#dead souls is great dead souls is a gift I will not allow dead souls slander in my house

[designernishiki]

I finished dead souls the other day and man. unironically one of the most innocently satisfying endings of any yakuza game ive played thus far. it was sweet and silly and a little sentimental and idk maybe it was just refreshing to end a yakuza game and not feel totally miserable. all the important characters lived and had nice, but simple endings. kiryu and haruka stop by ryuji’s takoyaki stand and ryuji makes haruka a special takoyaki plate just for her. majima construction’s doin their thing rebuilding the city and shit. akiyama has hana back and she lightheartedly nags him about collections as per usual. it’s just. it’s nice. thank u dead souls i am at peace

#dead souls is great dead souls is a gift I will not allow dead souls slander in my house #for real if you go into it not taking it too seriously it’s very enjoyable. like it’s chock full of cliches but that’s kind of the point #it’s like. a stereotypical zombie game and it Knows That #literally majima’s introduction is him watching a zombie movie in his office and then having actual zombies bust into the place #while he looks back and forth from the screen to the real zombies and back again. and out of fucking nowhere he pulls the Biggest Gun Ever #and is like. oh yeah. this is gonna be so fucking sweet #like come on. you can’t hate that it’s so dumb in such a fun way #majima in this game especially is just. something else. I think he’s allowed to be more unhinged than in any other game for much longer than #in other games (especially given he’s Playable in dead souls) #I mean dialogue-wise and whatnot at least #that one substory with daigo in drag ALONE. #they’re never gonna make dead souls kiwami and I know this but please………please can u remaster it for ps4 at least……..pls…. #more people need to EXPERIENCE it #becuase it sure is. an experience #dead souls #yakuza dead souls #rgg #rambling

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #dead on main ship #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc memes

[lxclerc]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... romance is not dead if you keep it just yours. note... a gift for 5k followers bc you guys stick around even tho i don’t post anymore. faceclaim... victoria brono

liked by francisca.cgomez, charlesleclerc and others

yourusername romance is not dead if you keep it just yours <3

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liked by lorenzotl, yourusername and others

charlesleclerc Back on the front row for Sunday’s race. Great lap, amazing job by the team to bring the upgrades earlier than was planned

view all comments…

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liked by pierregasly, yourusername and others

charlesleclerc It feels good to be back on the podium. We’ll work flat out to be back on the top step as soon as possible 🇦🇹

view all comments…

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liked by charlesleclerc, lorenzotl and others

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charlesupdates CHARLES COZIES UP WITH NEW GIRLFRIEND IN AUSTRIA

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liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername and others

charlesleclerc p4 today and hopefully better tomorrow 🙃

view all comments…

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liked by charlesleclerc, pierregasly and others

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[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-BANG CHAN

A loose retelling of Hades and Persephone-modernized and darker than before, but beautiful all the same.

A/N: I'm not happy with this. But you guys can have it anyway.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, Bang Chan, Chan, Christopher, Christopher Bang, Y/N, Femreader, Chan as Hades, Y/N as Persephone, Underworld, Greek Mythology, Hades and Persephone, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Chan x you, Chan x reader, Chan x y/n, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Other members make guest appearances as various Greek gods, Greek Gods

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Underworld Shit, Dark Undertones, Underhanded God and Mortal shit and dealings, Death, Dying, Triggering Themes, Toxic Relationships (not main characters), Chan's fucking in love with reader to the point of obsession.

Playlist:

🌸I’ll Be Damned-Gavn

🌸Seven Nation Army-Stevie Howie

🌸Call Me-ShineDown

🌸Granite-Sleep Token

🌸Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version)-Taylor Swift

Title: Every Last Seed

He goes by many names.

He always has.

Hades.

Ploutos.

King of the Underworld.

God of the Dead.

Bringer of Death.

Lord of Darkness.

But by far, his favorite name is the one that only you are allowed, dripping from your lips, soft and sweet, like honey, like a deadly nectar he's become addicted to-

Mine.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Where the fuck is he?" Chan storms through the door to his office, terrifying the wraith he employs as his secretary, her throat jumping with a gulp, as she straightens her glasses, and clasps her clipboard to her opaque chest.

"Ah, sir, I was just asking his Lordship if he'd prefer tea or coffee-"

"No need." Chan growls, not even bothering to look in her direction. "He won't be staying."

Hyunjin grins from his position behind Chan's overly large desk, his feet planted directly in the middle of some important treaties Chan had been working on the day before for some particularly pesky mortals.

"Ah, is that any way to treat your baby brother, Channie?"

His given name. The only ones who dare call him by that name are his brothers and you.

Everyone else just refers to him by the name the mortals gifted him when he became God of the Dead eons ago-Hades.

Chan stalks toward his brother's reclined form and promptly shoves his feet off the desk with a little bit more force than necessary.

"The perfect way, actually. Especially when said brother is impeaching on my very valuable and limited time, uninvited, I might add."

Hyunjin sniffs, straightening the highly expensive baby blue suit he wears, and plants his feet firmly on the ground, swiveling in Chan's chair to face him.

He tucks a strand of his golden hair back behind his ear and levels Chan with a self important look that makes him grind his teeth in agitation.

"Fine. You obviously want me to get straight to the point, so I will."

Chan feels a muscle tick in his jaw as he taps his foot impatiently, motioning with his hand for the man before him to continue.

"Great. What is it?"

Hyunjin sighs, making a show of straightening the crown on his brow, and then he gives Chan a grimace which he tries to soften with a halfhearted smile that Chan sees through immediately.

It makes his clench his fingers into fists at his side.

"How's the new little wife, hm, big brother? Satisfactory, I presume?"

Chan feels himself prickle at the mention of you, but he keeps his expression unreadable, dark, as he stares back at his clearly prodding brother.

"Fine. Anything else? Or did you travel all the way here and risk your wife's wrath just to ask me how my honeymoon was?"

Hyunjin blanches at the mention of Hera, and clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable now in the face of Chan's obvious ire.

"Yes, well-" He stands up, planting his hands flat on Chan's desk and leaning toward him, as if to appear intimidating.

Chan wants to laugh at the pathetic display.

"-there's been a problem. I'm sure you've noticed the influx of extra souls ever since you uh, tied the knot, without her mother's permission?"

He fidgets nervously under Chan's unwavering, blank stare.

Tugging at the collar of his expensive suit once more, Chan watches as his younger brother, the supposed God of the Gods, seems to wilt under his penetrating gaze.

Finally, he sighs heavily, and seems to implore Chan to give him something, anything, he can work with.

"Her mother's fucking pissed with you, Channie, all right? I'll just come out and say it. I need you to fix this."

Chan remains unmoving, stoic, in the face of his brother's obvious plea.

After another moment of silence, Hyunjin throws his hands outward and exclaims with obvious exasperation, "C'mon, help me out here. Lord knows I've helped you in the past when you asked."

Chan arches a brow. "Helped me?"

His voice is flat, cold, deadly, and Hyunjin winces subtly.

"Okay, listen-" He holds up his hands, as if the weak gesture of peace will stop Chan's building fury. "-you know the delicate balance we have between the mortals. We worked decades for that, and if Demeter keeps fucking offing them left and right, just to spite and overwork you, and the Underworld, we're gonna have a much bigger fucking problem on our hands than a petty little feud between you and your recently acquired mother in law."

Chan hates to admit it, but Hyunjin's right, as much as it pains him to agree.

Fucking Demeter and the chip on her shoulder toward him.

God forbid, her perfect, innocent, naive daughter-the goddess of Spring-fall in love with someone as twisted and dark and wicked as Chan-god of the dead and ruler of the Underworld.

No, the Goddess of Harvest was not bound to let this go lightly, and it seemed he needed to put a stop to this before it ever really began.

A few extra mortal souls on his workload was nothing really, but if she even thought about dissuading you-

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut. He can feel a headache building.

"Fine." He grits out, and he can practically hear Hyunjin breathe a sigh of relief. "I'll handle it."

Ignoring his brother and his babbled platitudes of thanks, he steps toward the window and looks down over the city below, flickering to life beneath the coming darkness.

"But know this-" He turns and levels Hyunjin with a dangerous, black gaze. "-if I even hear a whisper of you and Demeter's little foolish escapades putting my wife in danger, I will end you both without a second thought and with one snap of my fingers."

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

He still remembered the first time he ever laid eyes on you. How could he forget?

Attending one of his younger brothers garish and old fashioned parties-he'd thought they'd stopped doing these kinds of things centuries ago-he'd been dragged over to rub shoulders with some of the greats, one stiff tuxedo away from going the fuck home where he belonged.

And then, he'd seen you, hidden in Demeter's shadow- though nothing could truly hide your exquisite and rare beauty, not even your mother's sour, pinched expression-and his feet had moved toward you without permission, as if drawn by an invisible thread of fate.

Your mother had looked at him as he approached with such disdain it would've set him on fire had he not been a god, but he'd ignored her, striding boldly forward through the party goers until he stood directly in front of you.

"Hades." Demeter had hissed in greeting, dark hatred flashing in her eyes as she'd put a protective arm out in front of you.

You stared up at him with the biggest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, and extended one slender, soft hand out toward him, breaching the threshold of your mother's protection without a second thought, as if you could feel the tug of the persistent string too.

"Persephone." You had whispered, than blushed, your cheeks going red, as his fingers found yours. "Or Kore. O-or (Y/N). Whatever is to your liking, your highness."

Your hand was like velvet-warm and silky in his own-and his fingers dwarfed yours, making them feel delicate and almost fragile in his grip.

"I know who you are, Goddess of Spring." He had replied, with far more confidence in his low tone than his quivering gut felt in the moment.

Your expression had flashed surprise at his words, and you glanced away under his direct gaze, red, full lips parted, cheeks taking on an even deeper hue of scarlet.

The look of sudden shy demureness on your features intoxicated him, and his dick immediately took notice.

"I am honored that one such as yourself, your highness, has taken notice of me already."

He had cleared his throat, subtly adjusting himself in his too expensive slacks-some high end shit Hyunjin had insisted he wear-at the soft tone of pleasure your voice took on at his attention, and finally, reluctantly released your hand, even as Demeter ushered you back behind her looming form.

"We really must be going." Her expression went from pinched to furious as his eyes lingered on you just a bit longer than necessary. She ushered you away. "Say goodbye, Kore."

"Goodbye." You had murmured, eyes flitting up to his briefly, before you let your mother lead you away and out of his sight.

Chan took his leave shortly after, giving Hyunjin some bullshit excuse of the Underworld not running itself, and had hightailed it home, his skin itching beneath the ridiculous suit he wore, and his hard-on aching for a release.

That night, he came with his cock in hand, and your name on his lips.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

He arrives home to find you in the garden, kneeling in the dirt, fingers dug deep into the soil.

It's a common occurrence, a sight he's grown used to, but he still pauses, watching you silently for a few moments, enjoying the way your hair falls around your face, the way the curves of your body are accentuated against the early evening light.

Cerberus notices him first, raising his giant, blocky head from his paws where he lays beside you next to the garden plot, ears erect. His thick tail thumps the ground-once, twice-at the sight of Chan and you glance up, following the dog's gaze.

Chan steps from the shadows, and the most gorgeous smile he's ever seen graces your features as soon as you catch sight of him.

It takes his breath away, and as you stand, brushing the dirt from the dress you wear, he thinks, not for the first time, that you're the most fucking beautiful thing he's ever had the pleasure of calling his own.

"Channie." You breathe sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck as he draws closer, burying your face in the juncture of his throat. "You're home."

"I am." He agrees, wrapping you tightly in his embrace, taking a moment to let his nose skim your hair, the smell of blossoms and springtime filling his senses.

You pull back, just enough to gaze up at him, and he lets his finger go beneath your chin, holding you there, so he can study and memorize, once again, every single intoxicating line of your features.

Your lips quirk into the start of a smile, as if you know what he's doing, but you don't say anything.

He's grateful for that.

"Did you have a good day?" You ask softly, your breath warm on his fingers, as he traces the part of your full, soft lips.

"Eh." He lifts one shoulder into a shrug and lets it fall back down heavily. "Not as good a day as I would've had staying here with you, little blossom."

You arch a brow, and he sees it, the stubborn expression wash across your face that lets him know you know he's trying to deflect.

You put your hands on your hips and stare him down, and he resists the urge to lean forward and kiss the tip of your nose.

Fuck, you're adorable.

"I heard Zeus came to see you."

"Is that so?" He questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he watches you hold your ground.

He leans forward, fingering one of the loose strands of hair that frames your face, before he lets his gaze dip to your throat, the golden chain you always wear dipping tantalizingly out of his line of sight where it disappears between the swell of your breasts.

"You're correct." He acquiesces, his fingers itching now to reach up and tug the chain free, so he can dangle the wedding ring he knows lies safely between your breasts between the two of you, just so he can remind himself who you belong to once more.

His dick swells at the thought.

He clears his throat, and brings his gaze reluctantly up to meet yours once more, noting the dark flash of stubbornness that washes across your eyes.

"However." He smirks now, stepping closer, letting his hand gently close around your throat, your pulse thready beneath his palm, like a fluttering bird beating against the bars of a cage. "I don't really want to talk about my brother right now, do you?"

He leans forward, and begins to suck kisses along the column of your throat, and you giggle, batting him away and stepping back before he can distract you further.

"Channie." You whine, putting your hands once again on the swell of your hips, and he thinks, not for the first time, that your delicious curves are going to be the death of him one day. "I'm serious."

He sighs, and tries to ignore the hardness of his eager dick between his thighs, knowing you're not going to let him off the hook-or let him fuck you dumb-until he's told you what Hyunjin wanted.

"Fine." He sighs again, and drops onto one of the many benches he had had installed in the garden solely for the purpose of watching you do what you love most.

You step toward him, and he opens his legs so you can slide between them, putting your hands on his shoulders as his fingers find your hips through the thin material of your dress.

"Tell me." You insist, staring down at him and Chan tilts his head back to look at you, arching a brow at your commanding tone.

"Goddess of Spring, are you really telling the Lord of the Underworld what to do?"

An amused smirk flickers across his lips at the look of exasperation that crosses your features.

You stick your tongue out at him, and he chuckles, tugging you to him. You protest a little, but let him do it anyway, burying his face into your stomach, the soft feel of your dress caressing his skin.

He breathes in your perfume, once, twice, and then leans back, meeting your gaze.

"Your mother is throwing a little temper tantrum it seems."

Your eyes widen minutely, and Chan sees your lips flatten into a determined, serious line.

"Because of our marriage?"

Chan gives a slight nod. "It would seem so."

One of your hands clenches into a tight, white knuckled fist at your side, and your chest stutters with a sharp intake of breath.

Beyond your shoulder, a vine springs to life, fraught with large thorns, curling around a nearby tree, up and up, tight enough to strangle the bark beneath its hold.

