#screaming dying et cetera

[a-dragons-journal]

By the way, in case anyone's wondering, yes, I am indeed Losing My Fucking Mind over the new Frontiers of Pandora reveals that dropped on Monday (Tuesday? timeblindness my beloathed), I just haven't gotten the chance to write about it.

I'm going to die! I am going to die. How am I meant to wait until December for this??? I genuinely wanted to cry seeing some of those biomes for the first time, even on the shitty little phone screen I had to watch the livestream on. I'm going to fall to pieces when this game actually comes out. Nobody's gonna see me for a solid week. It's so beautiful and it's so home and I yearn. I am not even a little bit normal about this! I don't even know how many times I've watched the two trailers that got released within the last week!

And, like - I'm admittedly here for Pandora first, story second, and gameplay third, but the story and gameplay look really promising too?? There's definitely ways for them to fuck up the premise of "Na'vi children were taken from their home and forced to train to fight their own people," but so far the Avatar franchise has mostly done a good job in Not fucking up things I was afraid they'd fuck up in recent years story-wise, so I have faith in this one. I really hope they do it well. And the gameplay - we'd already heard that the world is supposed to be highly interactive and reactive, changing with the player's actions, which I'm excited for, and this seems to reinforce that; and things like cooking and harvesting and crafting? Gods, I'm in heaven. I'm not usually super into that kind of thing in games, but when it comes to Eywa'eveng I want all the immersion I can get. I am going to eat this game when it comes out.

AND WE'VE SEEN SO MANY NEW ANIMALS AND PLANTS JUST IN THESE TRAILERS, AND THEY ALL LOOK SO COOL AND SO GOOD, I'M GONNA DIE. I want to know everything about all of them! Every single one!

Ugh, gods. Screenshots and probably more rambling about them below the cut so I don't destroy everyone's dashboards. Someone put me in cryo too because I am not gonna be able to wait six months for this.

#frontiers of pandora #hearthome #rani talks #journaling #screaming dying et cetera #avatar 2009

[thecryptidbard]

Losing it over the fact that the latest episode started with Laszlo (seemingly) completely dejected and despondent, everyone in the house individually convinced that it’s all their fault, and then halfway through dropped Nadja’s detached “maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if we ended up dying?” like a fucking brick but then devoted the final part of the episode to showing that despite the monotony and endlessness inherent to their lives, these weirdos all have so much care and love and devotion for one another even when it’s in spite of themselves, that they all derive so much meaning from their relationships with each other, choosing to end on the note of the Baron’s “I suppose with the right company, it can be beautiful, this eternal existence.” Screaming crying throwing up et cetera

#wwdits #wwdits season 5 spoilers #the roast #I think this ep was thematically very similar to A Farewell #but to me at least the narrative arc worked even better in this one #it speaks

[squalodinoappreciationsquad]

Hey there! So, just thinking about these two again. If I can, I'd like to bother you for your headcanon for happened after the Ring Battles. Had they been estranged prior to the battles? How do you think they went about reconciling after being on opposite sides?

Hello! 💖

No bother at all, I would love to talk about my idiots to infinity and beyond!

SO.

For this particular answer I have A LOT to talk about, but I will try to be short and simple and hopefully make sense.

So.

First of all, I think that these two did not originally part ways exactly as friends, ESPECIALLY after the whole Cradle thing.

On one side we have a very angry Squalo shouting: I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON MY SIDE DAMMIT, I NEEDED YOU WHY DID YOU SIDE WITH THE VONGOLA?!

And on the other side we have a very sad Dino shouting: MY PEOPLE WOULD HAVE DIED ATROCIOUSLY, I HAVE WORKED SO HARD FOR WHAT?

S: AND AM I NOT YOUR PEOPLE?

D: YOU LEFT ME IN A DITCH TO FOLLOW XANXUS.

Et cetera etcetera, you know, divorce is happening and it's ugly.

Which definitely would not end up well, but as the Internet dads @ Cinema therapy say, "the more you are angry, the more you are stupid".

In any case there is a rift, but they kind of start walking on eggshells around each other, but like they don't exactly HATE each other, they are suffering from a bad case of miscommunication, mixed with being forced to choose sides and the supposed betrayal they suffered at each other's hand.

Anyway, Canon happens, the battle of the rings happens and Squalo nearly gets chomped down by a shark.

And Dino sees that it is not Yamamoto Takeshi, but Squalo Superbi. And Dino is:

he is definitely an ex friend and traitor, what do you mean i have gone into a full panic attack? what do you mean i have tried giving him cpr myself, what do you mean I have just gone into a frenzy because he is dying and my world is suddenly falling apart and I am having huge flashbacks to when my dad died?

In any case Dino starts feeling guilty, because maybe if back then he had used whatever leverage he had had as new Cavallone Decimo things would have gone differently, etc, in a neverending spiral of doom. In any case Dino feels as guilty as hell.

Days later Squalo awakens and Dino is beside his bed, looking all worried. And Squalo is like "why did you save me?" and Dino is like "it would have been trouble for the Vongola if you died" or something like that.

And to this day I DO NOT believe a single moment that Squalo believed in that pathetic excuse.

Anyway.

Days, maybe weeks pass and finally Squalo is not going around with the same nonchalant walk of Dr. House and he decides that he wants to find out why Dino has saved him, because Vongola Nono did want him, Xanxus and the rest of the Varia very much dead and they did not die because it appears that Iemitsu put in some sort of good word.

In any case, Squalo goes straight to Villa Cavallone and does not even wait to be announced. He storms into Dino's living room with the rage of a thousand suns and screams something like "VOOOOI WHY DID YOU DO WHAT YOU DID REALLY? I DO NOT WANT ANY PATHETIC EXCUSE, CAZZO!"

(In my hcs, Squalo cusses like a sailor)

And Dino in that moment does not have Romario, or Reborn, he is alone trying to deal with his own anxiety and just goes with "Because I feel GUILTY!!!"

S: Guilty of what

D: For not having your back all of this time, I am a horrible friend and I deserve death! And I also feel like a coward because you too were my people, along with my family!

Which makes them both shut up for like a good five minutes and finally prompts a sort of discussion. Not a coherent one, very much full of cries and screams, in which it is established that:

Dino very much thinks of Squalo as "his people"

Dino also is very much hurt that Squalo was willing to end a friendship over Xanxus and his ambition

Squalo very much offended that Dino would think that Xanxus would be the one ending their friendship

Squalo is very much hurt because if Dino thinks of him as "his people", then he should have sided with Varia and then the Varia would have taken care of anyone who dared hurting Dino's people

At the end of the day neither of them were to be blamed, they were forced to choose a side whilst being in the eye of the typhoon

S: is that everything or is there more?

D: NO, I also saved you because I was panicking and I did not want to lose you, literally.

S: what if I killed the brat then, what if I won the match?

D: I don't know, I panicked, I don't know what I would have done!

They understand each other very well, but they are an utter mess these two. They don't know how to communicate.

Cue Dino accidentally confessing undying and eternal love to Squalo, which takes Squalo by surprise. Cue Dino realizing what he has just said and wanting to disappear into the ground.

After all peace was never an option.

Well, at least something has come out of this mess.

Squalo will need to think of an answer, quickly. He has never prioritized anything about love, to him it was fight or die and now he is speechless. And he leaves.

It's gonna be up to Lussuria, who is somehow sensible to these things, and Romario, aka Dino's parental figure, to push these idiots to talk it out again.

And they do, agreeing to take things slow whilst they both figure themselves out.

Well. I hope you enjoyed the rollercoaster, dear anon. By the time they are TYL they are happily married.

Also, I am ace, but you are free to imagine them figuring themselves out in other ways, *winkwinknudgenudge*

And this was supposed to be short... Sorry!!!

#mod replies #khr asks #khr headcanons #dino cavallone #squalo superbi #THEM

[ryttu3k]

Pre-Nona Locked Tomb reread time! Going back over both Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth, Mysterious Study, As Yet Unsent and the extra content in the paperbacks, and, possibly, the already-released content for Nona. Assorted thoughts, callbacks, et cetera that catch my eye, with the assumption that anyone else reading has already seen all the above content, so obviously massive spoilers abound.

First up! Gideon the Ninth - Act 1, chapters 1-8.

Chapter 1

The door to the castle has carvings where the eyes seem to look right at you. Whenever Gideon had to go through them as a kid, "she'd screamed like she was dying." Warded?

"Your Lady would stone cold eat a baby". Awks.

"and she loved her sword so much she could frigging marry it." Awkwardness continues tbh

'"I guess I'll disgrace you," Gideon admitted easily. "I feel like I was born to it."'

Chapter 2

Harrow is massaging her wrists and hands the whole time she's talking to Gideon. Even before the reveal, nice bit of foreshadowing.

"All because," said Gideon, checking her clock again, "I completely fucking hate you, because you are a hideous witch from hell. No offense."

There was a pause.

"Oh, Griddle!" said Harrow pityingly, in the silence. "But I don't even remember about you most of the time."

They're in love.

Chapter 3

"I know the things that befall cavaliers, my lord, I know his fate!"

Chapter 4

She reached down and hauled up one of the discarded blades. It was at least mildly hilarious to see Harrow have to heave with all the might of her, like, three muscles. Gideon took it while the necromancer rubbed fretfully at her wrists.

It's okay Harrow you'll get better at that.

"You're bound to the Locked Tomb... and at the end of the night, the Locked Tomb is me."

Hm.

"... if you don't get out now, you won't even get out in a box."

"So what happens if I agree?"

You’ll still get out in a box :(

Chapter 5

"All you need to know is that you'll do what I say, or I'll mix bone meal in with your breakfast and punch my way through your gut."

Which was, Gideon had to admit, entirely plausible.

AND HOW.

Chapter 6

What was Crux doing down in the bowels of Drearburh?

'"I want to watch you die."

"Maybe, Nonagesimus," she said with deep satisfaction, "maybe. But you sure as hell won't do it here."'

Oh yeah that's a fun line I love getting punched in the heart with spikes.

Chapter 7

Timeline details - Jod hasn't been back to the First House in nine thousand years.

Gideon just flat-out in awe of Earth and wondering how anything less wouldn't be on fire. Sixth and seventh are definitely Mercury and Venus, then.

The sunglasses were found in Drearburh, so I wonder whose they were originally? Anastasia's? Samael's? (Anastasia might have brought them back.) Matthias'? Wake's? ...Alecto's?

Edit: Harrow’s reaction here oh man.

Chapter 8

The cups are 'hot and smooth to the touch, like stone but smoother and thinner.' Porcelain, I guess? There are a lot of materials that just... don't appear on Drearbuhr.

"But I see no reason not to hope that I may behold eight new Lyctors by the end of this, joined together with their cavaliers" Yeah :-\

#the locked tomb #ry reads the locked tomb

[zolusbian]

so i had an Incident driving today. it’s been a few weeks since i drove the car because we’d been traveling, the weather’s been bad, whatever, but today i was supposed to go to pilates, so i thought, okay, i’ll drive there. now, you do NOT use parking brake in florida. until moving to brazil i have never used a parking brake in my life. obviously, we have to use it here. i forgot to pull up the parking brake and had some trouble driving. i chalked it up to me not having driven for a while. then i got stuck at an intersection, the car kept dying (manual), i caused, like, a 10-minute traffic jam. finally i get the car to move. okay. i’m rattled but i’m doing it. THEN i turn onto the hilliest uphill street in this city and i’m struggling but i’m almost there, right? and then the car just. dies. in the middle of the street. on an incline. and i can’t figure out what to do. i’m tryng and trying and trying and it won’t move. it just keeps dying. it’s making weird sounds. the shift is going crazy. i’m freaking out.

so i call noa and he tries to help me park, because then, like, i can park the car and walk to pilates because  was only a little bit away, i’m only a little bit late at this point. except when i start trying to park -- which i was doing by going backwards because, again, i can’t get the car to move forwards -- i lose control and end up hitting the curb. the car is now diagonal like this / in the street. i am parked across from a business. i am crying so hard at this point. eventually, noa comes and gets me on the moto and i sit on the car and cry and cry and cry and feel like the shittiest person on the earth.

two people approached and asked if i was okay/needed help -- an older man and a woman -- and i was like, no, my boyfriend’s coming, i just can’t drive very well, thank you, thank you. noa comes, he takes the car and i take the moto (i have been learning how to drive the moto but wasn’t sure if i could take it on real streets yet -- turns out i can!) and we go home.

the point of this story is i still feel like shit. i feel awful. i feel sad. i feel like a failure, like i’m worthless, et cetera. but also, i didn’t come home and immediately go to bed and sleep for five hours. i didn’t scream and cry. i didn’t self-harm. i didn’t have a meltdown. breakdown, yes, but not a meltdown. we came home, i read some silly things on the internet, noa brought me sweet treats that we ate together, and then we had to order gas for the stove because it was out and i cleaned behind the stove while we changed it. i didn’t let it ruin my day! i’m going to get some work in, i’m not going to let it ruin my day! and tomorrow i am going to go out driving with noa, to regain my confidence, and to not let this trauma ruin driving a manual car for me. even if i just use the moto, i still need to know how to drive - what if one of the pets have an emergency? what if it’s raining? et cetera.

anyway i’m proud of myself. i feel shitty but i’m still proud of myself.

