#i was not expecting to get as many requests as i have so far /pos

[salted15]

The cake ask but reverse it lol

hehehe

#i was not expecting to get as many requests as i have so far /pos #i'm gonna have to make a new canvas at this point like holy moly you guys :DDD #kirby series #meta knight #king dedede #metadede #lightly salted art #mdnl

[vanilladove]

This request is a bit long and specific but I hope that's not a problem efvevefvrgb I'm sorry

So if that's not a problem I would want headcanons for gn reader who is Atsushi's sibling (a year older), has the same ability and also is in ADA and is in love with Akutagawa and he hates them at first but then fall in love. Also reader has very similar personality to Atsushi. (I know, readers description is almost Atsushi, I kin him okay tgbrbrgbrbg 😭)

So fluffy sibling headcanons with Atsushi, romantic (and suggestive/nsfw if thats okay (I'm 19)) headcanons with Akutagawa and also headcanons about dynamics between reader, Akutagawa and Atsushi.

I'm sorry that it's so specific rtgefbefbefg And thank you in advance if you'll write this erfefvvejad ♡

hihi tysm for being my first request, anon! this is actually so cute ahhhhh :,) i felt like keeping this pretty fluffy. engagement is always appreciated (from anyone & everyone:D)! thank you guys for all the support + requests so far ♡

pic creds luvpngs

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: akutagawa x nakajima!gn!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: fluff + a lil suggestive (hickeys)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: none!

~being siblings with atsushi...

Since you're a year older, you've always been quite protective over your younger brother. Despite having very similar personalities, you're a bit more rational and street-smart than Atsushi.

You made him his first ever ochazuke (green tea over rice) at the orphanage one day to celebrate his birthday, and since then it's been his favorite food ♡

You cheer him up a lot and are kind of like his strength:,) After the kids at the orphanage cut his hair, you convinced him it looked cute and yelled at them to never mess with him again.

You always keep extra tissues on you for him bc he’s a lil crybaby sometimes :(

Both of you train together since you have the same ability. Luckily, neither of you are super competitive, so you both are at the same skill level.

You both share one brain cell...

~being akutagawa's lover...

You fell first, but he fell harder :D

The first time you saw Akutagawa, you were enamoured by his beauty. Unfortunately, the feeling wasn't reciprocated since he held a grudge against you and Atsushi (*cough* bc of Dazai bragging*cough*).

Dazai sent you to negotiate with the Port Mafia on behalf of the ADA once, and you saw him again in a meeting. Higuchi was gone, so naturally you sat next to Akutagawa--much to his dismay.

He was side-eyeing you harshly the entire meeting until his lung decided to act up and send him into a coughing fit...

You gave him your untouched cup of tea and fished some cough drops out of your pocket (always prepared bc you're the older sibling lol). This surprised him (along with the other Mafia members).

He didn't have the luxury of declining, so he took them without thanking you and stubbornly looked away (you swore you saw a faint blush on his cheeks though...)

After the meeting, he pulled you aside and demanded to know your favorite café, so he could take you there, warning you, "don't get the wrong idea, I just don't want to owe you". (he's awkward ik :,) )

Somehow your little 'dates' went back and forth as you kept bringing him more things to ease his condition (handkerchiefs, tea w/ honey, medicine, etc.)

Akutagawa fell for your bubbly personality and giving nature (which he would've regarded as weak before). As much as he didn't want to admit it, it was nice to have someone take care of and genuinely look out for him. It's the reason why he secretly hopes he'll never stop 'owing' you.

His love language is quality time and writing you poems/love letters. Anytime he isn't working or with Gin, he spends with you. His go-to is a romantic moonlight walk by the ocean (he def hates water tho and refuses to even dip his feet in--black cat energy hehe)♡

Expect a lot of subtle affirmations from Akutagawa. Not many “i love you”s but a lot of “the moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t it?”

Also lots of affectionate head bonks hehe.

SUPER POSSESSIVE!!! Will constantly hold you/your hand when you're alone together or out in public and leaves hickeys to show you're his.

One time Atsushi saw one on your neck and asked about it...you told him it was "from Akutagawa", and he immediately got defensive thinking he'd hurt you. You awkardly laughed and told him it was a "hickey". Poor, innocent Atsu asked Dazai what that was and obviously Dazai's evil ass explained it in the worst, most suggestive way possible :p Afterwards, Atsushi wouldn't look at either of you for a week...

~dynamics between the three of you...

Although at first Akutagawa refused to hang out with Atsushi, he began to tag along more after you expressed that it made you sad to leave him out. When they did fight, you were the middleman breaking it up.

Akutagawa has been nicer to Atsushi lately--scoffing at his jokes instead of clapping back, claiming "it's for your sake and definitely not by choice".

Nicknames! You call Akutagawa "Ryu" when you're alone together. Aku calls you by your name but still refers to Atsushi as 人虎 "Jinko". Tried to call Atsushi by his name once, but it felt wrong, so he never did it again lol.

Dazai likes to tease that you guys are "Triple Black". You're a powerful trio, and you often strategize and provide support to the other two.

Since you guys are so similar, you once asked Akutagawa why he liked you so much but couldn't stand Atsushi...

Mans was absolutely dumbfounded. The question made him realize it was because he loved you, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it flat out. The thought of that made his face red like a tomato. He was so flustered, he couldn't even think of a cute, poetic thing to say.

He brought you close to him in a hug to try and hide his crimson face, burying himself into your neck.

"Your haircut isn't stupid like his, that's all".

#vanilladove #vanilladovebsd #vanilladoverequests #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd headcanons #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #atsushi nakajima #bsd fluff #akutagawa ryuunosuke #ryunosuke akutagawa #bsd akutagawa #the formatting & theme took more time than the actual writing..wtf

[readbyred]

HOO girls with a S/O who is Nico’s sibling? possibly a similar personality? except that they like to pass the time doing lots of researching (like what new skeletons can they make? what were historical figures like? all that stuff, but it stills drains them and they dont really realize it cause they’re too focused) and stealing kisses from the girls. you dont have to do this request if you dont want to! have a great day :]

Sorry for the late reply. Tbh this was the request I was the most excited to get to! An HOO request? In this economy?? Unreal /pos that being said I had nearly the whole work deleted (I fell asleep writing and my phone didn’t save, so that’s on me) and this sat in my drafts as I weeped

Though Reyna admires how eager you are to advance and improve when it comes to your art of necromancy, she still (on more than one occasion) gave you a stern talk, after you had completely exhausted yourself. You and she work well, Reyna likes having someone focused and driven to back her up and to talk to. However, she does like it when your more nerdy side comes out, there’s always a smile on her lips when you ramble. Anytime you still a kiss it comes as a surprise (since your demeanour can come off as distanced and gloomy, not overly affectionate) and flusters her greatly. Please, don’t do it around her camp because she will literally combust, she gets so red anytime it happens too

Annabeth completely understands getting too focused on your research to do anything else, but she doesn’t let that stop her from reprimanding you every time that happens. A few times already, as you finally stood up from your papers and promptly fell down from your legs falling asleep and overall dizziness, she scooped you up and sat you on bed. She acts like it was not a big deal, but it’s so attractive every time. Even if she lectures you right after. However, she’s still willing to help you expand your abilities, or just learn history with you. This leads to many study dates that you finish with discussing your favourite new facts, that you just learned. When you try to steal a kiss from her she tries to act like she’s not flustered, sometimes goes like ‘really?😒🙄’ but it’s hard to hide the small smile forming on her lips. If she’s been missing you for some time, expect her to pull you back in, for a longer kiss right after

The one it would take you the shortest to charm would be Piper. She likes all things alt and more on the edgier side plus she would find it absolutely adorable when you showed her your nerdy side. She has no idea when your on about sometimes, but still tries to contribute to your research by giving you books you might like and taking you on history-related dates (Annabeth gave her a list of cool battlegrounds and niche museums to visit with you). Loves to watch you experiment with your powers, she thinks it’s both weirdly charming how happy you get and also badass. If anyone would even try to give you a hard time because of who your father is, she would find them. You’re a totally iconic duo all around the camp. Since you had to be born in a different era to even exist, she quickly catches you up on pop culture and such. If you try to steal a kiss from her, she’ll get a bit flustered, but she’s also like, “game on” and it turns into a competition, which one of you can catch off guard the other one faster

Though she may not completely understand your fascination with death (she supposes that it’s genetic, given your heritage) Calypso likes to listen to you talk about your discoveries. She’s far more interested and engaged when it comes to modern facts, but she’s willing to elaborate on things that happened in the past. She retells you tales from her visitors in exchange for helping her catch up with the times. If you had drained yourself out she’ll help you get back to health, it’s like a second nature. Brings you snacks and water too. Though she usually comments on how reckless you are with your health. If you try to steal a kiss from her she literally freezes for a second. Congratulations, you broke her. Even if she tries to play it off afterwards, she’s not fooling anyone

There’s nothing Rachel loves more than painting with you talking in the background. Sometimes she even makes works based on your stories and discoveries. She completely understands how it is to get too focused on something you like to do anything else. Still, she checks up on you, undeterred by your gloomy demeanour, to see if you’re alright every time you lock yourself up with a book or two. She has totally asked you if she could decorate the skeletons, I take no criticism. When you steal a kiss, you always leave her with a bashful expression

#heroes of olympus x reader #heroes of olympus #hoo x reader #HoO #annabeth chase #annabeth chase x reader #piper mclean #piper mclean x reader #reyna arellano #reyna hoo #reyna x reader #rachel elizabeth dare #rachel dare #Rachel Elizabeth Dare x reader #Rachel dare x reader #pjo x reader #calypso #calypso x reader #x reader #pjo Annabeth x reader

[rainofaugustsith]

SWTOR: It's. About. Story.

After weeks of complaints about the new Galactic Seasons program, the devs posted a response today. Unfortunately they managed to neatly sidestep almost all of the complaints players have been making en masse: 

1. The PVE objectives funnel a lot of players into areas where the instances are too large for the map to accommodate, such as 30 players on CZ-198. It's thus making those areas miserable to play, and woe to anyone actually trying to complete story (such as Rishi and Yavin 4).

Solutions to this issue would be a) lower the number of players in each instance; b) distribute the objectives more broadly so players don't all converge on a few specific areas. EA/BW said nothing about the former and doubled down on making the objectives narrow for the latter, at least for the first season of GS.

2.  The "RNG" for objectives is very heavily skewed toward PVP and GSF, which are activities many players dislike and do not want to do. It's not uncommon to have both GSF and Warzones come up as the day's POs, and there's only one re-roll.  

3. Re-rolling any objective often results in GSF or PVP coming up again. There's only one, so that often means a player cannot complete their PO (s) for the day. 

As solutions to #2 and #3, players have been asking for a) more re-rolls; b) a way to toggle mission preference between PVE, solo PVE and PVP objectives so they avoid the ones they hate and won't do. 

4. There are no solo weekly POs. 

It seems as though EA/BW is making a conscious effort to ignore all the feedback on what many players actually want from the game and the issues they've expressed both on the PTS and live, to try to push the play styles they - and a small clique of fans - personally favor. It feels to me that they are trying to force the game and the player base to be something they're not. 

SWTOR was marketed as a story based game. Its core demographic comes largely from two single-player, story-based games: KOTOR and KOTOR II. When it was released it was praised for the richness of its storytelling, and the strength of its voiceover artists. 

Not PVP. 

Not raids. 

Not GSF. 

Story. Good, substantial story. 

The writing on the wall is there with other EA/BW games, too. The next Dragon Age was changed from a MMO to a single-player game. Anthem, a game involving group play, failed. Fallen Order, a single-player story based game, did well. 

Mass Effect and Dragon Age are a decade old. KOTOR is an older game, too. People still play them, and want more of them, because of the story. 

Of course, EA/BW would love it if the SWTOR playerbase en masse learned to love PVPing and GSF. It's low-cost content for them. They don't have to do much; just provide the maps and let players kill each other. But that isn't why people play this game, overall. There are far better games for PVP, first-person shooters and space battles, if that is what one actually wants. Heck, there's an entire space battle Star Wars game, Battlefront II, if that is what one wants. 

In SWTOR, it's about the story. It's about the characters. 

Sometimes I feel like there are devs at EA/BW who are trying to do this with the resources they have, and I'm grateful for that effort. The swoop rally had short storylines and characters to talk with. Echoes of Oblivion brought us the best writing since KOTFE. They had a Mandalorian themed flashpoint that brought in a storyline for non-Force users. None of it was IMPS VS PUBS 4EVA!!! which was great. Even the Secrets of the Enclave was pretty good. While I dread what it may be setting up, and it's back to the IMPS VS PUBS 4EVA!!! treadmill which is boring and tedious as fuck, it was designed well and had some really excellent moments. 

But...Spirit of Vengeance was designed initially at a level much more tedious, and requiring better gear, than usual story/solo flashpoints. GSF objectives get way more conquest points that anything else. Some mats are only available through ranked PVP or NiM Ops. And now, Galactic Seasons, which could have been brilliant but seems to be garnering more resentment, anger and lost subscriptions than anything else. 

When is there engagement and interest in SWTOR? When does one see more people posting on the official forums? When do the planets seem busier? When there's new story or event that can be soloed. 

What do people constantly ask for? New stories, new engagement with companions, new strongholds, new world building. 

It's interesting that EA/BW never has to beg or bribe people to play the story. Players do it because they want to. Even KOTFE/KOTET, which are not super popular, do not require player bribes.  The only story content people seem to avoid or revile en masse are the walker missions; Oricon, which needs two ops to be completed; and Makeb, which tellingly has no characters with which the player can bond and engage long-term. 

The class stories? Still being played. I've been through the Sith Warrior story four times, with several clones at various points in the class story working their way through. I've been through the Sith Inquisitor story three times, again, with more clones coming up. Bounty Hunter? Three times, so far.. Smuggler? Twice, so far. Imperial Agent? Twice. I've repeated every class story at least once, and I still keep coming back to do the class stories and planetary stories and side quests, because they are good. Because I like the characters I meet. Because the planets are engaging. 

Shadow of Revan? Still being played. 

I still see people on Ilum. I see people on Onderon and Ossus. Even Zakuul and Iokath. The story content gets played, and played again. One of the things people have requested again and again, in fact, is a way to repeat the story content.  

Voiceover artists are expensive, especially when three languages are being recorded, but players have offered ways to add engagement with companions without speech, such as emails from them. Silent missions. You don't need to have a voiceover artist to animate a short scene of Lana Beniko or Theron Shan dancing on the beach with a PC they've romanced. Even if they cannot keep up every romance, if they just kept up with Lana and Theron it would make players happy. Add in, let's say, four or six selected from the class stories - let's say Scourge, Kira, Quinn, Jorgan, Vette, Risha - and a lot of people would be overjoyed. Four men, four women; equal number from each faction + KOTFE. That does leave an uneven number of mlm/wlw possibilities but there are two of each, as well. And those companions can certainly have platonic friendly conversations with the PC, too. I personally really miss Vette, Talos, Xalek, Blizz, Ashara and Jaesa being in my story. And many others, too.

The things being offered by GS are things that story players enjoy - decos, new strongholds, companions with side story missions - and this makes it even more frustrating that story players are being expected to PVP, GSF and use Group Finder, unless they want to buy their way through, to get them. Don't get me wrong - the fact that it's all optional makes me less angry at EA/BW than Iokath and Oricon did, by a long shot. All the same, it's a shame they're setting it up this way, because if they gave story/solo players objectives that were not PVP and group based, I think they'd be seeing a lot more excitement and engagement right about now. 

Right now, it seems EA/BW is far more interested in catering to a smaller player group who enjoys side content that the rest of the player base has to be actively bribed and coerced to play. Should PVP and GSF get development? Sure, if people enjoy it. Should the game try to funnel the rest of us into it? No. The fact that players don't want to be there, and have expressed that sentiment again and again, and constantly need to be bribed and coerced into it, should be a wakeup call. But EA/BW is still sleeping and hitting the snooze button. 

SWTOR is a story-based game. Raids, PVP, GSF are all wonderful for those who enjoy them but they are not for everyone. Players in a story based game need story. 

#swtor #rain talks swtor #swtor critical #ea/bw critical #galactic seasons critical

[regrettablewritings]

DJ X READER HEADCANON you pick 😉😉

I blink at the request that stares back at me from my inbox, brow furrowing with every flutter of my lashes. "Sis . . ." I murmur, "you good?" As though my ass had not also been search for content relating to this forgotten POS just the other day. But if you insist . . .

4. What they do on date night:

To be brutally honest, DJ will look you dead in the eye and tell you that going for a night out on the town pick-pocketing is a date. Or, at least, he will try to. It's surprisingly hard to maintain eye contact with someone whose glare could probably cut beskar.

In his defense (if he even deserves any), DJ does try to make it a little more fun than he already finds it -- granted, it's done in a very DJ way. You get your little evening promenade through the streets, he tricks you to a quick bite to eat, you hold hands and run through the lantern-speckled streets before turning down a narrow alleyway that's just perfect for sharing an intense liplock . . .

Of course, this all translates into your evening together including: Walking through a marketplace, your asshole boyfriend slipping peoples' credits out of their pockets and purses under the guise of bumping into them; him using those sticky fingers of his to nick some street food off of a cart before its proprietor called the authorities on his theft; said sticky fingers lacing with yours as he guides you down the crowded streets (grinning like the little shit he was for enjoying the chase); all before making a sudden jerk down an alleyway.

You're breathless, irritated, and . . . maybe -- only just maybe -- a little excited by the thrill of it all. But you can't let him know that, otherwise, he'd never let you live it down and he'd be the cock of the goddamn walk for who knows how long. Worse: He'd consider this a win for his insistence that this sort of thing counted as a date! And there was no way in hell you were about to let that happen!