Cerberus raises his head, scenting the sudden unease in the air, and lets out a small whine.

You take in a deep breath, and the vine begins to slowly retract its hold on the tree.

"Little blossom." Chan murmurs, tugging you down onto his lap, and encircling you in the safety of his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "It's nothing to worry about, I promise you. I'll handle it."

He feels you shake your head beneath his chin.

"You shouldn't have to handle it. She's my mother. I need to stand up to her."

Chan glances beyond you as Cerberus whines again, and sees the vine's thorns growing dangerously long with your distress, piercing through the trunk of the tree, cracking the bark into splinters.

"Pet." Chan warns quietly, nudging your chin in the direction of the destruction. "Take a deep breath."

You gasp, and let the air out on a long, shuddering breath, and the vine halts its upward progress almost instantly as you collapse against Chan, slumping into his chest.

He can hear the tears in your voice when you whisper, "I'm sorry."

His finger finds your chin again, and he raises your watery gaze to his own.

"Never, and I mean never, apologize for the power you hold, my love. For it will bring gods and mortals alike to their knees, and one day, when they all pass beyond this life, you will be known as their queen."

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"You know, it's usually easier to get into the palace through the front door."

The unfamiliar, male voice startled you and you lost your hold on the branch you were currently coaxing toward the palace wall, snatching it up again with a curse just in time to stop yourself from tumbling all the way back to the ground below.

"Fuck." You glared over your shoulder, down to the newcomer, but could only make out a tall, dark silhouette, cloaked in a hood.

The man tilted his head, as if he was looking up at you, and you swore you could feel his smirk even through the darkness.

"Yes, thank you for the advice." You snapped back with a huff, already reaching out for the next branch as your magic grew it down toward your outstretched fingers. "But I think I'll stick with this."

"Suit yourself, little blossom." The mystery man leaned against the thick trunk of the tree, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out at gods knows what.

You paused, catching your breath, and glared down at him, even though you're sure he can't see you.

"Don't call me that."

You saw his chest rise and fall in a silent laugh. "Why?"

"Because." You huffed, reaching for another branch, out of breath as you work around the gods awful gown your mother had insisted you wear to visit Olympus. "I don't know you."

"Oh, but I think you do."

You paused to consider his words, racking your brain for anyone you knew in Olympus well enough to give you a nickname, and came up with no one. Your mother didn't let you visit often from the mortal realm.

"I don't." You insisted, standing up on your tiptoes to try and reach the top ledge of the wall.

You heard the man chuckle again as you stretched-up, up, up-and just as your fingers had grazed the cool marble, your foot slipped off its hold on the branch below, and you tumbled, shrieking, back down through the tree and toward the hard ground.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the impact, but it never came.

Cracking open one eye, you stared straight into the face of the mystery man, safe in the warm, strong curve of his arms.

His hood had fallen back in the act of catching you, and your eyes widened as you recognized the handsome face before you.

Fucking. Hades.

Brother of Zeus.

God of the Dead.

He grinned at you, and arched a brow, reiterating softly, "But you do."

Your heart did one sharp staccato against your ribcage, as he set you carefully to your feet, and stepped back, and almost instantly, you missed the warmth of his skin against your own.

"Thank you for saving me." You stuttered out, curtsying deeply, now that you had your wits about you.

He chuckled, staring at you as you straightened back up, and you hoped it was dark enough to hide the blush staining your cheeks.

"Oh, I have no worries that if I wasn't here, little blossom, you would have saved yourself."

He motioned upward with a jut of his chin, and you followed his gaze to the tree, gasping as you saw a thick, dark green vine wrapped around its bulbous trunk, stretching down from the palace wall and to the ground below, curling around your feet.

When you glanced back to the man before you, he was already pulling his hood back up over his face, ready to disappear back into the blackness.

"Wait!" You called out before you could think better of it, and he stopped, cocking his head.

You swallowed hard, and took a step toward him.

"Will I see you again, your highness?"

You swore he smiled beneath the hood.

"Call it what you will, Goddess of Spring-fate, destiny, the will of the gods-but I think you and I will be seeing each other again very soon. Very soon indeed."

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"You can't have her, you know."

Changbin took another long sip of his drink, cheeks already rosy, and followed Chan's hungry gaze across the room to you, standing close by your mother's side.

He simply shrugged when Chan turned to shoot him a glare.

"Her mother would never allow it. She hates your fucking guts. Not to mention-" He leaned over and lowered his voice, as if he was telling Chan a secret. He could smell the liqueur on the younger god's breath. "-the whole 'Underworld Ruling' thing."

Chan is saved from having to respond by the appearance of Minho, flute of champagne in hand, look of annoyed disgust on his face, as he slid past the hulking god beside Chan and took a seat on the duvet across from them.

His brother glanced dismissively at Chanbin, leaning back to take another long swallow of his drink.

"Nephew."

Changbin grinned and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Uncle."

Minho arched a brow and his nose wrinkled slightly in open distaste. "Do you ever not wear armor?"

Changbin grinned bigger, and slapped a loud palm to the armor fitted perfectly to his broad chest.

"Of course not! I'm the God of War. Always have to be ready for anything, Uncle. You know how it is."

"I'm sure I don't." Minho sniffed, raising his champagne delicately to his lips, and taking a tiny sip. "The Ocean does not concern itself with the dealings of mortals. Let alone their trivial pursuits of war."

Changbin merely shrugged, and stood, slapping a powerful hand to Chan's shoulder, which sent him jolting forward in his seat, rubbing his offended arm and glaring up once more at the towering figure of his nephew.

"I'm off to find another drink. And maybe a few maidens." Changbin announced, giving Minho a mock salute, as the man stared him down with annoyed disdain. "Take care, uncles."

And with that, he was gone.

Minho's gaze flitted to Chan, and he took another long, slow sip of his drink.

Chan felt his eyes unwittingly pulled back to the other side of the room, but you had disappeared from view, probably dragged off by your mother for more introductions.

"I'm surprised you came."

Chan let his gaze drift back to his brother across from him, and offered him a tilt of his head in acknowledgement, reaching for his own glass of forgotten champagne.

"Yes, well, that makes both of us. I'd hoped to not find myself at another one of these damned archaic, presumptuous affairs for another eon or so."

The corner of Minho's lip flickered with amusement, and his eyes roamed past Chan to the dozens of gods and demi gods currently mingling on the expanse of Hyunjin's vast dance floor.

"Our baby brother is good for very few things, and throwing amusing soirees is indeed not one of them."

Chan felt his own lips quirk into the hint of a smirk, and he raised his glass to Minho in silent salute.

Minho tilts his own champagne in response, and they both take a deep draft of the shimmering, bubbly liquid.

His brothers were hard to tolerate on the best of days, but he'd always felt like Minho understood him just a little bit more than Hyunjin ever had.

Standing, Chan places down the now empty glass and nods to Minho in farewell.

"I've made an appearance. Now it's time to take my leave."

Minho watched him in silence for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and then with a flick of his fingers, he filled Chan's empty glass back up with water.

Chan stared at him, and he arched a brow.

"Drink some water before you go, brother. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow."

He sighed, reaching for the glass, and downed the water in one gulp.

"There. Happy?"

Minho's mouth flickered again. "Almost." He cocked his head, and let his gaze roam over Chan's body, as if he could see the way his muscles tensed, the way his mind swirled, already thinking about running into you on his way out.

When Chan went to move past him, Minho put an arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Careful, brother." Minho murmured, eyes dark and discerning, trapping him in place. "Interest is a fickle, fleeting thing, but obsession is fatal."

There was a beat of tense, deafening silence, Minho staring at him like he could see right through him.

Chan shook his head, and broke the spell.

"Thanks for the advice." Chan grunted, pushing past him without another glance, stalking toward the exit, not caring as he shouldered past the partygoers, earning himself a round of nasty looks.

The cold night air of Olympus embraced him as he pushed through the double doors and into the opulent garden beyond.

Unlike the swirling colors and lights and noise of the party inside, the garden was deserted at this time of night-dark and quiet and abandoned-just how he liked it.

Taking in a deep breath, holding it as the frigid air seared his lungs, Chan strode deeper into the garden, walking between the towering, shadowy rows of hedges, clearing his head.

The music had almost faded out of ear shot, when he heard it-a small, unfamiliar sound that immediately caught his attention.

He paused, freezing, and listening.

There it was again, just around the next bend, somewhere near the center of the hedge maze, beside the fountain he knew graced the large stone courtyard lined with benches hidden amongst the neatly trimmed foliage.

Taking another quiet step so he could round the corner, he heard it once more.

It almost sounded like-a gasp?

Chan came around the hedge quietly, on full alert, his footsteps silent, and as the fountain came into view, he caught sight of a figure leaning back on one of its edges on the other side, obscured through the haze of the water.

Another creeping step forward, still hidden by the shadows of the bushes, and the person came into view.

It was you-sitting on the marble edge of the fountain, dress hiked up around your knees, leaning forward as you focused on something intently.

Chan narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was you were doing, and when he realized, as another little breathy moan left your lips and your wrist spasmed, he halted, feet suddenly leaden.

Gods above, you were touching yourself.

He should move, he should announce his presence, he should leave, he shouldn't be watching you in this very private, very vulnerable moment, but he can't seem to get himself to break the spell, watching you silently from the shadows of the hedge as you pleasure yourself.

You let out that sound again-a breathless sort of stifled release of breath-and Chan felt his dick start to swell in response, straining against the fine fabric of the slacks he wore.

You let your head fall back, eyes screwed closed, lips parted, as your fingers continue their work, and Chan's eyes are drawn to the way your chest heaves for breath, the perfect swell of your breasts straining against the corset you wear.

Suddenly, he can move again.

Stepping quietly from the shadows, he approached, moving to stand in front of you, and as if you could sense his sudden presence, his eyes on you, your eyelids fluttered open, your mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise as you caught sight of him.

"Y-your highness-" You stuttered out, cheeks immediately blooming pink, and Chan was enthralled by the way the rosy color spread rapidly down your chest.

You made a move to remove your fingers, tugging at your billowing skirts, but Chan held up a hand, his eyes meeting your own.

"No. Don't stop."

You froze, staring at him, wide eyed, like a fawn caught in the daylight, and he made an attempt to soften the gravel of his voice, repeating again, softer this time, "Keep going. Please."

You stared at him for another long moment, and he couldn't breathe, maybe you were going to run, maybe you were going to tell on him, what a pervert he'd been, maybe you were disgusted-

And then, slowly, eyes still holding his own, you let your fingers dip back beneath the folds of your gown.

He could tell the moment you made contact again, because your body stiffened, and that sound-the one that went right to his cock-passed your parted lips once more.

Chan watched you, mesmerized, as you let your fingers do the work, arching your body on the edge of the fountain to find the right angles, all the while, holding his gaze unwaveringly.

You were brave, he'd give you that.

You gasped, mouth falling open, and he saw the way your wrist twisted, picking up pace.

He imagined how wet you were, how easily your fingers slid in and out, and he clenched his hands at his side to keep himself in place, to force himself to let you be.

"What do you think about?" He asked suddenly, licking his lips, his mouth desperately dry.

"What-" You started to question, the words breaking off into a breathy moan that had him painfully hard, even harder than before.

He took a step closer.

"What do you think about? When you're getting yourself off?"

Your eyes had screwed closed as you grew closer to release, but you managed to flutter them back open to meet his gaze, your face twisted into the start pleasure, your fingers never stopping.

"You!" You gasped out desperately, chest heaving, free hand digging into the marble ledge of the fountain, fingers white with the effort of holding back.

Chan watched as you came then, crying out and body vibrating, and when the orgasm had finished ripping through you, you slumped back, breathing hard and cheeks flushed.

Pulling your hand from your skirts, Chan tried not to focus on the way your fingers glistened as you wiped them off on your dress.

He was rooted to the spot, watching you come down, cock aching and leaking down his leg, wishing he was the one who'd undone you so fully, when you finally met his gaze once more.

Your expression was unsure, lips pressed into a thin line, when you repeated softly, defeatedly, "You. I think about you."

You sat up, straightening your skirts with your clean hand, and Chan resisted moving closer to you with what very little willpower he had left.

You were biting your lip, staring at the ground between the two of you, when he conjured a trace of shadow, using it to caress your chin and tilt your gaze back up to meet his.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, your skin pebbling into goosebumps beneath the touch of the shadow, but you didn't move, you didn't look afraid.

Chan felt the corner of his mouth lift into the hint of a smile as he let the shadow trace your cheekbone, brushing back a loose strand of damp hair into your elegant braid.

"You know, little blossom, my brothers say you're a problem."

Your eyes widened a little more, and then a flash of indignation crossed your pretty features.

"Why?"

Chan cocked his head, studying you, and you stared right back.

"Because I want you, but I can't have you. And I tend to have a fatal flaw of getting obsessive over things that are kept from my grasp."

He flicked away the shadow with his fingers, burying his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he let the words settle between you.

His dick was still unyieldingly hard.

Your lips parted slightly, as if surprised by his admission, and then a brief, mischievous smile flashed across your lips, catching him off guard.

You tilted your head, and your lips quirked upward into a bigger, sweeter smile.

"Your highness?"

"Yes?"

You hopped down from the ledge of the fountain, and found your shoes, slipping your feet into them as he watched, waiting for you to continue.

When you stepped toward him, closing the distance, he resisted every urge to grab you and slot his mouth hungrily over yours.

You looked up at him curiously, studying his features, your eyes large and dark, framed by the longest eyelashes he had ever seen.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, as if you were telling him a secret only known to the two of you.

"What do you think about when you come?"

He stared at you, trying to put the words with the movement of your lips.

Finally, he swallowed, watching your eyes flit down to follow the movement of his throat.

"You."

"Hm." You hummed beneath your breath, lips twitching, as you finally slipped past him, headed back in the direction of the party.

Chan whirled, watching you go, and as if you could feel his eyes on you, you turned and paused when you reached the hedges, fingers trailing over the dark, emerald leaves, leaving shining pink flowers behind in their wake.

"Interesting." You arched a brow, giving him a half, knowing smile. "And here I was, thinking my little obsession was one sided."

Chan let a shadow slink from the hedge beside you and trail around one of your ankles.

You grinned at him once more, and slipped silently from view.

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Chan steps off the elevator and is immediately met with the largest bouquet of flowers he's ever seen, shoved directly into his face.

He swats them away with annoyance, and the person carrying the atrocity comes into view, panting like they've just carted weighted rocks up the floors of the building and not obnoxiously perfumed flowers.

"Oh, hey boss." Jeongin beams, adjusting the vase of flowers in his arms, so that he can reach up and push the cap he wears back slightly, revealing a sweaty swath of dark hair.

"I got you flowers!" He holds up the arrangement, as if Chan can't see them, and follows him when he stalks past him toward his private office.