#text post

[singthesongsofsin]

⇷ / for Hellaina!

@k1ttyb0t | Send “⇷” to view a memory from my muse’s past life.

Sacramento, California. Circa 1967.

The kitchen table is between her and Josie, because her sister has decided to have this conversation instead of just letting it happen, and letting it go. Hellaina's still feeling rough from the procedure: blood, and the occasional bout of nausea. It's why she came out into the kitchen at all, for a cup of peppermint tea.

Her doctor had been good, and more importantly, sympathetic. He'd fallen hook, line, and sinker for the pretty blonde girl's sob story about her boyfriend and what having this kid would do to her, et cetera, et cetera. It had even been partially true, it would cause 'emotional and physical distress'... even if that was entirely because it interrupted her plans.

Hellaina sets her hands on top of the counter, fingers splayed, refusing to bend to her sister's judgement.

"Hel-"

"Don't."

"You didn't have to get an abortion."

And there's her sister's holier than thou attitude, the little cross necklace glinting at her collar selling the whole thing.

"No? What were my choices?"

"Well you could have raised them." Hellaina laughs, rolling her eyes. "Your boyfriend-"

"Experiment," she corrects. Her sister's expression turns puzzled, and Hellaina almost wants sigh. An abortion was unthinkable, but her being a lesbian is somehow even more so. Well, it's not like she could disappoint her family any more. "I don't like men, Josie. He was a curiosity, and an underwhelming one at that. He left me with a slight problem so I dealt with it."

It hadn't been a question either. Sure, the side-effects had been enough to give her a pause for a day or a two, but when there was a time limit, it had been easy enough to harden her heart to the choice. Though, her expression twitches, but she refuses to give her the sister the satisfaction of seeing her twitch, even as her stomach rolls again.

"Or," Josie says, breezing past that revelation. "I would have raised them."

And that is enough to make her laugh, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Oh, oh right, your good Christian charity. I forgot."

Josie's expression twists, and she stands up straighter, moving to grip the back of the dining chair. "What? It would have been a better solution."

Hellaina's laughter dies down, and she shakes her head. "Right," she says, the vowel elongating into sarcasm. "Because you never would have held it over my head." She pitches her voice up, deliberately mocking. "'Look at me, being the good daughter, taking in your mistake while you go off and live an exciting life.' Don't pretend you wouldn't have held it over me forever."

No, no, better to have a clean break. "So you think that murder is a better option? So you can go and have some illustrious 'future'?"

"You might be happy living and dying for mediocrity, but I'm not. Especially not here for another year for a half dozen cells." She already has her bus tickets bought-- did the day she got the procedure done. A week, and she'd be gone.

"You bitch," Josie, says, with a vitriol that Hellaina is ill used to seeing from her sister, and it's enough to shock her.

"Oooh, look at you, using some adult words."

"You have never been content with this place. Little miss too good for this. Graduated, and you don't care about anyone do you?" Josie says it as critique, a cutting remark. Hellaina supposes to Josie, it must seem like the largest possible sin.

A lifetime coming to this. A screaming match, or half a step off, over their childhood kitchen table.

They've never been close, so it's not like she can be surprised. Her sister has always been too much like their mother. Their mother with her crucifix on the bedroom wall, and the absent husband, and the thinly veiled derogatory remarks that led her to taking Spanish all through high school. Their mother who isn't half as happy as she portrays to the neighbors and her sister is just two decades off the same fate.

"Congratulations for figuring that much out." She says, turning away, and taking a step towards the hallway with her room. "We're done here. I've done it, you disagree. Let's not prolong this anymore than we have to.

"Hel-" her sister's voice raises behind her, the last syllable muffled through the slam of her bedroom door.

#tw: abortion #🐍 hellaina | headcanon #🐍 hellaina | sold her soul to take the crown #fun note! Her sister never says her full name #because Hellaina NEVER uses it #She is Hellaina and has been Hellaina for longer than she wasn't #and actively feels less than 0 connection with the name her mother gave her #Also your fun reminder that Hellaina isn't... nice #she's happier in hell by far

[angelicimagines]

(Regular Ask | Any Mod) Taka, Makoto, Sonia, and Shuichi (Platonic) coming to the Ultimate [Grief] Counselor after their close friend's (Gundham/Kaede/Et Cetera.) trial for help and comfort through it?

Sad, I like it. Shout out to this request for solidifying what we all want to do to the danganronpa characters, help them. Sorry it took so long to get to your request Anon, there was some stuff that needed to be taken care off behind the scenes. Here's your request. –Mod Shuichi

Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Makoto Naegi, Sonia Nevermind, Shuichi Saihara getting comfort from the Ultimate Grief Counselor (Platonic)

Kiyotaka Ishimaru📚

📚 The light show began dying down as reality stabbed it's dead cold hands into Ishimaru. Mondo Oowada is dead. 📚 He couldn't believe it, he trusted the guy, hell they were best friends, and then he went and committed a murder? Though he couldn't bring himself to blame Mondo, the situation they were in didn't leave much choices to take. 📚 He was feeling so much, yet so little. He didn't know what to do, he didn't want to do anything yet he wanted to do so much. But he couldn't, and that was the worst feeling. 📚 And so, all of those emotions eventually got out. Kiyotaka started screaming his heart out, silently cursing whatever entity had allowed for this to happen. 📚 He continued this for a while until his throat was sore and began walking to his room with a still pain ridden heart. He kept replaying the trial and execution in his mind, no matter how uch he wanted it gone it was still there… 📚 His thoughts diverted when he remembered you in the trials. Ultimate Grief Counselor, maybe they could help. 📚 Ignoring everything else in his surroundings, Ishimaru knocked on your door trying his best to stay and let himself get help. No matter how much he didn't want to…his own safety would be in jeopardy if he didn't turn to you fast enough. 📚 You opened the door and let him in with a sympathetic expression on your face. You knew you couldn't begin to understand what he was going through, but you did know how to help him navigate through his grief. 📚 Ishimaru was not a very touchy person, you knew that, so you settled for asking him various questions about himself. He didn't know how this was helping and he wanted to be angry, but he still answered them to the best of his ability. 📚 Eventually, you asked him to tell you about Mondo and all of the memories they shared together. Ishimaru managed to tell you a lot of them through tears before his sobs butchered up his words. 📚 You offered him some tissues and gave him a present of sorts. It was a heart-shaped locket. You told him that whenever he was feeling sad about Mondo, he should rub or hold the locket close to his heart. 📚 You advised him to try it now if he wanted and he skeptically agreed. While he was doing so, you pressed one hand against his chest, covering the locket, and told him that is where Mondo is. 📚 You told him that Mondo, while dead physically, will remain with him in spirit as long as Ishimaru still remembers him. Everyone lives on through memories, especially fond ones, and since the two were such good friends, Mondo would basically live forever. 📚 It took awhile for him to process the words you said, but once he did he smiled at you through tears, thanking you for changing his perspective on the situation and saying he'll come to you if he needs to again. 📚 You knew his grieving process wouldn't stop there, it is very difficult to forget a friendship that strong, but you could rest easy knowing you had set him in the right direction for recovery :]

Makoto Naegi☘️

☘️ Why? Why why why why why why why? Why did Maizono have to die?! ☘️ This couldn't be real, there's no way that she was gone. There's no way he couldn't have noticed her behaviour or at least kept her some sort of company so this wouldn't have happened. ☘️ Naegi didn't want to believe it, but the sound of the baseballs being shot out of the machine solidified his fears. It was permanent, there was nothing to be done but move forward. ☘️ As much as he wanted to, the memory of Maizono attached itself to him like a chain, preventing him from moving forward. ☘️ Kirigiri noticed this behaviour and reasoned with Makoto to go and visit you. He was of extreme help in the trials and if he continued to self destruct over Maizono it would be detrimental to everyone. ☘️ And so, Makoto found himself sobbing at your door pleading for your help. You let him in without a second thought and wiped away his tears. ☘️ The first order of business was getting out his distress, so you experimentally hugged him and let him cry into your shoulder. he took that offer almost immediately. ☘️ You did notice that there were times where he tensed and untensed while he was letting it all out. Ah, he was feeling guilty about what happened. ☘️ You moved one of your hands up to his head and began scratching it and playing with his hair. You could feel his sobs dying down to sniffles and hiccups while he hugged you tighter, like if he let you go you would disappear. Just like Sayaka… ☘️ He began apologizing after calming down enough, but you shushed him. You began talking to cover up his objections and to reassure him that it was okay to seek help, especially in a situation like this. ☘️ Makoto listened intently, knowing it was dumb to disagree with you. You advised him to wash his face and collect himself before going back to his dorm, not before telling him that your door is always open whenever he needs it. ☘️ You left him with one final piece of information: you will be there for him as a friend, not only as a counselor. ☘️ He smiled at you, tears threatening to spill again as he thanked you and gave you one final hug as a thanks and as a goodbye. ☘️ Makoto left your room and walked down to his. When he was gone, you sighed softly to yourself and began wishing him luck. ☘️ You saw hope in Makoto, you say potential for a great leader. You just wanted him to see what you saw :]

Sonia Nevermind👑

👑 Sonia refused to believe the outcome of the trial. What he did was heroic for sure but, why did it have to be Gundham, why him? 👑 Sonia was holding back tears. She had gotten so close to the Animal Breeder that seeing him be so brutally executed broke her. She couldn't go on like this, the memories the two shared only brought forth heart-racking sobs for the princess. 👑 She kept reasoning with herself, she needed to be strong. What good of a princess could she be if she didn't keep a brave face for the rest? The future queen can't let emotions cloud her judgement, how pathetic of her. 👑 She didn't raise her sight from the suddenly very interesting sand below her and bumped into you. She didn't want to look at you in fear that any sight of sympathy might make her break down even harder. 👑 You understood why she wasn't looking you in the eye and instead settled for standing by her side and rubbing circles on her back. Sonia was surprised by this action, but she couldn't bring herself to turn away. 👑 She needed help processing her grief and even though it hurt her to admit it, she needed it if she wanted to survive in the killing game. 👑 You spoke to her firmly yet softly, slow and clear. You offered her your help and a night in your cabin. You knew she wouldn't be well on her own. Sonia numbly nodded at your offer and let herself be directed to your cottage. 👑 You got to your cottage and she sat down on the corner of your bed. You grabbed a chair and sat down in front of her, grabbing her hands as a way to keep some of her attention on you. The last thing she needed was her head up in the clouds. 👑 This made her look at you, eyes full of sorrow and cascading tears. You softly smiled at her while rubbing your thumbs over her knuckles. She wobbly returned your smile, it was nice seeing at least some positivity to clear her mind. 👑 You took that as a sign to continue. You took a deep breath and began talking to Sonia. You made it clear who you were talking to. You were talking to Sonia Nevermind the person, not Sonia Nevermind the princess. 👑 That hit her hard. She began abandoning her princess façade and let herself grief properly. Others didn't want her to put on a brave face, others wanted her to be okay. 👑 She jerked forward suddenly and hugged you, spurting out various thank you's and sobbing into your shoulder. You reminded her of Gundham in that sense, someone who didn't look at her solely for her title, but for who she is as a person. 👑 You hugged her back and started lightly humming a tune while stroking her back. She needed a space where she could grief properly, and you were more than happy to give her such. 👑 Eventually, Sonia tired herself out from crying and layed down on your bed. She knew that she should've gone to her own cabin, but she wanted to feel human connection one last time before she went to bed. 👑 You acted like her guardian angel, so if she let herself be saved by you she was bound to become a guardian angel herself right :]