You only got as far as opening your mouth to hiss own some choice words at him when you instead got cut off by your thieving significant other pressing you against the grubby alley wall. Even if you hadn't been distracted by the action to remember to cuss him out, the words were instantly killed. They were inhaled by his own lips, his kiss encompassing your words, your thoughts, your . . . everything. They were speared by his tongue, as though it were his weapon against the beast that brewed within you.

And they were quelled by the feel of his callused fingers brushing against your cheeks before moving onward to the beck of your head, pressing you only further into his hold. DJ's fingers were deft, but that didn't necessarily mean that their carefulness was always directed at you. It's . . . something to savor . . .

Of course, it was meant to fool the chumps following the both of you but you don't mind. Not in that moment anyway. When you get back to wherever you're staying for the night, it's another story, but one DJ is more than happy to bring to a happy ending.

It's a bit nicer when he gets his hands one someone's credits, though: It means he can take you out to an actual establishment. However, be warned: It's only a bit nicer because you also need to be on the lookout for the authorities (or the poor bastard you stole from), or be prepared to make a run for it.

11. What their first impression was of each other:

Dirty. Old. Bastard. A dirty old bastard. And to your credit, you weren't wrong, but of course, the first impression is always the shallowest. And considering the shithead had just tried to put the moves on you when you were already having a rough day . . . Yeah, he honestly deserved presumptions with the depth of one's own navel -- an outie, preferably.

He stood out against the Canto Bight elite with his grubbiness, looking like a leathery garbage pouch at best and like a guy who'd try to sell you a faulty droid at moderate. A dirty, bastardly part of you couldn't help but muse that perhaps the worst he could do was be a nasty lay -- and not nasty in the way one might want, either.

Granted, it wasn't hard to imagine that: The fact he was hitting on you while you were trying your best to just survive your shift at the casino that evening did little to convince you he was any good.

And as for DJ, it was a one-two-punch type of introduction. Literally: First he eyed you, then he got a little too suggestive, and then you punched him. What a sleazeball, right? It was his own damn fault for assuming the least of you, though. You were cute like all the other servers, no doubt, with that shy smile of yours that made it abundantly clear to him that this sort of place wasn't your scene if you didn't have to work there. Unlike the other servers, however, he was feeling pretty brazen about you.

DJ has no interest in the concept of “fate” or “destined meetings”, but even months out from that point he wouldn’t be able to place precisely what compelled him to break his usual protocol of being discreet. Nor why he was so insistent. All he knows was that he called you over to him and, rather than requesting a drink, he “chatted you up”. And might’ve suggested that you two blow off this place and maybe “blow off somewhere else”.

He also knows that the moment you struck his cheek, cheeks burning and eyes widened with the realization of what you’d done, he was wrong and right about you.

You were frankly lucky he turned out to be a blight on the Canto Bight scene, otherwise your boss would’ve fired you the moment he had learned of what you had done. What you were unlucky for, however, was that from then on, the thief started showing up more often. Not enough to get caught (at least, not for long), but enough for him to determine that maybe the both of you really should blow this joint -- in the nonsexual way.

And in the end, you became unlucky once more: For someone so grubby and bastardly, he was also quite the charmer. Y’know, once you’ve smacked him around a bit.

14. What nicknames they call each other:

You honestly struggle to nickname DJ, predominately because, well, DJ is already a nickname. You think. After all, you sincerely doubt anyone would actually name their kid Don’t Join even as a political statement. Really, the fact you don’t know his actual name sort of calls for consideration of how healthy your obviously unhealthy relationship is. But any pleas to learn this asshole’s real name just winds up being like having a namana cream pie shoved in your face, because DJ just turns it all into a joke.

There have been many occasions where DJ would tell you different names he would swear were his own -- often times in the same week! Other times, his claim would be that he’s told you it while you were asleep, or that he once told you but you got conked on the head and forgot it.

Interestingly enough, it’s through these juvenile exploits that he’s earned a bit of a nickname from you: “Bastard”. Just rolls off the tongue, don’t it? To be fair, though, you’re with him for a reason: Even if he may not seem like it, he does have a soft sport for you. Even if it comes out about as smoothly as his features.

In a way, he reminds you of a mutt. A stray mutt. Especially when he shoves his head into your lap after a long day of fucking about and being a menace to whatever society you two decided to hop a ship to.

“You’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?” you murmur. You scritch into his mess of hair, earning a low growl of contentment from your datemate. He never had to admit it out loud, but your touch clearly did wonders to him. This was evidence by how his already large body began to further sprawl along the couch the ship he’d stolen came with. Yup; just like a puppy. A big, raggedy puppy. Who needs a trip to the refresher as soon as this scritching session was over.

For DJ, on the other hand, nicknames come easily. Honestly, it’s mainly due to how he barely takes anyone or anything seriously: When you don’t concern yourself with all the muddled nonsense of society or wide circles of people, it becomes a whole lot easier to see everyone’s buttons. And considering he was a master slicer, button-pressing was definitely his thing.

Despite the fact that you were a one-in-a-million instance of being someone whom the thief actually trusted and treated with even a modicum of respect, even you weren’t immune to his acts of mockery.

“Mornin’, P-p-pipsqueak,” he’d smirk over a cup of caff, knowing damn well that his advantage of height bothered you sometimes.

“Ea-asy there, k-kitten,” he’d purr whenever your frustration would come boiling to the brim. Things like that.

“Lookie here, dollface,” when he wants to butter you up without losing his stance.

But that doesn’t mean he’s unable to be more affectionate. It’s in there, it’s just . . . in there. The best examples, however, tend to be when the both of you are having downtime and are actually safe somewhere. Or whatever safe could mean when you’re with DJ.

Generally, a jail cell wouldn’t be considered safe. Maybe not unsafe if the only occupants were your boyfriend of ill repute and yourself, but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable. And yet, the way DJ just seemed to laze about in them made you feel unnaturally calm. Well, calmer. It would’ve been nicer if your more-than-capable boyfriend would put those slicing skills of his to use and just busted the both of you out of there, but to DJ, a night in the clink meant at least a few hours of shut eye on a bed.

“B-bes-s-sides: We can alw-w-ways just grab on-e of those f-f-f-floating citadels they g-g-g-got docked out there,” he would reason, making himself comfy on the thin mattress. He had a point, you supposed. And it wasn’t as though you hadn’t been expecting this as a part of your life once you got together with him. Still, you weren’t entirely comfortable joining him on said mattress . . . Maker knows when it had last been washed!

You would be far from the first to consider DJ to be the most observant person, dating or not, but your concern must’ve been rich enough for him to practically sense it: Without hesitating, he sat up just enough to offer you his hand.

“C-come on,” he said. “I need to c-c-c-catch some shut e-e-eye, and it ain’t hap-p-p-penin’ if you’re standing d-d-down there the entire t-time.”

A feeling of mild dread seeped into you, followed by a wet blanket of acceptance. You were going to just spend an hour in the refresher of whatever ship you swept off with. Sighing, you accepted the hand, only for the hold to pull you up not onto the mattress, but directly on top of him!

There was plenty to react to -- the sudden movement, the feeling of being on top of DJ -- but the man himself didn’t seem at all fazed. Instead, he focused primarily on tucking in whatever lagging limbs you had and making sure he was cozy enough to continue serving as your mattress for however many hours he needed to recuperate. Which he apparently was: Not once did he protest to your weight pressing down on him, nor did he grunt with displeasure whenever you turned the direction of your head against his chest.

At the most, he only ever offered your back a brief circle of rubbing with his free hand, the other serving as his pillow, before uttering a drowsy, “You good there, kid?”

And, to your surprise . . . yeah. In spite of everything, yeah, you were pretty good . . .

And yet, interestingly enough, no matter what he calls you, none of that ever measures up to when he calls you by your name. Not pipsqueak, not kitten, not dollface or kid or whatever, but your actual name. Because DJ hardly ever refers to anyone by their actual title, let alone cares to remember it. By not only remembering it, but applying it, it shows you that he does care. It’s deep down -- like, real in there -- but it’s there. And you’re the only non-slicing being in the entire galaxy to have ever cracked that sort of safe.

Wear that badge with pride, Hotshot.

Thanks for your patience on this one! Clearly I had a lot of fun writing it! 💖 💖 . . . May gotta actually start writing for DJ. Maybe.

#dj x reader #star wars dj x reader #dj star wars x reader #star wars x reader #dj imagine #dj imagines #character ship meme #character x reader #character ask meme #regrettablewritings #Star Wars imagine #Star Wars imagines #Me: I saw @seraphinativan at the DJevil's Sacrement #@Seraphinativan: Girl what were YOU doing at the DJevil's Sacrement? #Me: lol u got me

[after-witch]

post replies & inbox messages

Got a bit long so I put them behind a read more!

@just-average-poet THIS IS SO GOOFAvatar just-average-poet GOOD I MEANT GOOD

Thank you!!

@natinolang-utak Bruh i thought for a moment he's threatening to kill her loved ones bc thatll stop me for sure. This is goood👌🏻

The original draft did involve family but I decided to go in a more direct direction ahh. Thank you!

Anonymous said: Hiiiii, I'm the one that requested a headcanon for wishing stairs and like I been MIA due to personal problems and I din't have the time to read/ check Tumblr, the one that I requested but thankfully my schedule is cooperating with me, and i finally read the headcanon, all I can say you're a amazing writer, and believe me I felt scared while reading the headcanon, THANK YOUUUU AGAIN, SO MUCH THANK YOU PO. have a jolly day to youu

Thank you for the kind message! :)

Anonymous said: WOW - Revelations gave me legit chills. honestly didn't expect the end at all. the sudden shift from defiance to fear? reader felt a shred of control and suddenly there is this looming sense of danger/threat. thank you so much for writing my request 🥰 it made me wonder. would he ever really overhaul his darling? 😳

IMO yandere!Overhaul would never overhaul his darling unless it was a "you HAVE TO DO THIS TO SAVE THEIR LIFE" legitimate life or death situation. (Regular Overhaul? Oh yeah. But IMO regular Overhaul is far outright nastier, so.)

Anonymous said: You mention in one of your yandere! Overhaul fics how reader gets scared when Overhaul thinks their sick and how they don’t want him “to go down that road again”. I was just wondering like how much more controlling or how overhaul acts when reader does get sick.

So the man is bossed with your personal health and hygiene even when you're healthy. Eat a well-rounded healthy diet. Brush your teeth--use plaque disclosing tablets if he thinks you don't brush well enough. That sort of thing. Imagine getting sick. Even a simple cold or infection, and you're signed up for: Temperature checks, fluid intake (and output, eck) monitoring, strict diet based on what's going on health-wise and you must eat it or he'll need to resort to IVs, no physical exertion, medications if necessary. He's just so far up your ass even for something relatively simple and it's not pleasant.

Anonymous said: girl I just wanted to say that I love your overhauls fics so much, like just the way you write everything is so *chefs kiss* ❤️

Thank you!! that's so sweet

Anonymous said: I love the juxtaposition between "doctor doctor" and "sweet escape" cuz you really capture the difference in how your yandere overhaul treats his darlings emotional vs physical problems. You have a phobia? He thinks youre being ridiculous and he'll belittle you but also hes ESTATIC to help you with this childish little problem as it means youll grow closer. But you have a physical disorder? one that causes self-harm? He thinks its far more serious and is more gentle, but hes not pleased one bit.

Great observation! He’s definitely a little more... excited when it means you can tackle something “together,” but when it’s something that has an immediate impact (like self-harm or bulimia) then there’s very little wiggle room in his mind.

Anonymous said: Sometimes I see you sharing genshin content, are you perhaps playing genshin impact? If so, are you planning to write for it? Sorry, i'm just curious since ive been following your blog for quite a while.

I’m not playing it but I’m into the story/concept & characters! I probably won’t be writing for it though

Anonymous said: I absolutely LOVED your last overhaul fic! I read it a couple of times now, gosh. The reader's despair is tangible and his behaviour is so horrible omg. Thank you for writing it!! I wonder - what would have happened if the reader stayed defiant? Refused overhauls orders, tried to run nonetheless, and so on? Would he have gotten really nasty?

He’s always willing to jab reader with some sedatives and keep them nice and drowsy until they can start behaving again. 

Anonymous said: Me: *Sees your part 2 of Its my part and I'll cry if I want to

Also me: *Slaps on Lesley Gore on the record player (carefully)*

If I ever use another Lesley Gore song as a title, just know that it’s for you

Anonymous said: Took me awhile to put my thoughts together but your recent Sephiroth fic was gold. I love how it also makes me a little confused about whether or not Sephiroth kidnapped his ‘darling’ or not. Did he kidnap her and over time convince her that was the case through brainwashing? Or did she really choose this out of her own violation? And the way you depict an abusive relationship is right on point. (1/2)'

The constant fear of saying the wrong thing is such a strong presence that I actually froze when Sephiroth got angry at reader looking up when she heard Cloud’s name. And it also made me wonder why Sephiroth kept her around. Sure, it could be that he’s just obsessed with her for whatever reason. But then I think that he keeps her around to piss off Cloud. There are just so many things! Anyway, great job. Your a really talented writer :) (2/2)

Oh gosh thank you for your thoughts! This comment is *chef’s kiss* dopamine. It’s meant to be ambiguous--abuse relationship, either way, but ambiguous as to the exact origins. 

Anonymous said: I adore your overhaul fics so much!! Idk why I love that nasty man - but you capture him perfectly and your writings make my heart go 💖💗💘💕💝💞😘 Thank you so much for sharing!!

Thank you for the nice comment!! :)

#replies #so much dopamine omg

[overheardatthecontinental]

Part of the Endlessly collection that describes the endless possible meetings of Helen and John Wick. Can be read as a standalone.

When Helen realizes she'll have to drop out of med school after spending all her life's savings on her sick mother, she reaches a new level of desperate. With the help of her roommate, Helen creates an online account to get set up with a sugar daddy. Enter John Wick.

AKA the sugar baby! Helen / sugar daddy! John au that absolutely nobody asked for

Helen Kingston stared into the mirror. She was wearing enough makeup to hide the fact she hadn’t slept the night before and a little black dress she hadn’t touched since college. She had to admit, she didn’t look terrible. Even fifteen years later, the dress still clung to her curves and made her feel attractive.

But there were laugh lines around her eyes when she smiled and her skin didn’t look as tight as it had once been.

“Don’t men want younger women? Clear-skinned undergraduates or twenty-somethings with huge tits?”

“You’d be surprised .” Mac, her best friend had said after suggesting it. “It’s not about sex.”

Helen had snorted at that. It was always about sex.

“I’m serious! Some of these guys are just lonely. Some of them are gay and looking for a beard. And some just want to make it look like they have their lives together without actually having to have a relationship. ”

Helen wondered, not for the first time if this was not still a form of prostitution. Selling herself, her time and, for appearances' sake, her body.

But she was going to lose her apartment if she couldn’t pay rent. She would have to drop out of med school and go back to working full-time in a pharmacy. It had taken her years to save enough money to go to graduate school and all of it had been lost in the space of six months.

MacKenzie had interfered, as she so often did, insisting that she couldn’t handle three more years of med school without her friend.

Then Mac had said, “I know about this service. It pairs women with rich men and it pays ridiculously well. It’s how I managed to pay for undergrad.”

“I’m not going to fuck someone to stay in school. It isn’t worth it to me.”

Mac had rolled her eyes, “The fucking is optional. Most of the time, it’s not even on the table.”

She had continued to insist that she wasn’t interested until Mac pulled up the site and showed Helen the listings. “You get a grand for a single date, Hel.”

“Fuck me.” Helen had sat down at the computer, “ You’re kidding me?”

“Nope. And that’s just the initial meeting. Technically, you only get $900. The site gets a 10% commission off of whatever you make. And there’s no contract at the first meeting. If you don’t like the guy, you still get 9-hundos for two hours of your time.”

And for a woman who hadn’t had a full meal in weeks… that was ridiculously appealing.

So she let Mac set her up a profile and was shocked at the requests for meetings that came in.

“If I just took five initial meetings, I could make $4,500.”

“Possibly more, depending on the guy. I’m telling you, I had this regular guy in college who paid me extra for exclusive rights. I got two grand a week on top of money for individual dates.”

Helen exhales in the mirror. She looks as good as she is going to, she thinks, before grabbing her purse and slipping on her high heels shoes. Grabbing the keys to her POS car, she heads out.

It’s an hour drive into the city and to the restaurant he had picked.

His name was John.

There was no picture posted but his age was listed as early-forties.

If his description were honest, which she doubted, he had black medium length hair, brown eyes, and a beard. He selected ‘average’ for build and his height was listed at 6’1. His employment is listed as ‘contractor’, whatever the hell that meant.

He had sent her a polite request for a meeting.

Unlike so many of the other requests she had received, he did not wax poetic about her looks nor did he include any torrid ideas about what he wanted to do to her.

It was simple, respectful, and to the point. He proposed a time and a place and offered to send a car, which she declined. She still wasn’t sure that she trusted the service and, despite the cost of gas, she had just enough to get her there. And, once at the restaurant, $900 would be wired to her account.

She arrived early enough to park in a lot that stopped charging after six pm and Helen walked the rest of the way to the restaurant.

Maybe, she thinks as her anxiety builds with every step, that this was a bad idea.

Mac knew where she was so, hopefully, she wouldn't be murdered but...

Oh god… she could get murdered.

Well, at least that would take care of her debt.

She took her phone as she walked and shot off a text to Mac. "If I die, I'm haunting you."

She started to slip it back in her purse but it began ringing.

It's Mac.

"What?"

"You're not going to die."

"It's a possibility." The restaurant was in sight. "I'm strangely not that concerned. Either I die or I don't."

"That's the spirit."

"That said, if I end the night in someone's trunk, I blame you for getting me into this."

