#so I make my art in the midst of my anger and all it says is 'Fuck you'

[gxlden-angels]

Poetry isn't real and ripped scriptures mean nothing. Fuck you

#Not gonna put this one in the main tags #Artisitic Vision/Intent/Interpretation whatever do your thing tumblr this will probably go further than it's meant to #something something death of the author okay I'm gonna give you the answer now #I say the answer and not *an* answer because poetry isn't real and words have to have meaning or they don't #anyways I want to write poetry or do spoken word or something about my religious trauma because I express myself thru art #I like seeing colors and words and going 'that's me. I'm that.' even abstractly because I'm abstract #even as you're reading this you're abstractly assigning me a voice and image even if it's just your own or the default one you use #I think okay I'm going to do black out poetry but I think about it too much. I think too much about making it pretty and meaningful #it's not me making art about my religious trauma anymore. it's about me making art about my trauma instead #I rip the bible to shreds and look at it and it mocks me. This is a form of art. But it means nothing to anyone but me. It's my anger #so I go back to making pretty poems about ripping up the bible and it doesn't mean anything I'm writing about making art again #so I make my art in the midst of my anger and all it says is 'Fuck you' #So now I have a pile of bible pieces and 'Fuck you' and I'm less angry but now I have nothing to show #ripped bible pieces and 'fuck you' look just like every other pile of words from any other book. You could make a new book with the words #I pick up a few pieces and make something new and that's a metaphor for something probably but what makes that so? #I am angry and I decide what's art and what's poetry and I put it out there for you to see and feel something and I've been taught for so #so so long that my purpose is to please others and be perfect that I forget I also have to feel something when I make art #my religious upbringing still affects me in ways I didn't even realize and this will probably get reblogged like tumblr poetry but for me? #for me it's saying you can just be now. not a future bride. not a preacher. not a mother. nothing. You can be nothing. That's fine #You weren't put on this planet to perform #You aren't being watched and judged by an all seeing force. #Be nothing sometimes. Fuck you

[tsumskz]

Hiiii I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if it was possible to do a artist hyunjin x reader, but a spicy one, basically they get in a heated Argument because, life has been stressful and hyunjin has been spending so so much time locked away in his room and not paying any attention to reader, so hyunjin storms out, a couple hours pass, reader decided to take a shower, and after coming out of the shower, only wearing a thin white tank top and lace panties.

Hyunjin comes home a couple minutes after and spots reader on the balcony just looking out, and notices what she is wearing, he goes up behind her and they start being all lovey dovey and they talk things out and say sorry, and then BOOM they start making out and have sweet sex on the balcony.

Idk I'm sorry if it's weird you don't have to do it if you don't feel comfortable ofc but it was just an idea I had for a while, thanks for taking the time to read this, have a good day !!!

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა - artist hyunjin x reader

warnings: smut (hot balcony sex) , slight angst.

— notes: omg just reading this made my jaw drop. this is my first ever request and never been so excited to write something. wanted to give this a more detailed feel and a bit longer but gonna give it my best shot. i hope it lives up to your expectations ! —

4 days..

It's been so long since you last talked to your boyfriend, Hyunjin. Each passing day feels more unfamiliar than the last. You know he has a reputation for immersing himself in his art, locking himself away in his studio for hours on end. It's his way of diving deep into his creative process, only emerging to use the restroom, which isn't very often. At first, it concerned you, but you got used to it because it never lasted longer than a day.

However, as the third day rolled around, panic started to set in. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was off this time. Was he even still in the room? Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, you finally mustered the courage to approach his studio door. You gave it a couple of gentle knocks, hoping he would hear and come to answer it. But all you were met with was deafening silence. You knocked again, desperation creeping into your voice.

Then, you heard a scoff from the other side of the door, confirming that he was indeed inside and alive. You couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and frustration. Maybe one more knock would do the trick, you thought optimistically. But once again, there was no response. The panic and worry that had consumed you began to transform into a simmering anger. It felt like it was always one thing after another with him.

If he wasn't engrossed in creating a masterpiece, he was tirelessly researching and seeking inspiration for his next project. It seemed impossible to have a normal conversation without art dominating the discussion. It felt like you didn't even have a boyfriend anymore. With a heavy heart, you reluctantly accepted defeat and retreated to your own room, resigning yourself to another lonely night in the bed that was meant to be shared with Hyunjin.

You longed for his touch, yearned to hear him say how much he loved you. You craved the simple pleasures of being a typical couple, going out on dates and making cherished memories together. It was hard to recall the last time you two went on a date, let alone the last time you shared an intimate moment.

These thoughts raced through your mind as you fell into a deep slumber, entering the fourth day of his self-imposed isolation.

—————-

You wake up suddenly, startled by the sound of your bedroom door closing. You catch a glimpse of Hyunjin leaving the room. Without thinking, you rush to the door and see him standing in the doorway of his art studio. Tears start to flow down your face as all the emotions you've been holding in come crashing down. You drop to your knees, overwhelmed by everything that's been building up inside you.

In the midst of the studio's creative chaos, you find Hyunjin, his back turned to you as he adds strokes to a canvas that's as tumultuous as the current state of your relationship.