Shuichi Saihara🔎

🔎 Gone. Kaede Akamatsu, the Ultimate Pianist, was gone. 🔎 Nobody wanted to believe it was her, he didn't want to believe it was her. Unfortunately, all the evidence pointed to her and Saihara is a detective, his job is following the evidence. 🔎 He didn't know where to go from there. Kaede had been a consistent light in the void that was the ever growing void of the killing game, so without her it was useless to keep going. 🔎 As he was walking to his room, he passed your door. Ultimate Grief Counselor huh? 🔎 As much as he didn't want to socialize with anyone or risk getting too vulnerable with a near stranger, it was also better than being left alone with his thoughts, especially his self blame. 🔎 With what little strength he had left in him he knocked on your door. It was decently late and he wanted to make sure he wasn't bothering you. 🔎 You opened the door and let out a tiny gasp when you saw Shuichi. It was clear to you he was trying to keep a stone cold exterior, maybe as protection or as a way keep himself reliable. Whatever the case was, you knew why he came to you and you were determined to help. 🔎 You let him in with a nod and a warm smile, just like Akamatsu. He shook off that thought and sat on the edge of your bed, eyes downcast and looking at the floor. His hat was still covering his eyes, shielding him from being too vulnerable. 🔎 You put your hand on his back and started gently gliding it up and down. You were hesitant at first, but when you saw him start to calm down and become less tense, you continued. 🔎 This went on for a few minutes until you saw he had let his guard down. You got closer to him and half hugged him, softly stating that while Kaede was physically gone, she would always be there spiritually. The ideas she gave him, the motivation she radiated, the promises she made. 🔎 You reassured him that it was not the end of the world, even though it felt like it. Kaede will always be there for him, and so will you, so will most everyone. He's not alone, even when it feels like it. 🔎 Shuichi was trying to remain stone-faced, but you made it impossible. Tears began pouring down his face as he tried to muffle his sobs with his hand. 🔎 You hugged him tightly and whispered a soft "It's not your fault Saihara, it's not your fault.". He wanted to say otherwise, but you kept repeating that phrase every so often, making him listen to reason. 🔎 Once his emotions cleared up he could listen to your advice with a clear head. The feeling was bittersweet, he was glad you had helped him because lord knows what would've happened if you didn't, but he also didn't want to forget Kaede. 🔎 Then again, he wasn't forgetting her. You did say that for one flame that burned out there are bound to be others offering warmth, who's to say he couldn't find another :]

#mod shuichi #danganronpa x reader #thh #thh x reader #trigger happy havoc x reader #trigger happy havoc #danganronpa 1 x reader #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #kiyotaka ishimaru x reader #kiyotaka x reader #kiyotaka ishimaru #makoto naegi x reader #makoto x reader #makoto naegi #sdr2 #sdr2 x reader #goodbye despair #goodbye despair x reader #danganronpa2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa 2 x reader #super danganronpa 2 #sonia nevermind x reader #sonia x reader #sonia nevermind #ndrv3 #ndrv3 killing harmony #ndrv3 x reader #killing harmony #killing harmony x reader

[mask-of-anubis]

1 with Nina and Jerome 🙌

This took me so long to get to but here it is! (other asks are coming soon, I promise!)

“Nina asks Jerome to do something ‘no questions asked’ and Jerome fears the worst.”

____________________________________________

Anubis House, 9pm.

As a matter of principle, Jerome liked to stay as far away from Nina Martin and her trail of bad luck as much as possible. He learned that lesson early on, but that didn’t mean he stuck to it. He always seemed to get involved with her Scooby gang eventually, even if he didn’t mean to. They were nothing but trouble, and he had more than enough of his own.

So when his phone rang at 9pm one night and he saw her contact name, he almost chucked his phone under his bed. Against his better judgement though, he answered it.

“Is this a butt dial?” he asked, hoping to quickly communicate that a call at this time of night (when she was right upstairs, mind you) was not welcome.

“I’m cashing in my favor,” she said, cutting right to the chase.

“I’m sorry?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I need you to do something for me ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

Jerome stopped. “Absolutely not...” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“You owe me a ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

“I do not…” Jerome scoffed, but she once again interrupted.

“Valentine’s Day, last year,” she said. “Need I remind you?”

“Okay! Okay, I remember,” he said quickly. Ugh. Why the hell did he ask her of all people to help? He had hoped she would forget and never cash in, but apparently today was the day.

He couldn’t believe he was on the hook for a girl who had even more enemies and sketchy night activities than he did. It was equally likely she would ask him to help her find a nerdy signed book as a present for Fabian as it was that she would ask for help burying a body. He hoped for the former.

There was nothing he could do. A “no questions asked” was binding at Anubis. He was indebted and it was time to cash in.

He sighed. “Fine, what do I need to do?”

“Meet me in the Frobisher Library, 11pm. Bring your noise-cancelling headphones, a headlamp, and a trowel,” Nina said. The second she was done talking, she hung up.

“God dammit…” said Jerome.

____________________________________________

Frobisher Library, 11pm.

“We better not be burying a body, Martin,” said Jerome three hours later when he walked into the library and found her sitting in the dark with a heavy looking satchel over her shoulder.

“I’m surprised you actually came,” said Nina.

“Despite what you might’ve heard, I pay my debts,” he said.

He gestured to his equipment. “What’s all this for then?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I meant what I said: no questions. Let’s go.”

She walked over the bookshelf and pressed the button to make it swing open. Great, Jerome thought. He didn’t know what he expected when she asked him to meet there of all places, but he had hoped going down into the tunnels wasn’t on the agenda.

There was still time to escape. But at what cost? If he ran now, Nina would undoubtedly spill the details of his humiliating Valentine’s “no questions asked.” He really couldn’t live with that. He sucked it up and followed her inside.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:15pm.

Down in the tunnels, it was worse than Jerome remembered. Granted, the only time he’d ever been down there was when he was running for his life, so he hadn’t taken his time to peruse.

It was also freezing. He rubbed his arms as he trailed behind Nina, wondering how she wasn’t shivering.

It was true what everyone said about her; she really was unphased by stuff like this: subterranean tunnels, deadly tasks, et cetera. She’d changed since last year. She was always a bit of a daredevil, but he remembered her in the history classroom, shaking with fear, tearful at the thought of their teachers tipping the scales.

Now though, she walked past chilling stone rooms haunted by the ghosts of deadly tasks completely steady, jaded even. Speaking of ghosts, from the rumours Jerome heard, Nina spoke to spirits regularly, like it was normal. She kind of terrified him.

He was really scared of whatever she was leading him to. After all, they didn’t have the best track record in their relationship. He’d betrayed her when her life was at stake, not once, but two times. Granted, both times he didn’t know her life was at stake, but it didn’t make it any better really. Plus, Nina notoriously held grudges. He just hoped she wasn’t leading him to his doom.

“Okay, here it is,” she said finally.

She stopped in front of a dusty trap door. It looked like an ancient air vent. Jerome looked around; this couldn’t be what she meant.

She opened the hatch door and crouched down. Jerome peaked inside. It was pitch dark. He switched on the headlamp and shined it inside.

“Oh god…” he said. Behind the door was a long, dark, dusty tunnel that, for all he knew, led straight to the depths of hell. In the quiet between each of their breaths, he could hear a distant, dull roar coming from inside.

Nina tied her hair up into a ponytail. “Okay, I need the stuff you brought,” she said, holding out her hand. She strapped the headlamp to her forehead, tucked the trowel into her back pocket, and put the headphones around her neck.

“If you hear me screaming, don’t panic,” she said – easily the most alarming thing anyone had ever said to him. “I won’t really be in danger. The only time you’re allowed to come in and help me, is if you see the walls collapsing.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jerome said. “This is insane! What the hell are you doing in there?”

“You’re on a strictly need-to-know basis,” Nina said. He dropped it. He knew no amount of questioning would make her budge.

He also knew something else: if he left right now and refused to help, she would 100% do whatever it is she’s doing on her own. That was how they were the same; they were both stubborn, sometimes to the point of self-destruction. The least he could do was stay there and make sure she didn’t self-destruct.

“Fine,” he said. He had so many bad feelings about this — about why they were here in the dead of night, about why she asked him of all people, about what was in that tunnel, and about what the hell she had in that satchel.

As she steeled herself to enter, he got his answer to the last question. The flap of her bag shifted and Jerome spotted an unmistakable flash of gold. The Cup of Ankh.

His eyes went wide. Before he could say anything, she put on the headphones and disappeared into the tunnel.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:30pm.

It was agonizing waiting for Nina to reappear. He only brought one headlamp, so he sat in the dark of the tunnels, listening to the wind pass through and rustle the dead ivy twigs and leaves on the ground.

He didn’t hear anything in the tunnel once Nina entered. He watched her crawl in, the headlamp casting eerie, moving shadows on the dirt of the cave. But eventually, Nina and her light disappeared.

His ears had never been more peeled as he listened for any sign of struggle or danger. He had no idea what she meant when she said he might hear her scream. Did she mean in pain? In fear? It didn’t even matter because she told him to stay put anyway. He didn’t know if he could do that.

For now, he listened for signs of rubble falling. What would he do if it collapsed? If she was buried alive? He shuddered. Being buried alive sounded almost as bad as his worst fear. Almost.

Thinking about it made his skin crawl. He got up to pace and walk it off.

He looked to his left and saw a long stone beam stretched over a dark pit. Light streamed in from the moon through a grate in the ceiling. He peered into the pit, but it descended into darkness. He kicked a pebble into it. He didn’t hear a sound until nearly a minute later.

“What the hell is this place?” Jerome whispered. Not only was it architecturally impossible, but it was also clearly full of horrors and death traps. No wonder the Scooby gang wasn’t afraid of his ghost stories anymore.

He kicked another rock into the pit, but while he was waiting for the drop, he heard a noise from in the tunnel. It was a distant whimper — Nina. He paused, listening for another noise.

“Ahhhh!!” Nina shrieked.

Jerome ran to the tunnel. “Nina?” he shouted. “Hello!” She didn’t answer. She didn’t scream again.

He knew what she told him. Stay there, don’t react, it’s fine. He knew something else though: she was stupidly reckless. His heart was pounding. For all he knew, she could be dying in there, all alone, and he was doing nothing.

It was normally his M.O. to stand by, let other people deal with their problems while he dealt with his. He did that all year. He saw his friends sneaking out at night, jumping at the slightest noise, clutching burning brand marks, turning pale at the dinner table — and he ignored it. Not this time.

He pushed up his sleeves, steeled himself, and crawled into the darkness.

He couldn’t see anything at all, it was totally dark, but he crawled forward. “Nina!” he called. “I’m coming to find you. And this is the worst ‘no questions asked’ ever!”

She didn’t respond. He listened hard, but he couldn’t hear her screaming. He couldn’t even hear her telling him off for coming in. Instead, he heard dripping. He crawled forward.

Drip. Drip. Drip. He followed the noise. It was all he had to go off of. He still couldn’t see Nina or her headlamp.

The drip sped up to a steady stream. He heard a babble, like the sound of a tiny stream. Where the hell is water coming from, he thought.

“Nina?” he shouted. “What the hell!” Jerome’s hand sunk into a puddle. When he pulled it out, it was covered in slippery mud. He wished he could see. He kept crawling against his better judgment, but then he felt it: water rising.

All around him, he felt freezing water seep out of the ground. A moment later, he felt a drip from above. “What…” He stopped in his tracks. The water was rising. Panic set in.

He was petrified. He didn’t know whether to turn around or find Nina. The water started to pour in heavy streams from the top of the tunnel. It soaked his hair and his clothes. It was freezing cold.

“Nina!” he shouted desperately. Please let this be a dream, he thought. “Nina!”

He pushed his hair out of his eyes but it did nothing because he couldn’t even see. His pulse pounded in his ears. He remembered when this fear started — the day at the beach, his first time at the coast. He nearly died. Alone. This time he wouldn’t be lucky enough to catch the current to shore.