"Are you alive when you're put in this dude's trunk?"

"That's an interesting game you pose. Schroedinger's' Helen. Dead and alive in the trunk."

She heard a snort and glanced up. A man stood by the front of the restaurant with a smirk on his face.

He was tall and handsome and that smirk should be illegal. In a three-piece black suit, he looked like he just stepped off the cover of GQ.

"I don't get it."

"Well, I'm sorry it went over your head, but I assure you, I'm very funny."

The man's smirk transformed into a full grin and… fuck.

Helen looked away so as not to flush under his gaze. She reminded herself that she is there to meet someone who is paying very well for her time.

"You're really not." Mac told her but she barely listening.

Mister Tall-dark-and-handsome was making his way over.

"Helen Kingston?" He asked.

And...fuck.

"John?" She replied, hoping she was wrong. Hoping that the attractive man she just talked about being murdered and thrown into someone's trunk in front of is not the man she is going on a date with.

But he nodded and Helen decided she is, indeed, fucked.

"Ohmigod is that him?"

"If it would bring you and your friend comfort, I can assure you that you won't end up in my trunk."

Her goal to not flush in front of the attractive man was lost. Her face was red as she murmured a quick goodbye to Mac and stuffed her phone away.

"Hi," She said, lost and unsure of how to proceed.

He looked younger than his forties but it appeared as though he was mostly honest.

He had shoulder-length black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were brown and soft. In fact, the only argument she could think of was that he was anything but average. Even under layers, she could make out a trim and toned body.

This wasn't an ugly rich man who struggled to meet women.

Her first thought goes to beard. Is he hiding the fact he's gay and looking to keep his secret covered?

She can't think of another reason that he couldn't get a date. Unless he was a tremendous ass but her gut said that wasn't the case.

"Hello." He greeted back.

“Any chance you’d be willing to start over?” Helen asked hopefully.

“We could, but I think it would be a shame to not speak about Shrodinger’s Helen.”

Helen ran a hand through her hair. It was a fair blow but she still finds herself turning pink yet again.

John offered his arm, “Let me get you a drink.”

Helen takes it, “Yes. Please.”

They walk inside and John gives his name. Immediately, they are brought to a private corner of the dining room, far away from prying ears.

John held out the chair for her and Helen wondered if she wasn't in over her head with the kind of lifestyle that includes candlelit dinners and wine lists.

The waiter recited the specials and John ordered a bottle of wine which could not come fast enough.

Helen could still feel the burn in her cheeks as she glanced through the menu. She had never been to a restaurant before that didn’t include their prices next to the item in question. That, along with thorough descriptions of each item, made her think that the restaurant was far bougie-r than she had initially thought.

It was a good thing John was paying.

The waiter came back and poured them each a glass and she itched to down in a single gulp. But she didn’t, allowing the waiter to take their orders and leave before reaching for the glass.

Helen took a large sip and was aware that she was under the scrutiny of her date. He gazed at her with something akin to wonder or curiosity. It was far more intimidating than she had imagined, sitting at her computer.

“Relax.” John said, picking up his own wine glass, “You have the control here.”

Helen exhaled. Damn right.

“I think it’s obvious I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s okay. Neither have I.”

That surprised her. “Really?”

He nodded his head, once. “This is a first for me.”

“Can I ask… why now?”

“You can ask whatever you like. And to be honest, I don’t date. It’s never been a priority for me, but my work often requires attending social and formal events. I usually don’t mind attending alone but I’m getting tired of colleagues trying to set me up.”

And… it’s excessive to be sure, but practical. Helen knew she wasn’t in any place to judge but she had still been expecting someone… older, unattractive, and unpleasant.  

“So you’re looking for someone to attend events with?”

“More or less. Were you interested, I would want to spend some time and get to know you beforehand.”  

Again, practical.

What she did not understand was why he had reached out to her . There were plenty of other women on the site, Mac for instance, who had experience in that world. Mac knew how to waltz and curtsy and be proper. A practiced set of niceties that came from growing up with money.

Helen did not have those skills. Or any skills that seemed applicable to the world of wealthy men.

“I admit that I don’t have much experience with formalities.”

“I saw on your profile.” He said, appearing largely unaffected.

“Then why me? There are plenty of other women who specialize in that kind of world.”

“Anyone can figure out which fork to use. But not everyone has read Camus and Kierkegaard and Sartre. Not everyone can make jokes about being locked in a trunk and compare it to Shrodinger.”

Helen blinked, her lips twitching in a small grin, “You picked me because I like existentialism?”

“Because I thought that anyone who lists Camus as their favorite author would be able to hold a decent conversation.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a guarantee.” Helen fired back. “Perhaps I’m just a narcissist. I am in med school, after all.”

John grinned widely, “Well, then, at least this will be interesting. What year are you in?”

“My second. Two and a half more to go before residency.”

“And what did you do before?”

“I was, and am, a pharmacy tech. It paid well and it gave me some medical experience while I saved for med school. Unfortunately, I ran into some financial issues and I really don’t have another ten years to save before I start over.”

John nodded, “May I ask about what happened?”

There was no reason, she decided, to not put everything out on the table. “My mother got sick just after I started med school. Cancer. I supported her the best I could but after paying for treatments out of pocket, I had blown through my savings within a couple months. Between that and school payments, I quickly ended up in over my head.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must have been very frightening to have your life altered so drastically, so quickly.”

“It was.” Helen agreed, “I’ve always known that anything can happen at any time but it was the first time I really felt my entire life slip from my control.”

“Is that how you ended up here?”

On the site. At the restaurant. Not a judgment, just an assessment.

“Yes. I’m a bit short on school payments and Mac, my roommate, suggested this as a solution.”

He nodded and Helen reached for her wine again.

Thankfully, John turned the subject to simpler things and she exhaled in relief. “Have you always wanted to be a doctor?”

“Yes. Ever since I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a doctor.”

“Area of specialty?”

“Honestly, I’d like to work in a trauma ward or an emergency room.”

And for whatever reason, that made him smile. “Fast-paced.”

“I’ve waited a long time to make it to med school. I don’t want to waste any more time.” She offered a small smile in return, “What do you do?”

“I’m an independent contractor,” John told her.

“Doing what?”

“Whatever needs to be done.”

Helen inclined her head, “Are you always so elusive or is this just a first meeting kind of thing?”

“My work is… complicated,” John said, thoughtfully.

“Is that a polite way of saying illegal?”

His lips twitched and his eyes seemed to shine.

Helen flushed, "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate. Sometimes, when I'm sleep deprived, I don't think before I speak."

"That was delightful," John argued, "please don't feel like you need to hold back, however, you said you're sleep deprived?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "usually. Work, school, and homework tend to take more hours than there is time in the day. But don't think I haven't noticed that you still have not answered my question."

John continued to stare at her, assessing. And then, just when she thought he would elude her again, he answered with a simple, "Yes."

Helen gave him a nod but remained silent as the waiter returned with their salads.

"How do you feel about that?" John asked as the waiter left them in their private corner again.

"It requires less effort to condemn than to think.

And John grinned a full, true smile that made her heart skip a beat.

"Emma Goldman."

"I think I butchered her words, but I believe it just the same."

"Tell me, sweet Helen, are you an anarchist?"

It was unfair, she decided, the way he could make her cheeks burn.

"I am not sure I fully align with any political thought. I'll admit that anarchy has its merits, but laws have their place."

"Laws can be confining."

"They can but, since we have yet to find a system that works, majority rule is the best we have."

"Unless you take into account the collective stupidity of mankind, in which case, majority rule can be just as harmful as anything."

"But what would you have to replace it? Rules are necessary, a contract is required."

"Rules or consequences?" He seemed genuinely interested in her opinion and it completely threw her from the small talk she had anticipated.

By the time their dinner had arrived, Helen had forgotten that it wasn't a real date. That their meeting was not chance but an arrangement.

She was more than full after her meal, feeling as though she would burst. She ordered dessert only for the sake of lengthening their conversation, which stemmed from politics to philosophy to art.

John was… brilliant. Utterly brilliant and completely captivating and… not what she had planned for.

He walked her to her car, even though she warned him it was blocks away. He carried her leftovers in one hand while the other rested at her lower back.

Anyone who saw them might think they were an actual couple.

It made her heartstrings ache because… they weren't a couple. This wasn't a real date.

As if she had time for such luxuries.

All too soon, they reached her car and Helen put the leftovers in the front seat before turning back to John.

"I had a wonderful time with you tonight."

Helen swallowed, noting his proximity. "I had a great time too."

"And I would like to see you again. My only concern," John said after a moment, "is timing. You already have work, school, and obligations that come from your studies. I worry that time spent with me would be subtracted from your sleep."

Helen flushed and tried to not let the disappointment show on her face.

He was wonderful. Smart and funny and a perfect gentleman. Perhaps the most handsome man she had ever gone out with.

But she understood.

She came with too much baggage.

He needed someone with fewer commitments, someone better suited to his needs.

"I understand." She said, looking down. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

"I think you misunderstand," and John stepped closer and caught her chin in his hand and angled her face upward, his dark eyes staring into hers. "I have a proposal for you and I hope, in offering such, that I do not come across as if I'm trying to manipulate you or your life. You still hold all the cards and still have the opportunity to walk away if you desire."

It was hard to breathe with him so close. He smelled like whiskey and cologne and it made her salivate.

"What's your proposal?"

God, he stood so close to her now.

“I know that my situation is less than ideal. What I do,” which he still had not told her, “is highly illegal. Many of my associates are criminals, even if they are widely respected. Between the time constraints and the subpar company, I know I ask a lot. In return, I would like you to consider allowing me to play for the rest of your schooling.”

Her lips parted in shock.

“And expenses. So you don’t have to work instead of sleep.”

Her head felt light because… this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

She feels his cool hand touch jaw before cupping her cheek.

“I know it’s a lot to consider.” John says softly, “And I don’t want you to answer now. I want you to think about it. If possible, sleep on it.”

Her lips twitch in a smile.

“I would like to kiss you.”

Fuck. Me. She thinks and then nods, “Then you should kiss me.”

John bends down, obliging her, and presses his lips to hers.

And she can’t describe it. It’s not fireworks because that would be too distracting. Music doesn’t start playing somewhere in the background but it doesn’t need to.

His mouth is warm and soft and… claiming. God, it feels like she is being branded by his lips.

And her heart is racing as if it suddenly understands why kissing other people had never felt right. Because this was right. Kissing John was right.

All too soon, it’s over. And when her eyes open, they are staring into his.

She thinks although she isn’t sure, that he doesn’t want to leave it at this either. But he moves back slightly.

“You know how to reach me,” John says, pressing a final kiss to her forehead. “Drive safe, sweet Helen.”

And he walks away, heading back down the street towards the restaurant.

Her hand rises and she brushes her lips with her fingers.

She is in far over her head.

#john wick #helen wick #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #fanfic #helen x john wick #john x helen wick #endlessly yours #endlessly series #overheard at the continental #incorrect john wick #helen wick fanclub #helen wick deserved better #sugar daddy! John Wick

[dailyaudiobible]

02/14/2021 DAB Transcript

Exodus 37:1-38:31, Matthew 28:1-20, Psalms 34:11-22, Proverbs 9:9-10

Today is the 14th day of February welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian welcome to a brand-new shiny sparkly week out in front of us. And happy St. Valentine's Day. One year ago, one year ago today we were on our way to Israel for our Israel annual pilgrimage and we were passing through Italy, I remember this, just before like these rumors of like this bad virus, they had been kind of swirling around, but they were not starting… starting to actually take hold in earnest, especially in Italy, and then like right after we got out of there to Israel it wasn't just a few days before Italy shut down. And that began because I think…I believe they were the first country, like officially closed down and trying to isolate from the virus. And, so, wow, what…what can happen in a year. Look at what can transpire in a year of time and look what can change in our lives over the course of a year. And, so, let's just remember that these changes are happening day by day step by step, including today. So, happy St. Valentine's Day. We got a brand-new week. We will read from the Common English Bible this week and we will be picking up the story in the book of Exodus. And it feels like we’ve been camping out in Exodus for a while now because we have but we’ll conclude the book of Exodus tomorrow. But that's then and this is now. Today, Exodus chapters 37 and 38.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word and for bringing us this far…this far into the year, this this brand-new week that is opening up to us, this St. Valentine's Day where we commemorate and observe love, love in the world, especially the romantic kind of love and we’re grateful for that gift. And we are thankful for the story that we read in the book of Matthew today, the story of the resurrection, the story that has set our hearts on fire but has also set everything into motion, everything that comes next into motion because of Your resurrection. And, so, Father we are…we’re here in the…pretty much the dead center of the month, but we are turning pages and getting ready to move into some new territory. We concluded the gospel of Matthew today, the first of the four Gospels. So, we will move forward into another gospel tomorrow. And we will conclude the book of Exodus tomorrow and begin to move forward from there, the day after that. So, the next couple of days are going to be days of transition for us as we continue to move forward, we invite Your Holy Spirit into this…into this week and everything we do, everything that we think, everything that we say, all of the motives of our hearts, may they be surrendered to You we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

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If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if life and light and good news are being spoken into your life and bringing life and direction from the Scriptures, if that makes a difference, if that matters to you then thank you profoundly for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if that's your preference, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi this is Tiffany from Cleveland and I just want to thank everyone that has prayed for me and my husband Tony for the death of our daughter Jeanna. And I also want to ask that you pray…that I could receive joy again. My joy was lost when my daughter died, and I believe in the Lord and I believe in His peace and I believe that He can give me joy but it's gone, and I desire it. I also want to pray for all those that have lost their children, that their children have died through miscarriage, infant loss, disease, sickness, cancer. It's so hard on us. Our lives are never the same after our children die. I just pray that we could receive peace and joy again in our lives and as we live and learn to live without them. In Jesus’ name.

Hello this is Susan and I'm calling on February the 11th. I just wanted to reply to Jessica from California who spoke today on the…as I was listening to Daily Audio Bible and just to say how much she encouraged me. My father…it was always difficult to communicate with my father. For many years I was not sure why then I found out recently he’s probably on the autistic spectrum. I've also been separated from my husband going on eight years. And, so, a relationship with men is sometimes difficult. I have more male colleagues now at my work and I was just coming home today feeling rather pitiful, discouraged and not sure if I can communicate or compete in the male workplace where more males around me and then come home and look after my children, be strong for all of them. So, thank you so much for the words of encouragement, the words that you say to yourself, thank you God for just the way I am. Thank you God for just the way I am.” And also, the verse in the Bible, I think it's Psalm 139 saying, “we are fearfully and wonderfully made.” So, I just wanted to say thank you Jessica from California for the encouragement you gave me today. Thank you.

Hello everybody my name is Doug from Oklahoma I've been a long-time listener I've just never called in. I have a vaccine schedule tomorrow for Covid and I'm really, really scared. I have bad anxiety and panic attacks and…but I feel like I need to get this vaccine and I would just like your prayers, that nothing goes wrong, I don't have any bad reactions or anything. And, of course, then I'll have to get a second one. So, I love you guys. I…I…I pray for you all too. And I just don't call in very much because I really don't…I'm not a very good talker as you can tell. But anyways your prayers are appreciated for tomorrow. I know the time you hear this the vaccine will be over but, you know, God already knows. So, I thank you all. Doug from Oklahoma. Love you. Bye.

Good evening DABbers my sisters and brothers in Christ this prayer is going to Latasha in California. You spoke of being homeless with your children at one point and just now getting into the housing and afraid that you're going to lose it and be homeless again. I've been homeless before Latasha and I had a young son and I know how scary it is especially when you don't know where you're going to live the next day. Besides if things fall apart you have no safety net. So, Father God I come to You as humble as I know how Father. Father we have a mother right now Father that doesn't know what the situation…how the situation is going to turn out. She's being torn between one person saying one thing and someone expecting another Father God, but I just ask that You put in her heart Father that to stand and feel Your Salvation. God if she stands, she knows where her help will come from. You didn't bring her this far Father for her and her children to be back into the homeless situation. Father, so I ask that You give her strength, give her confidence, give her peace Father, that peace that surpasses all understanding Father that things will be OK. And Latasha, you say you're fearful. God did not give us a spirit of fear but of sound mind. So, just stand and watch his Salvation work this out for you. I look forward to hearing a praise report on how things will work out, not going to, but will. Running Desperately to Jesus. Also known as...

Hi Daily Audio Bible family this is Renzo from Maryland I just want to say just really appreciate what you guys are doing, just keep encouraging people, just keep getting them closer to the Lord. It's amazing to see everybody, all the age groups, all the different ages young and old. It's crazy just to see what the Lord is doing. And just…just asking for prayers for my family, for my mom my dad and my grandfather. Recently they've…they…they've had Covid but they've been getting better and their quarantines about to be up by the grace of God. I just thank God for you…for you guys prayers. And my mom was starting to feel better. She suffers with complex regional pain syndrome and just chronic pain in every part of her body and the Corona virus really hit her really bad but I'm just glad that she's feeling a little bit better. And I just thank the Lord for everything He's blessed me with. And just please just keep them in prayers. And I just want to pray for any of you guys going through anything. Father God I just thank You for everything You bless us with Lord and just please help us to just get closer and closer to You Lord and I thank You for the Daily Audio Bible family and everything they’re doing to encourage and keep Your name to be known. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen. God bless you guys. Have a blessed rest of your day. Jesus loves you. God bless.