"Why do you keep doing this, Hyunjin?" Your voice cuts through the silence, a mix of hurt and frustration. "You've been in here for days, and I feel like you're just leaving me to... to just rot out there!"

Hyunjin's hand pauses mid-air, the tension palpable. He turns, a frown etched on his face. "It's not about you," he says with a sigh. "This is my work, my art. It demands my time."

"But what about us?" you counter, the hurt in your voice growing. "Your art might need you, but I need you too. We're supposed to be in this together, but I feel so alone."

He sets his brush down, facing you fully now. "I'm not trying to be selfish, but you knew how important this is to me. Can't you see that I'm doing this for us, for our future?"

“Our future doesn't exist in just your paintings, Hyunjin! It's here, between us, and it's fading away while you're lost in your colors and canvases!" Your words hang heavy in the air, an undeniable truth that even his art can't paint over.

"do you want to end up homeless because without this we will have nothing" His words cut through the air, sharp and unforgiving. "You just sit around, contributing nothing!"

your jaw clenches, disbelief painting your features. How could he be so blind? The house—its cleanliness, the meals that grace the table, the very fabric of your shared life—it's all maintained by your hands. And when he burrows into the depths of his creative fervor, it's you who ensures he doesn't wither away, lost in his canvas-strewn sanctuary. You're the one who remembers life beyond the art, who keeps the world turning while he's lost in his work.

Yet here he stands, accusing you of idleness, oblivious to the love and labor you pour into every corner of your shared existence. The sting of his ignorance is a physical ache in your chest.

“fuck you!" The words erupt from you, a volcanic release of pent-up hurt and frustration, before he turns on his heel, leaving nothing but the echo of the slammed door and a heart fracturing in his wake. The betrayal is a bitter pill, the taste lingering on your tongue. To him, are you truly nothing but a shadow, an accessory to his life of vibrant hues and bold strokes?

The silence of the house wraps around you, a cold embrace as you grapple with the shards of a love you thought unbreakable.

Time seemed to crawl as you grappled with the aftermath of the confrontation. Could it be true that his devotion to art overshadowed the bond you both nurtured? His absence left a void, and questions about his return loomed large in your mind, shrouded in a haze of uncertainty. The complexity of your emotions was overwhelming, and in an effort to find clarity, you sought refuge in the warm embrace of a shower. As the water cascaded over you, it seemed to carry away some of the sorrow, the familiar fragrance of your shampoo evoking memories of Hyunjin—how he cherished its scent, always breathing it in with a tender kiss on your forehead.

Resolved to calm your restless thoughts, you emerged from the shower, selecting a pair of charming lace panties and a simple white tank top from the wardrobe you both shared. A reflective pause in front of the mirror preceded your journey to the kitchen, where you crafted a mug of soothing warm tea. Cradling the comfort in your hands, you stepped out onto the balcony, the view from your apartment unfolding before you. It was there, amidst the tranquility, that recollections of joyous times spent with Hyunjin surfaced, before the tide of your relationship turned so tumultuous.

The love you held for him was profound, yet his seeming indifference left you adrift in a sea of whys. As the hour approached, worry began to knit your brow, the absence of any sign from Hyunjin igniting a concern for his whereabouts.

——————

The faint jingle of keys disrupts the quietude, signaling his return. Uncertainty grips you; should you greet him with open arms or brace yourself for another disappointment? As he steps through the house, the choice is made for you. You remain still, feigning ignorance of his presence, your body bare except for the delicate fabric of your tank top, a stark contrast to the cool balcony tiles.

The door closes with a firm click, and the sound of his footsteps grows louder, a steady drumbeat heralding his approach. Suddenly, his arms are around you, an unexpected embrace that sends a jolt through your body. "I'm sorry, you are infinitely more important than my art," he murmurs, his voice laced with remorse. You can't help but relent a little, his warmth seeping into your chilled skin.

"It wasn't about the art," you manage to say, your voice a mix of sadness and frustration. "It's feeling undervalued, as if my contributions are invisible to you." The words hang heavily between you, a confession of your innermost feelings. A tear threatens to escape, a tangible sign of your emotional toil. "I strive to fill our days with happiness, yet it seems to go unnoticed."

You're enveloped in a silence that's both comforting and tense, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, the soft touch of his lips on your shoulder breaks the stillness, a silent plea for forgiveness, coaxing you to turn and face him.

Enthralled by his magnetic charm, you find yourself lost in the depths of his gaze, eyes shimmering with the remnants of tears shed. A tide of regret engulfs him as he confronts the sorrow etched upon your features, a sorrow he inadvertently sculpted.

"I love you beyond measure. We'll carve out more time just for us," he vows, his voice a tender murmur. His eyes, once a fortress, now betray a vulnerability, a sheen of uncried tears mirroring your own. "You are the essence of my existence, and I hold dear every sacrifice you've made."

In a moment charged with raw emotion, you reach for him, fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt, drawing him into an ardent embrace. Your lips collide, a tempestuous dance that obliterates all distance between you. As passion crescendos, his hands explore the landscape of your back, a silent ode to your shared connection.

The caress of his lips on your skin leaves a trail of warmth, even as the cool night air brushes against you. Each kiss is deliberate, a silent promise of his yearning, and with every brush of his lips, the thrill of being out in the open, on the balcony, heightens your senses. The anticipation builds with each second that passes without his touch, and now that he's here, the hunger in his actions is unmistakable.