Setting the bouquet down on the front desk as they pass, flashing Chan's assistant a winning smile, Jeongin hurries to keep up with Chan's long strides, floating slightly above the floor.

"Well, Persephone did, technically, but you know, she asked me to give them to you so-"

Chan ignores the chattering messenger god beside him, and turns a left down the hall, already silently going over the meetings he has scheduled for today in his head.

Turning another corner, he's just about to push into conference room two, when Jeongin slides in front of him, spreading his arms out to block his way and trying to catch his breath.

"Whoa, boss. You can't go in there."

Chan stares the kid down, expression stoic.

"Jeongin. Get out of my way."

Jeongin doesn't budge, though Chan can see a flicker of fear flash across his dark gaze as he stands in front of Chan's looming, annoyed figure.

He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck in clear discomfort, and shuffles from one winged foot to another.

"Okay, but here's the thing-" He starts, hemming and hawing, glancing past Chan and to the hallway, then back to the god standing in front of him.

"Jeongin." Chan warns, beginning to think there's something going on that he doesn't know about, and nothing pisses him off more than to be oblivious.

Jeongin clears his throat and gives him a half hearted smile. "Persephone kinda asked me to keep you out of the conference room today because she's kindameetingwithhermomtodiscussthingswithoutyou."

Chan stares blankly at the boy in front of him, wringing his hat now between anxious hands, and then asks quietly, dangerously, "She what?"

Jeongin swallows, the gulp is audible in the tense silence, but still holds his position blocking Chan from the doorway.

It's admirable, he'll give him that.

He gives a little shrug and a sheepish smile. "Sorry, boss?"

Chan growls beneath his breath in frustration, and pinches his nose.

He can feel a headache coming on.

"Fine." He grinds out, the muscles in his jaw popping with his irritation as he clenches his teeth and glances past Jeongin to the waiting conference room. "But you're to come and get me as soon as they're finished." He points a stern finger into the middle of Jeongin's chest. "And Demeter is not, I repeat not, allowed to be alone at any time while she's in the Underworld, understood?"

Jeongin nods and gives him a little salute, even as Chan is already stalking away.

"Yes, sir!" He calls out down the hallway, voice echoing off the walls and exacerbating Chan's growing headache. "I won't let you down, boss! You can count on me!"

Chan mumbles something beneath his breath about hiring new wingmen, and locks himself in his office.

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Chan doesn't get to see you for the rest of the day.

The hours slip by, and he's faced with problem after problem-mortal souls unhappy with their judgement, wraiths he employs needing his every attention and signature, accountants wanting to see him about the toll to cross the Styx ('inflation is happening you know!')-and by the time he finally gets home, well after sunset, his every muscle is tight with irritation.

He walks in to see you in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist, Cerberus at your feet, dozing with his head on his huge paws.

The dog gives a thump of his tail when Chan appears, alerting you to his presence, and you glance up from whatever it is you're chopping, giving him a wide, bright smile.

He's not fooled. It doesn't reach your eyes.

Pushing aside the monstrous bouquet from earlier that now resides in the middle of the giant, granite island that takes up a majority of the kitchen, he raps his knuckles on the stone, watching you carefully, his head cocked.

"I heard your mother stopped by today."

He watches the way your chopping stalls, but you don't look up at him, chest inflating with a silent breath before you turn, tossing the carrots into the large stew pot on the stove.

"Yes." You finally say, back still to him.

He tries to force the irritation simmering just below the surface down, relaxing his whitened fingers one by one, as he blows out a long, slow breath.

"(Y/N)."

You turn then, at the use of your given name said in his stern tone, and resume cutting, chopping blocks of beef into smaller cubes.

Chan blows out another breath, harsher this time, and rubs at his temple.

The headache from before is still lingering, pounding now that he's finally left the office for the day.

"What did you talk about?"

You flick your eyes briefly up to his, and then back to the meat beneath your knife.

"Her 'temper tantrum' as I believe you put it."

Chan winces slightly. That wording probably didn't go over very well.

"And?" He prods, leaning against the counter, leaning down so he can glance into your face.

You bite your lip, and he sees you blow out a breath, before you look up at him and force that smile back onto your face-the fake, overly saccharine one from before, the one he doesn't buy for a moment.

"Do we really need to talk about this right now? You just got home, and dinner is almost ready-"

Chan flattens his hands, palms down, on the cold granite, and doesn't let you look away.

"Yes."

Your fingers tighten around the knife, and he sees you let out a shuddering breath.

At your feet, Cerberus cocks his head, your obvious display of uncertainty grabbing his attention.

"Channie-" You start to say, and he watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow.

Anger swirls into embers in the pit of his stomach.

He leans forward, dark eyes flashing. "What did she fucking do? If she so much as made you feel bad for any of this, I won't hesitate to pay her a little visit in the mortal realm-"

"No, no." You wave your hands, finally meeting his gaze once more, your bottom lip wobbly and your eyes shiny. "It's nothing like that."

Chan feels his heart immediately sink.

A tear drips down the length of your cheekbone, and he resists the urge to lean across the counter and swipe it away.

You rub at your eyes with your hands, and breath in an unsteady inhale.

Cerberus stands, butting his blocky head into your hand, until you let out a slight, watery chuckle, and begin to pet his dark ears.

"She-" You start to say, then stop, and Chan stares at you, frozen in sudden fear.

The flowers sitting in their vase on the counter begin to wilt and turn brown and brittle, dropping leaves to the granite like snow fall.

Chan ignores them.

You take in another breath, and pick the knife back up, moving to chop again.

"She wants to make a deal. She wants me to spend Spring in the mortal realm, with her, so I can fulfill my duties every year. And then I'll stay here, with you, the rest of the time."

You look up at him, your expression vulnerable, unsure. There's hurt in your eyes.

Chan's thoughts stop. His body goes cold. There's a buzzing in his ears, and he doesn't know if the shadows are lengthening, or if his sudden loss of control is causing everything to creep in.

He turns, and without a word, flicks a shadow out to send the vase of now withered flowers crashing to the ground.

You yelp, jumping at the noise, and Chan stands, back to you, staring at the mess he's made, chest heaving, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

The mess he always makes.

After a beat of silence, he hears you put down the knife, and then your soft footsteps, as you pad around the counter and kneel on the ground next to the shattered vase.

Slowly, without looking at him, you reach out and begin to pick up the broken pieces.

Chan breathes in, breathes out. His headache is pounding.

"Little blossom, leave it-"

He starts to say, moving to crouch before you, just as you pick up another piece of sharp ceramic and wince, instantly dropping the piece back down with a clatter, as you pull your hand back against your chest.

Chan reaches out and tugs your hand back into view, watching as the cut on your palm starts to slowly leak golden, shining ichor down the line of your wrist, dripping on the floor between the two of you.

His breath stalls as he glances up to your pained expression, all the anger leaving his body in an instant.

"You're bleeding."

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"You're bleeding."

Chan glanced up at the sound of your voice behind him, meeting your concerned gaze in the mirror, where he remained, leaning over the basin, palms on the cool ledge of the sink, watching the water swirl away down the drain.

"Yeah, well-" He gave a little humorless chuckle as he watched the water shimmer with the ichor he washed from his knuckles, before he straightened and dried his hands, glancing once more at you in the reflection of the mirror. His mouth quirked up into the hint of a smirk, and he winced as it pulled at the split skin of his lip, tasting fresh ichor on his tongue. "-luckily for me, my brother hits like a pussy when he's been drinking."

Your eyes widened. "He hit you?"

Chan turned, swiping a hand across his mouth now, tossing the towel to the side. "Yeah, well, I probably deserved it."

He'd no more than finished the admission than you're at his side, taking his hand in yours, your eyes raking across the golden liquid that marked his knuckles, tacky and congealing.

You glanced up at him, curiosity flashing across your pretty features.

"What did you do?" You questioned in a whisper, as if asking him to divulge a dark secret.

Chan almost grinned-you're too fucking adorable-but he leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, expression serious, and lowered his voice to match yours.

"I told him, little blossom, that there's no way in fucking Tartarus that I'm going to another one of his stupid, historic parties, unless of course, it's thrown for us and planned in celebration of our marriage."

You stared up at him for a silent moment, and Chan almost backtracked, wondering if he'd been too bold, when a slight smile curved your lips up mischievously.

"Well." You released his hand and straightened the collar of the suit he wore, before stepping back, eyeing him up and down, head cocked with interest.

The look on your face took his breath away.

"Then I guess you'd better get me a ring, hadn't you?"

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Chan slips your ring carefully from your finger, lying it beside the sink, before he tends to the wound on your palm.

You protest the whole time, claiming it's fine and you're fine and he's being dramatic, but Chan's heart won't stop pounding in his chest until every last drop of your golden blood is wiped clean from your skin.

When he's satisfied with himself, he helps you get down from your position atop the bathroom counter, and pushes you gently toward the waiting shower.

"I'll just be a minute." He says, as you roll your eyes, but strip your clothes anyway, waiting before he hears the water turn on, before he darts back to the kitchen.

He cleans up the mess he made in his anger, and goes back to the bathroom.

He watches you for a moment, through the steamy, hazed glass surrounding the large shower, your perfect outline stretched back beneath the pounding water, and then gets rid of his own clothes, tossing his suit to the side, before he slips into the shower to join you.

You glance at him over your shoulder as he enters, wet hair plastered to your skin, lips pulled into a worried pout.

"Channie-" You start to say, but he steps to you and pulls you flush against his bare chest before you can get any of the other words out.

Your arms go around his waist, fingers tickling the skin of his back, and he lets out a long, slow breath, the exhale rustling your hair, your face buried in the planes of his chest.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes softly, and you pull back to look up at him, eyes wide and soft.

"You don't need to apologize." You say, reaching up to shove some of his thick, dark hair back off his forehead, starting to grow heavy with water.

"I do." He nods, staring down at you, letting his finger go beneath your chin, as he traces the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"You're my wife, yes, but you're also a Goddess, and I need to remember that."

You stare up at him silently, letting him continue, and he lets out another breath, reaching his hand up to cup the side of your face, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

"You have your own duties and responsibilities, and I'm being selfish keeping you here. I can't hide you away forever."

The corner of your mouth wrinkles, as if you're thinking about smiling.

"Are you sure?" You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"As much as I would like to-" He starts, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, moving up along your cheekbone. "-I can't. The mortals-and Demeter-need you."

You sigh, he feels it in the way your chest brushes his, and lay your head on his chest, listening for a moment, to his heartbeat.

He strokes your damp hair, and finally you say quietly, "All right. But I don't have to like it, right?" You pull back, looking up at him with a tremble in your bottom lip.

"No, you don't, little blossom." He gives you a half smile, bending his head to press a kiss to your throat, than to the swell of the start of your breast. His cock twitches at the feel of your soft skin beneath his tongue. "I'm sure as fuck not going to like it."

You give a little laugh, slightly watery, and reach up to swipe the tears from your eyes.

"What will you do?" You ask with a shaky breath, staring up at him in a way that makes Chan's heart squeeze, his insides feel tight with all the love he has for you. "While I'm gone?"

He gives a slight shrug, leaning against the shower wall, as you move to start shampooing your hair into a lather.

"Run the Underworld. Judge the mortals. The usual stuff. I mean, what did I do before I had you?"

"Brood." You reply back instantly, glancing at him cheekily over your shoulder as you turn to rinse your hair.

He leaps forward and pins you to the wall as you shriek, tickling your sides as you wriggle to get away from him, laughing so hard it makes you breathless.

He pulls back, letting you breathe, and you push some wet hair from your face, taking in a couple of calming breaths, before your eyes meet his once more.

The mirth disappears from your pretty features, and Chan feels his chest tighten.

"Seriously though, Channie, I-" You swallow, Chan watches your throat bob, and your eyes grow shiny again. "-I don't know how I lived all those eons without you. And now, to have to leave-"

"Hey, hey." He steps toward you once more, caging you in the protection of his arms beneath the warm spray of water. You bury your face in his chest. "Pet. Look at me."

Finally, you do, raising watery eyes to his, and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Listen to me, little blossom." He reaches up, stroking your hair behind your ear. "We're talking about months here. Just a few months topside, to soothe your mother, and then you'll be back home with me before you know it."

You sniff, swiping at your nose, and then nod.

"You're right. I know you are."

Chan gives you a half smile, gentle and soft, and leans down to press a kiss to the part of your lips.

The thought of you leaving his side is ripping him apart, but he manages to keep his expression neutral, if only for you.

He presses another, longer kiss against the column of your throat, and takes a moment to breathe you in.

"I love you. I always have, even before I knew you, even before I saw you, and nothing, and no one, will ever change that. You are, and always will be, my obsession, Goddess of Spring."

You look up at him with tear filled eyes, and lean up to press a kiss to his own lips.

"I love you too, God of the Dead. You're the only thing in my entire, immortal days that has ever managed to bring my heart to life, and I thank you for it."

A genuine smile tugs at Chan's lips now.

"Ironic, coming from the Goddess of Rebirth about the Ruler of Souls."

You give a little laugh, eyes sparkling as you look up at him. "I guess so."

Chan tugs you to him and, determined to memorize how you feel, kisses you long and hard beneath the cooling water of the shower.

Inside his chest, his heart flicks out a shadow to meet the flowering vine snaking from your own.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

"Do you think we're all fated to another?"

You ask, lying beside Chan on the grass, the cool night breeze kissing patterns across your bare skin.

He turns his head to look at you, staring up at the stars overhead, fingers twined within his own.

The ring on your finger brushes his knuckle, and a warm sensation washes over him at the thought that you're his now-for eternity.

"Isn't that mortal shit?" He asks teasingly, and you turn to give him a glare, but it only succeeds in making him more endeared, your nose crinkling up and your lips pursing.

"Well, yes, but-" You shrug, turning back to the sky, reaching up your free hand to splay your fingers against the backdrop of the shimmering stars. "-do you?"

Chan considers.

He's never put much stock in fate, or destiny, or anything else the mortals believe in, and he says as much, rolling over to look at you, his hand skimming your bare hip.

"I don't know. But what I do know is this." He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, where you lie, watching him, from the grass.

He lets his finger trail over the marks of his teeth blooming on your shoulder, the love bites already turning purple up the column of your throat, soothed by his tongue.

"Fate is fickle, I don't like to rely on it. Fuck, sometimes, I don't even think I can rely on myself, but I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you and I, little blossom? We were meant to be. And nobody, not fate or any of that other shit that mortals believe in, made that happen. We did."

He watches you as you pause, considering, and then you give him a smile that steals his breath, sitting up beside him to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Fuck fate." You breathe against his lips, and right now, in this moment, with your skin pressed against his, your warmth settled firmly in his lap, his ring on your finger, Chan thinks he has to agree.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Chan trips over one of Cerberus' toys and gives the big dog a glare, tucked safely away under the kitchen table, his head on his paws.