Hello DAB family this is your brother Daniel Johnson junior from beautiful Cincinnati OH. Hey, let's pray. Almighty God, You are omniscient all powerful all seeing all knowing and ever…and everywhere omnipresent. God You are so good to all of us and I know that You're working through mankind in all these different ways. I pray for our medical professionals, especially those that are making this vaccine and the distribution of this vaccine, everybody that's in charge of all this. I pray that everybody everywhere can get this vaccine, that Your enemy will be completely defeated as he's looking to tear and seek and skill and destroy…steal, kill, and destroy. I come against the enemy in the name of Jesus Christ and I pray that Your spiritual forces of good, Your spiritual sources Jesus because You’ve achieved…You achieved the complete and total victory, that Your spiritual forces would levy and lay down a serious nuclear style beat down against the enemy to force them back…to…I bind and banish the enemy in the name of Jesus Christ in regard to everything that is related to this coronavirus. May it be according to Your will in Jesus’ name. Amen. Hey God bless you all from beautiful Cincinnati OH this is Daniel Johnson junior. Make it a great day.

[kmclaude]

An AU thought, unfinished: Annemarie as a nun. Not a sexy nun, but someone found out about the whole “preggers with her brother’s baby and sent to a convent as punishment” type nun, who may or may not wind up teaching a bunch on unruly kids and has her fellow sisters breathing down her neck to make sure she doesn’t sin again. But hey, guess who’s the priest/confessor for the order? And considering nuns “have” to obey Fr. Tiefer’s authority…! Not smutty but it’s all I’ve got 🤷🏼‍♀️

oh how decadent! oops my hand slipped!!!

Émile is probably the one who gets mad when he finds out she’s pregnant and who’s kid it is because sure he’s white trash and has been bending his daughter over for years but he draws the line somewhere (and part of it is because he knows Emilein is a freak, he knows he wouldn’t want her so it’s obvious she’s the whole reason for being knocked up – and she’s been using the stupid baby in her fat gut as a shield to mouth off to him and run the joint – why not punish her? Besides, no one in that family can afford another mouth to feed…)

So he pulls Emilein aside, says, “hey, you’re good with that priest, yeah?” and Emilein shrugs, says, “maybe I am,” and braces for a nasty shot about how of course he is, he loves being on his knees, but it never comes, just, “so he knows about like…them wayward girl schools, yeah?” and Emilein plays dumb until his daddy plays his hand: send Annemarie off to a convent or wayward school or hell an asylum – she wants to use a baby to get her way, well then she can get out of the way. Forever.

Emilein, for once, is more than happy to help his daddy out.

He talks to the priest, Fr. Michaud, who has offered him chance and again ways out, one in particular though it would mean the priesthood, and reveals his sister is pregnant (not that it was terribly secret: the whole town was waiting for the day she slipped up at this point) and she is…troubled. And is there a place. The Church. Anything.

Of course Fr. Michaud hesitates because yes there is one nearby but it’s practically an asylum, run by an order on their grounds – cloistered – “And, to be frank, we all know your sister is…not exactly saving herself for anyone…but unless she’s a-a maniac it would be almost cruel–”

And Emilein puts his hand lightly on Fr. Michaud’s, smiles in a way that doesn’t meet his eyes, and says, “You know how she hasn’t named the father? You’d think someone like her’d be going up and down the street, demanding a wedding or at least support, wouldn’t you? But she ain’t. ‘Cause she can’t. Now, remember the first time we actually talked, you an’ me, an’ I told you I’d suck your cock in a heartbeat ‘cause that’s usually how things went with me an’ older men an’ not always by force?”

“Difficult to forget,” says Fr. Michaud, neglecting to mention that most fourteen year olds don’t say that.

“So we both agree I’m…funny.”

“What are you getting at, Emilein?”

“I’m sayin’, the reason she ain’t beatin’ down no po’ bastard’s door to help with her own bastard is ‘cause she doesn’t want anyone to know that the daddy’s her own brother.”

Michaud goes pale and Emilein isn’t smiling any more.

“We both know she don’t interest me much. So, Father, please: help me.”

–

Of course, being a good man, Fr. Michaud helps him, and Annemarie is sent away to have her child (and then work off the debt she’ll have accrued – after all, not like her father and brother can afford to pay.)

Her choice is very simple: go as willingly as she can pretend and nobody has to know about who the father is or fight and Emilein tells (with Fr. Michaud as a witness – Émile, of course, is more than willing to rat her out but really, every other word from his mouth is a lie.)

And life is peaceful – until Émile decides he can fully boss around his son like he did his daughter in a house he doesn’t own.

Emilein is having none of it but Emilein is terribly small and Émile has friends too, friends just as nasty as Annemarie’s boyfriends, and Émile ties him to a bed and starves him and lets all sorts of men use him for days and brags about the money he’s made from him – “shit, cher, we should’ve been whorin’ you out years ago! Guess yer cunt sister was just too jealous to share.”

He lets him go, eventually, after a week that feels like forever and Emilein runs to Fr. Michaud, banging on the church door, and when Fr. Michaud answers his request is much the same as it was before: “please, help me.”

Of course, being a good man, Fr. Michaud helps Emilein Tiefer and gets him connected to the seminary.

–

At twenty-five and with the title of ‘Father’ himself, Tiefer is assigned to a convent in Fuckoff Nowhere, Louisiana to be the priest and confessor on the grounds. Segregated from the opposite sex and the real world for so long only to be thrown headfirst into the wide world, some were realizing, was not the greatest idea: so, the younger were sent off to serve their religious siblings first, particularly their sisters.

The Mother Superior is kind when she greets him on his arrival, a stark contrast to all the rumors of the convent here: it was a convent, yes, that made its daily bread with something of a home for wayward girls – part home, part school (for the younger ones whose unfortunate choices and circumstances left them behind their peers as well as their children, for those who had or expected them), part workhouse so the former two could survive – but for years its nickname had been the asylum because, regardless of how long one worked, much like the TB asylums, the only way out was in a casket.

Which is where, Tiefer always figured, his sister was at this point. 

Until, during a tour of the small school on the grounds (as the children would be needing sacraments as well) he sees one of the nuns with the children – though she’s not a nun, not exactly, as she only wears a veil and simple dress and the bangs of her blonde hair peak out and frame her face – and she, in turn, sees him and freezes.

“Mother Superior,” he asks, voice steady as possible, once they’ve passed, once he’s calmed down, “who was that woman?”

“With the children? That’s Sister Anne, one of our success stories – quite a tough one too. She came here, pregnant, no idea who the father was and ready to dare I say fight every one of us sisters who came near. But the Lord works in mysterious ways and eventually He brought her ‘round. She should be taking her vows in a few years.”

“Ah. Do many of your girls usually wind up joinin’ the order?”

The mother superior sighs, sort of pointed in a way that hints that the topic is better put to rest. “Unfortunately, it’s not always part of God’s plan,” she says and then adds, “You sound a lot like she does – how far down South did you come?”

“Very.”

“Hm. She also.”

–

“Sister Anne. A word?”

After all the introductions and required niceties are made, Tiefer doubles back to the classroom of children, led by the novitiate.

“Of course, Father,” she says, the shock from earlier long gone from her face, a little more lined than he’d remembered it, her eyes a little less bright.

“In private?”

He lets her lead the way to a small, unused classroom and locks the door behind them.

“Well. Never thought I’d see you here, Sister.”

She scoffs, the plain novitiate from earlier twisting, like a monster under flesh, into his sister, the way he knew her, cocky attitude and all. “Why not? You put me here.”

“You know what I mean. ‘Sides, he put you here.”

“You helped.”

“Just told the truth is all. You want me to tell the truth again?”

“Can’t send me away again, sugar. Anyway, I’m a changed woman. The success story of these sisters.”

“Ain’t you special, huh?”

“Had to be. Play along or die like the rest.” She looks him over, sixteen years on his twenty-five, sizing him up. “You obviously understand, don’tcha Emi?”

“Father, now, actually.”

“Father, right, Father, now, huh? So Father – what was it? Not enough dicks to suck back home, you had to join the biggest boy’s club around? Or you just get sick of Daddy – bet he was a real sonuvabitch once he didn’t have me ‘round to take his shit out on.”

He cuts her off: “Annemarie. You like it here?”

“You like it where you are?”

He doesn’t answer, simply pulls out a cigarette and his lighter. He watches her reach out, then freeze.

“I’ll share if you tell me what the fuck you’re doin’ playin’ nunnery.”

“I told you. Play along or die. Same as you.”

“You don’t know shit about me or what I been through.”

“An’ you know ‘bout me?”

Tiefer shrugs, lights up. Refuses her one.

“I heard the girls who come here only leave one way.”

“Do I look like I left?”

“Mm.” He offers her a cigarette and a light. Her fingers brush his. He tries not to grab her wrist and crush it. “So this is better? Bein’ a mother to a slew of bastards an’ prayin’ to God who put you here?”

“I dunno, Emi–”

“Do not–”

“Father Emi, you tell me: would you like being worked like a dog to pay off your own existence your fuckin’ family sold off, gettin’ beat ‘cause no one gives a damn about you, and not knowin’ if the priest they brought in to hear confessions this ‘round would rather you suck him off than say you’re sorry. I’m fuckin’ forty-one years old: I wanted something close to freedom, even if it’s from behind a wall an’ veil. ”

Tiefer makes a sound like mock pity. “Sounds like every damn day of my childhood, Annemarie. In fact,” – he grabs her by the jaw, pulls her close, tugs the cigarette from her lips and puts it out against the back of her neck, hidden by her veil – “looks to me like you’re getting off easy, little miss success story.”

“Em–”

“That’s Father to you, now.  An’ come to think of it, I’m sure Mother Superior would love to hear what you really did.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Would they put you back in the work house? Or just turn you loose on the streets like a dog. Where you gonna go, Sister? Y’all take vows of poverty last I heard – gonna finally be a real whore and suck dick in the gutter?”

“Please…”

“Please what, pity you?”

Tiefer lets her go, takes a drag from his own cigarette, blocking the door. He grins, more a snarl than anything else. 

“Oh Annemarie… You’re right: I wouldn’t dare as long as you don’t give me a reason to. I’m your superior now…let’s start treatin’ me as such, hm?”

He unlocks the door. “An’ Sister Anne? If you thought those other priests who put your ol’ ass on your knees were bad, you’re gonna really regret all your earlier sins against me.”

#character stuff #au where annemarie is a nun #pretreetzi #my writing #writing #callistochan87 #kmclaudereplies #kmclauderepliestoask #kmclaudereplies to ask #kmclaudeart

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #233

Fri May 01 2020 [01:13 AM] Wack'd: We open on Deeden State Correctional Facility. It is, the narration tells us, incredibly hellish, but not infamously, because no one ever leaves to tell the tale. It is here David Munson is about to be condemned to death. [01:13 AM] Wack'd: (Also yes Deeden sounds like Deadend, this is its nickname, and what I'll call it because I'll probably just forget not to) [01:14 AM] maxwellelvis: Sounds more like Dee-Dee to me [01:15 AM] Wack'd: Anyway, David--or Davey as the priest calls him--is pissed because he didn't kill the guy he's being put to death for killing [01:15 AM] Wack'd: He killed lots of other people, sure, but not this one guy [01:16 AM] Wack'd: Anyway Davey gets electrocuted to death. And the priest sets about satisfying Davey's last request: [01:16 AM] Wack'd: Deliver a letter to one Mr. Jonathan Storm. [01:17 AM] Bocaj: DUN DUN DUN [01:18 AM] Wack'd: Did the Baxter always have this spiffy awning? I feel like it didn't.

[01:19 AM] Wack'd: Oh hey, a modern update on the Baxter cutaway. We get to watch this priest explore while Sue gives him the rundown. [01:20 AM] Wack'd: Unfortunately they've arrived in the middle of a Johnny/Ben showdown. (Johnny had plastered a photo of Christopher Reeves over Ben's bathroom mirror.) [01:22 AM] Wack'd: Thank you Reed for explaining Ben's damage. And thank you Sue for getting POed over something that has been going on for literal years that you've never gotten POed about before.

[01:23 AM] maxwellelvis: All for the sake of making the priest feel very very uncomfortable. [01:23 AM] Bocaj: I think its specifically because it happened in front of a priest [01:23 AM] maxwellelvis: "Should I wait outside until this blows over, my son?" [01:23 AM] Bocaj: Sue at her worst might be very 'how dare you let others see us as we are' [01:24 AM] Wack'd: Fair [01:25 AM] Wack'd: Anyway, Davey wants Johnny to clear his name. His mom never knew what a shit he was, see, and since he's getting executed for something he is actually innocent of, there's a chance she'll never have to find out. [01:25 AM] maxwellelvis: It might have helped if his defense wasn't "Yes, I'm GLAD, GLAD THE BASTARD'S DEAD! GLAD, YOU HEAR ME?! But I didn't shoot him." [01:25 AM] Bocaj: Ha [01:26 AM] Bocaj: God this is reminding me abstractly of the time that Batman stopped Joker from being executed because the specific thing he was being executed he didn't do. But only that very specific thing. [01:26 AM] maxwellelvis: "(Because if I had killed him, it wouldn't have been with a gun)" [01:26 AM] Wack'd: As for why Johnny, well, Davey knew him from bullying Johnny in high school. (He's not in Strange Tales. I checked.) [01:26 AM] maxwellelvis: Oh boy, this trope [01:27 AM] maxwellelvis: Yep, good ol' Davey Munson. Been here the whoooole time. [01:30 AM] Wack'd: Sick burn on Ed Koch outta nowhere

[01:31 AM] Wack'd: (Though actually he's been in office for three years at this point so *shrug*) [01:31 AM] Wack'd: (It took Johnny two hours to get here by Fantasticar so maybe we're not even in NYC anymore? I dunno) [01:31 AM] maxwellelvis: "How'm I doin'? How'm I doin'? I'm not doin' so well." [01:32 AM] Wack'd: Hey, more silent panels! Artsy

[01:32 AM] maxwellelvis: Silent AND black-and-white with zero grayscale [01:32 AM] Wack'd: Anyway, it seems pretty open and shut. No gloves, fingerprints all over the gun, and plenty of witnesses. [01:33 AM] Wack'd: But. [01:33 AM] maxwellelvis: Just one more question [01:33 AM] Wack'd: Johnny just doesn't believe Davey was smart enough to use a silencer [01:33 AM] maxwellelvis: Wow [01:34 AM] Bocaj: 😐 [01:34 AM] Bocaj: Damning with faint praise [01:35 AM] Wack'd: Anyway, Johnny heads to the scene of the crime, where he finds the stockroom. He thinks it's weird that the victim would've been back here with the lights out and the store closed. [01:35 AM] maxwellelvis: Wow, I was just joking up above with the Columbo routine. [01:35 AM] Wack'd: Also, it's weird that this liquor store is run by Abraham Lincoln, right? Not just me?

[01:36 AM] maxwellelvis: "PISS OFF!" [01:36 AM] Wack'd: It's a conspiracy?!

[01:37 AM] Bocaj: Those meddling Avengers or Spider-Man [01:37 AM] Wack'd: Anyway, Johnny gives chase, and the guy says "there's no way the cops could pin that hit on me", and we're like halfway through the issue so I guess now Johnny goes home and does something else. [01:38 AM] Wack'd: Dishonest Abe was too stupid to memorize H's phone number so now Johnny has a lead in the form of said phone number. [01:39 AM] Wack'd: Finds the warehouse, takes out a buncha dumb thugs. [01:40 AM] Wack'd: Johnny, that's torture, and on top of being ineffective it's generally frowned upon.

[01:41 AM] maxwellelvis: Did he turn into a completely different guy for one panel? [01:41 AM] Wack'd: Looks like a coloring error, yeah [01:42 AM] maxwellelvis: Also, is Byrne the first guy to draw Johnny's eyes as glowing when he's the Torch? [01:42 AM] Wack'd: Maybe? [01:42 AM] Wack'd: Anyway H turns out to be a member of the Mafia. Or the Maggia I guess but fuck that it's the Mafia. [01:42 AM] maxwellelvis: That was a thing the first season of the 90's cartoon did, have his eyes and mouth glow like that. [01:43 AM] Wack'd: Oh hey, a Dick Tracy villains convention!

[01:43 AM] maxwellelvis: Hammerhead! [01:44 AM] Wack'd: Fight fight fight [01:44 AM] maxwellelvis: His one special technique won't be quite as effective against a guy who can fly and catch fire. [01:46 AM] Wack'd: He's able to go toe-to-toe with Johnny because he's got an exosuit. [01:46 AM] maxwellelvis: Ahh. Damn Maggia resources. [01:46 AM] maxwellelvis: But I like that Hammerhead isn't so committed to his gimmick as to commit tactical suicide here. [01:48 AM] Wack'd: Johnny manages to short-circuit the suit by melting some of its fuses. But Hammerhead doesn't realize his suit isn't working anymore and escapes by jumping off the building. [01:48 AM] Bocaj: And nothing of value was lost. [01:48 AM] Wack'd: He disappears before hitting the ground though and Johnny can't find him so he's probably fine. [01:49 AM] maxwellelvis: If he's got a power suit, he's probably got a teleporter. [01:50 AM] maxwellelvis: Anyways, that'd explain why Morrie was so worried as to specifically namedrop Spider-Man earlier. [01:50 AM] Wack'd: Anyway, here's the summation.

[01:50 AM] Wack'd: Given the issue opens with Johnny picking on Ben I was expecting, like, something about bullying being a slippery slope or Johnny at least reevaluating his behavior but no he's a good good boy [01:51 AM] Wack'd: I like the twist that the mom knew the whole time, though. [01:52 AM] Wack'd: A better story woulda, like, tied things up thematically on that end too. Maybe get Sue involved? But it's cute. [01:53 AM] maxwellelvis: It's a sign of something that so far your criticisms have been mostly possible missed opportunities or ways to hypothetically improve the story. [01:53 AM] Wack'd: Yeah [01:54 AM] Wack'd: I think to a degree the modern era of comics storytelling is still kinda coming into its own, Fantastic Four has been spinning through so many creative heads it hasn't really had time to catch up [01:55 AM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, this is still technically the Bronze Age. [01:55 AM] maxwellelvis: I think the Dark Age kicks in in the mid-80's, but there's no real crystalizing thing you can point to. [01:56 AM] maxwellelvis: It's more gradual than dividing things into ages would make you think. [01:56 AM] maxwellelvis: Anyways, this is why I find John Byrne to be such a frustrating figure: [01:56 AM] maxwellelvis: There's no denying he's gifted, but he's just so unbearable as a person. [01:56 AM] Wack'd: Heh [01:59 AM] Wack'd: Regardless I'm just really 'gized to know that I'm reading a story that's not gonna be abruptly cut off and paved over [01:59 AM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, that is one advantage of a long run like Byrne's.