His breath against your neck sends another wave of chills, contrasting the heat that's pooling within you. The adrenaline of possibly being seen intertwines with the longing you've harbored during his absence. His touch is insistent, a testament to his own need as he slides the strap of your tank top, baring you to the night and to his gaze.

The sensation of his mouth on your breast, the mixture of his warmth and the cool breeze, is intoxicating. As he lavishes attention on your nipple, his tongue painting slow circles.

“fuck” you can't help but voice your pleasure. His groan vibrates against you, a deep sound of longing that echoes your own feelings.

turning you around, the cityscape becomes your backdrop, and his hands are firm on your hips making sure to hold you up. The slide of your panties is a whisper in the night, and his fingers are deft as they explore, sending jolts of pleasure through you with every movement. It's a dance as old as time, his skill with his hands a familiar path to ecstasy.

The passage of time seems to dissolve as he unzips his pants, the sound cutting through the stillness of the room. With a deft motion, he eases his boxers down just enough to liberate himself from their confines. Positioning himself at your entrance, the mere brush of his tip against you feels like liberation from an age-old yearning. The months of solitude, of only your own touch to satiate your desires, now seem a distant memory.

As he enters you, a chorus of deep moans escapes from both your lips, a testament to the intensity of the connection. "It's so tight," he murmurs, a hint of awe lacing his voice. His concern is palpable; he fears that any premature movement might bring about a swift end to this long-awaited union.

The initial thrust is a mix of eagerness and caution, as if he's navigating uncharted territory. The sensation of being filled, stretched so exquisitely, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. He follows with another, more urgent thrust, and you can't help but clench around him, a reflexive response to the overwhelming sensation.

“enjoy the view while i’m fucking you," he whispers, his hand drifting to initiate an exquisite dance upon your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your core. Compelled by his command, your eyes flutter open to the celestial canvas above, yet the allure of his gaze draws you back. Craning your neck, you steal a look at him—his focus intense, his movements deliberate—each thrust a promise of restraint, a slap withheld. His eyes lock onto yours, heavy with desire, and you feel the tension spiral within, escalating rapidly until it shatters, leaving you breathless, stifling your cries of ecstasy. He follows suit, his rhythm losing finesse as he succumbs, “baby i’m gonna cum” a fervent declaration escaping him as he collapses, his warmth enveloping you.

in the aftermath, you nudge him gently, a silent plea to seek refuge beneath the cover of your bed, embarrassed by what just took place moments ago. Hyunjin complies, his demeanor not of shame but of quiet triumph. He tucks you in, his lips finding your forehead in a tender reassurance, dispelling any fears of prying eyes. Nestled in his embrace, drowsiness overtakes you, “ i love you” his murmured affection lingering in the air. You acknowledge it with a weary nod, contentment flooding you as you drift into slumber, wrapped in the security of his arms. Forgiveness can wait; for now, this bliss is all that matters.

#skz #skz smut #smut #tsumhal #hyunjin #skz scenarios #hyunjin skz #hyunjin smut #stray kids stays #straykids #straykids texts #bangchan #bangchan smut #seo changbin #stray kids #stray kids fake texts #stray kids smut #hals requests

[leprosycock]

do u have any fav book recs!???? love ur literary mind and would love to know if u have any good must reads sorry this is random

thank you!! i don't read nearly as often as i should but i have a lot of books that i love:

the furry trap by josh simmons is a wildly weird, disgusting, and obscene piece of work that i've loved for years. it's satirical and deranged and very darkly funny and his style is so unique. it's a collection of eleven short comics and some standalone illustrations. my favorites are cock bone, christmas eve, and demonwood, but none of them are bad. at least in my opinion. a lot of people think it's just edgy for edgy's sake, but even if it is, it's still really fucking good. i always find that criticism to be so funny because it's only ever flung at media with any kind of sex and violence and taboos in it.

tender is the flesh by agustina bazterrica is one that a lot of people are familiar with, but it's far from overrated. it's about a world in which cannibalism is legal and humans are bred, bought, and sold for meat. a very lonely, broken, divorced blue-collar man begins to form a bond with a specimen despite any physical contact with her being expressly forbidden. it's twisted and stomach-churning and intimate and i love it.

poison for breakfast by lemony snicket is insanely funny and tender and witty and entertaining. it's essentially an unreliable autobiography that follows strings of consciousness and memories and musings as he panics after getting a note under his door that tells him he had poison for breakfast. it's short and sweet and there are so many wonderful poignant lines throughout it that made me close the book for a second and think for a while.

the wasp factory by iain banks is awesome and it's about a sixteen year old boy named frank with a very fragile older brother who's been sent to a psych ward. frank is ruthlessly violent and unstable and he takes all his anger and frustration and bloodlust out on helpless animals, either human or non. it has a really interesting ambiance to it that traps you in both this violent teenager's headspace and this murky, unsettling little scottish village and things just get worse and worse until you realize you can't get out. highly recommend!