He spit out water and coughed. He sat back onto his heels. The water was at his waist. “Nina!!”

Then he heard her, her voice like a dual-edged sword: sharp on one side and terrified on the other. “Jerome! What are you doing? I told you to stay —” She was cut off by a rush of water from the ceiling. It splashed into their faces.

He couldn’t see her at all, but when the water drained from his ears, he could hear her choke and cough.

“We have to get out!” she yelled. Another rush of water descended on them. Jerome tilted his chin toward the ceiling. He couldn’t stand to put his face underwater. It terrified him.

A horrible rumble moved through the tunnel. All of a sudden, Nina’s headlamp glitched back to life. She was right beside him, soaking wet and squinting in the light. The water was murky brown and nearly a meter deep. Jerome was petrified.

Nina, however, shouted, “Let’s go!” She started paddling toward the entrance. Jerome couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

“Wait!” he shouted, but before he could do anything, he heard the rumble again and a huge wave of water descended on him from the back of the cave.

It was so powerful that it pushed him and Nina back. He knocked into the walls of the cave and flipped onto his back as the wave shoved him. He was completely disoriented, flipping back and forth, hitting the floor, suffocating from the lack of oxygen, until finally the wave dumped them out in a heap onto the cold concrete floor of the tunnels. Water flooded out in waves behind them.

Jerome kneeled on the ground, choking and gasping. His heart pounded. His skin was frozen.

“What the hell?” he shouted when he caught his breath. His vocal cords were wrecked.

He looked up at Nina. She kneeled in a heap on the ground, coughing up water. “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “You weren’t supposed to go in there,” she said.

Jerome laid down on the cold floor. He heard the roar of crashing waves, all in his memories.

____________________________________________

The Grounds, 11:50pm.

They walked back to Anubis in silence. With every step, their shoes squeaked and squelched with water. Jerome was freezing. He looked over at Nina; she was shaking. It reminded him of that night in the history classroom. He noticed her satchel was now empty.

“Answers, now,” Jerome said.

Nina sighed, but she didn’t argue. “I had to bury something down there,” she said.

“The Cup,” he said. Nina stared at him. “I saw it in your bag.” He didn’t ask how it survived the furnace.

“Then you can understand why it needed to be hidden somewhere no one would ever go looking for it,” she said. “The tunnel was part of the tasks. It shows you your worst fear.”

“No kidding,” Jerome scoffed. He looked at her, but she stared off into the distance. He couldn’t help it; he wondered what the hell she saw in there. He didn’t ask.

“I asked you to come because no one in Sibuna would have let me do what I just did.”

“For once I agree with them,” he said.

“Well, I had it handled,” she said. “I’d done it before, so I knew what I was getting into.”

“Yeah, until we almost drowned,” he stressed. Just saying the word struck fear in his heart. His skin froze all over again.

“That’s why I said to stay where you were,” she said. “I never wanted you to get mixed up in that.” She ran a hand through her soaked hair and sighed. “I’m sorry I got you into that mess.”

Jerome nodded, his version of accepting an apology.

Nina half-grinned. “Trust me, I really thought you’d be the one person on earth who would actually mind your business when I told you to,” she joked.

He cracked a smile. “Trust me, normally I would have.” But when he thought about it, he’d stuck his neck out for her kind of a lot. He realized with a shock that she had done the same for him, and she probably would again if given the choice.

“Well, Martin, after tonight I believe you owe me at least three ‘no questions asked,’” he said. She probably owed him a couple hundred actually, but he was feeling generous.

She sighed. “That’s fair,” she said.

They reached Anubis finally. They ditched their soaking shoes and socks outside and snuck in the house. Jerome shuffled off to his room, eager to rid himself of his soaking clothes and the memory of this night forever, but Nina stopped him.

“Jerome,” she whispered. He squinted at her through the darkness. “Thanks.”

“You live a weird life, Martin,” he said, his way of saying “you’re welcome.” She was the most reckless person he has ever met, but he had to admit, she had guts.

That was how Jerome learned to never request a favor from Nina Martin ever again, no matter how many embarrassing things he did on Valentine’s Day.

____________________________________________

Valentine’s Day, 2011 (one year ago).

Nina knocked on Mara and Patricia’s bedroom door, staring at the text she got from Jerome.

A second later, Jerome opened the door and stepped outside, looking panicked.

“What the hell is a ‘no questions asked?’” she asked.

“No questions!” he whisper-shouted. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the room.

The room was covered in pink frills, plush stuffed animals, glitter, and red hearts. A string quartet sat on Patricia’s bed. When they saw Nina, they readied their instruments and started to play.

“NO!” Jerome shouted, more desperate than angry. “It’s not her.” He turned to Nina, “Help me get rid of it!” he pleaded.

Nina’s jaw was on the floor. “What the…”

“No. Questions. Asked,” Jerome hissed.

#lol sorry for the angst in there #that always happens #i wasnt sure i wanted jerome to go in the tunnel but i really wanted to explore my hc for his phobia #sorry to this man #he should know better than to get mixed up with nina #especially after 10pm #those are her feral hours #jerome clarke #nina martin #house of anubis #hoa ask #thanks for the ask! #hoa fanfic

[fbfh]

fangirl’s paradise - leo x reader

genre/vibe: romance, adventure, slice of life

word count: 2.8k

pronouns/perspective: first person present, no pronouns (I think), gn reader

au: soulmate kind of?? also traveling to other dimensions/multiverse

pairing: Leo x fic writer!reader

requested: nah

warnings: you think someone broke into your house for a minute, you feel like you’re going crazy for a minute, questionable pop culture/internet references, you get really embarrased about stuff you’ve written, you say fuck a lot, tiddy as an explative

summary: all you wanted to do was write some leo one shots for your blog, but finding out he’s your soulmate is good too

reccomended songs: havana - camila cabello, where do we go from here - amelie obc

a/n: got really meta and self indulgent with this bad boy, probs gonna do a part 2 at some point, cause this got really long and I started to get tired lol. For clarity, you’re from the riordanverse, but ended up in a world where it’s fictional. also some memories were erased. 

requests r open xo

All I wanted to do was dance embarrassingly and sing along to the same playlist I’d been listening to for the past three days in terrible accents while I wait for my ramen to finish cooking. That’s it. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for. Plus, I’ve been home alone all day, so it’s really not too much to ask for. I flip over the waistband of my sweatpants while shimmying my way to the kitchen. 

“Half of my heart is in havana oh nana,” I sing along off key, in a pseudo growly voice that makes me giggle. I’m going to turn the corner, make myself some ramen, then finish the episode of love island I’ve been watching. Except that’s not what happens.

“He got tha-” I cut myself off with a scream, seeing a stranger in the hall way. He looks up. I scream more, way more, and choke out, “JFK’s left fucking tiddy!”, because this dude is either the best freaking cosplayer ever, or those tiktok reality shifting tutorials actually worked at some point. 

He looks too natural, too organic. The level of detail and strategic imperfection is beyond conscious choice. There’s no way he’s a cosplayer that broke into my house. Also, that would be a super weird crime. 

Either way, I’m standing in front of a dude who looks exactly like Leo Valdez. 

It feels… fake.

I didn’t really notice I’m covering my mouth with my hand to stop my hysterical scream laughs, but I’m able to get it under control after a second. 

He’s looking at me, eyes wide, examining me, probably wondering why I’m acting so erratically. Or why I just spat out such strange bullshit. In my defense, I’ve been watching chaotic tiktok compilations inbetween updating my blog for like, two days straight. Three other people round the corner. I don’t know what I expected, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise at this point, but I’m sure I’m looking no other than at Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Piper Mclean. 

“Jesus fucking christ, fuck me with a chainsaw!” I spit, retreating into the kitchen, reminding myself that while they are my favorite characters - and again, somehow real and in front of me? - they’re still technically intruders. I grab the nearest kitchen implement, a pair of red kitchen scissors I’d used to hack open the ramen packet, and point it at them. 

“Woah,” Piper says, “it’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you.” I count to four and breathe in, setting the scissors back down within arms reach. Hold for seven, exhale for eight. I repeated the process again, watching Annabeth whispering to Leo.

I can feel the initial freak out subsiding. I’m starting to calm down a little.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Piper repeats. Well duh, they’re the good guys. A spike of pure what the fuck shoots through me, as I realize I’m already adapting to the fact that fictional fucking characters are standing in my kitchen. Leo’s ignoring Annabeth, and still staring at me, searching my eyes for... something.

Piper’s brow furrows. I call past Piper to Annabeth.

“Yeah, hi op, what the fuck?” They all have a silent conversation for a minute, and I continue, “Anyone want to tell my why the fuck fic-”

“We can tell you what’s going on, but it’s going to sound crazy.” Piper starts.

“After the past five minutes, probably not.” I glance past her shoulder, Leo’s still examining me. I look away, overwhelmed almost immediately. About 30% of my brain is just an endless loop of ‘ohmygodohmygodohmygod he’s real??? Like,,,, r e a l real????? Aj;dlfkajskdla ohmygod he’s looking at me what the fuck richard’, 20% was still trying to calm down from freaking out so much earlier, so I was at about half brain power for the conversation ahead. 

“Okay, wait. Let me get this straight.” they stare at me in silence. We’re standing in the hallway outside the kitchen, and I feel like a complete disaster trying to process what they’re telling me and not look like a total idiot.

“So, Calypso went missing, and Leo got Aphrodite to activate his soulmate link so he can find her and it led you here?” I’m already smiling. There’s no chance, I can’t get my hopes up. 

Piper continues, “Which means it might not be Calypso.”

“Unless you’re wearing a really good disguise or something,” Leo says. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time he’s spoken to me. I let out a breathy laugh and look away from him. If I try to look at him my brain goes haywire. Scenes from stuff I’ve written about him on my tumblr flash in my mind, and it makes me feel like I’m about to explode. 

“Yeah, the reason we know is-”

“The gods are real, monsters are after you, et cetera et cetera. Yeah.” They seem a little surprised that I’m more concerned with the soulmate part than the mythology part, but I’ve been reading these books since middle school. We been knew.

Piper keeps looking between Leo and me with a weird look on her face. God, Piper, don’t get my hopes up. A knowing look passes over her face and she looks around the room again.

“Gods, where did he go…” She gets up and leaves the room. No one says anything. Between right then and when she gets back should have been in a ‘top ten most devastating anime uncomfortable silences’ compilation. She enters again a few seconds later, a tall hot guy behind her. He has red flowers in his hair and isn’t wearing a shirt for some reason. He looks between me and Leo.

“I see… interesting.” he turns to me and says, “Can you tell me anything… personal about him?” My face flushes. I turn to Piper.

“Sorry, but who the fuck?”

“I mean the only noncanon stuff I know is what I came up with for like, writing and stuff but that doesn’t count-” I sputter.

“Eros.” she replies, “My mom sent him along to help find the right person.”

“Normally I’d be able to tell instantly, but my powers don’t seem to work here very well.” his voice is like honey, and it seems like he’s heavily implying something no matter what he says. 

“Yeah, go on hermosa,” Leo says, smirking, “take a whack at it.” His voice sounds so much more… real than I could have imagined. If I could verbally keysmash, I would have then and there. 

“Hmm… why don’t you try anyway. What kind of lover is he?” the room erupts into protests. They don’t want to hear personal stuff about their friend, I don’t want to talk about cripplingly embarrassing smut headcanons in front of the character they’re about, and he probably doesn’t want me taking a wild guess at his bedroom habits. Eros turns to Percy, Annabeth, and Piper.

“You two, out. You, leave but stay close.” They leave the room hastily.

“Since I’m the god of sexual desire, I know what gets people going. I’ll be able to tell if you’re right or not. ” Eros says. I risk a glance at Leo, who I have a feeling has been staring at me a lot. He leans forward, playful intrigue all over him. How is he not dying inside?? 

“Ah ah,” Eros says to Leo, “you too.” Leo obliges, and heads up the stairs.

“H- okay, uh… he acts like a top, but he’s really kind of a bottom,” I choke out, trying to remember details from past posts, and Eros nods in approval, encouraging me to keep going, “he’s really-” my voice falters, and I hide my head in my hands, “he’s really vocal, like really vocal… uh…” 

“Oh yes, I can tell.” Eros says, and I laugh slightly. “What else?” 