#1981 #John Bryne #The Main Book

[tetelfuentes]

PURYA BUYAG

Do you know this cebuano/visayan expression? Purya buyag. Some people mostly used this as a response when their babies are being complimented. For example, "hala ka gwapa ba sa imong baby uy" she said with a smile; "purya buyag", mother replied. This is the usual word that a person would utter when his/her baby was complimented. Purya buyag is a common phrase in the Philippines. It is a history of supernatural beliefs. The phrase is hundreds of years old, pre-exist the Spanish colonization of the Philippines. What does the word "Purya buyag" means? It is used when spoken to someone for example, who sees an infant, or a baby or a child who looks very cute and that person gushes over the baby, infant, or child. The mother or the guardian of the child responded, 'buyag.'

According to common belief, this will drive away from the evil spirits that will cause something bad to happen to that child. There are different situations where we usually use the word " purya buyag". It is rooted in the belief that elementals or unseen spirits of the earth dwell in the ground. “You look really good today!” “Your child is so pretty”, “Your baby is so cute”, “You have very nice skin!” Such greetings should be countered with a special expression so as not to be afflicted by a mild sickness or even a malady. You can say: “Purya buyag” (means – “Buyag - go away”). It could be related to the loanword in Spanish: “Fuera” buyag. Sa usa ka lugar sa Compostela, naay inahan nga nagkugos sa iyang babayng anak, nagsugatay sila sa ilang silingang batan-ong lalaki: Batan-on: Mayng buntag te, imo nang anak? Inahan: O dong, ngano diay? Batan-on: Gwapaha sa imong anak te uy! Inahan: hoy, purya buyag dong, Biyernes baya karon. Somewhere in California, a mother is carrying her baby girl meets a young boy on her way home: Young boy: Hey madam, good morning, is she your child? Mother: Yeah, little boy, why? Young boy: Your daughter is so beautiful, madam! Mother: Oh, thank you so much boy, and Thanks God It’s Friday (TGIF – hehehe, singit rani ha kay Biyernes baya karon, laag na ugma!)Buyag is another form of superstition that stems from animistic or traditional beliefs not only among Cebuanos but also to most Filipinos. It is their way of understanding natural occurrences, especially on somebody for which they don’t fully understand what the main causes are of the medical/scientific explanation of such an occurrence. One sign or effect of a ‘buyag’ is a physical illness on someone who is afflicted by it. One of the main reasons for ‘buyag’ to occur is that the person afflicted did not ask the permission from the spirit living in a particular place where the person did something. Another reason is that the person afflicted did something disturbing in a place which is secluded or enchanted – where some spirits live in that realm.Sources Or Causes Of Buyag actually buyag can come from the spirits who live in some special places, or it can be caused by someone who made a comment to someone. The comment or greeting could be the greeting-inducer of a malady. For example, the verbally-induced malady (or ‘buyag’) can come from a greeting or comment as benign as saying.Some results caused by buyag could be both mild or serious… mild cases: skin rashes, strange discoloration, itchiness, sudden occurrence of boils, etc. serious cases: getting fever or sick suddenly; or, one could get sick for a long time and that she needs a cure from someone who is expert in driving away that sickness or appease the spirit that caused that sickness – an ‘arbularyo’. This person is thought to have some special skills to heal by using indigenous medicine combined with his seemingly extra ability to communicate with spirits in another realm. ‘Buyag’ can afflict both young children, babies, and adults.

Announcing your presence and telling them to step aside is a precautionary measure so that you will not accidentally step on them, hurt them, or grievously offend them by accidentally peeing or stepping on them. Elders believe that accidentally offending these supernaturals by stepping or peeing on them will result in the painful enlargement of your offending body part. How does the purya buyag being used? It is used to terminate all the unseen evil spirits for example when you are on an adventure with your friends in a forest some people utter "purya buyag" to avoid a curse aside from saying an admiration on something. Some also used the word "excuse me" or "tabi apo" in visayan term. Roughly translating to “excuse me,” saying “tabi tabi apo” is a polite way to request spirits to move to the side. In doing so, we pay respect by acknowledging their existence, avoiding accidents or infringing on their territory. It is a way of saying “excuse me” or “pardon me” for fear the beings may inflict upon you some illness, fever, rash or other malady if they are not acknowledged or given respect. Tabi tabi po has also be translated as “move to the side, sir”. After all, it is believed you may possibly offend a spirit if you spit on the ground, urinate on the ground, walk near a dirt mound, pass under (or near) a balite tree, bathe or cross through (or near) water, step on a rock, or move through tall grass. To the modern mind, the cynical soul, or the plain agnostic, the expression "Tabi Apo" may be dismissed as just another remnant of an outmoded lifestyle or a product of folk imagination. But to someone interested in culture, it is an artifact that reveals many interesting details of Filipino life, tradition, and values.Literally, Tabi Apo means "Excuse Me, Old One". When passing by bushes, thickets, and other wooded areas or out-of-the-way places, young and old utter it aloud, as if talking to someone. Before taking a dip in a river or stream, or when picking wild fruits, collecting firewood, gathering leaves, roots or tree bark for medicine, and cutting trees, they also say it. The same is true when they pee behind a bush or tree, or when they run for cover (during rain) to or hide (in the children's game of hide-and-seek) among bushes and trees. It has become such a practice among many people that the expression has become part of their ritual. The Tabi Apo expression and all the beliefs closely linked with it - is fascinatingly rich in meaning. It attempts to explain the mysteries in the universe, or events like, for example, unexplained illness or death. It is also an effective means of social control. Passerby learns to refrain from doing acts that may harm or hurt the taong lipod: pulling leaves, breaking off branches of trees, and throwing stones anywhere, for example, which are practices quite common among the local folk. The people are encouraged to treat their surroundings with extra care and concern: not just spitting, peeing or throwing garbage anywhere lest they offend the unseen creatures. By not cutting old trees, clearing the woods and building houses in the forest, not only the creatures left untouched, nature is unharmed as well. By avoiding leaving the house by late afternoon or evening when these creatures are supposed to be most active, and by avoiding wooded areas and out-of-the-way places where snakes and wild animals live, the danger is likewise avoided. In the process, safety, order, and balance are thus maintained and ensured in the community. Discipline is also instilled among people.

Tabi Apo proves the early belief in environmental spirits, the covered or unseen creatures which inhabit woods, rocks, rivers, and other aspects of nature. It clearly underlines the fact that as far as back those times, even in ways that appear crude to modern considerations, people have already acknowledged the realm of the unseen, the presence and power beyond theirs and they have discovered that they are not the only life that inhabits the world, but that they share it even the unseen others. The people's emphasis on respect for others is evident. The courtesy one is expected to pay the taong lipod is like the courtesy expected in relating to people young and old. Saying Tabi Apo is reminiscent of Makiagi! (May I pass) which people greet the residents of the houses they pass by. It is also remisniscent of the customary knock on the door and greeting Saindo po! before one can enter the threshold of another's house. To do otherwise is considered impolite and unbecoming. There is indeed so much wisdom in the folk expression Tabi Apo. There are many terms and expressions that can be used in many different ways but purya buyag is the most commonly used by the parents. It is one of the most unique Cebuano or Visayan terms. Cebuanos or visayans speakers always use this as an expression and it is being part of our culture used by many generations in some parts of Mindanao.

[e-ampersand-c]

Fiesta

Author's note : I AM SO SORRY. This took longer than expected...Though it is a long chapter, so hopefully I'll be able to put up content much faster. Anyways, please enjoy :D

Ang Unang Araw

(The First Day)

"Para sa inyo po señora! Ginawa po ng mga magulang namin para sa pagpapasalamat sa inyong pamilya, na tinanggap at hindi tinalikuran ang iyong mga kapwa hanggang ngayon." Masayang sinabi ni Maya habang hinahawak ang mga kamay ng mga bunso.

Ngumiti si Maricela, alalang-alala ang totoong rason kung bakit niya kailangan manalo sa kanyang kaso, ngunit nalaglag ang puso niya sa ngiti ng tatlong bata.

English Translation:

"This is for you señora! Our parents made this to thank you and your family, who accepted us and never turned your back against your fellow people until now." Maya smiled brightly as she held the younger children's hands.

Maricela smiled, remembering the true reason why she needed to win the case, but her heart sank deeply at the innocent smiles of the 3 children.

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Maricela was just about to leave the house when a knock was heard. She opened the door to find the three youngest children of each of the families living on her land: Maya Dela Cruz, Theresa Santos and Ernesto Espiritu.

Maya has brought freshly picked fruit, Theresa has brought finely sown silk shawls and Ernesto brought cooked food, still warm from tender cooking to celebrate the fiesta week and to thank Maricela and her family for the kindness they have shown for the past decades. Maricela is grateful for the gifts but seeing the innocent children living a great life without knowing it might collapse should she fail, her heart sinks to depths too far down for light to reach it. She sends them off with gratitude and quickly meets up with with her friends.

Upon arriving, Maria Clara, Crisostomo and Enrique chat lightly amongst themselves. When Enrique catches a glimpse of her arriving, he can't take his mind off the fact that Maricela has glazed eyes.

He waits for her to join the group and he asks whats wrong almost immediately. Maria Clara and Crisostomo look at her and notice the look on her face as well. This catches her off guard.

"Ah este! I am just tired from not getting enough sleep last night. I was excited for the fiesta to start."

Enrique looks quizzically at her until Crisostomo speaks.

"Maricela, make sure to drink lots of water. I'm sure it will help you sleep better."

Maricela thanks him for the prescription and continues with the chattering.

Enrique did not buy the excuse however.

Ang Ikalawang Araw

(The Second Day)

Maricela took the previous night's cloudburst as a sign of misfortune. Morning however was blessed with golden gleaming sunlight, but it did nothing to calm our heroine's rattled heart as she painstakingly trekked to the town hall with Enrique to finally submit her proposal. Enrique was the only one to greet her as Maria Clara and Crisostomo went to shop at the market place. He had his leather suitcase with him that carried the proposal.

They continued with Maricela covering half of her face with her fan. Enrique followed behind her, knowing full well they are in public. A group of talebearers caught sight of the two, and insantly gossip shared among the women.

"Are they making their way to the town hall?"

"Who is the gentlemen following behind her?"

"Is he a bachelor? Such a refined mestizo that man!"

"From what I have heard, A new lawyer and Crisostomo's collegue"

"That man is at a loss, why would he take an impossible case as a first job?"

"A waste of time and resources that hellspawn the now departed possessor of the San Augustus conglomerate decided to keep around"

"How awful to make a man work aimlessly. Making the life of the man harder!"

"Desperada!"

Pondering how deafness would be a blessing in disguise at thay moment, Maricela could only sink her face further into the fan, the words playing again and again in her mind.

"Desperada?"

Enrique relayed back to the women having spun around, his mere status alone in the situation socially communicating for the group to challenge his look. They could only hide behind their fans and continue to gossip.

They arrived at the town hall and Maricela requested to wait outside. Enrique went in by himself and passed the proposal. The man at the reception looked at him questioningly, Enrique merely responding with an impatient look until the man finally placed the proposal in a neatly propped paper stack that will be passed to the mayor.

Enrique made his way out to find Maricela pacing until she saw Enrique come out of the office. She stopped and was about to approach him until a fast calesa zoomed past her, the wheels splashing her with sewage water. She tried to stumble back in shock but ended up leaning against a rickety food stall that flipped at her weight. The food went flying and landed everywhere on her. Her hand was bleeding with cuts and splinters from the stall.

The degrading sight of a woman sullied by the poor cleanliness of the community brought out only cackles and whispered affronts. The vendor of the food stall was outraged and started yelling at her to pay for the damages or she will tell the guardia civil to arrest her.

Enrique quickly put himself between the vendor and Maricela and told her he will be the one to pay for the damages. He handed the lady money from his suitcase and the vendor went on with her day contented.

He then helped the poor girl up, who was shaking from everything that had happened. Her face trained well to remain stoic but her tear ducts betrayed her, shedding enough droplets to let her eyes twinkle under the golden gleams of sunlight. Enrique quickly brought her to the side and removed the splinters from her hand. He cleaned her cuts and guided her to the market place.

They came to a humble tailor, looking for new garments among the designer clothing. Enrique chose a matching blue tapis and saya and paid for it. Maricela's eyes widened as he handed her the clothes and told her to change.

A few moments later she's changed and fresh, just having gotten out of an inn that Maricela compensated excessively, but her expression is still gloomy. They both walk out and Enrique thinks of a way to lighten her mood. An ensemble playing jovial music and a few street dancers dancing with ribbons livening an enitre crowd thickened, rather conveniently, so Enrique brings Maricela to watch. The crowd cheers on but Maricela is still emotionless. Enrique sighs and tries to leave to find something better when the street dancers come towards the both of them and drag them to the middle

"Ladies and Gentlemen! We now present the lucky two who will dance one round!" They passed their maracas adorned with ribbons to the two and the ensemble prepares their next piece.

Maricela gives a mortified face while Enrique smiles confused.

"I c-can't dance..."

Maricela lets out as the music starts.

They follow the street dancers and at first the music was calm and the two of them were surprisingly doing well with Maricela grinning little by little until the music suddenly changed to a fast speed and the street dancers were twirling and changing positions. Maricela started to lose composure until Enrique called her name.

She carefully followed his steps and it seemed that she was dancing proffesionally. In between spins and cycles of dance steps, Maricela could have sworn to have seen a familiar face next to the would be band leader smiling genuinely right at her. She started laughing and smiling and before she knew it the segment ended.

The street dancers thanked them for their participation and they both left with a smile.

Ang Ikatlong Araw

(The Third Day)

Maricela finds herself at a new spot she's frequented. Not the homes of the people on her properties, not the church she now prays to for the approval of her proposal. But at a quiet and cleaner community where her parents now lay resting.

Dead.

They were buried with memories of an unresolved argument. Their deaths couldn't have been more... inconvenient. Maricela remembers how she snapped and shot back at them, refusing to be married off so the San Augustus fortune may be passed to an inheritor chosen by her parents. She clearly recalls how she ended their final argument, shouting.

"Sana 'di na kayo bumalik!"

The process of the arranged marriage was going to be started the moment that Maricela's parents came back home from their business trip. They left the day Maricela uttered those words. Left for their business trip, and left this world leaving Maricela scrambling to secure what they couldn't bring with them.

"I wish you never come back."

She thinks a second time. Remembering those words and how empty they really were the moment they slipped out. Whoever granted that wish clearly couldn't understand. Coping with their deaths has brought out great anguish, as expected. So Maricela had them burried in this peaceful community further out from the toxicity of the town's hustle and bustle. She asked for comfort but what she really needed was to act fast, just like how she was told. Word has already got out that a large fortune is legally waiting to be claimed, many has been stammering to attain it.

Breathing in, Maricela scans the cemetary. Noticing graves of wooden crosses and tombs craved from stone. The former signifying a poor man's burial and the latter for those higher in social standings.

"Nice to see none of that matters around here." Maricela comments to herself. Did all cemetaries house the departed's graves of different backgrounds?

"I think it adds to the beauty of this resting place."

Maricela then turns to find, Enrique?

"Did you... have business here too?" Did Enrique have someone special to pay respects too? Why was he holding sampaguita garlands?

"Oh these are for you. To give to who you're here for." Enrique says handing the flowers.

"They're beautiful, thank you. But how did you know I was going to be here?" Seemed quite supspicious for him to know something quite personal.

"I-I asked around at that church. The one where we first met and I happened to actually find someone who knew you. Well apparently. They even knew I was helping you in your case." Enrique replies, assuring that he hadn't been following her.

"Oh, that's alright then. I think I have a pretty good idea of who told you." Surely it had to be Crisanto. Maricela thinks to herself.

"Did you have something to do that involves me, Enrique?"

"I wanted to check on you after yesterday's...events." Was that the right word? The first thing that came to mind was disaster but was it really?

"But I hadn't thought I would intruding on something like this. Hence the sampaguita." He says pointing at the garlands.

"Right, I should put them on then." Enrique stepped forward and offered a hand to show he wanted to help. Since he did bring the pure as white blooms, she figured she should let him. They crouched just low enough to decorate the stone graves of the San Augustus with the flowers. Their fragrance seemed to smell sweeter after.

They only stood there when the pair were done. Their silence made comfortable with the sounds of rustling leaves and shaking tree branches in the wind. Enrique tries to read Maricela's expression. She didn't seem upset but in deep thought. Looks like she still has plenty to reflect on. He decided to risk it.

"I'm sorry for your early loss, I genuinely hope you've been coping with as much support as needed"

"...You speak with experience?" Maricela breaches.

Enrique nodded, looking up towards the sky as if it held the words he was looking for. "My father was taken from me and my mother too early. The doctors say it was most likely by a heart attack...though it happened too fast infront of us. One second he was gasping in pain while clutching his chest...the next he was gone. Just like that. I was only 14 when that happened and what followed after was a mere blur in my life."

The blur he didn't want to remember vividly. The funeral, his mother grieving, and the years spent in isolation studying.

Maricela looked at Enrique, who was now staring down at the ground.