someone who will love you in all your damaged glory by raphael bob-waksberg is a fantastic collection of surreal/sci-fi-based stories that have one foot firmly grounded in realism and very human relationships. it's very vulnerable and tender and tragic and romantic. this is the same author who created bojack horseman, so if you're into that show's brand of drama, you'll really love this

i hope you find me: the love poems of craigslist's missed connections by alan feuer is one of my most favorite little coffee table books ever. it's what it says on the tin: dozens of posts from the missed connections section of craigslist are compiled and wrangled into individual poems and it's really fascinating and it makes my heart ache to see all these very real little individual cases of lost love. i think it's really important to study real people just as much as stories that people can craft.

i luv halloween by benjamin roman and keith giffen is a HIGHLY underrated, EXTREMELY early 00s trilogy about zombies, aliens, and a group of really shitty, violent, obnoxious children who get stuck in the midst of global panic around halloween. it's super edgy and indulgent and gory and gross and childish and it's a whole lotta fun. i go crazy for the art style and the general mindless self indulgence of it all

memories of my melancholy whores (memoria de mis putas tristes) by gabriel garcia marquez is a really lovely and flowery novelette about a ninety year old man who's on his deathbed and he believes that true love will help him feel alive again. he manages to find it in a very young prostitute and reflects on what sets her apart from the others. a lot of people call it the spanish lolita, but it's wildly different. really the only similarities are falling in love with a young girl and realizing she's different than you envisioned her to be at first. it's not for everyone, but i think marquez's prose is beautiful. pretty much everything in his bibliography is worth checking out, he's a genius

holy robots by vasilina orlova is a stunning collection of poetry and it uses the ideas of humans falling in love with and forming lives with machines that try very hard to be human but can't quite do it to illustrate real-world relationship struggles. it also delves into other themes of nature and pure romance as it goes along. it's a quick read and it's so worth checking out, i love it to death

arkham asylum: a serious house on serious earth by grant morrison and dave mckean is a standalone batman comic that's VERY worth reading even if you only have a passive knowledge of batman. it's a beautiful piece of work all on its own. the art style is absolutely fucking gorgeous and it's unlike anything i've ever seen. essentially, the inmates at arkham have overtaken the asylum and batman has to sacrifice himself in order to save the hostages. thus, he subjects himself to brutal psychological torture at the hands of the criminals he's put in the asylum himself and he wastes away little by little. it's good!! it's so good!!!!!

stray toasters by bill sienkiewicz is one of the most intense, gorgeous, twisted, and surreal experiences i've ever had while reading a graphic novel. it might take you a couple of reads for it to really sink in because it's not at all straightforward, but it's a fucking masterpiece of art and writing and it really influenced a lot of my own work and the way i tend to approach art. essentially, it's about a lonely, burnt-out detective who gets released from a psych ward to hunt down a serial killer who's mutilating housewives and young children. it's insanely difficult to find physical copies of, so i would personally just read it online.

#thank you for asking!!! i know a lot of these aren't novels but also: i think a library should be greatly varied #and i'm really really into graphic novels. that's why i went to school #if you're an adult who doesn't read comic books i h8 you there's a whole world you'll never know about #bunnyaskz

[otrtbs]

10 books to know me 📚

thank you for the tag @anouri !!! <3

ten books to know me or know what i like to read about?? hmm. i'll tag the books and some quotes to convince you to read them.

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt ~ the only book ever. jk. but it is my favorite. i read it 1-3x a year. would take it w me on a deserted island. all that.

"A great sorrow, and one that I am only beginning to understand: we don’t get to choose our own hearts. We can’t make ourselves want what’s good for us or what’s good for other people. We don’t get to choose the people we are."

"And in the midst of our dying, as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch."

"As long as I am acting out of love, I feel I am doing best I know how."

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë ~ moody and damp in a way that seeps into your bones and refuses to leave.

“You said I killed you-haunt me, then! [...] Be with me always-take any form-drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

What My Mother and I Don't Talk About by Michele Filgate ~ collection of essays about people's relationships with their mothers.

“The hunger I feel is so unreasonable I can’t parse it, even to myself. But I want to be the daughter of this mother, the one who lives in a pink building, the one who dances.”

“I love you past the sun and the moon and the stars,” she’d always say to me when I was little. But I just want her to love me here. Now. On Earth.”

A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket ~ yes, the whole series. read them as a kid and they're why i am the way that i am.

"I will love you as a thief loves a gallery...as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong."

"To Beatrice— Darling, dearest, dead."

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott ~ comfort read! it's coziness and comfort in book form! jo march n me are the same and we're besties.

"I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks; and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end."

“The humblest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them.”

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros ~ read this as a young teenager and it's stuck with me ever since.

"And the story goes she never forgave him. She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she sorry because she couldn't be all the things she wanted to be. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place by the window."

"Their strength is secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the ground. They grow up and they grow down and grab the earth between their hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. This is how they keep."

Play it As it Lays by Joan Didion ~ it's just a book for your early 20s i think.

“There was a silence. Something real was happening: this was, as it were, her life. If she could keep that in mind she would be able to play it through, do the right thing, whatever that meant.”

Ways of Seeing by John Berger ~ all about art and capitalism and observation. 13/10 read.

“The mirror was often used as a symbol of the vanity of woman. The moralizing, however, was mostly hypocritical. You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, you put a mirror in her hand and you called the painting "Vanity", thus morally condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for your own pleasure.”