“More? God okay… uh… he really likes hickeys, and-” I choke on my words, still unsure of how I got in this situation. 

“He holds hands a lot in… the bedroom? God…” I trail off.

“The next morning, he kind of… he just sort of stares at you while you get dressed and stuff. I don’t know anyone else who does that.”

Eros studies me for a second. My heart is beating so hard. How long does it take to say yes or no? I’m uncomfortably aware of the distracting adrenaline in my arms and chest and head. 

“Interesting,” he says, then stands up and leaves the room.

What the fuck, is he not going to tell me anything?

I’m listening as closely as I can, and I’m pretty sure I hear Eros say five out of five. I got everything right or everything wrong. Nailed it or failed it. 

Piper speeds past me a second later and races up the stairs. After a few seconds she comes back down. She nods toward the staircase.

“You should go talk to him.” a knowing smile is playing at the corner of her mouth, and I can’t stop one from starting on mine. I run up the stairs, and see him, kneeling on my bed, reading what’s on my laptop. 

Oh god, no. 

He stands up. He’s staring at me so intensely, I look away immediately. I start sputtering out a panicked apology and sit down on my bed, moving to shut the lid of my laptop.

“Uh… I just listen to a song or something that makes me think of you,” my voice gets really tiny at that last part, “and stuff starts to pop into my head. I just keep replaying it, and uncovering more details so I can wr- wait,” I start to look up at him, but can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I stare intensely at the pattern on my quilt instead. “Did you say remember?” He lets out a breathy laugh, and I can hear the smile in his voice. 

“-of course I never thought you were going to read any of that, or…” His hand is on top of mine, my hand and voice freezing at the same time.

“How… did you remember all this?” my fears are being squashed. He doesn’t sound mad, or grossed out, or judgemental. He sounds… impressed.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m only starting to get back bits and pieces, but you remember… everything.” 

“Wait wait…” I mutter, completely dazed, “so it wasn’t… it was all real?” I feel him nodding behind me, and he makes a noise of agreement. 

“It was genius, really… as soon as I felt like I was remembering something, I’d forget it.” His other hand rests on my shoulder, palm flat against my back. “Only you would think to write it like that…” 

“So… it all happened?” I breathe, my face heating up as I think of the titles marked with a little asterisk. 

“Yeah,” I bite my lip, feeling his breath over my skin. It’s quiet for a second. The mattress shifts and I can feel him leaning closer to me, feel the heat coming off his body. His lips are dangerously close to my ear.

“Want something else to write about?”

Oh my fucking god.

I nod before I finish registering what he said. His free hand moves to my cheek, tilting my face towards him, and my skin explodes with sparks where he touches me. 

Our lips brush.

We both freeze.

Flood gates open. Countless vivid images and feelings and scenarios flash across my mind. It was like watching a movie connecting every fic I’ve written. I gasp-laugh a little, and he does the same. It seems like the visions or whatever that he’s seeing are a lot more intense than mine. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me stronger, more intensely, more passionately than he had before. He lets out a soft, breathy laugh, and presses his lips to mine. Everywhere he touches feels carbonated, and I’m trying not to smile too much. I don’t think I’ve ever been more in the moment than right this second. He pulls me closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. I didn’t know a kiss could be deeper than it had been a few seconds ago. His mouth moves feverishly against mine. My arms move up on instinct, one hand playing with his hair, the other tracing the collar of his shirt. He shifts his weight, and one hand on my waist, lowers me back onto my bed. His left hand intertwines with my right, and I smile, remembering what I had told Eros earlier. 

“Estrella,” He groans into my mouth, our teeth scraping as we smile in spite of ourselves, and I get the sense the nickname was an ‘as you wish’ type of thing, from the Princess Bride. It feels like he’s saying I love you. My heart speeds up as he nuzzles into my neck, pressing kisses and little bites into my skin. I think about the nickname I always thought would suit him, the one I kept writing down over and over. Now or never.

“Sparky…” I smile, hiding my face in his hair. He freezes for a second, then lets out that breathy laugh again, his face in my neck. His lips graze my collarbone, and he starts to say something, but the door opens suddenly, and we jump apart. It doesn’t help much though, because he’s still hovering over me on all fours and we both look very flushed. And I’m pretty sure the start of a hickey is forming on my neck. 

“Right,” she replies, “we gotta get going, the door is closing soon, so come down stairs as soon as you’re… free.” 

“Sorry!” Annabeth yells, averting her eyes. Leo and I stumble over each other’s flustered responses.

“-looks bad but nothing… happened… we d- we didn’t like, do anything...” I trail off. 

The door closes.

“I’m coming with you guys?” I breathe. He looks over at me, that unflappable sense of playfulness present as ever. 

Leo sits back, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we should get back soon. Everyone else will be worried once they remember.” My heart plummets. I didn’t know you could go from feeling so incredibly euphoric to beyond miserable in about five seconds. I open my mouth to choke out a response, but before I can, he stands up and stretches a little.

“Do you wanna change before we go?” The question has such a normal tone to it, it’s a little bizarre after all the unusual things that have happened today. The bad feeling and tears at the corners of my eyes start to recede. 

“Of course you are. If you think I’m losing you again this soon you’re crazier than I am.” I let out a relieved laugh, and stand up. I look down at my monster foot slippers and sweatpants. 

“You know where to find me,” he winks before closing the door on his way out.

“Yeah, I should probably change.” He pulls me close to him, one hand comes up to the back of my neck, the other on my hip. He starts swaying us back and forth, dancing around my room.

“Well, if you need any help…” I laugh, and shove him away playfully.

I take a second to catch my breath. Oh my god. Thoughts are still racing in the back of my mind, but I don’t pay attention. I don’t have time to worry about what’s real and what’s not, I need to find the perfect demigod adventure outfit. I throw open my closet, start shuffling through dresser drawers, digging through my shoes. I don’t remember having one or two of the pieces, but after a minute, I find exactly what I’m looking for. It’s the exact outfit I’d always imagined myself in if I ever went to camp half blood. I search through my accessories, grab a bag, and hastily fill it with anything I think I’ll probably need. I turn back to my laptop, and change my blog description to on hiatus. I check my hair, flattening out the back from before, and determine I’m ready to go. 

I walk down the stairs, and everyone’s watching me. I feel like it’s prom or something, which sounds silly since I’ve got on ripped jeans and a backpack instead of a dress and clutch. Leo’s watching me with that look, the one that makes his eyes all sparkly, and he meets me at the bottom of the stairs. He puts his arm around my shoulder.

“Ready to go home, Estrella?”

I have never been more ready for anything.

#Leo Valdez #leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez imagine #heroes of olympus imagine

[delightfullyatomicfest]

John and Yoko interview with Melody Maker pt 2

MELODY MAKER DECEMBER 13 1969- 

JOHN LENNON’S “PEACE Crusade” inspires a variety of emotions in people. Sadly, few of those emotions are worthy ones. John and Yoko have been mercilessly lampooned and vilified by the public and the mass media, and a great proportion of this reaction has been thoughtless and hurtful. 

It would surely have been enough to make any lesser man, whose heart was not in his cause, retire from the field to a more comfortable, less publicised existence. But not the Lennons. 

They have kept up their output of peaceful propaganda in the face of a ceaseless barrage of insults, and the time will surely come when even their most jaundiced and gout-ridden detractors will realise their essential honesty, and their right to exercise it in the way they most see fit. 

But like it or not, John Lennon and his lovely wife are in the process of becoming leaders in the public eye. They stand for a cause, and as public figures they can be held responsible for the failings and excesses of that cause. 

This is not how they want it. Leadership in any form is the last cloak which Lennon wishes to put on, as he told me. 

“I’m not falling for that one. Like Peter Seeger said, we don't have a leader but we have a song -‘Give Peace A Chance'. So I refuse to be leader, and I'll always showmy genitals or do something which prevents me from being Martin Luther King or Ghandi and getting killed. Because that’s what happens to leaders. Our whole mistake is having leaders and people we can rely on or point a finger at.” 

Yoko, as always at John's side, chipped in: “For instance, many people say if you want to do that kind of thing, about peace, don't do anything that is misleading like showing your genitals. Always keep a clean image so that people can believe in your peace movement. 

“But that's exactly what the establishment is doing (“And that's what the Beatles did too” - John) , taking their children to church on Sundays. 

This is showing that, ‘I'm the President of the United States and I'm alright and I'm healthy and very moral et cetera.' You don't get anywhere that way-you become just another hypocrite, and you're playing the establishment game. We don’t want to do that. We try to be honest and the point is, if we are really honest, just to make it between us is a lifetime thing, and if we can't make it together and endure each other, the world is nowhere. 

“If ordinary couples can make it together and make it with their children and so forth, love-wise (“She doesn't mean ‘make it' as you ‘lay"’ - John) , then you can look after the world.” 

John continued, “One thing we've found out is that love is a great gift, like a precious flower or something. You have to feed it and look after it, and it has storms to go through and snow, but you have to protect it. It's like a pet cat. You know, people get a cat and they don't want to feed it, or they get a dog and they don't want to walk it. But love has to be nurtured like a very sensitive animal, because that's what it is. 

“And you have to work at love; you don't just sit round with it and it doesn't just do it for you. You’ve got to be very careful with it; it’s the most delicate thingyou can be given. It's a very delicate situation.” 

What will John and Yoko do about Vietnam and Biafra, which John mentioned in the letter that accompanied his MBE back to the Queen? 

“We'll keep promoting peace in the way we do, which, whichever way you look at it, is our way, because we're artists and not politicians. We don't organise; we do itin the best way we know how, to make people aware that, if they want war to stop, only they can do it. 

“The politicians can’t do it. I think our whole movement is successful, as shown by Nixon, who's having to wriggle around a bit now and make propaganda films about the Moratorium claiming that the ‘silent majority' is with him, with a highly polished Negro in an Italian suit 

saying how great it is to be American. Nixon has been moved by the peace movement - that includes John and Yoko and all the people in the world who are doing it, and that’s how we're going to change it. We’re not going to Vietnam to die for it or going to Biafra to die for it. We’ve considered everything, not dying but going to the places. 

“People prefer a dead saint to a living annoyance like John and Yoko. But we don’t intend to be dead saints for people’s convenience. They prefer Ghandi and Martin Luther King since they died, but you should see them in India now, celebrating Ghandi Year - anything less like Ghandi's principles going on in India you’ve never seen. It’s a hoax. And so we don't intend to be dead saints - or living saints either. People don't like saints.” 

Their highly unusual Wedding Album has caused its share of controversy. Why did they make it? 

Yoko: “It's like a diary, it reflects our love and peace ideas.” 

John: “When people get married they usually make their own wedding albums. We're public personalities and I'd enjoy reading Jackie and Onassis' album. Our wedding was public, we were sharing our diaries and our feelings with the world. So one side shows our involvement with each other, and the other side shows what we do together outside of our involvement with each other, which is promote peace.” 

Isn't there a danger that the diary of Yoko and John will become too public? 

“We have nothing to hide. ‘ Everybody's got something to hide except for me and my monkey 9 , you know? We keep certain parts of our life private because we’re not as wild as people think. I doubt if we'll ever make love in public, or invite the TV cameras into our bedroom, and I doubt if I’ll ever go to the toilet in public. Just because I think some things, I don’t want to show that side of me.” 

Yoko: “We’re from a certain generation, you can’t deny that, and for people in our generation it is so difficult, and maybe the next John and Yoko will...” 

“Show all,” said John. “Maybe we will before we die. People hide themselves from each other all the time, and everybody’s frightened of saying something nice about somebody in case they don’t say anything nice back, or in case they get hurt, or of looking at somebody in case they say, ‘What are you looking at? ’ 

“Everybody’s so uptight and they’re always building these walls around themselves. All you can do is try and break the walls down and show that there’s nothing there but PEOPLE . It’s just like looking in the mirror, there’s nothing to worry about- it’s only people.” 

Yoko : “And even we are not relaxed enough as people. We have many complexities and tensions. We try hard to be honest and expose ourselves, but there are certain things that we just can’t. . . Maybe in the next generation they can, good luck to them. We’re trying hard as we are” 

John has always tried to carry out his philosophies and campaigns in a sense of fun. Are they, as some cynics suggest, in fact taking the mickey? 