"I am...truly sorry for what has happened to your father..." Maricela slowly placed her hand on the lawyer's shoulder. Her touch snapped him out of his haze and he slowly lifted his head to meet her gaze.

"If I may...what took your parents away too soon?" Enrique asked lightly.

"It-" 'It was my fault' she truly thought.

"It...happened unexpectedly as well. They were on a business trip and along the way...they were ambushed by tulisanes...the guardia civil found them a day later. I received the news after the day they were founded..."

Enrique's eyes widened. He did not expect such grotesque deaths. He noticed the dates carved into the cold stone, both of them died on the same day. The lawyer thought it was more subtle than an assassination. Perhaps a disease or a fire. Anything but an ambush.

"I had no idea...I shouldn't have asked-"

"Oh it's alright señor," Maricela tried to smile. "It was something I had to accept..."

Enrique stayed silent. Maricela spoke up after a few minutes of quiet contemplation.

"Seems as though grief is what binds Filipinos together these days." Maricela eyebrows curved and drew closer to her eyes to show concern, despite how she initially came to the cemetary to wallow in her own grief.

"Bonding over what you would give condolences too, because somehow we can set it all aside to hear each other out."

"In our case it seems it's because we didn't have the leisure to mourn. Deprived of voicing what we want say and longing for what we want to be said to us. " Maricela shrugs.

"Well I should say my father's death wasn't as recent as your parents. But it was untimely too. My education wasn't going to wait for me to find comfort in something, and your proposal brought up from your parents' departure must have forced you to stop entertaining the same sentiment. So I suppose I'm... just reaching out to you as someone to... mutually find solace in... should anything still be unresolved, because someone like you... deserves as much" Being a lawyer Enriques' sure to be excellent in oral communication, but in that instance he faltered, at least from his usually firm and assuring tone.

"It... wasn't the most elegant of consulations. But somehow it felt like the most genuine anyone has been with me"

Her hands clasped together and a soft smile on her face were details that shouted a thanks she's been meaning to say and mean.

Ang Ika-apat na Araw

(The Fourth Day)

The return home was comfortingly silent for Maricela and Enrique after spending the fourth day of the fiesta together with Maria Clara and Crisostomo, or it was at least devoid of articulating any more bottled and unresolved heartstrings to proverbially pull and drag like a rag doll. They aired out enough of how abruptly destitute they were of their parents, confiding in each other to find the comforting finality. Disclosure to now feel closure.

The clopping of the horses' hooves and the colliding of the wheels with stray stones on the road filled in for the absence of chatter. The kalesa is ever so closely reaching Maricela's residence. It felt clingy for Enrique to "walk" Maricela home when he offered, but nonetheless here they were "walking" home this late into the night. Now that remembering that it was late, it made sense for him to have offered.

Enrique opened the door for Maricela when they stopped, the driver not leaving yet as he still needed to take Enrique back to Crisostomo's home. The pair walked closer to the San Augustus estate, and briefly resting on intricately carved benches before lighting any lanterns. The moon makes whatever attempt to illuminate the mansion, but Enrique finds himself appreciating the soft glow as the two lounge outside for a while.

"Your home is quite surreal under the weak moonlight, how much more under an actual full moon?"

A little thing to ponder over, but thinking it over it gives Maricela one more thing to repeatedly appreciate once she wins her case. The moon will shine luminously every month on HER home.

"Together, I'm sure we'll be able to ensure you may gaze on it under a bright moon whenever."

Funny how "together" will mean so much more in the end. Unknown by these two now of course.

"Together?" Enrique asks.

"Of course, or rather I hope you think of us doing this together." Maricela replies

"Pardon? O-of course I do, why would I think otherwise?" Where was this coming from all of a sudden? Enrique thinks.

"Because it always felt like our exchange has been one-sided. That I always need assurance from you for everything I seem to unload on you?" Maricela replies, her tone saddening at near the end of saying it.

"There are still notable people who I can be thankful to, less by 2 now... but nonetheless, and you've become the one I am most appreciative of. But I just can't seem to return the favor." Reclining lower on the bench she occupied, Maricela says so guiltily.

"Then what was yesterday?" Enrique only hears a questioning "hmm".

"I found comfort in you as you did to me at the cemetery right? Doesn't seem like I've shared that part of me to anyone, no?"

"I suppose not." Maricela smiles a bit. Maybe she could deepen that exchange further. "What was your father like?" She asks.

A reasonable pause passed for him to properly summarize his father.

"I like to think ideally he was far too ahead of his time, and that hopefully enough that what he was has been passed on to me." He answered quite happily.

"What do you mean?"

Another pause, ended by him saying that his father had a very rare perspective of progressiveness.

"Barriers exist between us Indios and the Spaniards but he always seemed to see pass that. He married the woman he wanted, a full blooded Indio, and from an early age he mentioned how I could do the same with his blessing. From that I figured he would never have had me engaged to anyone. So here I am left to choose who I suppose."

"I see, he was quite the man indeed." How Maricela wished it was like that for her before. "Had you ever entertained the thought of having that freedom before?"

"No, there was always something apparently. Have you?" Enrique replies.

"I like to think I would have, but another day I'll share the first time me and another mutually agreed that we mean to each other not as spouses." Maricela attempts to jest. They're opposites in that regard, the ability to choose their own partner, but both ended up as now having that choice be put aside. Enrique has seemed to distract himself all his life to avoid that part of adulthood, and Maricela has spent most of hers resisting her parents than actually socializing and paying attention to who she's interested in.

"Haha, seems like quite story. But really, has there ever been anyone you've been genuinely interested in?"

As each passing meeting with each other, Maricela's idea of an ideal man seems to shift, referring to her lawy-

"Some, but only one as of late." She's thankful she's said it so inconspicuously.

"Well I bid you and them the best of luck." Enrique then stands excusing himself to not keep the coachman any longer, and they exchange goodbyes under a brighter natural light from the sky.

#el filibusterismo #noli me tangere #elnoli #filipino literature #filipino #filocs #digital drawing #fiesta #maria clara #crisostomo ibarra #bruno #tarsillo #long chapter #yiee #Hahahhahahaha

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 4

Relationships Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety

Summary: Lan WangJi ruminates on his decision, and on filial piety.

Note: I was writing and lwj just decided to have a 400-word internal monologue about it. He’s stubborn af. But given that Lan WangJi’s decision here (and actually Wei WuXian’s in canon as well) controvert filial piety, it bears exploration as to the logic of why he might abandon it now. I also believe it's a very important element to the series as a whole. So I researched it, not that I necessarily did it justice or can fully understand it. I have feelings about the concept of filial piety, but I’m also white, and I have no right to pass judgment on a culture not my own. I apologize for any possible cultural insensitivity.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

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Despite getting to sleep past hai shi, Lan WangJi still wakes at mao shi out of habit. He had offered Wei Ying the softer bedroll, arguing he deserved the comfort, and had been rebuffed. He hadn’t been particularly surprised; Wei Ying had already been snippy following the nightmare, his vulnerability on display, and being subtly bullied when both Wen QiongLin and Lan WangJi kept refilling his bowl and staring at him until he ate more likely didn’t help his mood.

Wei Ying is curled on his side on the stone ‘bed,’ still wrapped in the warmer robe, the threadbare blanket over him. He at least seems to be sleeping soundly. 

He stows his bedroll back in the qiankun pouch, but before he leaves the cave, he drapes the blanket from his bedroll over him to ensure his comfort. Wei Ying will likely reproach him later, but he hates that he’s left him to suffer alone so long. If he’s bothered by being taken care of, so be it.

Lan WangJi can only hope the funds he gave Wen Qing can ease the conditions here for everyone, including his ever-stubborn zhiji. At the least, blankets. Perhaps the materials to build proper beds. Perhaps, once XiChen sees what LanlingJin has lied about, perhaps much more can be done. He dares to hope.

He meditates outside the cave entrance as the sky lightens on the horizon, finishing when the first rays of the rising sun hit his face. The Wens were rising, used to farm life tethered to the sun by now.

The elderly woman caring for a-Yuan motions to him to follow to the communal area to break his fast with them, and when he thanks her and calls her “zhang-Wen,” she waves off the title and insists he call her “popo.”

His polite reply of “Of course, Wen-po” only gets a frown.

“Just popo.”

The other Wens introduce themselves, similarly refusing to use their surname. Each asks that he refer to them as their given or courtesy name, accepting only -shu or -yi. One man simply introduces himself as jifu.

When their largely turnip-based breakfast is over, Wen Qing motions for him to follow her.

“They would prefer not to be known by Wen,” she tells him as they make their way out of the communal hall. “A-Ning and I are too well-known, but they… they are all civilians.”

Lan WangJi only nods. It makes a certain sense that they would prefer not to be associated with Wen RuoHan. The decision cannot have been easy, as it is unfilial. But the same shackles of filial piety that had kept them from acting against the clan head during the war had left them mere remnants fighting to survive, forever associated with Wen RuoHan and expected to atone for his wrongs. What was filial piety in these circumstances?

He understands, because he too is breaking filial piety in staying in Burial Mounds, in choosing Wei Ying over GusuLan. 

Officially, his sect has chosen to let LanlingJin decide the fates of the Wen remnants, regardless of whether their decisions are righteous. His decision will put him at odds with not only his own sect, but with all of society.

He knows this is why Wei Ying broke from the YunmengJiang sect publicly, freeing them from association with his actions, freeing his brother from responsibility even as he opened himself to the shame of being unfilial, the judgment of society.

And if XiChen requests, he will do so as well. He will stand with Wei Ying, the two of them for the ideals they pledged to uphold.

He has chosen to be filial to his zhiji over his sect.

They are both orphans, in truth. Sect or no, Lan WangJi’s blood family is limited to XiChen and shufu. He can be assured his brother will care for Lan Qiren, will take the sect in hand as he was always destined to do. He was always only the Second Jade.

In blood, Wei Ying is alone. Has been alone since childhood, forced to find family through other bonds.

But Wei Ying has Lan WangJi, who claimed him in the Cold Spring cave. 

He has never told him the significance of what he had done, handfasting him and claiming him in front of his ancestor, taking the first bow with him. He has, in fact, told no one of what he had done, not even XiChen. At sixteen, his feelings about Wei Ying confusing and upsetting to him, he didn’t have the words, and war had given him no time to find them. 

With filial piety in question, and his owed to Wei Ying, the time to finally speak of it seems to be fast approaching. He will have to find the words now.

Lan WangJi somehow doubts the Lan elders will agree with his conclusions, but they will not be able to deny the significance of the handfasting and his responsibilities.

He will also need to find the words for Wei Ying. Lan WangJi does not regret the handfasting, but he does not know how his zhiji will feel, not only about the handfasting itself, but the fact that he has not told him for so long.

His name being called by Wen Qing interrupts his thoughts, and he finds her watching him with an inscrutable look on her face. He wonders if she’s said his name more than once. If so, she does not tell him.

“There are certain necessities we will use your contribution for,” she says after a moment. “Though I believe perhaps your input would be welcome. And perhaps acquiring more practical clothing or materials to sew them for you, as well.”

He can hardly argue with that; his robes, though practical for fighting, are not suitable for activities such as farming. He nods.

“Blankets,” he tells her. “Or perhaps materials if someone has the skill. Materials to construct beds, if practical.”

She eyes him, and nods. “One of the uncles used to be a carpenter. Several of the aunties can sew. Materials are less expensive than finished products. Beds would be welcome, especially for popo and some of the elders.”

Wen Qing pauses for just a moment, then smirks at him. “And Wei WuXian needs to stop sleeping on a damn rock.”

Lan WangJi can feel the tips of his ears heat; she has seen through him. But she also seems to approve, so he only nods. 

After all, she did ask him to help Wei Ying, and he will.

“Also on my list are certain herbs, maybe seeds we can grow,” she tells him. “And maybe we can buy some damn potatoes to shut the idiot up, since he’s so obsessed with them, though I’m not sure Burial Mounds’ soil will grow them well. Different kinds of squash might work, though.”

One of the duties Lan WangJi grew up with was occasionally helping in the garden. While he does not know a lot, he is certain if he finds a bookstore in Yiling he can find out what will grow in poor soil. He says as much to Wen Qing.

“Well, I feel like an idiot,” she says with a short laugh. “We should have done that months ago.”

“You have had other things on your mind,” he allows.

She makes a noncommittal noise. “Nails, other building supplies. I know Wei WuXian will want cinnabar and talisman paper, as well as paper in general. Hell, he probably has a list of things he wants for his experiments.”

Wei Ying chooses that moment to pop out of the cave, yawning widely.

Wen Qing looks at him with a scowl Lan WangJi is fairly certain is largely manufactured.

“Go eat. You’re going to town today, and there’s only so much daylight. Lan WangJi will make a list to bring with.”

Wei Ying makes a show of sulking, but a-Yuan runs to him and he’s quickly distracted and on his way to the communal area in the care of popo, who is commenting about him being far too thin. 

“Peppers,” he comments once Wei Ying is out of hearing.

He receives a flat stare from Wen Qing.

“He’s going to poison us all, you know,” she says despairingly. “We’ll have to ban him from the kitchen.”

“Apparently one of the few rules at Lotus Cove is that he is not allowed to cook,” Lan WangJi comments, remembering a tale he’d heard about ruined cooking pots.

Wen Qing sighs. “Noted. Get paper and ink for the list. I’ll choose an auntie to send with you to choose suitable fabrics and materials, and to haggle.”

When he reaches the cave and his qiankun pouch, he notices there is a scrawled addition to the letter to XiChen.

Zewu-Jun,

I’ve tried to convince him to go home. Perhaps you will have better luck.

Apologies,

Wei WuXian

 It’s as good an addition as any. This decision is Lan WangJi’s, and Wei Ying has already fruitlessly lodged his protests. Any offered by others will be similarly ineffective; he has made his decision.

He already expects shufu to read the letter, which is part of what led him to cite so many of the principles. But Lan QiRen already thinks poorly of Wei Ying, and will no doubt cast blame on him regardless. 

Nothing he or Wei Ying can add to the letter will change that reality, and so he simply tucks the letter in his sleeve before gathering the paper, inkstone, and ink from the pouch to take outside with him.

#cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan zhan #lan wangji #lan yuan #wen qing #wen ning #wen qionglin #chen qing ling

[popatochisssp]

Make Your Mark, 9/10

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader Chapter Warnings: none

AO3 Link

In a world where soulmates exist, monsters and humans have one thing in common: the first time two soulmates touch, a mark randomly appears somewhere–anywhere– on their bodies to represent their match.

It still doesn’t make relationships easier…but maybe it does make them a little more interesting!

You met him online.

It wasn’t under the most favorable circumstances, all things considered—he beat you in a bidding war for a really uniquely shaped hunk of coquina jasper at the very last minute and you spent probably a solid few hours cursing his username in your head no matter how cool it was.

Naturally, you were pretty surprised when he messaged you through the site the next morning.

geode-dude: hey, sorry about the coquina, kinda stole that from under you, didn’t i?

As much as it had galled you, you had to reply…

xXgoblincoreXx: Oh, don’t worry about it, you won fair and square! That’s how these things go, no hard feelings.

geode-dude: mm, still didn’t feel too gneiss of me, no matter how good a shale it was

……Pfft.

xXgoblincoreXx: Haha, not to quarry, dude, I’ll get over it, enjoy your spoils. Just don’t take it for granite, alright?

geode-dude: lol i like your style

geode-dude: think you’d be up for a consolation prize? sure there’s something around here i can part with to send you. might make me feel like less of a jerk for doing you dirty like that

It was…an unusual request to be sure.

The guy was well within his rights to have screwed you bought the stone for himself and he not only apologized, but was actually offering to send you something else? For free?

It occurred to you to be wary, but you had a PO Box for this kind of thing—too many doorstep package thieves who assumed ‘heavy’ meant ‘valuable’ instead of ‘ten bismuth geodes that you never saw and didn’t get a refund for and were definitely not still salty about’—so you didn’t see the harm in seeing where this went.

xXgoblincoreXx: I’m not one to turn down free shinies, if it’ll really make you feel better. You don’t have to, though, no pressure! ;)

geode-dude: think i will anyway, thanks for being so coal about this

You laughed and sent over your PO Box address and then promptly forgot about the whole thing, not quite expecting the guy to follow through. He was probably more after an excuse to try out those sweet rock puns on somebody and you were happy to be the audience.

At least it had put a smile on your face!

You imagine that expression was nothing compared to the awestruck one you wore when you picked up an unexpected package a couple days later and opened it to the most incredible-looking rock you’d ever seen in your life.

xXgoblincoreXx: Dude, did you send this?!

geode-dude: oh you got it, cool

xXgoblincoreXx: Yeah, what is it? I’ve never seen anything like this before!

Even as you frantically typed, the fuchsia crystal sat beside you, innocently illuminating your room with its warm, fluctuating glow.

geode-dude: don’t think it has an official classification, it’s mostly magic, but we call ‘em lantern rocks. they’re everywhere Underground.

Only one kind of person capitalized ‘underground’ that way and had free access to what was down there.

Your punning, rock-loving pal here was a monster.

You were fascinated—there were no monsters where you lived, their population was still small after everything and hardly any had branched out from Ebott, even though it’d been a few years since they surfaced—and you can’t quite restrain the burst of curiosity this revelation sparks.

You…probably embarrassed yourself a little, to be honest… but all of your eager questions about what other magic stones and crystals he had or could tell you about were met with good-natured amusement.

Good-natured amusement and surprisingly detailed, informative answers, the kind that turned out to be better suited to actual phone texting than a limited bidding site’s chat feature.

‘geode-dude,’ or Sans as you eventually found out, had a pretty extensive geological background and seemed happy to answer anything and everything you threw at him. The only real drawback was the unstoppable slew of puns that came with those answers, but… to a person like you, the puns were less of a bug and more of a feature.

