got kidnapped? or is that messed up to think?)

chapter 6: outside (how the outside world reacts to his disappearance)

chapter 7: fawn (craven is desperate for approval and affection, and god, praise)

chapter 8: someone new (is craven himself someone new? or does he see a new face inside the facility? maybe someone new to torture as part of his new job)

chapter 9: branding AND fresh air (craven gets branded and his training is officially done, and he also gets to go outside for the first time in so long…)

chapter 10: scream and gunshot (craven intimidates someone into obedience successfully. he feels awful after.)

chapter 11: collared (craven collars someone… it’s a big thing. craven doesn’t wear his collar anymore since he has the brand)

chapter 12: forced feeding (craven force feeds someone who went on a hunger strike)

chapter 13: distance (distance from the outside world, distance from his family, distance from his past self, distance from the tortures he carries out)

chapter 14: muzzled (craven gets muzzled and sent to torture someone like that, he gets laughed at by a defiant whumpee, he goes to town)

chapter 15: morally grey (that’s craven’s entire being, isn’t it? no, he’s morally very dark at this point, especially after the last chapter)

chapter 16: shock value (we learn smth abt ray… smth shocking, smth that absolutely shocks craven. it’s probably a fatal illness or wound or smth… and ray doesn’t plan on putting him in charge after. in fact they plan on putting someone in charge who would Not treat craven well)

chapter 17: breaking point (he’s done everything, been obedient, been respectful, and yet this is how he gets treated? he tries to kill ray probably… fails)

chapter 18: punishment (the punishment for the last chapter. rights probably revoked)

chapter 19: resignation (craven tries to make peace with the fact that he blew it all and now he’s going to be sold off)

chapter 20: shown off (craven is shown off to customers)

chapter 21:

chapter 22: opportunity (in a last show of trust, ray gives craven a careless chance to free himself of his own misery and kill them, taking over the facility)

climax

chapter 23: betrayal (craven betrays them and kills them)

chapter 24: death (...ray dies. a piece of craven’s soul dies along with them, just like the first time he’d ever killed someone)

falling action

chapter 25: apathy (what else is there for him now? he takes over the facility but he’s very robotic and practical about it, becomes a workaholic all the same as before, now also without friends)

chapter 26: hospital (turns out ray is alive… not well, but alive, so craven goes and… kills him a second time bc he now can’t let go of his power fantasy…)

chapter 27: revenge (craven kidnaps ppl from his old life who caused him to be miserable and turns them into pets)

chapter 28: rebirth (craven completely settles into his new life and completely rebrands during the very therapeutic hobby of torturing past bullies)

chapter 29: conditioned response (smth sets off a conditioned response he had and he gets really angy abt it)

resolution

chapter 30: introspection (craven changed a lot… he looks back… and looks inward…)

chapter 31: ambiguous end

#accountability

[theunfairfolk]

on the subject of shane madej (because people keep bringing him up on That Post). his “non belief” isn’t really NON belief. it’s a lack of belief (bear with me) plus skepticism. but if he actually saw a Full Body Apparition, i have no doubt he’d Believe (as most rational people would).

Steve The Non Believer is special because his nonbelief is itself a system of belief, while your run of the mill skepticism isn’t. steve is, in his own way, practicing magic by (not) believing in something so strongly that it effects the paranormal forces around him.

shane, alternately, is metaphysically protected in another way; he’s not afraid. the paranormal feeds on strong emotions, particularly negative ones (at least when it comes to the sorts of forces the watcher boys are seeking out). shane has stated on many occasions that the hardest part of investigations for him is boredom (and sleeping in gross places) because to him it’s just a few hours of wandering around in the dark and having one sided conversations.

BUT his apathy and skepticism aren’t enough to suppress RYAN’s experience of the paranormal/manifestations in general (i’m not gonna say all of their experiences are 100% Evidence Of Ghosts but there’s been some weird shit for sure). he’s not a fire extinguisher he’s a nonstick pan.

#shane madej #watcher #watcher entertainment #buzzfeed unsolved #yes ive thought about this

[demonscantgothere]

power a fanmix for saurondriel, the relationship of sauron and galadriel download 1 / download 2 / cover by demonscantgothere

i. ours is the work of something greater | iron - woodkid Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away, where innocence is burned in flames / A million miles from home, I'm walking ahead / I'm frozen to the bones, I am / The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head / The thunder of the drums dictates / The rhythm of the falls, the number of deaths / The rising of the horns ahead.

ii. the rapture | power - isak danielson I still look at you with eyes that want you / When you move, you make my oceans move too / If I hear my name, I will run your way / It's my desire that you feed / You know just what I need / You got power / Power / You got power over me.

iii. to kingdom come | human - of monsters and men When the words weigh heavy on the heart / I am lost and led only by the stars / Cage me like an animal / A crown of gems and gold / Eat me like a cannibal / Chase the neon throne / Breathe in, breathe out / Let the human in / Breathe in, breathe out, and let it in / Plants awoke, and they slowly grow beneath the skin / So breathe in, breathe out, and let the human in.

iv. unlikely alloy | heartlines (acoustic) - florence + the machine I know it will have to drown me before I can breathe easy / And I've seen it in the flights of birds / I've seen it in you / In the entrails of the animals, the blood running through / But in order to get to the heart of things / Sometimes you have to cut through.

v. i will destroy you | volcano - damien rice (feat. lisa hannigan) What I am to you, is not real / What I am to you, you do not need / What I am to you, is not what you mean to me / You give me miles and miles of mountains / And I'll ask for the sea.

vi. bargaining | muddy waters (live sessions) - lp It is not clear why we choose the fire pathway / Where we end is not the way that we had planned / All the spirits gather around like it's our last day / To get across, you know we'll have to raise the sand.

vii. doom | litost - x ambassadors What have I done with my heart on the floor / Must be out of my mind / To come back begging for more / But if you stay / If you just stay for the night / Swear that I'm yours, and I'll prove that I'm right / How long must I stay? / Will I lay by your side / Just to say that I'm yours when you'll never be mine?

viii. the fallout | black flies - ben howard See, the sky is no man's land / A darkened plume to stay / Hope here needs a humble hand / Not a fox found in your place / No man is an island, of this I know / But can't you see? / Or maybe you were the ocean / When I was just a stone.

ix. bittersweet reminisce | still - daughter Two feet standing on a principle / Two hands digging in each other's wounds / Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats / Darkness falling, leaves nowhere to go / It's spiraling down, biting words like a wolf howling.

x. a kindred spirit | love me like i'm not made of stone - lykke li There's a war inside my core / I hear it fight / I hear it roar / Go ahead, go ahead / Lay your head where it burns.

xi. turn on me | demons (philosophical sessions) - jacob lee I thought my demons were almost defeated / But you took their side / And you pulled them to freedom / I kept your secrets / And I thought that you would do the same.

xii. no room for apathy | landfill - daughter 'Cause this is torturous / Electricity between both of us / And this is dangerous / 'Cause I want you so much / But I hate your guts / I hate you.

xiii. the pursuit | closer - kings of leon You, who shimmy shook my bone / Leaving me stranded all in love on my own / Do you think of me? / Where am I now? / Baby, where do I sleep? / Feels so good, but I'm old / Two thousand years of chasing, taking its toll.

#saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x sauron #haladriel #fanmix #halbrand x galadriel #galadriel x halbrand #i use this for writing mostly #but i wanted to share it with all of you