“That’s true, although we’re not taking the mickey. Everybody’s frightened of being conned, of being tricked. If you say something nice to somebody they ’re not sure if you mean it, so that rather than respond to your loving movement they’ll rej ect you, and that’s what the press do . 

Because they’re frightened of what we did with the MBE about the Biafra thing, they’ll write about my Auntie Mimi’s reaction to me giving the MBE back, because they don’t want to fall for the con of ‘Is he joking? ’ 

“Of course we’re joking as well. We mustn’t take ourselves too seriously, otherwise it’s the end. We think the mistake of everyone - Ghandi and Martin Luther King AND the left wing AND the students and all society - is taking it too seriously. If you take it seriously, it IS serious. What we try and do is be non-serious about things, but we are very serious about being not serious.” 

Yoko : “We maybe too serious, even. We try to have a sense of humour and we try to smile at everyone a really genuine smile from the bottom of our hearts. But it’s very difficult for our generation to really genuinely smile, but we’re trying.” 

John: “It’s like when I sent the MBE back, and I wrote that it was against Britain’s involvement in Biafra and Vietnam and against ‘Cold Turkey’ slipping down the charts. When we thought of that we were screaming with laughter, and so a few snobs and hypocrites got very upset about mentioning ‘Cold Turkey’ with the problem of Biafra and Vietnam, but that saved it from being too serious and being another colonel protesting! You have to try and do every thing with humour, and keep smiling.” 

Richard Williams 

#john #Yoko #melody maker #December 1969

[empyrealarc]

▲ Ana why are you the way you are why are you so obnoxious?

"I don't want to fade away. My mother- My Empress, S'Byll, created me to enact her will upon this wretched planet. Slay Gods, Enact Tribute, Seat Thrones, et cetera, et cetera. I wasn't her daughter, I was her weapon. Her force of power, her show of strength!

And when I was being groomed to enact her will... She died. Consumed by my father, lost from the history of my people, remembered by none. I never even knew her, I only saw her in training vids, knew her from the chatter of older guards... She was struck from reality, screaming with none to hear or remember.

If I am her dying breath, and I am her dying breath, then I must be all she asked of me. I must be loud, passionate, violently dedicated toward consumption & creation."

The Last Remnant of the Fallen Empire. An empire she never learned to love, nor one that knew she was carrying its shadow on her shoulders... She was a tool who's crafter was long dead. Did she have a purpose? Or was she simply telling herself these things to justify continuing to breathe these days?

"I'm not allowed to fade away. Not until I do what I'm still here to do... So, I'm sorry. I truly am, for all of who I've shown myself to be. But the heavier my footprint on the throats of those who know me, the farther I am from... fading."

Send symbol get real talk! || @delamuertes

#delamuertes #ʷʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ᶦˢ ᵗʰᶦˢ; cosmic princess. #'when the lights shine out and its my turn to settle down... my main concern? #promise that you will sing about me. promise that you will sing about me...'

[hrodvitnon]

If I might ask: regarding Ghidorah's backstory in 'Abraxas', it at first looked to me when San revealed Ghidorah's origin like Ghidorah is an omnicidal maniac because it's a perpetual cosmic case of put-them-all-out-of-my-misery, but then San-2's straw-nihilist speech in Ch.11 confused me a bit. Has Ghidorah turned into a straw-nihilist after Ichi hurting Vivienne didn't satisfy them, making them more dangerous than ever; or was Ghidorah's mindset already like that and it's a bit like Jonah?

So I kinda got a little bit carried away...

Ghidorah’s straw-nihilism has its roots when they first destroyed the alien civilization that created them, out of revenge for the torture inflicted on them. Maybe what little remnants of the small creatures that became Ghidorah wondered, as lost children do, why? What was the purpose of it all? The answer would be the same, drilled into them by minds that lacked the imagination for anything beyond violence: Kill Them All. But why? They did nothing to us. Kill Them All. There must be a reason why. There must be meaning to it. Kill Them All.

The answer that was hammered into them in waking and dreaming, and in places where the line between them is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins: Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them ALL. Never ending, never silent, what possible meaning Kill Them All. why? Kill Them All. Never ending, never silent, always thundering in their ears and taking root in their brains Kill Them All. that’s not an answer what is the answer KILL Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All. give us an ANSWER or be SILENT! Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All shut up! Shut up! Shut UP! Kill Them ALL. enough! no more! Kill Them All. Kill Them All. BE SILENT or i will MAKE YOU SILENT! Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All. if we kill them will they be silent? Kill Them All. Kill Them All. we will Kill Them All and they will be silent! Kill Them all. so many minds! all talking! all dying! Kill Them All. SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I WILL KILL THEM ALL but why must we kill them all WHAT DOES IT MATTER IF WE KILL THEM ALL THEY WILL BE SILENT

...ad nauseum, ad infinitum, et cetera.

Maybe that whole KILL THEM ALL mental reprogramming eventually faded away into the depths of their consciousness(es), maybe it just lost all meaning and turned into white noise or something like tinnitus. It’s not the answer they wanted, because that was just orders. Ghidorah thought by paying evil unto evil, eliminating the little nasties (that probably enjoy taking cattle prods to that planet’s equivalent of puppies for all we know), that the noise would stop and they could figure things out, maybe get some satisfaction over ridding that world of some evil. There was no satisfaction. There was nothing to be gained from the destruction. Nothing... but the incessant buzzing whispering at the back of each skull: kill them all. kill them all. kill them all. No satisfaction. No reason. No meaning. Just little ones screaming mindlessly before silence takes them. It’s almost insulting how unsatisfactory their destruction was... maybe it was too quick. Maybe that’s why. Surely if they have another go and be thorough about it, maybe they’ll get some satisfaction.

The mind can do some impressive gymnastics to deal with one’s actions. Surely, if one does what one does and treats it as unpleasant but necessary, it’s not so bad. Just have to get used to it. But as one gets used to it, one grows desensitized to it, and the horrors eventually become kind of normal. It’s only a matter of time before the horror becomes... fun. In the immortal words of one Mendicant Bias:

"I kill you all and I enjoy it. I destroy you in you indolent billions--in your gluttony, in your self-righteousness, in your arrogance. I pound your cities into dust; turn back the clock on your civilization's progress. What has taken you millennia to achieve I erase in seconds. Welcome back to the [Stone Age], vermin. Welcome home."

#zerm1v0hg #fic: abraxas #king ghidorah

[duckbeater]

ODD FROCK

“Odd Frock” is a story about a plague. In a kingdom far away, after a great war, all the sons are dying. Three figures attempt to unravel why: a queen regent, her heron spy, and a wandering priest—or, as they’re known in this kingdom, “frocks.” (I thought I would get to the part about the heron, here, but he didn’t show up.)

3. No Oaths

“I wouldn’t, my regent, consort with herons,” said Long Frock. “They’re shifty and they talk no truth. What’s more, they have sharp eyes and clear ears and fly. Herons are not liked in the kingdom. The people know they are spies. Apple-chucking, flaming apples, apples on arrows, fake arsenic apples, hot caramel apple trebuchets, apple baskets with rotting skeins, razor-sharp apple peels—”

“I’m sorry?” interjected the queen. “What are the people doing to these apples? This is a profound waste of apples. Is this—is this honestly?—is this why there’s no sweetness in this city?” she asked.

“Oh—,” sighed Long Frock. “No. Accepting all the dead, um, sons, no. Weapons,” he said, “are against herons, etc.” He pronounced “et cetera.” “Look: in the popular imagination, herons are spies.”

The queen considered this. “That’s fine,” she said. “The people must know they are my spies. They spy for me. Jesus. My spies: I don’t want them harassed—shot down over orchards and ponds, or whatever. They should get on with their work unmolested. All of this weird talk of apples—saints almighty,” she said. “I look about me for help, and everyone who helped the mad king is dead, and here I am, holding a kingdom of death, for the sake of the dying.” The queen wrenched at her oddly long sleeves, rolling them wrathfully back, suppressing a shriek of outrage.

She mastered herself.

“Tell me, Long Frock,” she continued, “what is your specialty?”

“My specialty?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He added: “My regent.”

She said: “Eye Frock does intel; Maths Frock crunches numbers or something; Cross Frock leads us through prayer—he literally does something with a ‘cross’; Doc Frock administers draughts and serums and plays at minor surgery; Fleet Frock heads the”—she snapped her fingers at him—“he heads the—”

“I have the run of your stables, my regent, the crown kennels and hutch,” said Fleet, who was sitting among the others, all looking rather cowed.

“Hutch as in rabbits?”

“Rabbits and dogs and horses,” said Fleet.

“I’ve never seen these rabbits.”

“No, and that is a pity, my regent. And in addition to my duties as a horse husband, it is my honor to cultivate your pasturelands in a rotating crop of oats, alfalfa and wheat. The granaries report to my stake and so too the brewers’ taxes and bakers’.” Still feeling dispossessed of significance, he remembered: “Wardens of race days are my reports and also the office of licensing hunts. Revenues are down. Because of all the dead sons. Can’t sell a license to a corpse! But we’d try,” he admitted, “oh, we’d try.”

“You see,” said the queen, flipping her chin at Long Frock. “Such industry in one small frock. And you’ve such a long frock and I feel you do nothing. Nothing.”

“I chair your nine frocks, my regent, and I am the kingdom’s lead diplomat and servant of safe messages. All relations in your kingdom flow through me.”

“Yes,” said the queen, “so just, you know, get on with it. Bring me the birds.” Then she led the men in prayers and then left them to their task.

—

Herons and frocks shared an odd circumstance: no one knew how many survived. Beside the nine council frocks, there were lesser coats (as they were known) dispatched throughout the kingdom and neighboring lands. As wartime consiglieres for the mad king, many held dangerous trade posts and were killed, in botched ventures, as common soldiers. Their bodies were never counted and surely never returned, though disgusting reports of corpse abuse sometimes made their way back to the council.

At the end of the fighting, many of these far-flung frocks gave up their stations and chose silence rather than return and serve an unsure cause. But even before détente, frocks dropped off the map left and right, into doubt and squalor and vice. His regent queen’s words stung, of course, but weren’t untrue: Long Frock had long felt he did nothing. He could not count his coats. How could he count the herons?

There had been, he thought, thousands of frocks. Now there were perhaps eighty. There had been, he reasoned, tens of thousands of talking herons. Now there were perhaps twelve. For the coats, it was an issue of morale, but the bird thing was a whole genocide and kind of a disgrace. Still, silver lining: he had enough glow flies to send them each a message in the night, telling them to meet in the Forest Sands. And if the birds didn’t want to come, they could just eat the flies.

—

The Forest Sands were an odd patch of dense, high fulgurites created in terrible storms along a sandy lakeshore near the castle. Nobody knew the technical term for the glass torrents created by lightning striking sand. But here it is: fulgurites. The queen regent knew, and she knew no one else observed or cared about the noun, and it made her feel deeply oppressed and lonely. “Oh, we’re going to the fulgurites?” she’d say, if there was some incantation or sunset ritual or an intrigue to be had in the gloaming, tree-sized-glass menagerie. And her subjects would look at her like, “What?” and she’d have to say, “The god damn Forest Sands.”

They were tremulously impressive. She understood their mystical appeal. The fulgurites she found as a girl, on the above-sea coral heads of her homeland, were small frail fractals, terminating in six or so arms, yet holdable.

The Forest Sands were a genuine forest of fulgurites. She felt tiny and fragile beneath their crystal sickles. The canopy high, high above glowed an electric blue, so she could see her face and the faces of her frocks; she could see the path, too. The wind kissed the glass and whistled. It drove the hounds insane.

“Send them back!” she shouted to Fleet. The fact was, she wanted to hear the forest scream.

—

Long Frock lost most of his glow flies. Two herons appeared and neither of them spoke. Everyone was disappointed.

“This?” said the queen, looking at these sour birds with listing wings and legs like kabob skewers. Pre-kabobs, is what she thought of these talkless herons. “Why don’t they speak?”

“They report,” said Eyes. “Ears but no speech—common among herons, now.”

The queen had really wanted to hear some animals talk. To be told that these animals only listened was beyond the pale. She stood in stunned fury under the icy moonlight, her blood boiling, wondering if she could punch Long Frock for this insolence. “I don’t know what to say,” she finally said.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Sands #1 (12/31/2020)

Click here if you’re like “what the heck is this about?”