“The bogus religiosity which now surrounds original works of art, and which is ultimately dependent upon their market value, has become the substitute for what paintings lost when the camera made them reproducible.”

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner ~ haunting, southern gothic, stream-of-consciousness style that embedded itself into my 17 yr old brain and never left

“Memory believes before knowing remembers.”

“That’s what they mean by the womb of time: the agony and the despair of spreading bones, the hard girdle in which lie the outraged entrails of events.”

Turtles All The Way Down by John Green ~ i'd be doing teenage nat a disservice if at least one john green novel didn't make the list

“I was so good at being a kid, and so terrible at being whatever I was now.”

“You can’t control it, that’s the thing,” I said. “Life is not something you wield, you know?”

tagging some of youse bc i wanna see what you're reading! 😋 (absolutely no pressure!!) : @twisted-tales-told @rollercoasterwords @euphorial-docx @rays-of-raven @anythingforourmoonysstuff + anyone else who wants to play!! say i tagged you !! <333

#clearly i can talk!!! ahhh oops !!! #nat rambles #ask game!

[keepsdeathhiscourt]

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Story Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Language, Death, Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Family Drama, Gore, Depictions of Violence, Death

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter 9: Pressure

Klaus pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best to keep his temper in check. It’s proving exceptionally difficult. He’s getting close. He just needs to be patient for a little longer. 

Full of displaced energy, he paces the length of the sitting room, wearing down the fibers in a 500-year-old rug. The object of his frustration sits in a wing-back chair in front of him, posture rigid and fingers clutching the armrests. Unease radiates off of her in waves. 

They’ve been here for an hour now, sequestered in this quiet corner of the manor. For all his blustering, all his threats, questioning her has been more tasking than he’d expected. 

She answers his questions politely enough. Things like: 

How do you know Elijah? He saved my life. 

What were the two of you planning? Nothing. 

How are you able to do magic in the city? I don’t know. 

Round and round they go in this dizzying little dance. She’s a stubborn thing, determined to circumvent his questions at every turn, to lie without lying. If he were anyone else, he might believe her. She’s but a novice compared to Klaus’ expertise in falsehoods. And he has had a millennium to perfect the art of getting people to talk. It is rather a point of pride. 

Though she doesn’t give him the answers he’s looking for, the time elapsed isn’t without value. The entire time, he’s been sizing her up, surveying her every reaction. He knows her tells. She taps her fingers when she’s holding back, crosses her legs when a question makes her particularly uncomfortable. He uses these as his lead line, following faithfully until he has her where he wants her. 

They will get there and soon. 

If his unnaturally long life has taught him anything, it’s this: everyone breaks. It’s only a matter of finding the weakest spot and applying the right amount of pressure. 

Most times, that pressure is violence. People respond very well to it. He doesn’t harm her, is determined not to unless she leaves him no choice. Not out of any notions of chivalry, but because he doubts it’ll be effective. And, ultimately, he will need her compliance. 

“I’ve told you everything I know.” 

“Really?” he asks, voice flat.

“Really.” Her fingertips press into the armrest. Not entirely the truth, then. It’s no matter, Klaus has done his research. 

“I’m disappointed with your dishonesty. And here I thought we were getting along so well, but I suppose there’s nothing to be done,” he says, forlorn. He turns to her then. He wants to see her face for the next bit. “I’ll have to look for answers elsewhere then. Perhaps that charming little cousin of yours can help me, or maybe the pretty bartender from Rousseau’s.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Oh, but he would. He knows it and he knows she does too because her eyes flash with disbelief, anger, and then go bright with fear. 

He restrains a grin. And there it is, the first crack in her defenses. 

He watches her without a word as it spreads, fracturing like porcelain, and it is a beautiful sight to behold. When she exhales a broken shuddering sound, he knows he has her. 

All she needs is one last little push. 

“It’s frightening really, how easy technology makes everything.” He pulls his cell from his pocket and unlocks it. In his periphery, she fidgets uncomfortably at the non sequitur. With an air of disinterest, he continues, “For example, all I have to do is press this one little button and someone on the other line will snap darling Arabella’s neck like a baby bird. Hypothetically, of course.” 

His thumb hovers over the dial button. Their eyes meet, locked in a life-or-death game of chicken, each waiting to see who caves first. 

Her fingernails dig into the wood, nail beds white. Her cheek twitches, her eyes blaze in a last-ditch attempt at resistance. He moves his finger to make the call and—

“Wait!” she blurts out, and he has to repress his satisfaction. “Wait, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just please don’t hurt her.”

He takes his hand off the button, sets the phone within reaching distance on a nearby end table. “How very sensible of you.” Her chest heaves, as if she’s run a great distance. “Now, tell me how you came to be in league with my brother—the truth this time, love” 

He hears her inhale as steadies herself and settles into a nearby chair, waiting patiently for her to gather her thoughts. She starts slowly, telling him of her arrival in New Orleans for a funeral, her lack of affinity with her own kind, and finding Jane-Anne’s body. He listens to the exposition absently, tucking the information away somewhere to be fetched should it prove relevant at a later date. Then she mentions his brother and his interest piques.