"I swear to god, your mom is coming home today, and if she sees the state you left this house in-" He threatens vaguely, waving the toy around, before tossing it into the basket in the corner.

"I'll what?"

Chan whirls so fast at the sound of your amused voice that he almost gives himself whiplash, turning to face you in the doorway, a grin on your lips and your suitcase in your hand.

You give him a little wave, suddenly shy, as he continues to stare at you, rooted to the spot.

"Hi?"

He's moving then, crashing into you and sweeping you up into his arms with such force that you lose your breath, dropping your suitcase to the floor, as he pulls you in tight to his chest.

You're laughing and crying, and Chan breathes you in, nose pressed to the top of your head, like he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

You pull back, just enough to smooth your palms over the side of his face, your eyes still shiny with unshed tears.

"I missed you, Channie."

"Fuck." He breathes out, crushing you back to him again, never letting you go. "I missed you too, little blossom."

You laugh again, a watery sound, and press kisses to every inch of his face you can reach from his embrace.

Chan feels like he can finally breathe properly for the first time in months.

"What did you think about while I was gone?" You ask, your eyes sparkling, as if you already know the answer.

He lets out the breath he's been holding, and leans forward to kiss you breathless.

"You." He breathes back in response, and your lips part with pleasure at his answer. "Always you."

And then he kisses you long enough to make up for all the time missed-past and present.

#skz #stray kids #stay #bang chan #chan #christopher bang #skz chan #persephone #hades #skz fanfic #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz greek gods #greek gods #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #chan x you #chan x reader #femreader #y/n #chan x y/n #hades x persephone #cb97 #skz au

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marion Davies (Show People, the Patsy)— JUSTICE FOR MARION DAVIES. I am always so upset when I learn that some people STILL think she was some untalented pretty face who was only a success because of her relationship with Hearst. Please watch literally any of her movies, silent or sound, to see how untrue this is. She was successful in spite of Hearst's constant meddling. She really shines as a comedienne. Just watch her imitate other silent stars in The Patsy, or her screwball antics in Show People. I've watched so many silents just for her, but she was also really good in sound films, too, like Blondie of the Follies. She's absolutely adorable, and she deserves to be recognized for her talent, alone.

Rita Hayworth (Gilda, Cover Girl)—Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. She steals every movie she’s in; she was Fred Astaire’s favorite dance partner, as you can see in clips from their movies [link][link]. Born Margarita Carmen Cansino, Rita's story had its tragedies—her father was awful and had her performing in nightclubs way, way too young; the studio totally remade her look because they were afraid of her hispanic image, putting her through painful treatments and diets; she had a string of failed marriages. But beside all that, I think there's something about Rita that still glows through—an inner beauty that has nothing to do with the studio, or the men who pinned their dreams on her. Rita brings an incandescence to roles that's impossible to replicate, and was truly a great actress in that she could switch from herself—shy Margarita—into a bold and glamorous femme fatale so convincingly everyone fell in love with her as Gilda. She's my favorite movie star, and I think she was a beautiful human through and through—Rita, gorgeous and real and shining bright.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Marion Davies:

the queen of comedy

 If anyone is looking for a tragic infamous funny fav, this is your girl! She came from a catholic convent to become a showgirl! As many of these early Hollywood stars, she fell victim to falling in love with the wrong man. She had a long lasting affair with a older powerful married man, William Hearst. Their story was so iconic and scandalous that it is largely what inspired Citizen Kane. She gained her fame through him, which eventually gathered her the reputation of being social-climbing and taking advantage of more her looks than her talent. This made her controversial, which wasn't helped by her flirty fun personality and attitude towards other actors (including Charlie Chaplin). All of this hate meant that she was eventually ostracized by Hollywood and even blamed for Hearst's death. My poor girl was excitable, funny, charismatic, energetic, and extremely talented. I believe that at her heart and soul, she was truly a clown. She possesses an incredible gift for mimicry, a deceptively animate face, and an absence of on-screen ego that allows her to throw herself into anything, no matter how foolish or potentially embarrassing, with all of her considerable energy. And it's those ridiculous moments that are almost always her best in film, because to me, that's really who she was. She was silly and sweet and so so so so so funny! And she deserved better than the tragedy of the life she got.

Rita Hayworth:

Do you need any other propaganda? Here’s the video.

She was not called "the love goddess" for nothing: beautiful, glamorous, despite playing sexy and provocative roles her inherent shyness somehow also would shine through sometimes, creating this contradictory and incredibly attractive image

Often played "the bad girl" who tempted the male hero away from "the good girl"; but did have roles that broke her out of that mold. She was also the inspiration for Jessica Rabbit. THE pinup girlie.

HELP

She was soo beautiful when she was young and she MAINTAINED that beauty into her later years and I think that old lady glamour is hot. bombastic sex appeal

every line she delivers in gilda is so flirty and passionate or absolutely desolate and it's so good

I just have a lot of feelings about her

#rita hayworth #marion davies #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3 #Youtube

[lavaflowe]

JTTW BOOK CLUB

CHPT 7-9

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

Chpt 7

•”All this was probably refined in his stomach by the Samadhi fire to form a single solid mass” I know other deities can use the fire but I’m wracking my brain for when it used before(this point) specifically- My understanding was the furnace refined the immortal elixirs and fruit- I’m going to assume Laozi is just theorizing and doesn’t know what actually happened

•Diamond body….👀

•Erlang gets absolutely DRIPPED out, he earned it FR

•eyes permanently irritated by the smoke churned up the the Xun trigram, someone get this man some eye drops

•he is extra pissed

•HE JUST BODIES LAOZI IM YELLING😂

•”this cosmic being fully fused with nature’s gifts passes with ease through 10,000 toils and tests”

•Big war form out to beat serious ass, he’s not jokin bitch

•” bright and luminous; ….illustrious pearl of mani he is indeed” MMMMM comparing him to a mani- a flaming (wish granting) jewel is hilarious 💀

•Tathagata bringing in the big guns (himself)

•”how tf do you know The Way and not know who I am?? And you’re so….violent” I can sense the side eye

•I wonder if Wukong has previous incarnations?? Buddha says he just reached human form this incarnation but if his rock was there at the beginning of creation, wouldn’t his soul be ‘baking’ (for lack of a better term) the whole time until he hatched?

•” and with a total lack of respect he left a bubbling pool of monkey urine” Iconic moment LMAOOOO

•smart for Wukong to leave a momento- too bad it didn’t matter lol

•ah so he was jumping to visit the pillars again, not run away(supposedly)- he’d rather prove he’s right than escape💀 that checks out

•monkey has been squished, it is now party o’clock

•are you allowed to give the Buddha drugs if it’s an offering? Like wine??🤔 “wtf is this allowed? Wtf”

•”Wukong is wiggling out”

“Dw, take this”

*slaps tag on the mountain like flex tape*

•enough room to breathe and move his hands- I would lose my mind

•Molten copper & iron pellets mimic punishments in hell (just learned this🙏), shedding the Karma like water -I feel like 500 years is pretty good tbh considering everything

Woe molten metal and iron upon ye

Chpt 8 + 9 under cut:

Chpt 8:

•lots of lovely poems in this chapter

•a paragraph recap of the past 7 chapters

•wonder what Feast of the Ullambana Bowl is? (the notes say it’s a mass for the dead and is also know as the Ghost festival, practiced by Taoists and Buddhists)

•”the Chan mind shines bright like a thousand rivers’ moon; true nature’s pure and great as an unclouded sky.”

Lovely poem, and I’m beginning to realize this book is very heavily focused on the Chan school, which I don’t know why I didn’t pick up on sooner? White-Robed Guan Yin is a Chan specific form, usually depicted in their bamboo grove

•Tathagata reveals his 3 baskets of scripture after everyone is done presenting their poems, feels almost like he suggested the celebration to announce these

•Each basket corresponds to scriptures of Heaven, Earth, and the Damned- a total of 15,144 FUCKING SCROLLS

•oooo Guanyin poem!! “ a golden body filled with wisdom, fringes of dangling pearls and jade, …dark hair piled smartly in a coiled-dragon bun. With brows of new moon shape and eyes like two bright stars, her jadelike face beams natural joy. …Her orchid heart delights in green bamboos; her chaste nature loves the wisteria. The living Guanyin from the Cave of Tidal Sound.”

•5 Talismans: Embroidered Cassock that will protect him from falling back into the Wheel of Transmigration, a 9 ring priestly staff that will protect him from poison or harm, 3 tightening fillets- the Golden, the Constructive, and the Prohibitive Spell.

•Guanyin thinks this will take about 2 to 3 years💀 hooooo boy….

•FLOWING SAND RIVER!!! MY 2ND FAV BOY!!!

•Green and Black complexion, Gleaming eyes like the lights beneath a stove, forked mouth with teeth like knives and swords, and disheveled red hair

•like that Wujing is using a priest staff he def took from one of the monks he ate lol

•Wujing fighting Moksa for his life only to drop everything to apologize and talk to Guanyin LMAO

•MOKSA PICKS HIM UP BY THE COLLAR AKFKAKDJDJ

•ah, so Wujing didn’t reincarnate, he was changed, STABBED OVER 100 TIMES EVERY 7 DAYS AND FORCED TO COMMIT CANNABILSM SO HE DOESNT STARVE AS PUNISHMENT- THATS JUST LOVELY😭

•I like the interpretation that he could have been trying to signal a coup by breaking the crystal cup

•Guanyin hearing about Wujing’s string of skulls: it’s a surprise tool that will help us later

•BAJIE TIME

•this idiot bro “HOW DARE YOU TRY TO GET FLOWER PETALS IN MY EYES!!” “IDIOT THAT WAS GUANYIN” “…Guanyin is here??” “LOOK UP”

•Wuneng is reincarnated, he got beat to death in Heaven for hitting on Chang’e LMAOOOOO GET REKT

•ah yes, casually mentions killing his pig family and then his life of eating humans. Lovely.

•AO LIE TIME

•I committed a little accidental arson, please bail me out

•Damn, he got a really short intro

•interesting that Guanyin id’s the Peach Banquet as Wukongs fall from grace. I would def agree with this- eating the peaches like he did was extremely reckless and the beginning of the end imo

•”who tf is talking shit up there”

•No one has ever visited Wukong, I’m guessing the Guards were horrible company

•I like how both Guanyin and Sanzang try to give Wukong a religious name- Guanyin is very happy to hear he has the Wu- prefix as well lol

•arrived in Chang’an, let the hunt begin

Chpt 9:

•Chang’an bb, all blooming flowers surrounded by 8 rivers (DAMN, that’s a lot of water)

•Guangrui got first place in the examination, good for him UwU

•SURPRISE WIFE

•”gave the girl to Guangrui as his bride” UM I THINK SHES THE ONE WHO GRABBED HIM LMAO

•Guangrui has some fated beef with these two random boatmen, Liu Hong and Li Biao- states that he was destined in a previous incarnation to be enemies with them, is this a result of bad karma?

•NOOOOOO MY GUY GUANGRUI

•Liu Hong reminds me of Liu’er Mi-*gunshot*

•since they’re at the bottom of the Hong river, which Dragon King is this?

•Golden Carp coming in clutch, nice

•LADY YIN IS SO METAL LETS GO “she hated the bandit so bitterly that she wished she could devour his flesh and sleep on his skin” DO IT GURL, KILL HIM

•damn, too bad she’s pregnant with Sanzang….dw Girl I know you would kick his ass otherwise…

•there goes his toe…

•get named River Float idiot

•damn bro chill, that wasn’t very monk-like of you

•homie got called an orphan and cried JAKDJSJFJ I FEEL BAD

•she didn’t even check the toe I THOUGHT SHE DID- WHAT WAS THE POINT LMAO

•nvmnd

•I guess licking the eyes is better than spitting on them…sigh…

•GODDAMN THEY RIPPED LIU HONG AND LI BAIO APART….good for them, deserved in fact

•Lady Yin committing suicide even after she was reunited with her husband makes sense, as there was a trend where wives whose husbands died or they were assaulted, killed themselves. This was show loyalty to their husbands and add weight to their claim of SA- Lady Yin’s husband coming back does not change the fact that everyone knows she was forcefully married :((

(I use the term ‘trend’ only as a way to describe the rise and fall in wife suicides tied to either a husbands death or as a response to SA)

#FINALLY CAUGHT UP YIPPEE #I CAN… I CAN DRAW MKRE FOR THESE #<- I say this but I intentionally didn’t post last Sunday so I could make that animation for chapter 7 LMAO #…I have my priorities straight #tho the animation prevented me from doing anything for Sanzang’s chapter RIP #I would have done Lady Yin Justice I swear- she deserves soemthing nice #jttw #jttw book club #<- still not sure about that tag LMAO #Journey to the west #I’ll probably slap all my doodles in one post at some point… #Sun Wukong #tang sanzang #my art #jttw meme #tw: sui mention

[catcas22]

Prehistory of Elden Ring

I can't rightfully call this a theory. This is somewhere between a fanfic and an elaborate headcanon. But it accounts for a lot of little lore-tidbits that I don't really have enough canon info to do a proper theory on.

            Eiglay was the first of the gods, the World Serpent who held all potential for life within himself. Having consumed the world that came before, he birthed a single egg and then laid down to die. While the egg slumbered deep within the molten core of the world, Eiglay’s corpse lay unburied. The Twinbird descended to peck out his eyes, and where the cold blood spilled there sprang up a sapling.

            The sapling grew tall and black, beset by thorns. This was the birth of the World Tree -- the Lampwood Tree, vessel of souls. The Twinbird roosted in its branches.

            As a being of twinned natures, the Twinbird gave birth to two broods. The Deathbirds, corpse-eaters who embodied the decay of the flesh, and the Angels, winged maidens who embodied the immortality of the soul.

            When the Numen sailed from across the fog, they found the Lampwood Tree and its ghost-light towering above all. They built their city of Helphen at its roots, and they both feared and worshipped the Twinbird. For they were a long-lived people, and they dreaded the end all the more for it.

            Far across the stars, a spawn of the void fixed its eye upon the Lands Between. It sent forth soldiers graven from stone, raining as a shower of meteors upon the Lands and led by generals of onyx and alabaster.

            The greatest amongst these were the dragons, animate stone armed with the power of the storm. They were the teeth and claws of the void, and none could withstand them. In a final desperate stand, the angels met them in a great battle in the sky. In an early mirror of the Dread Communion, the angels allowed themselves to be devoured. In doing so, they granted the dragons the gift of free will.

            Now imbued with souls of their own, the dragons took names for themselves and turned against their former masters. Led by the mighty Placidusax, the Lord of the True Storm, they hounded the lords of the void from the Lands Between. They raised up beasts to serve them, giving the gifts of will and reason as they had been given in turn, and they raised up their city of Farum Azula to the south of the Lampwood Tree.