In addition to being a funny guy with a varied rock collection, Sans has a horrifically messy room, a self-sustaining tornado of trash in it, and a younger brother named Papyrus.

He’s also a skeleton, which he didn’t exactly tell you, but he sent you an awful lot of puns about bones and once—when you’d insisted he prove he wasn’t catfishing you—a video of Papyrus balancing a seashell on his head, since that was too weirdly specific to fake.

The guy in the video was definitely a skeleton and he definitely had a seashell atop his skull, effortlessly keeping it there even as he proclaimed to the camera, “Well, Sans’ Pen-Pal, I Have No Idea Why You Want This, But I’m So Stunned That Sans Is Actually Making Friends That I’m Not Going To Question It Very Hard—So Behold! My Impeccable Balancing Skills!”

After that, you wholeheartedly agreed with Sans’ assessment of his brother’s coolness levels: clearly off the charts.

For several long, albeit fun months of chatting and memes and pictures of rocks, though, that’s all you really know about your apparently-a-skeleton friend.

He’s never sent a picture or video of himself, and he’s flatly turned down anything resembling a phone call.

It doesn’t bother you too much. Some people are just private that way, and that’s okay!

You figure you’ll see him when you see him, and that’s just fine by you.

-

You get the text early in the morning—which you’ve gathered is approximately the witching hours over in Ebott.

geode-dude: hey

geode-dude: i’m trying to be a little boulder so i’m kinda petrified here but

geode-dude: do you want to come visit for the festival?

The Freedom Festival—held to commemorate the anniversary of monsters’ escape from the Underground and reunification with the surface world.

Being held in Ebott, next weekend.

You don’t have to think about your answer for more than a minute.

xXgoblincoreXx: Sounds rockin’, I’d love to! :D

-

Ebott isn’t quite as far away as you’d thought.

It’s a few hours on a train and then you’re there, wandering around in search of the skeleton you’d been promised to pick you up.

You’re expecting Papyrus, taller than tall and decently loud, presumably very easy to spot in a crowd.

But he’s not the skeleton you see.

His brother is stupidly tall, but even slouching, Sans is a pretty big guy himself. Dressed in a well-worn blue hoodie, some basketball shorts and the cutest pair of hot-dog-shaped slippers you’ve ever seen, the big skeleton leaning up against the wall is hard to miss.

…And so is the massive gaping hole in his skull, black as pitch above the giant red light darting nervously around in his socket.

It’s…

Not that much of a surprise, honestly.

You understand a lot of monsters suffered permanent injuries in the living hell they crawled out of and while grisly, it’s really nothing worse than what your imagination’s cooked up for you over the past few weeks—reasons ranging from the embarrassing to the outright horrific that Sans had been hiding his face from you.

In comparison to that, a bit of jagged bone is nothing to bat an eye at.

You head right on over to say hello.

Sans stiffens a little as you approach and somehow a bead of sweat seems to appear on his skull. He asks your name in a surprisingly soft voice and you nod.

“Yep, in the flesh,” you chirp. “Which I guess makes you Sans the flesh, right?”

It seems to take him a second to process what you said…but then his shoulders start to shake with laughter.

“good one,” he chuckles. “here five seconds an’ you’re already tryin’ to steal my thunder…?”

“Just trying to make a good first impression,” you joke with a shrug. “I have a feeling I’m not gonna get more than a couple over on you, Mister Funnybones.”

Sans is just a pinch slower in person—or maybe his puns just seem to come across a little snappier with a screen between you—but the moment or two you have to wait is more than worth it.

With a screen and miles of distance separating you, you’ve never had the pleasure of watching Sans’ skull go a dusty shade of blue, or hearing a downright bashful laugh escape him.

“eheheheheh, you, uh…ya’ might be surprised…”

You already are.

You came down here to meet a friend and spend some time with him.

You weren’t expecting him to be this cute, or to feel a spark towards something beyond simple friendship already, within mere minutes of talking to the guy.

“…This is going to be an exciting weekend,” you decide with a smile.

Sans grins back. “yeah? ya’ feel it in your bones?”

You laugh and your duffel bag slides down off your shoulder.

Luckily enough, you have pretty quick reflexes…and apparently, so does Sans.

For all you’d have expected a slow reaction, he reaches out lightning-quick and catches your bag before it can hit the ground—at the same time you catch it.

You touch.

Forming soulmarks don’t cause a physical sensation.

They don’t, it’s been studied: no one, not even monsters, the most soul-attuned sentient species on the planet can conclusively feel a soulmate match being made or say where the mark is forming with any degree of accuracy. Anyone who says otherwise is wrong, reacting psychosomatically at best.

And yet, you swear your skin is tingling all over from that one little brush of skin against bone.

Sans is…… you think Sans is your soulm—

You jump a little as suddenly, Sans has your entire hand in his grasp.

“hey,” he says, and through the very nice sensation of the warm, rough bones of his hand wrapping around yours, you notice that his grin is a little tight. “can we…not…?”

You blink at him, not understanding. “N…not?”

“the…the whole…soulmates thing,” he unhelpfully clarifies. “we don’t have to…look, y’know?”

………Ouch?

“Uh… I… I mean, I…guess?” you try. “If that’s…”

Sans looks pretty damn relieved and that’s yet another thing you hadn’t planned for. The ‘spark’ you’d felt must not have been very mutual if your pen-pal didn’t even want to know if you were soulmates, and that was…

Well, ouch.

“cool,” says Sans, “cool, it’s just…you’re… it’s… you’re here the whole weekend, it’d be……… no need to, uh, ruin the trip…right? it’ll… if we are,it’s…it ain’t like it’d be goin’ anywhere.”

………

Wait.

You almost actually, physically facepalm at the dramatic direction of your thoughts as reason finally occurs to you.

It would be insanely awkward to get all excited about a soulmark…and then risk not finding one immediately before having to spend a whole weekend with somebody—especially since Sans and his brother had so graciously offered to host you while you were visiting.

You think you feel equal parts silly and relieved.

“Yeah,” you agree, much more easily this time, “you’re right! We can…check that out later. For now, you just focus on showing your pal a fun Freedom Fest!”

Sans smiles, passing your bag back to you.

“that’s the plan,” he says and as he starts to amble off, you happily follow. “c’mon, let’s get ya’ settled in first.”

-

You last about two hours.

After arriving at the brothers’ house, meeting Papyrus, and enjoying some delicious (homegrown!!!) cucumber sandwiches for lunch, you’re shown to the guest bedroom and then the bathroom.

“This Is More Sans’ Hostly Duty Than Mine, But Quite Frankly,” Papyrus confided in you, “I’m Not Certain Sans Remembers We Have A Shower. But! You Seem Like A Fine, Upstanding Human With Standards And I’m Sure You’d Appreciate Knowing Where To Find It In Case You’d Like To Freshen Up Before The Opening Ceremony And Fireworks Tonight!”

That had sounded perfect to you, so you’d stripped down for a quick shower to rinse all the miscellaneous travel funk off and…

Well, there it had been.

You manage to contain yourself long enough to actually get clean and then you dry off, grabbing your phone to snap a…very carefully cropped photo of your inner thigh.

At first, you figure it’s just for you, because Sans had said…

But the longer you look at it, the less restraint you have and it really, really, really feels like Sans should get to see this.

You could easily go down the hall and knock on his door to show him, but you’ve been texting buddies for months.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world to pull up your chat and send the picture.

xXgoblincoreXx: [IMG-96]

xXgoblincoreXx: I looked, sorry…

And after a moment of thought:

xXgoblincoreXx: No regrets, though. :)

The dark, rough oyster shell on your thigh, just barely cracking open to reveal a pretty little pearl hiding inside…

It just gives you a really good feeling about your relationship with Sans, and you don’t know how to regret that.

You watch your phone, nervously awaiting a text that…never comes.

Because suddenly, from behind you, you hear, “i looked, too.”

You jump, whirling around to find Sans looming over you. You hadn’t even heard him come in and you marvel that such a big skeleton could move so silently, but that quickly falls by the wayside.

Sans is fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie, blushing again, but at your encouraging, curious smile, he shoves it back and lets you see.

“guessin’…guessin’ it’s a human thing,” he says, “‘cause i got no idea what it means. google ain’t helpin’ either, heheh…”

You don’t imagine it would—without already knowing the name of it or at least its context, it would probably be a little difficult to just stumble across a Rod of Asclepius.

You reach out and gently grab hold of Sans’ ulna, tracing the line of the rod all the way up to the thick cluster of his carpals where the head of the snake had settled.

He must be able to read some of the emotion on your face because after a moment, he tentatively speaks.

“s’it good?” he asks. “ya’ look like… seems like it’s…something good…yeah?”

It is so good.

You actually think you’re genuinely honored to have caused a mark like this because if there’s anybody out there who deserves to heal from everything they’ve been through, it’s a monster.

It’s Sans, your friend.

…But you don’t think you know him well enough yet to be able to say that out loud.

Instead you put a teasing smirk on your face and shrug.

“I’ll tell you later,” you say, letting go of his hand and heading out of the guest room. “Isn’t the fest starting soon? We should probably get going.”

There’s a pause…but then, Sans is hot on your heels.

“c’mon,” he pesters, “you know, just tell me.”

“I don’t recall,” you tell him. “I think you’re gonna have to refresh my memory somehow…”

“…you’re…ya’ want a bribe?”

“Sans!” you gasp. “I’m hurt! We’re friends, aren’t we? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Sans does know you better.

He quickly realizes, “ya’ want bribes.”

You elect not to respond.

“………eheheheheheheh, oh stars…”

You turn and Sans’ red eye-light is glowing brightly with mirth.

He looks like he’s having fun.

He looks happy.

“alright, twist my arm,” he mutters, shoving his sleeve back down. “you’ll get your bribes, but m’pretty sure i already know what it means, now.”

“Do you?”

“yeah—you’re a snake.”

You laugh.

“Oh, don’t get all hissy, I’ll tell you! You just might have to buy me one of those Spider Ciders I’ve heard so much about before I can remember properly.”

“an’ a funnel cake, too, i guess.” In spite of Sans’ put-upon tone, he looks just as amused as you are. “some popcorn. maybe a nice cream or two?”

“Now you’re getting it!”

You shoot Sans a wink and he snickers, shaking his head but hardly protesting your demands.

Depending on how the night goes…you think you might even be able to finagle a smooch onto the list.

The idea of getting to plant a kiss on this skeleton under the fireworks is very, very appealing.

You guess you’ll find out what fate has in store.

POST-SCRIPT

UT!Sans | UT!Papyrus | US!Sans | US!Papyrus | UF!Sans | UF!Papyrus | SF!Sans | SF!Papyrus | HT!Papyrus

#make your mark #undertale #sans #sans/reader #horrortale #ht!sans #fanfiction #myfic

[celestaux-branchais]

Forsaken Vows

{{These events take place 3.5-4 years ago IC, a loose blurb around Celestaux leaving Ishgard. It’s also rambly and jumpy and very self-serving and I only proofread once, you’re welcome.}}

Carvallain had always been fire. Bright and passionate and full of life- that had been what had drawn Celestaux to him as a child. The wild streak that somehow shown through the oppressive weight of Ishgardian nobility. Courage to the point of recklessness, and the silvertongue that always managed to talk his way out of it. Watching him was mesmerizing, to the point that the mask had slipped more than once or twice.

But Celestaux had always been ice. Cold with broken, jagged edges that he kept close to his breast in the hopes they’d not strike those around him. Where his friend threw sassy grins and the occasional wink, his face had remained smooth as stone. They’d made an odd pair, and more than once Celestaux had tried to peel away- for fire melted ice, and how could one afford to melt when there was naught else to protect the soft heart beneath? But he was weak and he could never drift far for long.

Until, like smoke, his flame had vanished. Gone, they’d said. Left aboard a ship to explore the realm. And then, not much later, dead. Ship overtaken by pirates, and slain in the fray. Had his heart existed outside a cage of ice, it might have broken. The cracks left were quickly refilled, strengthened with the permafrost that snaked its way in. He redoubled his focus with the blade- a weapon he hated but that had become like an extension of his own arm, and sunk himself deeper into Knight’s training.

The quiet moments he’d taken for himself- stealing away to his cousin’s room, perhaps the only place he’d been able to have a quiet discourse on literature- all but ceased. Lucien had been growing stronger, and Celestaux withdrew further. After so many summers spent abed, he was not about to force his cousin behind closed doors and away from his studies. They’d drifted, and by the time his cousin took his trip down the Witchdrop, they’d spoken hardly at all. The guilt settled heavy on his heart, frost slowly covering it until that, too, had become a part of him.

If he’d hoped to have learned his lesson, he failed. The draw to flame- to bright sun and optimism- had not left him. Bitter and cold as he was, he still gravitated towards those who put out light. Aymeric- a ‘dirty bastard with no business taking the mantle of a knight’, his father had said- found himself with an occasional second shadow. His burden was heavy, and yet he still retained his charming exterior. A lovely face, but that had drawn no special attention; that Aymeric spoke to him as comrade and knight- not as dreaded noble and hated Dzemael- it had been enough to warm the frozen spot within his chest.

And so he’d gone on, slowly mending any holes and cracks with frozen resolve. He kept his head down, avoiding promotions that might draw too much attention, speaking up only in support of those that rightfully deserved them- and quietly suffering the consequences for embarrassing the family name at home.

But then there had been a whisper. A knight’s cousin’s courier had made mention of a pirate in a far off port city. One that bore striking resemblance to the Lord de Durendaire. And wouldn’t that just be the funniest thing? A pirate for a bastard.

He’d sat on the rumour- it was hardly a rumour, for the it had been quashed as soon as it had begun- and at first did nothing. Moons passed, and while hope had long been something he’d long reconciled as foolishness, he found himself clinging desperately to it.

“If he were alive, and he had wished for you to know, he would have sent word.”

Those were the words that had kept him in place. The warning that, even should he dare go looking, he would almost certainly not like what he found. How many years had passed? How much had changed? How had he changed, growing ever colder and shrinking further behind the mask until it had become his own skin? He was not the boy he had been- and so how could he expect that he had not changed either? And even if he hadn’t- even if the pirate were still the boy he’d known deep down- what use had he for a frozen knight?

“What am I doing?” He tilted his head back to look at the stars, snow falling into his hood. The long robe hid his armour from view, but there was still the familiar clinking of chainmail with every step. Luckily, this far out into the wilds, he had little concern of being heard. His hand stayed steady on his sword, the shield long since pitched into the void of the Sea of Clouds.

He trudged deeper through the snow, keeping his distance from Whitebrim Front. Getting through the gates had been easy- he’d been another faceless guard, safe beneath the chain and helm of a Temple Knight- and had shown a false letter of great import that required urgent delivery- something far too dangerous for a simple courier, especially this time of night. And then, once he’d slipped well out of sight, he’d pulled the robe from his bag and replaced the helm with hood and pitched the wretched headpiece into the Sea of Clouds after his shield.

Daring the Coerthan wilds in the middle of the night- in the middle of winter- was a fool’s choice. But he hadn’t wanted to risk being followed. Though he left heavy footprints in the snow, they were quickly covered with fresh snow- all traces gone, as if he’d never been there at all.

The trek to the Twelveswood was long and grueling, but the Temple Knights had instilled in him a soldiers discipline. Even running from them as he was, he was grateful that the mindless march south was that much easier when he could simply fade back behind a soldier’s drive.

He’d stopped to rest but the once, a few bells of rest with his back pressed to the mountainside perhaps a bit closer to Dzemael Darkhold than was wise. But naught came of it, and it was not long before he was leaving the frozen north behind and stepping into the beautiful wilderness of the Northern Shroud.

Greenery and trees were things he’d only seen on campaigns since he was but a boy, and he found himself pausing long enough to draw the attention of the Wood Wailers. Just a traveler, he’d assured them, before requesting directions to Gridania.

It wasn’t that much farther- he could make the trip easily, but the moment he stepped foot in Fallgourd Float the weight of what he’d done weighed him down. He rented a room at the inn, using more gil than he’d allotted for this leg of the trip, and collapsed in the bed still fully clothed.

'What am I doing?’

The question repeated itself without end, the words becoming so blended together that they no longer made sense. This was madness- complete and utter madness. What business had he, abandoning his family- his oaths, his duty, his obligations- to chase what was surely just a rumour from a commoner spewing nonsense for attention. He would find nothing for him in Limsa Lominsa. He would end up a sellsword or dead in the gutter- or tuck his tail between his legs and return home to beg forgiveness.

Returning home was not an option.

There might be nothing for him in Limsa, but what awaited him at home- a furious father who knew how to hurt without leaving marks, an arranged marriage to a woman he dreaded- was worse. He’d prefer to be gutted in the streets for his coin purse than turn back now. Which, now that he thought about it, was another possibility in Limsa.

Sleep did not come- it hardly ever did, these days- and it was some bells later that he finally hauled himself out of bed to make use to the facilities. As much as he craved a hot bath, he settled for lukewarm so that his still-frozen toes did not burn. He scrubbed off the sweat and allowed the heat to seep in beneath his skin. Only once the water turned cold did he force himself out, drying quickly before simply collapsing back onto the bed.

Sleep did come, then. Just a few bells, hardly enough to call an actual test, but enough. When he awoke, he rose and donned his armour with mechanical motions. The robe he threw overtop, for even now out of Coerthas he was too freshly gone to feel at ease without it, and set out into the early morning light.

Gods, he’d missed trees. And foliage and animals that were not frozen hellbeasts or dragons ready to eat him whole. Despite his drive, he found himself taking his time through the forest. He could disappear here, instead. Learn the lay of the land, settle as but another labourer in whatever small settlement he stumbled into first. But that would not satisfy the curiosity, the driving need to know whether one he had lost yet breathed.