“A few weeks ago, a pair of nightwalkers attacked me on the Riverwalk. An Elder in the French Quarter coven sent them after me.” 

“Of course.” Klaus has to suppress an eye-roll. Why is it that every time he turns his back, there’s another witch with a finger in the pie? 

She shoots him a pointed look. “I held them back for a time. But there was no way I was going to walk away from it. That’s when Elijah stepped in.” Klaus snorts. Now that does sound like Elijah. “I was in pretty rough shape so he took me somewhere safe to see to my wounds-” 

“This is all very precious, but will we arrive at an answer to my question anytime soon?”

Annoyance flashes in her eyes once more and this time, she puts a voice to it. “I’ll get there much faster if you don’t interrupt me.”

“Apologies, apologies,” he says, hands raising in a placating gesture. He can’t help a small, amused smile. She is a fiery little thing. “I’ll hold my questions until the end. Continue.”

“While he was cleaning me up, we talked. He told me about your family’s own trouble with the witches.” He straightens in his seat, leaning forward a fraction. Her eyes widen, as if catching his sudden intensity, because she adds, “He didn’t tell me much, only that the witches have some sort of leverage over you and brought you back to town to distract Marcel.” 

His eyes narrow, assessing her. When he doesn’t detect any hint of a lie, he eases into his chair. 

“That’s when he offered me a deal. His protection and resources for information.”

“What kind of information?”

If she’s irritated at his interjection, she doesn’t show it and Klaus doesn’t particularly care. He senses she’s reaching the zenith of the tale.

“On the witches, the vampires. Anything that might be connected. I refused, at first.” Klaus quirks a brow, savoring the mental image of the bewildered fury that Elijah undoubtedly experienced at having his careful plans thwarted. “I was going to go back to my life in New Mexico. I wanted nothing to do with any of it.”

“But things change.”

“Things change,” she echoes with a faint nod. “Let’s say I have my own score to settle with the witches now.”

In the fire's light, her eyes burn like melted copper. Her jaw tightens imperceptibly. It’s something he recognizes, has seen demonstrated many times over; mostly in himself. A consuming desire for retribution. 

A shadow crosses her face, and the light dims, something sadder chasing it away. “And here we are.”

“Here we are,” he repeats, shifting to rest his ankle over his opposite knee. “But you missed one key detail.” Her head shoots up, expression curious. “You’re a witch. One that's used magic in Marcel's New Orleans and lived to tell the tale."

“Elijah...had a theory. My powers aren’t connected to the ancestral well like the rest of the coven. They’re weaker for it, but also means that whatever Marcel uses to track magic use, it keeps me off his radar. I’m…I’m sure that was a big factor in Elijah’s plans, but what those were, he never told me. And it’s not like I can exactly ask him now.” 

He suspects there’s more. There will be time enough for that later. For now, he has exactly what he needs. It’s better than he could have anticipated, this little gift that his brother all but delivered to him on a platter. 

Marcel has his secret weapon, his ace in the hole. And now Niklaus has his. 

All that he has to do is keep her hidden. Miles away from New Orleans, protected by bayou and forest, there’s no better place. 

She adjusts in her seat, a rustle of fabric that shakes him from his thoughts. 

They’re at their limit for tonight. The girl, Lucie, is exhausted. He can see it in her slouching posture, the dimness of her eyes, and the dark circles beneath them. 

He rakes a hand through his hair and concedes to his own exhaustion.

"That's enough for now," he says, rising. “The room at the end of the hall is mine, and Hayley’s claimed the one nearest the door. Take your pick of any of the others.” 

He senses Hayley’s unsettled presence at the door where she’s been listening in for the last thirty minutes in a woeful attempt at subterfuge. Her breath catches, anger rolling off of her in waves. 

Wolves and their tempers. 

“Hayley, would you be a dear and show Lucie to the upstairs?” Hayley appears in the doorway. When Lucie hesitates, he adds, "Don't worry, love. It's not a full moon. She wont bite."

Hayley shoots him a sour look, then ushers for the witch to follow.

Two sets of footsteps retreat down the hall and up the creaky staircase. Klaus listens until there’s nothing left but the dull rumble of distant conversation before settling in with his thoughts. 

The witch will know about Hayley and the baby soon enough if Elijah truly hasn’t divulged the full truth. Embers roil in his gut, hot and angry and so sudden, that he takes a moment to recognize the emotion as protectiveness. A desire to rip out her throat and silence forever her knowledge of his child. The ferocity confuses him. He stamps it down. Protectiveness leads to love and love leads inevitably to disappointment and betrayal. He slows his breath and curates his thoughts until the heat fades and there’s nothing left but cold pragmatism. 

He needs this witch alive, needs her powers if he hopes to one-up Marcel in this drawn-out game of power. And if she should prove a complication, there’s no reason he can’t do away with her later.

____

The tall, model-esque woman leads her through trimmed hallways and up the staircase to the second floor. All the while, neither woman speaks a word. 

Lucie watches her long brown hair swish back and forth across her back as they go, still wondering at this unexpected third party even as they come to a halt just beyond the top landing. 

She expects the woman to show her to an open room and then leave her to brood in peace. Instead, she turns to her, arms crossed over her green tank top and looking unmistakeably angry. 

Great. 