            When they looked upon the eternal dragons, the Numen resented their own mortality all the more. In all things, they sought to cheat death. They built great stone golems to fight their wars. They hid away within their walled city, prolonging their years through alchemy and dark hexes. And at last they created beings made by hands, the children of silver. They sent these thralls out to do the work of the living, to risk and to struggle, while the Numen hid away as if already entombed.

            As the dread of death consumed every waking moment, the Numen dwindled in splendor and in number. They built grand mausoleums to house their dead while the homes of the living stood empty. They embalmed their forefathers and set them in places of honor while their sons died childless. They spent their years seeking the riddle of immortality, and all the while they left the business of living to their silver thralls. And at the end Helphen became a mausoleum in truth, street upon street lined with manors for the dead while those few who still lived lingered in ruined houses and dark corners.

            The Numen remnant who rejected this slow entombment intermarried with the children of silver, and their descendants were the Nox. These were a people equal in stature and nobility to the Numen of old, and where their fathers had cowered at the shadow of death, the Nox looked to the stars.

            Having seen the calamity that had once fallen from the stars, the Nox set themselves to study the movements of the firmament. They raised the Eternal City of Nokceles atop the dead city of Helphen, and in the years to come they established the sister cities of Nokron and Nokstella.

            As their crowning achievement, the Nox constructed the Black Moon, a gravitational well of such magnitude that it could guide the paths of the very stars.

            It came to pass that the Twinbird hated the dragons. The great raven coveted the warmth of the living, and it sought to gather all souls back to itself. While the Deathbirds continued to bring it ashes to eat, with the loss of the angels all the souls of the newly dead were left to roam free. Most of all, the Twinbird hated the ancient dragons, for they lived without fear of death and refused to relinquish their souls.

             In the midst of this, a great ember fell to earth, the burning core of a red star. A giant by the name of Uhl took it up, for the giants had ever worshiped the flame. He sought to carry it down to the Lampwood Tree, to break the hold of death and lay the seed of a new age.

            The Twinbird descended upon him in great fury, cold ghostflame in its wings. It would have snuffed out the ember and Uhl with it if not for the intercession of Placidusax. Twice the dragon and the raven clashed within the storm, and twice death was beaten back. At their third meeting, the Twinbird cast down Placidusax and ripped away one of the dragon’s five heads.

            Uhl might have fallen then, but the lords of the Nox raised up their Black Moon as a shield. For a few precious moments, they confounded the Twinbird. Then Uhl split open the black tree of souls and planted the ember within its heart.

            As souls once frozen and calcified mixed into a great molten core, the World Tree changed -- no longer the Lampwood, guide of souls, it became the Crucible, the wellspring of life. Uhl carved the face of the Fell God upon his breast and named himself the god of the Age of Fire, and he welcomed Placidusax as his lord and consort.

            Now the Nox were consumed by envy, for they were proud, and while they were permitted to exist within Uhl’s order they were given no place of prominence. As their bitterness festered, they fell to the vices of their forefathers.

            They delved once more into alchemy, seeking to thwart the very laws of nature. They raised up thralls of their own, silver tears as warriors and albinaurics as menial slaves. They denied that they had ever been born of silver, and they were all the crueler to their creations for it.

            At the height of their hubris, they called out to the void that they had once sought to hold at bay. For it was whispered amongst their most gifted scholars, if a Black Moon made by hands could sway the paths of stars, then what power had set those paths in the beginning?

            Might there be a god of the void, a Dark Moon of whom their Black Moon was only a paltry imitation? Might this god be beckoned, coaxed to inhabit a mortal vessel as the Fell God had inhabited Uhl?

            By the labor of their greatest alchemists, the Nox crafted a vessel for the Dark Moon, an Empyrean born of silver, a Lord of Night to challenge the Lord of the Crucible. But in the end they were taken by the very void they had beckoned, dragged beneath the earth and left to grow low and stunted.

            And as the age of the Nox perished in its infancy, a new star fell to earth. An unnatural thing, a beast of light that despised the chaos of the living, a beast of void that denied the primacy of death. And from the ruined scions of the Numen, the Beast plucked an Empyrean vessel.

#elden ring #elden ring lore #elden ring theory

[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e77

"You volunteered to be the recon team that goes to the moon" what a fucking sentence.

Laudna, Fearne, and Imogen go wandering around the castle. Laudna guides them; she wasn't just someone who got picked by Delilah, she would also often take refuge in the tunnels beneath the castle and steal things from it like a mouse in the walls. She also says that she was "captured" before being brought to the dining hall, rather than having been invited there for a nice dinner like she'd said before.

Imogen summons a reiloran to..... unlock a door for her. She's able to summon multiple types of reilorans; this one is a Hexmind, and I'd guess that this one has skills, another type has melee attacks, and a third has ranged attacks.

In the room that Delilah used as a bedroom, they find a hidden chamber: it's filled with strangely-shaped furniture, desks, contraptions, equipment -- like a laboratory. More than that, it was a torture chamber, with refined residuum dust all across the floor and hungry shadows. Initiative!

Laudna's ability is actually called hunger of the shadow-shard. It allows her to absorb the target's soul, and deals 4d8 necrotic damage on a successful melee attack. The creature takes no damage (it's immune to necrotic), and recognizes Delilah within her -- the form of dread looks more like Delilah than ever before, with a choker around her neck and a second pair of shoulders over hers.

As the shadows fall, they all hear a voice: "Loyal servants of the castle. They were all useful subjects." It's Delilah's voice, emanating from Laudna. "It's interesting; you found some of my old additions to the castle grounds. A place to keep Sylas to rest, a place to experiment -- it's nice to see it again. [What am I to you? Are there others like me?] There are no others like you. [So I'm your only thread to the material world.] As I am yours. You have been dead for a very long time. I am the only thing that keeps you here. So let us put aside these strange and unnecessary quarrels and instead,maybe, do some great things together. I'm sure you've many questions -- well? What is it you wish to know?"

What are you after? I wish nothing more than to see history come to its natural close. I want to outlive this world, to uncover its mysteries and keep them to myself. What's so wrong with that?

You may live to see the day, then, unless you help us defeat Predathos. I do not push against your goals. Truth be told, Our interests are quite aligned. I leant you my gifts because you need them and I need you; I should hope thta offers you some solace. [Vecna] has little to gain from the destruction of the gods; I gave up everything to create one. His power is through you, as well. He -- I -- do not wish to see that taken by the enemy of ancient insolence.

And if Vecna goes away? So do we.

Delilah wants Laudna to devour more magic -- she recalls absorbing the gnarlrock, the soul from Bordor, the hunger. Life, power -- and if Laudna grants enough to her, she may be able to separate their souls while keeping Laudna intact. With a new body and new power, the first thing she would do is to bring Sylas back.

"I didn't choose this!" "No. But fate's a fickle mistress, isn't she?"

Delilah also senses that Fearne has the potential to become something terrible and beautiful, a meeting of realms. She recalls looking through a mirror into possible futures,

Imogen, she says, is the child of the god-eater -- "fate itself fears you, and rightly so. No one knows the limits of what you can do, what you're capable of if you should find out... where one like you would normally draw the eyes of the gods, you are anathema to them. You might be the one to choose the future of this world, if your mother doesn't make it first."

"Imogen, I need you to make me a promise. If something happens to me, the greatest honor you could give would be to move on. To be happy. To live, to live! I am quite literally a dead end. If anything happens and I become her little puppet, I trust you to make the right choice." I don't know why but this feels..... unearned, somehow.

Scavenging the room, they find nothing of use.

As they leave, Delilah creeps into Laudna's mind again. "Let us work together. Despite everything, I do care for you." "Let's do beautiful and terrible things together."

And to break!

The morning opens with a lovely little speech from Orym to Fearne. "I got you something." "What?" "I stole it!" "What?!" He gives her the spyglass he stole from the skeleton pirates!

For Chetney, he's doing this because he wants to go to the moon, yes, but also because he wants to be remembered. He's getting old, so he wants to leave his mark on the world -- for him, it's about legacy, planting seeds in a garden he'll never get to see. (i'm SORRY--)

Orym wants to avenge his husband and Derrig, wants to protect the Tempest, yes -- but if his life is lost in defense of all the lives on Exandria, or in defense of the Bells Hells, then it is well-spent. "But what about you? What's your happy ending?" "Tomorrow."

It's snowing in Whitestone, and Ashton doesn't know what sledding is. They decide to take the day to have fun, to remind themselves that they at least love each other even when they don't like each other, and to remember why they're not gonna kill each other when the stupid decisions eventually come.

Allura and Cassandra are supposed to arrive in the afternoon, so the Bells Hells disperse throughout the city to spend the time.

Imogen goes to the temple of the Dawnfather. It's certainly interesting that, between the structure of this temple, the attitude and vocabulary of the arbiter, and the General Vibe of the Place, this place is the most like a real-life Christian church I think we've experienced in Exandria thus far. Regardless, there's a massive difference between the way the Dawnfather's temple receives a non-believer versus temples of, say, the Matron (who has twice granted literal visions to people who have never once prayed to her).

But she prays anyway. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I hope you know we're trying to fix things for y'all, and if everything goes right then hopefully you'll have the power to help us in return. I'm not looking to make any deals, I know that's not something you're supposed to do with gods, but I could really use your help with her -- I know you're more powerful, I know you are, and I guess I could call that faith. But anyway, I'm gonna try real hard to help you. Thanks." She leaves the door slightly ajar as she leaves, and glancing up, she immediately sees the snow-dappled statue of the Matron looming over the graveyard, over the figure of Vax'ildan, the cold vision of death. A raven takes off into the snow. There is no warmth, and there is no response.

Orym heads to the Whitestone expansion of Gilmore's Glorious Goods. The storefront is bare, picked clean by the war effort. He buys 3 basic healing potions, a potion of heroism, and some pastries from Pike's bakery.

Ashton and Fearne go on a walk to the clocktower. "Could you imagine being so pasionate about your life that you'd do something like this? Up until recently, I would've said no... if everything goes terrible, your Nan is going to miss you so much. But if everything goes terrible, no one's gonna miss me, because everyone who would care would be right there with me."

y'all my Rockwild heart is thriving-- "well, when I said sister, you know I meant... I mean, you're hot and otherwise, you've got it going on--"

fuck. Ashton trusts someone. They trust Fearne to make the right decision, and they trust themselves to let Fearne make the right decision, and they are so convinced that they were never meant to have anything but if Fearne survived and they didn't they know that someone will miss them.

but Ashton wants Fearne to be their acomplice in allowing them to absorb the second shard, even against the will of everyone else in the group, just because they think that it is what's meant to happen. they want it to be Fearne and them alone, when the transfusion happens, because they don't think Fearne will try to stop them. "do what you can, and if I'm not okay, it's not your fault."

"Well, I-- I think you're pretty hot too." And Fearne runs the fuck away

They reconvene in the war room with Cassandra, Percy, and Allura.

I'm not transcribing all of this, there's a ridiculous amount of information here, so here are the highlights.

Residuum seems to be mostly unaffected by the solstice, and it is very uncommon for people to understand the workings of complex machines, so Percy offers a way to scramble their automatons to cause a distraction (and suddenly, this ornery old man has a Christmas-morning sparkle in his eye); they're essentially arcane EMPs. There are only 2, and FCG takes both.

They've also agreed that an onslaught of magical illusions would provide sufficient distraction en masse. It sounds like Allura will be the point-person for this, and on top of her being a 20th-level wizard, her magic will be amplified by the nexus point at the key.

The Hells are given a number of magical items: 2 scrolls of mass nondetection; 1 scroll of greater restoration (for Ryn); 1 scroll of dimension door; 2 potions of greater healing; 1 potion of superior healing; 1 potion of speed; 2 potions of gaseous form; and a bejeweled baking sheet worth 1000gp (the material component for heroes' feast).

Next is the matter of Ludinus' vest and the titan shard. First, the place: at the prompting of Cassandra, Percy leads them through well-carved, well-guarded pathways to a chamber; there are researchers here, in this cavern crowned by massive roots, and they climb the steps of the Ziggurat.

(I cannot believe that Travis resisted the urge to use grim psychometry on this place--)

I also can't believe that the Bells Hells are just...... okay with Ashton and Fearne doing this alone. They're not even questioning Ashton's extremely shifty behavior here, insisting that everyone goes away before someone puts the harness on. It legit feels out of character for them to just leave (especially Orym, with his absolutely ridiculous passive insight, and Percy, who's about to leave two near-complete strangers to do whatever they will at the top of this ziggurat).

There's something that's just so incredibly frustrating and wrong about this encounter and I really don't know what it is.

Ashton puts the harness on, and Fearne puts the crystal into it. They feel warmth in their chest, and it begins to blossom -- warm to hot to burning -- the golden fractures on Ashton's skin glow orange. The heat feels like something is trying to awaken, like a second heartbeat, a dormant organ -- it flexes, their shoulder lurches, and the heat goes there. It cracks and falls, shatters on the ground. "Don't you dare--"

The heat spreads, and through Ashton's grin, their ear shatters on the ground. The gold is molten, running, the rock of his skin is smoldering. The crystal loses its color, crumbles, and falls away; Ashton's chest is glowing like a furnace, their body expands slightly, and with each lurch -- like an earthquake that changes tectonic plates -- parts of them fall away.

Ashton fails a saving throw, they close their eyes and look to Fearne -- where their eyes were, there are coals that emit burning light, their body shakes -- another shift, their chest expands, and their right arm falls and shatters.

They start to run up the ziggurat. Ashton staggers toward FCG, FCG puts up a death ward, Fearne casts aura of life, Imogen uses telekinesis to keep Ashton together. None of it's going to work, Ashton is going to fucking die here -- and as much as I do think that Orym, Laudna, and FCG acted incredibly out of character, I also think that, with the context of Molly's death, Matt is giving a fucking masterclass in acting. I genuinely cannot tell whether he's legitimately distraught about Ashton definitely dying here, or if he's putting on a show because he knows that Ashton is coming out the other side of this changed.

"You are a man, currently holding two bombs on the verge of detonation." The gold parts of his body glows bright-hot, his face tenses, and beams of sheer white light shine into the roots of the Sun Tree and Ashton shatters -- until his ring of temporal salvation pulls him back together. They have five rounds to keep them up for.

Their only hope right now is to keep ahead of the damage, but Laudna has already given up and is trying to drag Imogen and Chetney back out of Allura's protective sphere even though she has some perfectly good healing spells in her arsenal. The party is in triage mode, they're throwing everything at this, but they only have a few more rounds to go, and Chetney and Laudna have done absolutely fucking NOTHING.

"Have you not realized that I'm a hypocrite?!" Ashton my beloved

FCG's aura of vitality is saving the fucking day here, and this only supports my hypothesis that it is the best fucking healing spell in the game.