Alastor meets Madame @usedhearts on the beach, Madame tells him about her business, and he decides to visit her cabaret sometime soon.

Madame

Madame rises from the surf, like a model, flipping her hair over a shoulder before wringing it out with her hands. Her tentacles adjust her bikini, a brilliant red that stands out quite nicely against the cool blue her skin currently sported.

She saunters over to the towel she'd laid out-- really more like a double king sized blanket to be able to fit her entire self on it. But fit she does, and she lays back on it, setting a pair of sunglasses on her face.

"What a lovely place," She murmurs.

Alastor

Alastor is wandering around checking out the beach when he sees... he's actually not sure who he sees. No one he's met before. They aren't one of the sinners Alastor expected to see here, and they look aquatic enough that they *might* be part of Valera's crew; but then they look different enough from the Veci Alastor has seen before that they might be a sinner after all.

One way to find out! He trots a bit closer. "Pardon me, but I don't think I recognize you! Are you one of the locals Valera's brought by, or are you one of my fellow jailbreakers?" He might get his answer in the form of a terrified scream. No helping that.

Madame

She doesn't scream, a point in her favor most likely, but she does tilt down her sunglasses to stare at him a moment.

"Alastor, we known each other for--" She stopped short as she remembers _Yeah there's more than one of him running around, ain't there?_ And this one looks different too. She sits up more fully, making sure her teeny bikini hadn't slipped, before offering her hand, for him to kiss like a proper gentleman, should he so desire. The other went to her chest, and she gave a demure look, like any respectable lady would.

"_Pardon, Monsieur._ I didn't realize I had ona them other Radio Demons here and not the local variety. Too bad no one's here to give a proper introduction, guess I'll just do it myself!" She laughs a bit.

"Madame Mama Mabee, owner 'n proprietor a Mama's Cabaret and Saloon. It's a pleasure to make ya acquaintance, Mes. Alastor."

Alastor

It certainly does win her a point, as does greeting him like she knows him. A friend of one of his alternates? How convenient.

"*Enchanté, Madame!*" He takes her hand to ghost a kiss over it. "Always a delight to meet one of my other selves' friends. And one in the entertainment industry, no less!"

Madame

After the kiss, she takes her hand back, and tucks her legs to the side, keeping herself upright. She leans on one of her tentacles, using that to help balance rather than take up one of her hands with actual fingers.

"Oh, yer such a charmer, just like my own Alastor. I'd expect nothin' else from a Radio Demon of any universe. And I'm delighted to meet you as well, Mes." She titters a bit, playing up the 'southern belle' angle.

"Oh yes, been runnin' Hell's finest combo cabaret, saloon, gamblin' house, burlesque 'n brothel since 1895! Put on shows nightly, and sometimes, even Mama herself gets up there to belt!"

Alastor

“Really! 125 years in a *very* crowded market! Now, that’s a record to be proud of.” Admittedly, the way that market looks has changed a lot. In Alastor’s experience, aside from some historical districts like New Storyville, the combination saloon/gambling house/brothels had largely been split into separate businesses—bars, casinos, et cetera. There isn’t a need to contain all your vices to one building in a realm where there’s no point in trying to sequester vices away from the “respectable” neighborhoods.

Which only makes it more impressive, in Alastor’s opinion, that an establishment operating on an older business model is still running. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I saw a good burlesque! I’d begun to fear it was a dying art—not risqué enough for most people.” He tuts disapprovingly.

Madame

"Mama knows how to run her biz, hun. Ran a saloon 'n brothel when I was still alive-- carried that over, added in the burlesque shows, 'n a bigger gamblin' section. When I started out, I was ona the only ones around able to do all that at the same time, with a brothel on top. People jumped on my style, but no one compared to the original." She winked one blue eye at him, though it began to shift in color to a gold.

"Oh, you must come to a show, darlin'. Our local Radio Demon comes often enough, I make sure he's comfortable 'n all, he's got a booth all his own. I'm sure he'd be willin' to share that comfort with you, bein' as you two are the same 'n all. Helps keep the other patrons from bein' antsy in yer presence 'n whatnot." She was on the business woman's spiel now, there was no stopping her.

"We start the night with classic burlesques and cabaret acts, and then things get a bit more risque as the night goes on. By the time it's the wee hours, there's sometimes a full nude can-can!" She giggles. "We close up shop for the night around four am or so, dependin' on how longs the acts ran."

Alastor

His eyes light up at the mention of this private booth. Although he prefers to mingle with the crowds, the crowds prefer not to mingle with him. A private booth at least gives him a chance to see the show without the rest of the establishment clearing out. “So accommodating of you! I’m sure we’d have no trouble sharing! You’ll have to give me the address before we all go home, I’m always looking for more late night entertainment that’s actually entertaining!” Depending on how the risqué acts go, he might well duck out sometime between midnight and two—nude acts don’t faze him, but they need *some* entertainment value beyond the nudity to keep Alastor’s interest.

Madame

"I'll be sure ya get it, shug. Got a whole stack a business cards in my room. Made 'em up special for this trip." She laughs again, giving a little shrug of her shoulders.

"All a our headliners are displayed out front and the night's lists of acts are in the lobby, so if ya happen to find one ya fancy more'n the rest, you can always check to see what's playin'. If I'm goin' on stage, that'll be there too." Madame stretches a bit before laying back on her towel, her skin taking on the same golden-tan color as the sand around them.

"There _is_ a two drink minimum, though, but we do have some virgin drinks, if ya ain't feelin' alcohol that night. Oh! And sometimes, especially when I take the stage, we do scenes from musicals from the livin' world. I find those fun, a little theater in the middla all the dancin'."

Alastor

If he went by himself, he’d better stick to virgin drinks—but he didn’t have to go by himself. He might could go with his other on some nights—or maybe Mimzy or Sir Pentious, if they left before things got too raunchy. Angel would probably stay for the whole program...

“Oh, really! Burlesque and Broadway: an uncommon but *delicious* combination. Consider me sold, Madame!”

Madame

"You're damn right, darlin'! Gotta keep up with the times. We also do serve food, mostly Nawlins' cuisine." She pulled down her sunglasses again to wink at him over them.

"'Fore I moved west, Nawlins was my home. Grew up there. The Alastor I know hails from there, too, so I'm assumin' the same a you?"

Alastor

He presses a hand to his chest and feigns a swoon. “My *goodness,* and I’ve never been before? If I were a more vain man, I’d think you designed your establishment just to appeal to me! Yes ma’am, New Orleanian born and raised! When were you there? You predated *me,* no doubt, but I had ancestors in New Orleans going back generations!”

Madame

"Dear Al said the same when he first walked in!" She laughed. "Born there in 1853, left there around 1873 to make my fortune headin' west. Ended up a Madame and did that for around another twenty years, grew up a whole town around me, then got it blown all to Hell!"

Madame laughed once more and then her eyes widened a bit. "Literally!"

Alastor

His smile widened and he leaned closer, curious. “Oh, now that sounds like quite an explosive story!”

Madame

"Oh, it is." She hummed and winked at him. "But ya gotta come visit me at the Cabaret at least once 'fore I share it. One's death is a very personal story after all."

She gave him a mock pout before laughing again.

Alastor

He laughed. “Fair enough! As if I needed another reason to come on by! Dinner, a show, *and* a story!”

Madame

"I'm a triple threat like that," She cooed. Madame pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. "Is that is, Mes. Alastor, or were ya plannin' on goin' for a dip with lil' ol' me?" Another wink.

Alastor

He gestured at his clothes. “Didn’t bring my bathing suit, I’m afraid! But it’s been a *delight* to meet you, Madame. I’ll come by for your card before we depart.”

Madame

"I'll be lookin' forward to it, darlin'!" She stood then, giving him full view of just how goddamn big she was. "I'm headin' back in, so toodles~"

She wiggled her fingers as a wave, and then ran toward the surf.

Alastor

He half-bowed in farewell—which seemed a sort of ridiculous gesture, given how much she towered over him—and then continued his walk along the beach.

#extermination party palace #usedhearts #chat log

[leroiloup]

Das Biest

⚜ The entirely unnecessarily long & violent story of how Klaus gave up on trying to be human.    ➥ Takes place : Fall of 1359 in present day Germany    ✥ Trigger Warnings : violence /gore

❝ –– the true problem remains my brother Niklaus ; he continues to hide his loneliness with                   cruelty. ❞                                     Elijah’s Journal ║ August 1359

                                                                       -✦-

                              Understanding   /  Forgiveness   /   Love   /   Redemption

         ❝ Such notions were thrown my way towards the latter years of my life, perhaps encouraged by the love that melted my frozen heart when my daughter was born. I wonder, though, does sixteen years account for well over a thousand ? Does the path I took mean anything so long as my destination was justified ? If you’re to ask me, I’d say no. Yes, when I died, I did so selflessly as a father ,  a brother ,  a friend ,  and a lover. But first and foremost I lived my life as only one thing :    a      m o n s t e r .

❝ I’m no mere villain in the stories you hear. I’m not the lackey who lives to serve under tyrannical rule. I’m not the bad guy thrown into the path of the hero set to challenge his ways and ultimately make him rise above and vanquish evil, thus becoming the pure symbol of good–– et cetera et cetera. No, I’m none of these things.

                                                                                         I’m much worse.

❝ I’m the nightmare that demons cower from. I’m the shadow from which evil flees. True, I softened in the final years of my life, finding a selfless focus of my power, but make no mistake. It is my name that makes the night itself tremble in fear.

❝ How did it come to this, you wonder ? How did the simple son of a wayward Viking become the ultimate terror to plague this world for over over a millennia ? There’s a plethora of examples from which I could cite, but the one that could truly drive my point home takes place in the fall 1359. Humanity was never a thing I could easily turn on and off as vampires today can, but in that time, I was truly anything but   h u  m   a    n .  ❞

                               ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The ropes bit into the flesh of his wrists, bruising them deeply. Rope, however, was nothing but a nuisance for a vampire. Klaus could have easily snapped them and freed himself in an instant - if it weren’t for the witch chanting incessantly. The words were like daggers through his very skull. The original vampire was on his knees in a wooden church, a small group of people surrounding him. They looked frightened but determined as they watched the witch subdue him. Dark red and black eyes framed by rippling veins stared back, his fangs bared as he yelled, promising unending torment the moment he was free.

It wasn’t often that a vampire was caught, and it was nearly impossible to catch an original. The people of the small town of Bedburg, Germany in the autumn of 1359 didn’t even know what vampires were. They were hunting a werewolf and ended up with Klaus in their snare. How could such a feat be possible ? How was the infamous and powerful Klaus MIkaelson overcome by the simple minded townsfolk ? A beautiful pair of brown eyes, of course.

His name was Johann and he had the unfortunate luck of coming across a vampire feeing in the woods under the cover of night. Elijah, Rebekah, Kol and Klaus had taken up residence in Cologne Germany, just fifty kilometers away from Bedburg. After a particularly nasty blow out over the morals of being a vampire, Klaus headed out into the night to clear his head. Not wanting to attract attention back home, he found the small village and hunted on the outskirts. It was just after a drank a pair of lovers out for a roll in the hay dry that Klaus heard the snap of a twig, announcing the presence of another.

Turning to the source of the sound, Klaus seemingly disappeared and reappeared right in front of the young man. He was tall and fit, clearly a labor worker like a farmer. Shoulder length brown hair was tied back at the base of his neck and his youthful face was void of a beard. He couldn’t be much older than Klaus was when he was turned. Wide brown eyes looked up at the vampire, fear mingled with something else - something that took Klaus by surprise : wonder.

❝ Aren’t thou afraid ? ❞ he asked in German, having learned the language a century earlier.

A tense moment passed and the young mortal finally broke the silence.  ❝ They- They told me t’was a beast who hunted in these woods. ❞  That immediately took Klaus off guard. As far as he knew, this was the first time a Mikaelson had set foot near Bedburg. The village was too small to even be on a map. It was a complete fluke that his rage fueled path took him there.  ❝ Something like a hound straight from the bowels of hell. Some thing like- ❞

❝ A wolf ? ❞ Klaus asked.