Still, she doesn’t speak. Lucie shoots her a look as if to say what do you want?

The other woman eyes her head to toe, sizing her up. It doesn’t take a body language expert to see the blatant disdain radiating off of her. She huffs in annoyance, attempting to side-step the new hostile to find a bed to face plant into. 

An arm darts out, followed by a body blocking her path.

Lucie rolls her eyes, stepping back so she can look her in the eyes. They’re almond-shaped, almost golden, and glinting with distrust. “Do you mind?”

“Listen, I know I have no say in you staying here, but we need to get a few things straight." Lucie’s brow arches, mirroring her posture, and she waits for her to continue.  “I don’t know where Klaus found you or what your deal is, but I’m done with witchy bullshit. So if you even think about doing anything to me or my baby, I’ll kill you.” 

“Noted. Any more threats or can I go to sleep? It’s been a hell of a day.”

Hayley eyes her long enough for Lucie to wonder if they’ll spend the entire night in the hall, and then, finally, takes a step away and frees her path. 

Lucie doesn’t think, just grabs the handle of the nearest door and slips inside. It closes behind her with a soft click, the wood grain smooth and cold where it meets exposed skin as she presses her back against it to hold some of her weight. 

Though it’s well into the later hours of the evening, she doesn’t bother with the lights. She feels a distinct aversion to the idea. The overhead light would bring the room into relief and only confirm the harsh reality of her situation, of the uncertain future now before her. 

So she leaves it off, not that it matters in the end. The moonlight filtering through the open curtains is bright, bathing everything in a deep blue. It’s more than enough to navigate her way around the mahogany dresser, tiptoeing around a priceless chest to the bed. It’s the focal point of the room, the wooden knobs of the headboard intricately carved. Even in the dark, she can tell the craftsmanship is fine, and ornate but somehow more elegant than gaudy. 

She settles on the edge, the plush mattress creaking under her weight. The comforter is soft as kicks off her boots and draws her knees to her chest.

The glass window is slightly clouded, a testament to its age, alongside the brittle-looking panes framing it. Beyond it, the night is clear and quiet. Growing up around the hustle and bustle of New Orleans, she finds the silence oppressive. It makes her uneasy, finding it hard to settle even as her thoughts turn back to the night’s events. 

As angry as she is at Arabella, as unsure about her role in Violette’s death, she can’t bear the thought of Klaus harming her. Or Cami, for that matter. Yet the second part of his threat would have frightened her more if she hadn’t seen the two of them interact at Rousseau’s. She remembers the soft way he’d looked at her. True, she doesn’t know Klaus well, but something tells her he doesn’t look at just anyone like that. 

In the end, she hadn’t told him much — not as much as she could have. Still, Lucie’s skin crawls, unable to escape the wrongness, the sensation of having resisted and yet somehow moving right where he wanted. Like a marionette on a miniature stage, dancing with the illusion of autonomy but the strings guided by someone else’s hand. 

 She isn’t sure how long she stares out the window, knees hugged into her chest. Only that at some point, she cracks open the window and finds her way under the thick covers. There’s a weight to the air here that the city lacks. Dense like the blanket holding her in place. 

She’s on the verge of sleep, eyes growing heavy—

Wait. Did she say baby?

____

After the first night, Lucie finds herself mostly alone. She’s scarcely seen hide nor hair of Klaus since his interrogation, and Hayley makes herself scarce. On the odd occasion they cross paths, the interaction is clipped to the barest amount of communication necessary. 

Not that Lucie minds. She’s content to give her new housemate a wide berth. Call it a healthy mixture of standoffishness and self-preservation. Despite a lifetime in a coven of witches and decent working knowledge of vampires, she knows relatively little about werewolves. And though she’s fairly certain they aren’t a threat unless there’s a full moon, she isn’t willing to stake her life on it. Besides, something tells her that, wolf or not, Hayley can hold her own. 

So she keeps to herself, stifling curiosity down in pursuit of other distractions. The house—even if it can even be called that—is massive in a way that borders on ridiculous. 

She spends a lot of time exploring. At first, it’s with the hesitation of a child afraid of being caught out of bed. But with each venture, she grows bold, until the trepidation abates and is replaced with a surprised realization that Klaus isn’t lurking in the shadows to bust her and banish her to a locked cell somewhere. 

She passes by him one evening, on her way to the kitchen, tries to sneak by the parlor where he’s slumped in an armchair, arms draped over the rests and angled toward the fireplace. Burning logs crackle and pop, the shifting flames illuminating his features in a warm flow. His eyes are fixed on it, reflecting the smoldering embers. Long fingers wrap around a glass of amber liquid. The acrid, earthy smell of bourbon reaches her as he takes a sip, expression indecipherable but markedly serious. 

She’s been watching too long now from the doorway. It’s time to move on. When she steps forward, an ancient floorboard creaks, and she finds herself no longer looking at his profile but into tired blue eyes. 

Freezing like a deer in the headlights, she waits. For what, precisely, she isn’t sure. Some form of cruel retribution for sneaking about and disturbing his privacy. He’s certainly the tit-for-tat type. 

“Long night?” It’s stilted, uncomfortable, but she isn’t sure what else to say.