"anyone wanna use up any more healing spells they have here?" Laudna, who has wither and bloom: *silence*

with everything that Matt has said, doing this should've killed Ashton instantly. But because of 2/3rds of the rest of their group, and a couple lucky rolls, and an overpowered spell or two--

"There's a moment where you think he's gone. And then, he erupts in steam, filling the entirety of the ziggurat with mist. You pull back, the heat burning your eyes, and you can't help but cough -- and as it passes, you look over and see Ashton there, cooling. Unmoving."

Ashton sits up, and where their arm was, there is a heavy, muscular, molten-rock arm replacing what they lost. It glows, and where gold once was, there is now just cracks of orange in the crust atop magma. "Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for saving me." Fearne just kicks him in the face with a hoof. "I am never trusting you again!"

They stand beneath the roots of the Sun Tree, and for whatever loss this place has seen, at least something was saved here.

#critical role #note watches c3 #critical role spoilers #critical role campaign 3 #critical role c3 #critical role liveblog #I'm SORRY about the Hamilton reference but it was right there #long post

[momentsbeforemass]

“I’ll be happy when…”

“Of all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, it might have been.”

The first time I discovered this line from Whittier, it was on a tombstone of a long-dead Senator. I knew his story.

His was a life of high office and important matters. An honorable career, with much to be proud of. Somehow, it was never enough for him.

Time and again, he sought the Presidency. The one office he really wanted. Time and again, he fell short.

After his last failed attempt, he retired from public life and died soon after. Friends and family said he died of a broken heart at what he saw as his final failure.

I’m sure that line was chosen to call to mind what a great President he could have been.

But for me, it was sad in another way. It revealed someone who was so focused on what he didn’t have, that he tied his happiness, his peace to something he never achieved.

While most of us will never run for President, all of us at one time or another have tied our peace to things we didn’t have. We do it when we tell ourselves things like “I’ll be happy when I get a better job,” “I’ll be happy when I get a new car,” “I’ll be happy when I get a bigger house.”

Setting ourselves up to be disappointed. Not only if we don’t get it. But even if we do.

Because once we tie our peace to something like that, it’s hard to get it back. All too often, we just keep pushing it on to the next thing. And the next thing. In an endless cycle.

Which is not how God ever meant for us to live. Focused on things. Living outside of the only part of our lives that we ever really own. Today.

St. Teresa of Avila knew this well. And knew exactly how to break the cycle. It’s why she said,

“May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. 

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. 

May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.”

Today’s Readings

#Peace #Not Enough #Happy #What might have been #God #Jesus #Catholic #Christian #Church #Whittier #St. Teresa of Avila #Moments Before Mass

[hydropyro]

Webs of Fate - Chapter 1

CW: Abdirak

ao3 link

It was not unusual for him to have been invited to travel and give lessons on his ministrations. Nor was it unusual for his holy work to be — misunderstood — by those extending the invitations. He enjoyed the calls from healers and the like who sought his Maiden’s guidance and gifts through his skilled hands. He did not so much enjoy the requests from thieves and butchers and torturers who hoped he could use his gifts to procure information and secure uncouth deals. 

So it was not unusual when the invitation had come by some new group who called themselves ‘ true souls ’ of some ‘ absolute ’ and help retrieve the information necessary for securing, what he assumed was, a holy relic in a defunct temple to Selûne. But, it had been unusual for his ever gracious Maiden to compel him to accept. 

Though confused, he never questioned Her Grace’s will. He had promptly packed up his instruments and necessities and made the short pilgrimage to the location. 

He did not enjoy harm. Pain willfully given up to his goddess was always more fulfilling — but he never denied her will. Whomever he was being sent to assist in the torture of surely deserved it in Her Grace’s eyes. 

The next oddity on his arrival to the derelict temple was that it had been inhabited by a horde of goblins — larger than he would have ever thought the chaotic beings to be able to organize. The fear he’d felt when entering the encampment had been fleeting, and he punished himself the next morning, offering up his pain in tribute to Her Grace for his body’s lapse of faith. Goblins were notoriously violent and deadly, and when walking through the camp to the inner temple he’d seen the remains of humanoids. If it was his Lady’s will that he should die here, though, he would accept it gratefully. 

That had not been the case. In his morning worship, he had thanked her for allowing him to continue to serve her greatness. And he’d pleaded for patience. 

He was a patient man by nature, but the crude and primitive ways of the goblins were taxing like nothing he’d endured in the past. Yes, their enthusiasm for the deliverance of pain was admirable — but it was no wonder those they meant to procure information from ended up dead before the knowledge sought had been shared. 

He stood in front of their most recent victim — hung in the rack, beaten and bloody — then, using a course sponge to clear the many wounds on the man’s body of debris before setting about healing the injuries. As he worked, he muttered to himself, praising his goddess for the beauty she had bestowed upon the man’s flesh. He had sent the goblin torturer away to fetch food and drink for the prisoner lest he die. 

“What sort of weirdos hang out with goblins, eh?” The man’s voice was weak despite his insult. 

Abdirak did not respond. 

“How bad did ya have to fuck up to end up serving goblins?” 

“The only one I serve is my Maiden.” He set aside the shallow bowl and sponge, hovering an open palm over a deep gash in the man’s stomach and murmuring words of healing. As he did he sank the tip of a thin, needle-like blade into his own thigh — slowly — achingly slow — and thanked the Maiden for blessing him with his magic. 

I have been assisting the goblins,” Abdirak clarified as the agonizing euphoria spread from the bleeding hole he worked into his thigh, though his veins -- passionately hot -- to his fingers that channeled the magic his Maiden bestowed on him. “Presently, I am assisting you .” 

The prisoner scoffed. “Assisting me? You stood back and let that little green fuck beat me half-to-death!” 

“Well past half,” Abdirak said. He grimaced, remembering how rudimentary the torturer’s work had been. There had been pain -- and oh how the prisoner had wailed -- but the damage was too great, the blood flowed too freely, for such meager results. He had not raised a hand to the prisoner himself -- his Maiden would not object to his stealing the sweet screams of agony from his pretty lungs -- but Abdirak did not like to force and steal . For him only the songs willingly given from those who wanted to offer their pain up to Loviatar were preferred. 

Instead he had strung up a goblin near the prisoner and demonstrated his talents on them. Unlike their crude peers, Abdirak could make them sing and plead to the heavens with naught a drop of blood if he wanted. He often did not -- he reveled in everything that the water of life offered -- its sight, scent, texture, flavor -- the implications of its procurement. But, he too could drain a man dry with no more pain than the slight prick necessary for the bloodletting, so it was no indicator itself of success. 

Should the prisoner request his skilled interrogation in lieu of the senseless beatings he’d endured thus far, Abdirak would gladly oblige. 

“Is the information you hold so dear worth this, child?” The priest asked. He had withdrawn the blade from his thigh and continued cleaning the man’s wounds. 

The younger man suppressed a small sob. “I already told you -- I don’t know where the bloody ‘Nightsong’ is. Aradin was the one leading the expedition!” 

Yes, Abdirak knew that. He had heard it several times in the last few hours. “You know where this ‘ Aradin ’ went when he ran, though? Is that information worth all of this?” 

The prisoner swallowed. Abdirak had not brought any harm to him, and the Paingiver could see a glint of hope in the human’s gaze. 

Loviatar craved all pain -- largely indiscriminate of race, class, or creed -- but his fellow man, bound to the rack before him, was desperate to connect to the human -- torturer or not. 

“They’ve got children there--” the prisoner breathed, his gaze boring into Abdirak -- the Paingiver needed to know and understand. 

And he did. The Loviatan nodded solemnly. His Maiden was impassive and bloodthirsty -- but Abdirak was only a man. A child could not understand and accept the intricacies and importance of pain, nor could they willingly offer up their suffering to his goddess. The slaughter that the goblins would bring upon their people, young and old alike, would be crude, cruel, and final . 

Perhaps not for quite the same reasons as the man hanging on the rack before him, Abdirak also did not like the idea of the goblins finding the children. 

He continued his work in silence. Once he deemed the prisoner stable, Abdirak took his leave, returning to the neighboring alcove where the’d set up his equipment to take respite and pray. 

The sharp barbs of the nine-flailed scourge caught his flesh and tore deliciously with each heavy swing. As much as he loved his many scars, Abdirak took excellent care of his back and shoulders to ensure it remained a clean slate, ripe and supple for offering his self-inflicted agony with the iconic scourge he worked so hard to earn and keep the right to wield. 

He cried his thanks to the Maiden, smiling up at the sky though his brows knit together with sweet agony . He stopped a moment to breathe -- and only then did he hear the sound of footsteps behind him. The goblins were everywhere in this place, leaving no room for privacy -- not that Abdirak believed worship to necessarily be a private affair -- but the boots that trod toward him were too large, the strides too long, to be a goblin. 

He stood and turned to face the newcomer. He was not surprised to see a drow standing in front of him, not since he had met the ‘ true soul ’, Minthara, but the two elves and the human the drow had in tow was unexpected. “Greetings, child. I’ve met few aside from goblins here.” He studied the drow a moment, keenly aware that the unfamiliar man was giving him the same treatment in kind. “Ah, are you also here to assist with the prisoner?” Drow were known for their deft fingers and intelligence. It excited the Paingiver to think that, perhaps, he had a new student who would be more receptive to his teachings. 

“What prisoner?” The drow asked, his expression unreadable. He sported a deep scar over his right eye and down across the cheekbone, but it was the only mark that graced his beautiful, elven features. 

He had not worked closely with drow personally, but was familiar. Many drow found themselves in the embrace of Loviatar once they came to the surface, no longer in the favor of the spider goddess, Lolth. Abdirak supposed that this drow’s presence with the surface elves and human, along with his ignorance to the prisoner, meant that he had not come to learn the art of pain. 

Abdirak breathed an annoyed sigh, keeping his temper in check at the thought of being on his own even longer with these beasts . “The gentleman being held next door. My -- ‘ acquaintance ’ -- is working on him, I believe.”

Like the prisoner had been, the Loviatan found himself seeking understanding from this being so much like him. “While I was thrilled to be invited here, I must confess, I find the goblins ,” he spat the word, his patience for them ever waning, “and their ‘ methods ’ -- crude and primitive .

“Pain without a purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?” 

He saw the drow’s smirk and slight glance to his companions. “I thought a follower of Loviatar would approve of pain.” 

Abdirak returned the slight grin. “You know the Maiden of Pain? How refreshing. But there is more to us than that . 

“Yes, we worship her through pain -- often our own ; it is an intimate and loving thing -- one we offer up.” He searched the drow’s expression. It almost seemed like the man was waiting -- wanting -- expecting ? 

“If you would permit it, I can show you -- first-hand. ”

The male elf following the drow gave an exaggerated groan, drawing the Paingiver’s attention to him for a moment. “I must see this. Don’t you dare say no.” 

Abdirak kept his expression impassive. He considered rescinding the offer -- as much as he yearned  to see just how far the pretty drow could go -- lest the blood he craved to spill would send the vampire into a frenzy. 

The drow smirked at his companion’s remake before saying, “Alright,” to the priest. 

The Paingiver could hardly contain his excitement. After just two days with the ignorant goblins his fingers ached to illicit the cleansing love of his goddess on the flesh of someone intelligent enough to appreciate it. “Oh, I have something exquisite in mind,” he breathed. He touched his fingers together to settle his nerves a moment, “Both Loviatar and I are interested in how you handle pain , dear one.

“And should you delight her, you will most assuredly receive her most gracious blessing -- trust me .”

He glanced at those who were accompanying the drow. “It may be better for your companions to take their leave, though -- there will be blood, and I fear they may -- react poorly .” The vampire’s sanguine eyes widened, though the elf woman and the human beside her both looked confused. 

The drow was not concerned -- despite the broach on his breast that bore the symbol of Kelemvor. It seemed that none were aware of the monster in their midst.  

“What do you mean?” the human asked. 

His job was to cultivate pain -- not sow discord -- so he said, “Some with weaker stomachs may feel ill at the sight of blood.” 

The human glared at the Paingiver with his single eye, but didn’t respond. Instead, he crossed his arms and planted his feet, clearly unwilling to leave. The vampire, who must have known now that Abdirak had identified his nature, also remained in place. 

Abdirak gestured invitingly further into the room. “Simply face the wall,” he said to the drow, “and we can begin.” 

The drow man did as was asked eagerly , as though he’d been waiting for the invitation. “Please, use the scourge,” he said as he passed Abdirak to take his place in the ring of candles. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the side, letting it fall onto the heavy stone table to his right. 

Abdirak gave a light chuckle, reaching down to feel the coiled leather strapped to his hip. “It is a lot for the first time,” he warned. “Might I recommend a club or blade?” 

“I can take it.” 

Abdirak nodded, though the cleric could not see, and unfurled his precious scourge from his hip. “Yes --” he muttered to himself. “This will do nicely. 

“The pain you suffer will cleanse you ,” Abdirak encouraged. “Do not fight it.” The Paingiver shifted his weight, steadying his stance, before swinging at the drow. The first strike would be the lightest, though the barbs still bore into his onyx flesh and tore away, letting the red flow forth in their wake. 

The drow cried out and his body became tense for a long moment, but he remained in place. 

“Your voice sounds so sweet, child. Keep going !”

As he pulled back his arm to swing again he heard the vampire mutter, “My, who knew our friend had so much blood in them?” and he paused. There was no movement behind him, so the vampire was keeping his hunger in check for the moment.

“Pain is proof that we live .” A follower of Kelemvor could surely appreciate that sentiment. “Revel in it.” He swung again, putting more force behind the motion. It would be a long time before he gave it his all, and few outside his clergy could bear his full might. 

The drow screamed again, though his voice seemed to laugh as the delicious sound ripped from his throat faded. He was panting, letting out slight gasps that sounded so pleased . 

“That’s it, dear one! Let Loviatar hear you ! You are doing so well ,” Abdirak praised. The blood dripped more, the first drops beginning to seep into the fabric of his trousers. “ Do not give in now .” 

He adjusted his feet and rolled his shoulder, prepared to hit him much harder than before. The drow was a natural, and the sounds of his pleasure danced in unison with the song of pain. He murmured under his breath, thanking his goddess for delivering him such a fine student, before he swung. With each swing he felt a heat in his chest, grasping at his soul in an agonizing embrace -- his Maiden’s pleasure -- her approval. 

The barbs caught deep in the drow’s onyx flesh, some of the flails wrapping around his torso and digging into his soft hips. His knees seemed to buckle and the drow caught himself against the wall with his hands, gasping -- but the scream came when Abdirak jerked his instrument back, audibly ripping the flesh. The drow fell to a knee, but still he reveled in the pain, his joyous laughter intermingling with his scream. 

Abdirak’s soul burned -- rewarding him with a surge of magic, but he also felt the compulsion to end the session there. He was here doing a job, and as blessed as this intermission had been, he had to return to it. “Sweet child,” Abdirak breathed. He placed his scourge, the flail ends soaked in the drow’s life essence, onto the side table near the man’s shirt, and placed a steady hand on his bare shoulder. So often those receiving ministries would have their minds go elsewhere , soaring in ecstasy so few other acts could bring. “Come back to me, dear one.” 