The mortal’s eyes widened a bit as he nodded. He looked to the two dead bodies, then back to the killer before him, blood still on his chin.  ❝ I didn’t know you’d be a man. Are you both ? ❞

Finding himself far more intrigued with the inquisitive mortal, Klaus felt his earlier anger ebb away.  ❝ I am not what you’re hunting. ❞  The fact that there was a werewolf in these parts was fascinating and Klaus filed it away for later.

❝ But you killed them, ❞ the mortal stated.

❝ Yes. ❞

❝ And you’ll kill me now ? ❞

Klaus took a couple of steps froward, wiping the blood from his chin with his thumb, bringing himself within reaching distance of the young man.  ❝ Thou art unafraid at the prospect ? ❞  Usually this would be the point of running and screaming, but the mortal seemed merely curious.

❝ Not of dying, ❞ he admitted.  ❝ I loathe this town. And the people in it. ❞  His eyes were on the dead couple when he spoke.

There was a kindred spirit in the mortal that Klaus could feel. He’d never loved anyone since Aurora had shattered his heart, and while the concept of love wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, he found himself yearning for kinship ; someone who could understand him. Taking a risk, he slowly reached out and brushed back a lock of stray brown hair from the mortal’s face.  ❝ Small minded people are never able to see the greatness within those like us. ❞

❝ Us ? ❞ he asked, not shying away in the least. On the contrary, he leaning into the touch, fascinated by the creature of fantasy.

Klaus nodded, dark blue eyes holding his gaze with a growing intensity as he leaned closer. When next he spoke, it was in a whisper as though worried that any volume would shatter the moment he’d unwittingly found himself in.  ❝ I can show you a better way to live. ❞  Drawn together by an unseen force, their lips met, and Klaus felt the first wave of peace overtake his soul in centuries.

Only when their lips parted did the mortal smile and say, ❝ I am Johann. ❞  Klaus grinned in return before kissing him again, letting his emotions take hold and guide his actions.

                                        ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The young love lasted three nights. Each night, Klaus would slip away from his siblings to meet Johann in the woods outside of Bedburg. At a time when his loneliness mingled with insatiable hunger had started to melt away the traits that made him human, it was Johann’s warm touch that coaxed a bit of his old self to the surface. It was pure bliss, reminding the vampire that there was more to life than rage, torment, and blood. There was beauty all around if only one were to open their eyes and look.

On the third night, Klaus didn’t even greet his new friend. He pounced from the darkness, shoving Johann up against a tree and kissed him with the passion he’d denied himself for so long. When the kiss ended, Klaus grinned, a playful expression in place. It was only then that he saw the fearful and saddened look in the brown eyes he’d come to crave.  ❝ What’s the matter ? ❞

❝ I am so sorry. I did not know- ❞

Confusion clouded blue eyes as Johann rambled, but before Klaus could make any sense of it, there was a searing pain that shot through his skull. Instantly the vampire was brought to his knees, hands to his head as he yelled. A witch had come into view from around a tree. Her hands were outstretched and she chanted, holding strong to the spell that was able to subdue the original. Betrayal and hurt boiled deep within his eyes as Klaus looked to Johann. A group of mortals had no descended and shackled Klaus, tying him up to bring back to town. As far as the townsfolk were concerned, their period of strife had ended : the werewolf of Bedburg had been caught. Oh, how wrong they were !

                                        ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun had begun to rise when Klaus was tied down on his knees, hands behind his back in the wooden church at the end of the village. A ring of salt was around him as the witch continued her ritual to kill him. He wondered if he were a regular vampire whether or not it would have worked. The small handful of people who surrounded him weren’t recognizable, though they appeared to be people of powerful positions within the little community. One man in particular stood in front of the group, looking like the mayor.

Head bowed under long tresses of tangled blonde hair, seemingly given up, Klaus calculated the many ways he would introduce pure anguish into their lives. The inexorable torment that pounded through his black and broken heart fueled the machinations through Klaus’s mind. For a brief glimmer in his life, Klaus had found happiness ; the kind of happiness that he didn’t think would be possible after Aurora. It was nothing more than an illusion, he realized - not unlike his humanity. To hell with Elijah’s morals and speeches about being better than the beast. Klaus had learned where compassion would get him, and it was a road he never wanted to travel again. He wasn’t a human any longer, and he decided that eternity would be better spent accepting that truth. He was better than them - he could rise above them. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t human, but rather their god. Unfortunately for the town of Bedburg, he’s not a merciful god in the slightest. They needed to be punished and the monster within him reared its head, begging for blood.

Sunlight shone through the church windows, bathing Klaus in its light. One of the wives stepped back, confused. Apparently she thought demons couldn’t survive in the sunlight. It gave Klaus an idea - one that he was sure he’d regret later - but his mind was running solely on the need for revenge. Logic be damned.

Head raised slowly and inhuman vampire eyes met the group. Fighting against the searing torment of the spell, Klaus’s face set with a new determination. Apparently the blood thirsty look they were met with was enough to cause concern and the room froze. Even the witch paused, though her hands were still up. He couldn’t leave the ring of salt, so she felt safe.

That feeling was misplaced.

Hands still behind him, Klaus’s fingers found his daylight ring and pulled it off. Instantly his body was engulfed in flames, wide grin and dangerous eyes seen through the fire. The wood of the church caught instantly, going up like a tinder box.  It was an unseasonably dry year which worked in his favor. The mayor pushed his wife towards the door as another man was caught, screaming as fire lit him up. The ring of salt was gone and the people panicked as they ran for the door. Klaus moved at preternatural speed to the witch who stood in a shaded area. He sunk his teeth into her neck and she screamed as her healing blood filled his mouth and flames engulfed both of their bodies. He didn’t stop until her head was nearly severed from its neck, then Klaus dropped the body to the floor. He put his ring back on and moved with the same speed to the door and those trying to escape. The wind created by his movement was able to kill the flames still on his body. What clothing was left was singed to his melted flesh, hair gone and red eyes wild. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt, and yet the original was able to harness it and let it fuel him.

There were more screams as people were trapped in the flames. Those who would survive were met with sharp fangs.

Outside, the villagers were taking to the street to behold their church up in flames. The screams within died and after a few tense moments, the grotesque figure of Klaus emerged from the smoky doorway. It was immediately clear to anyone that he wasn’t human, for anyone with burns that bad wouldn’t still be walking. Blood fell from his lips as it began to heal him. His eyes scanned the ground as people started to run back to their home. He wasn’t bothered with them, though, as his eyes found Johann in the crowd.

The mortal had the sense to finally look afraid as Klaus approached. A scarred and singed hand reached up, affectionately caressing the side of Johann’s face.  ❝ I did not want to, ❞ the mortal pleaded, tears in his eyes.  ❝ You have to believe me. I never wanted this. They- ❞

Words ceased and brown eyes went side as his expression froze. When Klaus pulled back his other hand, it was dripping with blood, holding the beating heart of the man he thought to be his lover. There was nothing but a steely resolve forged by hurt and betrayal in Klaus’s eyes as he brought the heart to his lips and took a drink. Johann’s body fell limp to the ground and there was a piercing scream from one of the villagers who’d witnessed it. Klaus smirked and dropped the heart before turning his blind hatred on the people of the town.

The slaughter didn’t last long as Klaus tore through as many people as he could find. Blood painted the sides of buildings, limbs fell detached in his wake, and smoke began to could and blot out the sun. No one was safe from his ire and blood soaked fangs. The fire continued to spread, a visible metaphor to the vampire’s ever growing and all consuming rage. It wasn’t long before the entire village was on fire and not a soul was left alive.

Satisfaction wasn’t the emotion that Klaus carried in his heart as he walked away from the smoldering remains of the carnage. The tragedy of loss in his heart was gone, washed away with any semblance of happiness or peace. Instead, the only thing Klaus felt was numb. All attempts at being human were a thing of the past. The original would move forward in life only as the thing he was forged to be :  a beast.

Finding a wandering horse, Klaus approached it and - not bothering with a saddle - he mounted and guided the animal back towards Cologne. The village of Bedburg would be resettled in coming years, though to this day, there are still stories of the werewolf that once plagued the town. What there will not be stories of, is the monster far more terrifying - the one who gave in to the animalistic side and embraced his true nature in their very church.

#ᴡ ☾ kʟᴀᴜs cʜʀᴏɴɪᴄʟᴇs ﹕ oɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛ #ɢ ☾ aᴄᴛɪᴏɴ #ᴛ ☾ Pʀᴇ TVD #ᴠ ☾ cᴀɴᴏɴ #klaus mikaelson #[ this is so long #[ and violent #[ but also fun fact : #[ werewolves in Bedburg Germany is true facts! look it up ;) #[ I can't believe I finished this #[ I started it back in DECEMBER #[ it's so pointless I dunno who'd even read all this #[ but I feel so accomplished

[eerna]

ah wait! What kind of changes did the anime make in noragami? I'm one of those ppl who r lazy and just start reading the manga where the anime left off (and I know they changed some things, like that entire plot point at the end of s1, but that's all I think?) Thanks in advance!

Oh boy. I have talked abt this a lot and haven't seen the anime in a loong while, so for more details you can search my blog, but I can do it again in short bc I am really pissed at it.

There are so many non-plot important things in Noragami that they justdecided to skip or change. For starters: they gave Yato a plot where he had to learn shinki were humans and not just tools for him to use to make Yukine more sympathetic I guess. This is outrageously wrong and completely kills Yato as a functional character. Yato is literally the ONLY GOD IN THE SERIES who makes no distinction between them- for him, noras and shinkis are people no matter what. Like, in the anime he forces Yukine to kill that infected girl as Yukine screams and begs for him not to do it. Idk about you, but if I were Yukine, I'd start rebelling against him and not care for him too, so Yukine being a brat is justified now. Then Hiyori has to have a conversation with Yato in which she tells him "Hey Yukine is a teen boy and you should treat him as such" and he acts like he never thought of it that way. In the manga, Hiyori saves Yukine from the infected girl, he cries in her lap, end. In the manga no one understands why would a minor god like Yato have a hafuri who cares so much about him- it's because Yato is a kind soul who withstood all the irrational, hissy crap Yukine has put him through and Yukine understood and decided to be better for him. He saw the boy and decided "I'll be a good dad to him bc neither of us had one", he never had to be told to do it. It is basically what makes Yato redeemable, what shows us that he can learn to love properly and deeply because it's his natural response to seeing a lost boy like Yukine. But in the anime...... that makes no sense bc he was an asshole and deserved what was coming to him for traumatizing a fourteen year old. Thanks

Then comes the issue of Hiyori. As you might have noticed in my previous example, her spotlight gets stolen. The original s1 ending..,. Kills me. Hiyori does get kidnapped later on but she isn't just "kyaaaa Yatoooo ;.;" about it, but she and Kazuma figure out the plan to overthrow Bisha and then stop it while they are captured. In the Underworld Arc, she spent her life savings on going after Yato and lied to her parents, showing a major step away from her usual character, but the anime had her there to be Yukine's motivation or smth. She is just more.... animated in the manga, she is the narrator of the story after all.

Then, the genre change. The anime decided it wanted to be more action/plot than character driven, so they completely messed up the aura. Noragami is written in a way that the comedic events later turn out to be major development points. For example, the one where Yato possesses Hiyori's body is actually a chapter displaying his toxic tendencies learned from his dad. Later on, the famous Hospital Arc shows us how he'd changed and developed, and it wouldn't be as impactful if we didn't have the divine possession one before. But the anime just uses it for a side comedic story, not placed in the timeline the way the lodge OVA can be bc it doesn't impact the plot that much. Besides, plot isn't the o yl thing that should be kept the same: Changing the way something happened can greatly undermine it. For example, Yato finding out Ebisu is dead is ten times worse in the manga- instead of seeing Ebisu die, he wakes up after the great battle convinced he beat his dad, so sure that he managed to destroy his plans. And then baby Ebi walks int the room, and the horror and grief in Yato's expression is..... haunting, man. We already saw characters dying on each other's arms. Why change such a pivotal moment for Yato's development into a been-there-done-that scene.

Et cetera. Basically, the anime is your everyday supernatural action story while the manga is an unique character driven comedy drama. If you wanna experience the Noragami I always talk about, read the manga from the very beginning. Adachitoka's art is worth it anyway

#eernask #eernanon