He abandoned you once. Why, then, would you not take the hint?

He grit his teeth, pausing within sight of the gate to Gridania. Why was he so set on finding this man? Would he even be remembered? He’d been one face of many- an annoying shadow at best- and here he was, so many summers later, attempting to track down someone who had so desperately wanted out that he’d organized his expedition and set out without a second thought.

Slowly, he took another step. It mattered naught, whether his old friend lived as pirate or privateer or whatever it was they were these days. There was a guild in Limsa, one of magic, and he would find something for himself that did not require ponzes of armour and blades and mindless obedience. Shunned or embraced, he could start over. Be someone who was not hated for his name and an utter disappointment to it besides.

Gridania was… not at all what he’d expected. Even as a city, it was full of greenery and plantlife. The market seemed as good a place as any to explore. He browsed over the wares, stopping only once his eyes settled on a smooth black mask.

“Ash Mask. Import from Limsa, real popular with those arcanist types.” The merchant behind the table spoke up, noticing his pause. “For you? Three hundred gil.”

“Two hundred.” Cele raised his eyes, studying the man. He pulled the coin from his pocket, waiting. They settled at two twenty-five, and yet he still walked away feeling ripped off. Perhaps this was why he’d never been allowed to visit the markets on his own.

With mask firmly affixed over his face, he finally dropped the hood. With face safely covered, he set out on the rest of his journey. He hitched rides with traveling merchants, trading protection for food. The journey through the Twelveswood was pleasant enough, and he’d have happily traded the oppressive desert heat of Thanalan for another ambush by Ixal or poachers. Coerthas had not always been ice, but dry heat was not something he had ever been prepared for. Though even miserable as he was, he’d elected to take the long way; seeing at least a little bit of what Eorzea had to offer had been his hope, and he’d certainly not been disappointed.

The ferryman in Vesper Bay was, despite his desire to wander, a welcome sight. Traveling was rough, and he longed to collapse in a proper bed for a night before throwing himself headfirst into what was hopefully a new life. The possibility of rejection still weighed heavy in the back of his mind, but it was easier to ignore when crowded behind the exhaustion of traipsing across the desert.

He’d parted ways with his latest companions back in Horizon, and so he boarded the ship to Limsa alone. The boat was all but empty of other travelers and so he’d dared to slip the mask from his face to get his first real look at the sea.

An endless expanse of glittering blue, teeming with life just below the surface. The further from shore they went, the more fish seemed to drift close to the surface. The shifted in a million shades of brown, all beautiful despite surely being robbed of their true colour. They passed large ships, with sails taller than buildings and weighed down with cannon that would give any Ward a run for its money. The sounds of men shouting carried on the wind, and he could practically feel the salt in the air. He leaned back in the boat, eyes drifting and trying to take in everything. Limsa was bright and shining and loud and so very alive.

Perhaps he could understand why someone might prefer the sea.

#cele lore #woops it's bad #cele snaps #{drabble}

[sending-the-message]

Intercepted Radio Transmissions [Part 2] by grigorianeye

Part 1

King: Radio check, you guys got all your shit together? (Indistinct voices) Good. Command, you are now designated call sign “Kasparov”, confirm.

Kasparov: King, this is Kasparov, I confirm call sign designation. Are your men in position?

King: We are. Team, call signs as follows. Team leader designated “King”. Lieutenant, your call sign is “Queen”.

Queen: Of course I am. MVP role for me.

King: Fuck off. In sequence, “Rook”, “Bishop”, “White Knight”, “Black Knight”.

White Knight: Should I be insulted or honored?

King: And you, EOD, your call sign is designated “Boomer”.

Unknown Sender: (indistinct)

King: Your radio giving you trouble Boomer? Bishop, make sure all his connections are good, I don’t want him giving us the silent treatment.

Boomer: Testing, testing, can you hear me now? Ah, the joys of the lowest bidder.

King: Yeah, we got you. You ready to move in? Are we driving in your piece, or are we going to have to carry it?

Boomer: Negative, Talon can drive in, but we might need to give it a hand on the stairs.

King: Good deal. Kasparov, we are now entering the NALHC facility.

Kasparov: Confirmed, King. QRF is on standby inside the building. Aries Team is monitoring the facility cameras. Be advised, there are multiple blind spots inside due to damage to the camera security systems.

King: Very good. What kind of cameras are we talking?

Kasparov: Regular light. There are no low light or IR cameras online.

King: Well, that’s too bad. Rook, Bishop, take lead, secure the stairwell, Black Knight, White Knight, see if you can get the bot downstairs without dropping it. Bottom sub-basement. Hey you, you the Aries commander?

Aries 2-1: Second platoon, I’m commanding. We’ll be watching the cameras for you. We’ve had some unexplained movement on sub-basement 1, but… we’re having a difficult time identifying the source.

Queen: What do you mean?

Aries 2-1: Honestly, we aren’t sure. We’ve swept that floor three times. There’s no place to hide, but we keep getting flashes of movement on multiple camera angles.

King: Do you have any still images of it?

Aries 2-1: Wait one. (indistinct voices) Here’s four frames. It’s nothing but blur, we can’t make heads or tails of it.

King: The fuck? Only four frames? Where is that?

Aries 2-1: Only four. I don’t get it either, the cameras are running at thirty frames per, but it only shows up in flashes. It’s down in some of the equipment monitoring stations. Big open floor, a few support columns, but even those aren’t going to be any kind of cover. From the perspective, we think they’re about five feet, give or take. Whoever they are, they must be sticking close to the walls. Most of the cameras in that floor are still up.

Queen: When was the last time you had movement?

Aries 2-1: About 45 minutes ago. Just those four frames worth. Nearly twenty minutes before that. Six frames, even blurrier. It seems to be getting longer and longer between instances, and the amount of screentime is dropping, too. I think whoever it is, is trying to hide from the camera pos

Unknown sender: Goddamn it, slower!

King: Last calling, what’s up?

Rook: Rook here, sir. Tweedledee nearly pushed me down a flight.

White Knight: Maybe you should give me some warning before you stop dead in your tracks. I can’t exactly see behind me.

Queen: I’ll head down and deal with the children.

King: Anything on the cameras at the bottom?

Aries 2-1: Nothing. Cameras at the bottom are all blown out or otherwise unresponsive. We have full coverage of the surface level, partial of sub-basement one, and the stairwells and elevators are all online.

White Knight: Elevators? Are you shitting me, guy?

Black Knight: Quit crying and go to the gym more.

White Knight: Says the guy walking forward, and can see what he’s doing.

Black Knight: All I see is your ugly face, my feet are as blind as you are, asshole.

Queen: Would both of you just shut up and walk?

Aries 2-1: Wouldn’t matter, the elevators are locked down, only the cameras in them work. We still can’t get the override to let us into them. Where are you guys from, anyway?

King: We’re special delivery from Fort Carson, sorry it took so long for us to get here.

Queen: Sir, we’re in position. Boomer is setting up the Talon now.

King: Okay, let me know when he’s done. So explain to me what exactly is sitting in the basement.

Aries 2-1: You’d have to talk to Charon lead to get an accurate description. Don’t expect much though, they got pulled within a few minutes of contact. All I know, big silver ball right where the reaction or collision, or whatever it was happened. Weird things though, is they heard singing. One guy swore it was Italian, but someone else on the team was sure it wasn’t. Weirdest thing though, the thing was basically a mirror, but no one could see their reflection in it.

King: What do you mean?

Aries 2-1: Whole room was reflected in the thing, but none of our team was showing up. One of the survivors from the top floor was trying to suggest that was some of the liquid helium coolant, but he couldn’t explain that bit.

White Knight: Couldn’t we have just called in an old priest and a young priest?

Queen: I swear to God, I will have you dusting the dirt when we get back up topside if you don’t shut up.

White Knight: Sorry, sir. Should we pray to Heinlein instead?

Queen: King, Boomer has the bot set up and ready to roll in. We’re ready to crack the doors whenever you say go. White Knight has lead.

White Knight: Oh, come on LT.

King: On the way down. Hold for me.

Queen: Got it sir. Rook, Bishop, stack up. Tweedledee and Tweedledum, take a knee behind the bot, get ready to cover.

Black Knight: Serious, boss? You’re gonna lump me in with him?

Queen: I didn’t pick the call signs, but they’re fitting nicely so far.

King: Says the Queen.

Queen: Goddamn it, Captain. You here yet? I want to get this over with. I’m not hearing any singing, but I’m properly creeped.

Rook: You don’t?

Queen: Do you?

Rook: I’m not hearing singing, but there’s some real faint musical something coming through. You really don’t hear it?

Queen: Nothing. Anyone else hearing it?

Black Knight: I hear something, but it’s not singing, and I really wouldn’t call it music.

King: Okay, here. Boomer, you ready to roll?

Boomer: Ready.

King: Rook, Bishop, pull the doors, let’s get this show moving. Kasparov, we are moving in on the epicenter.

Kasparov: King, you are a go.

King: Boomer, the floor is yours. Let’s see what’s in the box.

Boomer: Moving the Talon in. Kasparov, are you seeing the visual feed from the bot?

Kasparov: We see it. Video shows the orb, but there seems to be some rather serious distortion around it. Is that just the video feed or are you seeing the same distortion in person?

Boomer: I see something, but damned if I can define it. Looks kinda like a heat wave off a hot road. Okay, Talon is now four meters from the orb. Readings are normal, but it looks like there a sharp temperature drop the closer it gets.

King: Drop? It’s getting colder?

Boomer: Here, look at the feed. It’s dropping a degree or two every foot.

Queen: Does that mean it really is just the helium coolant? What’s making it go all “Sphere” on us? And where are the reflections?

King: How cold is the surrounding area right there? Can we move in closer?

Boomer: Don’t see why not. It’s cooler than here, but we’re not talking Arctic storm.

King: Rook, Bishop, move around, see if you can get behind the orb, see what you can see.

Rook: Moving.

Boomer: Contact. Okay, so the surface of that thing is sitting at a brisk 55 Fahrenheit, 11.1 Celsius. Doesn’t seem to be any sort of skin on the thing, seems liquid all right. No sign of what’s suspending it, or what’s causing it to hold its shape.

King: Gotta be something at the center holding it like that. Maybe the collider created something, I heard some old conspiracy theories before that they were worried CERN might make a black hole. Rook, Bishop, what you got for me?

Bishop: Nothing back here sir, except some busted equipment. One weird thing though, I think the orb might have been a bit bigger when it first formed. There are some pretty clear indications that something scooped out anything that was near it. I think it might have eaten it when it popped into existence.

King: Good to know. Get back over here, I don’t want you near that thing when we send in the Talon.

Rook: Moving back to you

W Knight: Uh… sir? Look at where the Talon is making contact. It looks like veins or something.

Boomer: Pretty sure that’s just temperature flux from the Talon. Looks pretty though. Sorta like a Christmas tree ball or something. Silver with blue whorls.

King: Kasparov, permission to proceed?

Kasparov: Confirmed, you have authorization to see what Talon can find inside the center of that orb.

W Knight: How many licks do you think it’ll take?

King: Boomer, the floor is yours. Let’s see what we can see.

Boomer: Breaching surface. Video feed is good, manipulation arms in place. There doesn’t seem to be any sort of resistance to it.

Aries 2-1: Kasparov, be advised, we have movement on Sub-basement 1 again. Charon Team is requesting permission to take up positions in the main room on that floor.

Kasparov: Acknowledged, Aries 2-1, tell Charon they have permission to take positions. Tell them to make sure they’re carrying lethal arms this time.

King: Knight, set up and watch our back until Charon is in place. I don’t want any surprises, and I don’t like this timing.

W Knight: Me or him?

King: Both.

Boomer: Uh, something’s wrong. Talon has advanced 20 feet, but there’s no sign of the center. I think I might have driven it all the way through the orb. I’m just a few feet away from the wall now.

King: What? Queen, take Rook and circle around, we’ll try to guide it back in and find out what’s holding this thing together.

Queen: Gotcha, moving.

Aries 2-1: Kasparov, King, be advised, Charon teams have taken up position, your back is secure.

King: Appreciate it Aries. They see anything?

Charon 1-1: See, no. But it looks like a tornado went through here. Papers all over the place and chairs and desks have been pushed back. No footprints in the ash though, so I have no idea how.

Queen: Sir, uh, Talon hasn’t made it through this side.

Boomer: What? It must have, I’ve given it 25 feet of cord, it should be right up against the far wall.

Queen: Afraid not. It’s not through.

Boomer: Fuck’s sake. I can see it on the feed. It’s moved out of the orb. I can move it a little more and wave to mys-

(Brief silence)

Boomer: Something’s wrong. I can’t see any of us on the video feed.

King: I’m sorry, what?

Boomer: Look. There’s the desk, there’s the doors, there’s the racks, but no us.

B Knight: The hell?

W Knight: So we in the Twilight Zone or something?

King: Kasparov, this is King. I’m moving up to the orb.

Kasparov: That is strongly disadvised, King.

King: Noted. Queen, you’re in charge if something goes wrong.

Queen: Sir, I’m pretty sure we should hold off on that, we don’t know what the orb did to Talon.

King: At the surface of the orb now. It’s kinda chilly. Uh, doesn’t feel wet. Actually, doesn’t feel like anything, it’s like an air bubble. I’m inside now

Kasparov: King, be advised, we have lost your visual feed, I say again, we have no access to your visual feed.

Queen: We’re still seeing Talon video, what’s up with his?

Boomer: Talon has a cable, doesn’t rely on wireless transmission.

King: Okay, I’m fully through and out, walking around. (brief silence noted here) That’s really unsettling. I can see the Talon, but I don’t have eyes on my team. Moving forward to the door.

Boomer: Okay, we have King on the visual feed from Talon.

Queen: Jesus. He should be right next to us. What the fuck is this shit?

King: Holy mother of God. This isn’t right. Guys, look at this shit.

Queen: Sir, we’re coming in there to join you. Boomer, hold this position. Kasparov, come in.

Kasparov: Queen, this is Kasparov, send it.

Queen: We’re moving into the orb and going to support King. You’ll lose our video feed shortly.

Kasparov: What did King find, we’re blind here.

Queen: He found a flag.

King: Not just any flag. It’s a Kriegsmarine flag, but it’s in red, white and blue. Old Glory is sitting top left quadrant, but there’s an iron cross in the circle. The other quadrants are red, white and blue.

W Knight: You found what? That’s not possible.

King: There’s something else. There’s a plaque on the wall. Reads “For the advancement of the great Holy American Empire”. Something is very off here. It looks like this place hasn’t been touched in years. It’s filthy, much worse than just the ash in, uh, “our” facility.

Charon 1-1: Break, break, something is happening on sub-basement 1. Something in the far corner of the cubicle farm just turned on a light. Negative movement.

King: Hold up. There’s some footprints here in the dirt in the stairwell. I can’t identify them, one set, looks like it’s from something heavy. Shit. Oh, shit, this looks recent.

Queen: Knights, you’re with me, Bishop, Rook, hold positions until we give you the go ahead. King: do not move, we’re coming to you.

King: I’m moving up the stairwell. Tracks are going down, but I don’t see any going up.

W Knight: Can the fucker hear us? Captain, hold up, we’re moving in to support.

Queen: I don’t think comms are making it. Alright, double time this, no one goes anywhere alone, we gotta meet up with him.

King: At sub basement one. This place looks like it’s been deserted for decades. Some foot marks in the dirt. Can’t say what they belong to though. Some sort of biped though, from what I can see. Oh shit. I found a calendar. The last page torn off says July 11th. From 1999.

Queen: We’ve passed through the fracture, I have eyes on Talon. Captain, can you hear me now?

King: Queen? Yeah, I read you. Get up here, you have to see this to believe it.

Rook: Queen, this is Rook. Charon team is here with Boomer, we’re moving on your position now, stand by.

(brief silence, static)

Queen: Oh yeah, this isn’t creepy at all. There any notes? Anything written on any of the calendars? Spread out, see if you can find anything to paint us a picture.

Unconfirmed Sender (believed to be Black Knight): Did you hear that? Shit, something’s above us.

King: Positions, we’re pushing up to the ground floor, Knights, you’re on me. Queen, hold back with Rook and Bishop until we breach the top door, then follow us up. Safeties off, gentlemen.

(approximately 30 seconds of silence, followed by a loud bang)

King: Sweep forward, check your corners. Queen, move up.

Queen: Moving.

Rook: Jesus, what is this, the American Pripyat? Every pane of glass is busted out, looks like a mob came through here. Front door is wide open.

King: Cover me, Black Knight, left side, White Knight, stay on my ass. I’m moving to the door.

W Knight: Gotcha boss.

(brief silence)

King: The fuck? Okay, yeah this place has officially moved into permanent residence in the Twilight Zone. Kasparov, we are not in Kansas, I say again, we are not in Kansas.

Unknown Sender: Fucking Christ! Man down!

(Automatic gunfire is heard through radio)

Unknown Sender: Kill it! Stagger fire, move back to the door! No, fucking drag him back, Collins, go cyclic, I don’t give a shit if you melt the barrel, don’t let it move!

Kasparov: Last calling station, report.

Charon 1-1: This is Charon, we have two… No, three men down! Something is in here, Sub-basement 1, I can’t say what, I don’t have eyes on it!

Aries 2-1: There’s nothing on the feed, I don’t see jack shit!

Charon 1-1: We’re pulling out, I can’t even say for sure that we hit it! Everyone take positions on the door, do not let it through, we’re gonna seal the door shut until we-

(Screams, further gunfire)

Kasparov: All callsigns this net, instructions to follow. Chessboard, hold position, Aries, move a secondary team into position to support callsign Boomer. All Bia callsigns, move to sub-basement 1, your orders are to shoot on sight. More to follow.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story