The drow’s fingers were contrast in every way as they rested overtop the Paingiver’s -- delicate, soft, and dark. “Thank you,” he heard the drow murmur, and Abdirak took a step back to give the man space to stand. 

“You bore the pain like a true believer,” Abdirak praised, feeling the scars on his face pulled by the smile he could not contain. “I am proud to have served you this penance.” He gave the drow a slight bow, wanting him to know that it was he who had done a great service for Abdirak. 

“I enjoyed myself,” the man said, smiling in return. His tongue flicked out, running over his soft lower lip quickly, and beads of sweat were forming at his hairline and in the hollow of his throat. 

Abdirak regretted having to stop. He wanted to find out exactly where the breaking point was for this man, even if it took them days to reach it. Here he was dreadfully underequipped -- had they been back in Calimport he would have so many wonderful instruments to use -- and he would learn every song the elven man could sing. 

A shot of pleasure ran through him at the thought,  from the base of his neck straight down to his hips, and Abdirak rolled with the wave. He lifted his face skyward, his eyes closed and unable to suppress his groan. The Maiden did not only reward in pain. “As did I, dear one .

“Loviatar herself found your performance -- inspiring. She has deemed you worthy of her blessing.” He could feel the heat around his soul moving through to his hands as he performed the somatic gestures to cast the blessing. 

A red glow filled the space between them and washed over the drow, who stood straighter and sighed in relief as his health and fortitude was refreshed. 

“Alright,” the elf woman urged the drow, “if we are done playing around, we do have a job to do.” 

Abdirak held up his hands to the drow. “I need to rest and pray -- consider our session. But, please, if time permits, I would not turn you away.” 

The drow only nodded, and they left. The vampire gave his companion a smart quip, but shot a suspicious glance back at Abdirak as the group left. 

He returned to his place at the altar, continuing to offer his pain to his goddess, this time in the form of long, methodic strokes of a blade across his abdomen. When he prayed he could almost shut the rest of the world out. Not too much that it would compromise his safety, but enough that he could focus wholly on his dedication to the Maiden’s grace. 

He waited as long as he could before begrudgingly returning to the prisoner. No doubt his goblin ‘acquaintance’ was going to kill the man if left unsupervised. As he rounded the wall, though, the rack was empty. 

Abdirak frowned. Before drawing any attention to the prisoner’s absence, he approached the rack and studied the cuffs. They had not been opened with a key, which would have remained in place. It must have been picked -- 

He crouched and touched his fingers lightly to the ground. There was a trail of blood and the slight imprint of a barefoot in the dust. Following the drops of blood to the right, Abdirak found a concealed doorway, still cracked open. The prisoner had escaped. The man smiled to himself. While it was disappointing to have lost his clients, as the goblins surely had no use for him with their prisoner gone -- it was nice to think that the odd little band lead by the Kelemvoran cleric was to blame for the prisoner’s nimble escape. At the thought, a warmth spread through him again. 

#baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #abdirak #alakvyr #cleric of kelemvor

[itjazzbicch]

Blessings

Pairing:  Sosuke Aizen x Fem Reader 

First time writing for Aizen so I hope I did well! 

Summary: After running into former comrades while taking a trip to the world of the living, the reader's loyalty to Aizen is tested. As she passes that test, she receives a blessing from Aizen himself...

Warnings:  SMUT (18+ ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI)

Word Count: 1k 

Having to take a visit to the world of the living thanks to Grimmjow’s actions, I found myself swirling in thoughts.

Running into former comrades, their words had me thinking. Only if they could understand, they never would.

Our plans weren’t far from being executed. This was no time to be worried about emotions that were dead.

“Y/N,” Gin’s voice caught my attention, seeing he was waiting for my return, “Lord Aizen would like to see you.”

Nodding and making my way, I wondered what he would want with me at the moment. Maybe to report on my trip?

Heading to his balcony with a look out of Hueco Mundo, I could see his arm shooing away a servant that brought him hot tea:

“Y/N, you have returned.”

“Yes, Lord Aizen,” I approached carefully, staying to the side of his seat and bowing my head, “Everything went smoothly.”

“Great. I’d expect nothing less of you,” Sipping his tea, we met a gaze in the corners of our eyes, his eyes staring into my soul like he knew who encountered, “I’d never question your loyalty either.”

“Never sir,” I assured, bowing to my knees, “I will always be by your side and be loyal to you endlessly.”

“Oh dear, there’s no need,” Taking my hand, he guided me back to my feet, setting his tea down and bringing me to face him.

Staring deeper into his eyes, my breath began to hitch, listening to his knowledge:

“I do know who you crossed paths with in the word of the living.”

My former squad mates. This spiked some fear through me, quickly reassuring him:

“Yes, my former squad mates. But don’t worry, Lord Aizen. They never meant a thing to me. They didn’t even have the bravery to step foot near me.”

“Just as I expected. As I said, I’d never question your loyalty, Y/N,” Holding my hand, thumb caressing softly, that fear began to die, his next words helping more, “You just keep making me proud.”

“There’s nothing more I’d love to accomplish, sir,” I smiled softly, bowing my head again, but picking it up quickly as he began to bring me closer:

“Come here.”

This was one thing I never expected, his hand fixing me across his lap, getting chills as he stroked a strand of hair away from my face:

“For someone capable of the things you’ve done, who’d know you were so innocent deep down inside.”

“I only wish to please you, Lord Aizen,” That’s all I could think of, silenced by his smirk, his fingers tracing my jaw and around to my chin:

“Such a good girl. Allow me to gift you for your hard work and loyalty.”

His lips were so soft, chills intensifying with exhilaration as I kissed back, hands sliding down my shoulders to be rid of my cloak.

Next was the zipper in the front of my dress, freeing my breasts and placing his face between them before leaving kisses behind.

Being intimate with Lord Aizen was something someone could only dream of, but there I was, nearly becoming a mess from just a bit of an extreme pleasure that was beneath the surface.

The heat between my thighs was growing to be so hot, twitching at his palm sliding between them, fixing my panties to the side before fixing himself.

His moves showed his experience, resting my head over his shoulder as I felt his cock stretching my walls, easing my hips down onto him.

“Sosuke-“ I moaned angelically, pupils expanding at what I said and quickly apologizing, “I’m so sorry, Lord A-“

“Sorry for what? Enjoying yourself?”

This new side of him kept on surprising me, just to moan more at his hips working up against mine.

“You know if you were to do something wrong, you’d be punished,” He clarified, gripping my ass hard, warning with a slight spank, “But if you keep sitting there doing nothing, you will be.”

“Yes sir,” I gasped, mind becoming a free space, not wanting to waste this opportunity and beginning to bounce softly on his cock.

I was falling in love with how full I was, how good his cock was, the heat annoying me some and so, tearing away my dress completely, arching my back so our chests met, moaning into his neck.

“You never disappoint me,” Bringing my lips to his again, he slouched back some, his thrusts rougher and quicker than mine, making the pleasure pool into my stomach quicker.

“And I never will, Sosuke,” I cooed, words broken up into bits by moans, trying to keep up with his thrusts, but my tempo was broken from the burning nerves that made me shudder more by the second.

“You better take those words to heart,” It seemed like a warning, but his smirk showed how I like my praises, whining out:

“I do! Always!”

“Good,” Holding my head by my hair to keep my head still, a hand tweaked at my nipples, pinching softly, soon finding my clit, having my hips roll uncontrollably.

“Sosuke!” I kept rolling where his tip was bumping my sweet spot, feeling the friction from how tight I was when I tried to rise on my knees, crashing back down and nearly screaming out as a thrust of his own penetrated so deeply.

“Keep being good and take me,” His whisper was so hot and nearly sinister, nibbling my ear softly, “Don’t stop till you cum for me.”

“I won’t!” I promised, whining through the shaking and pushing myself closer, “I’m abo-“

My words were taken away from huffs, eyes rolling white as my wet, warm juices soaked his cock, collapsing to his chest, but not daring to stop rolling my hips, even when they nearly died and ached.

“My oh my,” Looking between our thighs with a chuckle, there were some groans deep in his throat, kissing while ramming his hips upwards, keeping mine pinned down to his, “Don’t waste a single drop.”

Clenching my fist into his cloak, my walls continued to pulsate around his throbbing cock, gasping and heaving with moans at the warmth of seed shooting into me, whispering:

“I’d never waste such a blessing, Lord Aizen.”

Just to prove, I raised my shaking hips so it was just his tip, sitting back down to his base and filling myself deeper, his twitching cock leaking out a little more.

“Keep up the good work, dear,” He cooed, fingertips tracing my spine and back around to my chin to kiss, “And you’ll keep receiving more blessings.” 

#bleach #bleach x reader #bleach x y/n #bleach smut #bleach oneshot #bleach fanfiction #bleach fanfic #bleach imagine #bleach fic #sosuke aizen #sosuke aizen x reader #sosuke aizen x y/n #sosuke aizen imagine #sosuke aizen fanfictions #sosuke aizen fic #sosuke aizen fanfic #sosuke aizen smut #sosuke aizen oneshot #aizen x y/n #aizen x reader #aizen smut #aizen oneshot #anime #anime smut #anime oneshots #anime imagines #anime fanfiction #anime fanfic #anime fic

[now-a-witch]

Listen I tried starting the Bungo Stray Dogs manga like 7 years ago or smt, but I was falling out of the reading manga train so I have not read it or watched BUT I'm watching a guy react to it and it finally convince me to give it another shot.

That said what I made this post for was because them exploring more worldwide things in s5 made really want some latino autors like:

I want Carlos Fuentes, I want his gift to be "Aura" which allows him to bring people back from the death by summoning their soul into a living persons body, stealing it away.

I want Gabriel García Márquez, "Cien años de soledad" (one hundred years of solitude) being his gift would be the obvious choice, allowing him to capture people in a time prison or something could be cool but "El amor en los tiempos del colera" (love in the times of cholera) would be funny and "Crónica de una muerte anunciada" (chronicle of a death foretold) would be cool if we didn't already had 2 characters who could forsee their own death.

Jorge Luis Borges having "El Aleph" giving him a kind of omnipresence allowing his spirit to leave his body and percive from above and great distance.

Julio Cortazar havin "Rayuela" as his gift allowing him to chose between possible futures that things could have at the moment, I don´t know what Juan Rulfo's gift would be since I don't know how to make his most iconic work "Pedro Paramo" into a gift, Like forcing dead beat dads to take accountability? who knows, the possibilities are endless.

Just Latin American autors being anime boys you know.

(honorary mention to the autor of "Por amor a Feliciana" (For love of Feliciana) whom I actually met, he signed my book then I proceeded to lend it to someone I can't remember and they never returned, also my watercolour teacher bashed him when she saw me reading the book, because I think his gift would be the ability to teleport next to a person as long as he is horny enough for them)

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #??? #idk what to call this #are they bsd ocs? #this just made me realize the lack of female latina authors I have read #the only book I can recall tight now with a female mexican author that I have read #is a mexican girl witha fantasy 4book saga that was a teen when she started writing #my sister met her sister #but she's not popular enough since I have never actually met another person who has heard or read her books #but her name is andrea dr lourd chapela saavedra #and ger powers would probably be a weird mix between Poe's and Kunikidas #i actually think that they are one of the most interesting concepts I have read #and wish more people knew them #but I will aknowledge that the writing might be lacking #I read them in elementary school #but I still think they deserve better in concept alone #but i digress

[elemit]

A Gift, A Curse

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the spawn you loved.

Read in full on AO3

dead dove/not beta read

fic warnings: Abuse, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Food Restriction, Hate Sex, Horror, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Torture, Total Power Exchange, Trauma, Vampire Bites

Chapter 13: Justice

Now that your mind is clear enough from the hunger to engage in more complex conversations, your husband delights in telling you of the cases he is presiding over. Every day that he works, he will regale you with stories when you sit down for dinner; you to your glasses of wine and blood, and he to his meal. You wonder if it’s a coincidence that the food he is served is so often the meals that you once told him were your favourite. You decide it’s better not to know.

Today he is delighting over a gnome he sentenced harshly for stealing. “The beggar brought his family to the courthouse as if his squalling pups would make me go easier on him. Can you imagine? Trying to manipulate me with such crude tactics? So naturally I gave him the longest sentence possible. And then,” he adds with glee, “his wife made such a racket that I had her arrested for disturbing the proceedings! They were both dragged off to prison together!” He lets out a cruel laugh.

“What happened to the children?” you ask, keeping your voice as neutral as you can.

“What? Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure they scuttled off back to whatever hole they nest in. They're only gnomes. Anyway,” he says, raising his glass, “here’s to justice. Drink up, darling.”

There’s something about the glint in his eye when he says that last sentence that sends a terrible stab of suspicion through your chest. A question burns on your lips. You’ve asked it before with little success, but now you are determined to know the truth of it.

“Where did this blood come from, Astarion?”

He says nothing, only smiles at you. When you put your cup down and push it away from you he rolls his eyes.

“You told me it came from willing sources.”

“It does, my dear. Most willing. It’s amazing what people will do to commute their sentence of imprisonment.”

“And the Flaming Fist just allow you to waltz into Wyrms Rock prison and bleed their prisoners dry?”

“Wyrms Rock? Dear me, no, my love. The New Watch imprisons criminals right here. After all, we’re blessed with a newly emptied dungeon fit to hold thousands.”

A newly emptied dungeon. What a pleasant way of putting it. Just a clear-out. Just a clean-up. Not the damnation of seven thousand souls. You’re speaking before your brain catches up with your mouth.

“Do you ever think that killing all those people might have changed you?”

“Of course it changed me, you sweet, silly thing. Killing them allowed me to ascend.”

“You used to be kinder. More gentle.”

“I used to be weak.”

“You used to be good.”

“And now I am great. Besides, you’ve got far more blood on your pretty little hands than I do, my love.” His voice grows colder. “How convenient that you forget your own bloody past when you throw these accusations at me. I am a veritable paladin of virtue compared to you, you godless murderspawn.”

The viciousness of his voice makes you flinch. That's not fair, you want to say, but you can't bring yourself to utter the words because a part of you sees the truth in what he says. All of his cruelty is nothing when compared to the destruction your past self wreaked upon the world. He seems to see the conflict on your face - he is so good at seeing your weaknesses now - and he pounces on it.

“Your ungratefulness astounds me, my pretty little love. You have no idea how worthless you would be without me, do you? Do you think anyone else would want such a useless, broken wretch as yourself? Cast out by your own father, rejected by your chosen god. The weight of the sins you carry should force you to your knees every day in penance. To the world, you are less than worthless. And yet I chose you. I, the greatest vampire who ever lived. And through my love I allow you to share in my majesty, and still you do not thank me. You should kiss the very ground I walk on. You should pray to me every night. But you do not. You dare question me, your husband, your master, your god. My patience with you is proof enough, I think, that I am still kind. I am still gentle. Trust me, pet, you do not want to see what happens when that patience runs out." He pauses and cocks his head to the side, considering. When he continues, his voice is lower, quieter, slower. Deadly. "Or perhaps you do, hmm? You have always liked it when I exert my power over you, haven't you, darling? Back when your heart still beat it would betray your excitement, and now… you might tell me you don't like it, but your actions betray your true desires, don't they? Your actions beg me to discipline you. To punish you. To break you."

You let out the small hum of fear that is the closest you can get to saying 'no' since he took the word from you.

He rises from his seat at the head of the table and walks over to you, pulling your chair out for you.

“I’d go and get some rest, my treasure,” he says to you. “I’m going to need you at your best tomorrow.”

You follow his suggestion, but you already know that the dreadful apprehension curling in your gut will keep you awake tonight.

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #a gift a curse #astarion fanfic

[catmansquad]

The Looking Glass: Alternate Miguels

Well... Here we go. The various versions of Miggy who appear in The Looking Glass. (A03) Some parallel worlds get... freaky.

The Soulmate – Iteration: 237

“I love you. With all I am. With my very soul, I love you, let us never be parted.”

Be his Soulmate, his twin flame. You’ll see the gentle man beneath the mask.

No dead daughter syndrome, a little more playful, prone to teasing and smirking.

Plays games, courting on two fronts; as himself and as his webbed alter-ego.

As himself, he tries to appear normal. Mumbles his words to hide his fangs, focuses to keep his talons retracted.

Doesn’t take much to break his focus, hold his hand at your peril.

As Spider-man, he is wild and flirtatious, behind the mask he knows the skintight attire works in his favour.

Expect to be piggy-backed across the city, loves your arms tight around him. May squirm to make you hold tighter.

Will tell you to close your eyes, and kiss you sweetly before putting his mask back before you see him.

Eventually, he either slips up or you get wise. Then you get the best of both the kindness and the flirtation near constantly.

Once that soul-bond is tied? Prepare to be loved and shown affection from every atom of him.

The Warrior – Iteration: [Unknown]

“I am of the Callisteri. I am as strong as the boles of the great-trees…”

A warrior from a lost world of magic and mysticism

A true knight in shining armour, clad in Fae Silver, with an emerald cloak bearing a majestic stag, the icon of his Order.

Per the rules of his Order, his sheathed blade is kept concealed beneath his cloak, as such his left arm is covered until battle is inevitable.

Unskilled in the arcane arts of other Orders, but his martial prowess is second to none.

If he becomes your bodyguard, you can consider yourself safe. Completely and utterly safe.

You can charm him into bed. Maybe. He’ll assure you he’s doing it to keep you safe. He’s holding you close in his strong arms to keep you safe.

This guy is ripped. Like he could break you over his knee like a toothpick then juggle cars for fun.

Silent, stoic, and watchful. With time and warmth, you can tease him out of his silver shell…

For the benefits of his Order, he is “as strong as he needs to be”. No upper limit is known.

Boasts he has the virility of the Great Stag. Will prove it if you let him.

The Merman -  Iteration: 5002

“I will teach you to swim, walker…”

Over nine feet long, tail to tip.

Beautiful scales of red and blue

He glows in the dark, showing even more shiny scales on his upper body

Confident, charming, and cheeky

Smiles a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Might actually be half-shark

Unknown if he’s a natural Merman, or one of Alchemax’s experiments that got loose.

Utterly majestic singing voice, deep and enchanting.

His song is wordless grace, as charming as any siren’s.

If you want to go swimming with him, bring a diving suit with a big air tank.

Will give you gifts; carved stones, gleaming pearls, trinkets from shipwrecks.

His gills don’t allow him to leave the water, but he can still poke his head above the surface.

If you can’t swim, or are terrified of water, he’s just the guy to help you out.

Will splash you with his tail if you bore him.

His skin carries the salty tang of the ocean.

The Vampire – Iteration: 300

“A night out? In my finest clothes… My sweetest smile… My irresistible charms… My aching kiss…”

Literal 500-year-old Aztec Vampire.

Mortal problems? Vampiric infighting? Literally too old for this shit.

He has had many names. “Miguel O’Hara” is his current identity.

Long ago got over the nature of his condition.

Has walked the world for centuries, meeting other Clans

Charming, friendly, almost romantic.

Very rich, very influential.

Has a history of broken hearts, mostly his own.

Not burned by sunlight, but has the eyes of a predator, very sensitive.

“… I was a father. Once… Then came the plague.”

Will feed on you, but will also ensure you’re well looked after and will do everything to make sure you’re healthy.

He despairs when he realizes that he’s falling in love all over again.

“Sunlight? Irritating. Garlic? Mm. Maybe good in some dishes. Crosses? What about them?”

Hates when people ask him to whisper seductively in Spanish. If they don’t speak it, he’ll lean in, and in his slow, seductive voice will, in Spanish, call them an “Absolute Fucking Moron”.

Does speak a whole lot of other languages. Ask him to seduce you in one of those.

Hurt? He’ll lick your wounds closed. It’s supernaturally effective.

Won’t fly into a bloodthirsty hunger if he sees you bleeding- don’t mistake him for a newborn Fledgling. He’s an Elder, and he will be respected.

If you ask him to Turn you, he will sit you down and make sure you understand in no uncertain terms exactly what you are asking for. If you come away scared, good, you were listening.

The Incubus -  Iteration: 2023

“We are spirits of passion. When we love, we love with all we are.”

Will laugh at your prudishness.

Horns, tail, pointy ears and fangs.

May or may not have wings based on his mood. Or yours.  

Can read your kinks like a book. He probably wrote it.

You feel the phantom touches of his fingers on your face at night.

Once you woke up to feel the covers being pulled up over you.

Sensual, romantic, wants to be loved and appreciated.

Can also be moody and possessive.

Tell him what you want, he won’t refuse it.

At your request he once shifted through a few different forms to try and help you out.

Turned into a near-androgynous twink with sparkling red eyes.

Also went the other way and turned into a sheer mountain of mass, sneering confidently down at you over folded arms while the silver chain around his neck was swallowed between those bulging pecs.

When you told him you loved him, he asked for you to repeat yourself.

When he found you were sincere, he wept tears of joy.

Will wrap his tail around your waist possessively.

On a bus ride, someone completely oblivious to the spirit world sat in the seat beside you. The seat he was in. You had to keep a straight face as he leapt up, snarled and ranted insults in Spanish at them for the rest of their journey.

“Don’t get up yet… Lay here with me…. Just for a while longer…”

The Sociopath – Iteration: 158

“What is the point in your life? You are but an echo. A reflection of a potential that never truly was.”

Spiderman couldn’t have become a worse guy

Had a loveless marriage, found his wife had been long-term screwing his half-brother.

Flew into a rage at the merest idea that Gabi wasn’t his

Sees everyone else as beneath him/ possessions/ toys

Will take by force what he cannot win through guile/seduction.

Kiled half of Nueva York, left the other half alive to tell the story of Spider-man’s rampage.

To him, you are either a useful tool or dead meat.

Is a frighteningly good actor, able to affect the mask of a patient, gentle, and loving man.

 Very much enjoys slipping into other realities and play with/torment/unnerve the people his other self is close to.

Enjoys it even more if those version of him are regular people. It makes him feel powerful.

Enjoys singing “Dead Man Walking”, later uses it to announce his presence to his victims.

A sharp, terrifying grin forewarns him doing something monstrous.

Will refer to his victims as “my little rabbit”/ “mi pequeño conejo”

Don’t try to run from him. You won’t make it.

“I’m a dead man walking… Before I die… I’ll take every soul I can into the night… (Soft chuckle)”

#aspects of glass #miguel o'hara #spider-man: across the spider-verse #vampire miguel o’hara #merman miguel o'hara

[adelaide-of-versailles]

How badly did Louis xv treat his wife???

Tbh he was more just... Neglectful and ignored her throughout their marriage.

At first, it was very idyllic and they loved each other, but after giving birth the first time to Louise Elisabeth and Anne Henriette, Cardinal Fleury (who absolutely hated her) decided that until she gave birth to a boy, she wouldn't be allowed to leave Versailles. Louis XV did nothing, and it took 3 years for Maria to have a son. Also, what the hell is up with that? She had twin daughters and suddenly she *needs* to have a boy?? Have some patience, she's working on it!

She was very shy, I mean who wouldn't be when faced with the King of France. She wasn't really raised as a Princess- she was raised in a small house with very few servants with her parents, grandmother, and I'm not sure if her sister Anna was dead yet.

Louis XV cheated on her quite a lot, which I know is normal for monarchy but it is worth mentioning. After the birth of Princess Louise (her last child) she almost died, and she was advised to not have anymore children, and after that she refused access to her bedchamber for the King.

One book says,

At certain times, vigils, feasts and days consecrated to the memory of illustrious saints, she demanded- well, let us call it a "respite" from the King's attentions. But gradually new saints of minor importance were invoked, and Louis XV became impatient. He did not chafe at the great elect, but he drew the line at all these petty saintlings. At first he was content with such a device as breathing on a mirror and writing on the fleeting mist, "Your Majesty is a proud minx"; but one night, pleading that it was a saint's day, the Queen refused to admit him to her bedchamber. "Madame," he shouted at her, you shall pay for this," and immediately commanded Lebel to go and fetch a woman, no matter whom. Lebel sped away, and soon returned with an amiable and tantalizing maid of the Princesse de Rohan, who undertook these supplementary duties with the most charming alacrity.

Also after Princess Louise's birth, Cardinal Fleury decided that the budget of Versailles was just too small to handle the extra daughters they had laying around, so obviously something had to be done to them, and not yknow, the king using so much of the budget for frivolous stuff. Adelaide, aged 6, Victoire, 5, Sophie, 4, Felicite, 2, and Louise, under a year old were chosen to leave.

Maria, who had a particular attachment to Adelaide, guided her into running to her father after mass and begging him to let her stay. It worked, but none of her other children were allowed to stay. Despite this, she often sent them gifts, and once they were old enough to yknow, read and write, sent them letters.

One letter from Sophie, which I believe was after Sophie properly met her later on in life, says:

My Dear Mamma, we have been this morning to the Carmelites : they have prayed to God for you, that nothing may happen to you on the road. I am very im- patient to arrive at Versailles ; for I assure you that it concerns me very much not to see you, since I love you, my dear Mamma, with all my heart. Be convinced of this I beg of you.

She loved her children, and they adored her too. Henriette, Louis, Adelaide, and Louis's first wife, Raphaelle particularly defended her against the growing faction of Madame de Pompadour, although their distaste didn't do anything in the eyes of Louis XV. Louis Ferdinand, the Dauphin of France, particularly wasn't very close with his father, seemingly mostly due to Louis XV's treatment of Maria and personality differences.

Louis Ferdinand was a mostly kind-hearted soul who enjoyed gardening, and didn't like hunting or cheating on his wife, which were two things that Louis XV enjoyed very much.

Louis XV comments:

My son is of an indolent disposition, and his temper, like that of most people with Polish blood in their veins, is quick and variable; he has no taste; he cares nothing for hunting, women, or good living. Perhaps he thinks that if he were in my position he would be happy. At first he would change everything, appear to make a fresh start in every particular, and would soon be tired of the position of King as he is now of his own. He is made to live like a philosophe with men of intellect; he likes to do good, he is really virtuous and intelligent.

Unlike what Louis XV thought his son thinks, Louis Ferdinand truly had no desire to reign. Apparently, on a lot of writings to his children, he begins, "If I ever have the misfortune to reign–"

I know this is an abrupt end but I have to leave my house rn- if I have more to add I will reblog!

#marie leszczynska #maria leszczynska #queens of france #louis xv #Sorry for the lack of sources. I have a thing where I drop quotes about historical figures and I have a problem with forgetting to put the #sources too #louis ferdinand of france

[icannotreadcursive]

So You Want To Get Into Star Trek

But watching every episode of every show and every movie feels like a bit much.

Then I have the watchlist for you! My father, wonderful nerd that he is, has compiled a list of what select episodes and movies to watch, in order, to get you a comfortable overview of Star Trek from the 1960s to 2000s. This list does not include the most recent shows from the sort of Trek revival era we're currently in, which started in 2017, but it should allow you to dive into any of those recent shows without being lost in what they're building on.

Full list and a below the cut because, even though it’s greatly shortened from the full episode catalogue, it’s still pretty long to display on tumblr:

ST: The Original Series

Where No Man Has Gone Before Charlie X What Are Little Girls Made Of The Galileo Seven Space Seed The Devil in the Dark The City on the Edge of Forever Journey to Babel The Doomsday Machine The Trouble with Tribbles The Menagerie, Parts I and II The Conscience of the King The Enterprise Incident

OPTIONAL: The Cage, Amok Time

(Note: if you’re here for Kirk/Spock reasons, Amok Time is not optional and should be watched after City on the Edge of Forever)

ST: The Animated Series

Yesteryear One of Our Planets is Missing More Tribbles, More Troubles The Slaver Weapon Albatross

FILMS

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan NOW OR LATER: Star Trek III: The Search for Spock NOW OR LATER: Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home

ST: The Next Generation

Encounter at Farpoint, Parts I and II 11001001 Conspiracy Q Who Peak Performance The Survivors Yesterday's Enterprise The Most Toys The Measure of a Man Sarek The Best of Both Worlds, Parts I and II Darmok Ensign Ro Unification, Parts I and II Cause and Effect The First Duty I, Borg The Inner Light Realm of Fear Chain of Command, Parts I and II Tapestry The Pegasus Lower Decks Preemptive Strike All Good Things…, Parts I and II

FILMS

Star Trek: First Contact

ST: Deep Space Nine

Emissary Dax Duet Necessary Evil The Wire The Jem'Hadar The Search, Parts I and II Defiant Past Tense, Parts I and II The Way of the Warrior The Visitor Starship Down Broken Link Trials and Tribble-ations In Purgatory's Shadow Far Beyond The Stars In the Pale Moonlight Take Me Out to the Holosuite Treachery, Faith and the Great River Chimera

ST: Voyager

Caretaker Prime Factors Death Wish Deadlock Remember Unity Scorpion, Parts I and II The Gift Timeless Think Tank Someone to Watch Over Me Tinker Tenor Doctor Spy Pathfinder Body and Soul Endgame

ST:Enterprise

Broken Bow Dear Doctor Fusion Carbon Creek Dead Stop Similitude Borderland Proving Ground These Are The Voyages…

FILMS

Star Trek (JJ Abrams) Star Trek V: The Final Frontier Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country Star Trek: Nemesis

#Eiiri made this #star trek #Star Trek watch list