He stares at her for a stretch of seconds, as if she’s a particularly frustrating riddle. She watches the glass tip; the bourbon disappearing into his mouth. 

“Something like that,” he says evenly. “Tell me, do you normally skulk about everywhere like a restless ghost or is this a recent development?” 

“No skulking, just ah…going to the kitchen.”

He blinks at her, a vague glassiness to his eyes, but alert nonetheless. Then, slowly, he inclines his head and turns his attention back to the flames and whatever he’s puzzling over in his head. 

Lucie recognizes the dismissal. Normally his imperiousness would make her bristle, but mostly she’s relieved and mildly bewildered. 

Stunned, she can only manage a small ‘goodnight’ before she leaves him to his drink. 

____

If there’s one thing Lucie has these days, it’s time—in abundance. Long uninterrupted stretches with no occupation and no purpose beyond running down a clock that only resets itself at the end of every day. 

All the while, Klaus plays his cards close to the chest. He doesn’t tell her how long she has to stay here, or what he’s planning to use her for. In fact, beyond the night in the parlor, she only catches glimpses of the Hybrid over the first few weeks. A pass by in the hallway, the muffled sound of his voice behind closed doors late into the night. 

He offers her no deals, no equal partnership in his plans. To him, she’s a toy. A magic dispensing wind-up doll, fetched when it serves a purpose and then promptly placed back on the shelf to gather dust when its utility is done. 

In a way, Lucie is relieved to be left alone on her shelf. She’s had more than enough of threats to last a lifetime and engaging in small talk seems like an acute form of torture. 

She resigns herself to it, this strange half-life she’s found herself in, and waits for Klaus to determine a use for her. But it’s its own brand of hell, being trapped inside your own head. 

There’s too much time to think. And so often these days, her thoughts turn to her ghosts. It’s like they follow her, Peter whispering her ear over her shoulder or Violette leaning over her at night. All the what-ifs and why-nots bounce echoes on an endless loop, intermingled with fury and guilt. 

It forces her to dwell on the culmination of all the emotional turbulence she’s been at the mercy of since she arrived back in Louisiana. Likely even longer than that, if she’s being honest with herself. It shouldn’t surprise her, this inevitable come-down, but it does. The uncertainty and fear of those first days out here in the middle of nowhere trickle away from the drudgery of routine and boredom of an indefinite stay. It isn’t long before it twists itself into a lingering melancholy. 

There’s a slowness to everything she does during these autumn days that blend seamlessly into one another, like wading through knee-deep mud. All the while, the pain creeps in and makes a home in her chest—dense like swallowed stones. 

Every day, she makes it a point to acquaint herself with another part of the manor. She gets to know the stern faces outlined in faded oil paintings, learns which rooms get the best sun in the morning and which offer the most shade in the warmer parts of the day. She roams the hallways until she knows which boards creak and which parts of the wallpaper are starting to peel. If she expects familiarity to breed fondness, she is sorely mistaken. 

Every priceless vase, every draped bolt of rich heavy fabric grates makes her uneasy. Like four centuries of inhabitants are watching her with judgemental stares. She judges them back with equal fervor. 

Any lingering doubts or confusion about Klaus’ permissiveness about letting her have free run of the place are conclusively stamped out when she finally ventures out onto the grounds.  

It’s early morning and uncommonly chilly. The grass is tipped with crystals of frost as she steps out on the front porch, wrapping a long cardigan tighter across herself. It’s one of several articles of simple, but sensible pieces that had turned up nearly folded on her bed a few nights into her stay. At first, she suspected they were loans from Hayley, but the fit of the clothes debunked the theory. After all, the other woman is long-legged and has at least half a head on Lucie. She figures the most likely option is that Klaus compelled some poor woman to part with a chunk of her wardrobe. At least she hoped that was the case. In those first days, she spends extra time examining the garments for blood. 

The air is crisp, whispering promises of a rapidly approaching winter. At the edge of the horizon, the sun is a faint line of pale yellow. She watches it creep its way higher and higher from the east. 

She tries her best not to think of Elijah. Most of the time, she does a good job. But now and then, in more idle hours when the harder feelings grow teeth — like this one—she thinks of him, wondering where he is and what he’s doing. Sometimes, trying to decide if he’s even alive. 

Beyond the exposed, sprawling orchard, the entire property is walled in by nature. Dense thickets of brush and jagged trees almost certainly conceal steep inclines and murky marshland. Should she run, a broken neck or tumble into a bog would likely do her in, if whatever made its home in the harsh wilderness didn’t find her first. 

Lucie feels stranded in a way she’s never experienced before. 

____

In these sluggish, lonely days, she finds her greatest solace in a corner room on the first floor. 

She would be hard-pressed to name a single book she’s finished in years, but she finds comfort in the study all the same. 

She’s nestled into the cushions of the window seat, an ancient volume cracked open over her lap. It’s late afternoon. The breeze beyond the window is soft as it combs through blades of grass. She resists the urge to crack the window open. The room always smells of polished wood and parchment and spice. It’s become one of her favorite things, enough that she’s loathe to disturb it. 

The page rustles as she flips it. A compendium of genealogy,  the neat, scrawling script, outlines centuries of New Orleans bloodlines. She’s ginger with it. The book is undoubtedly priceless just like most of the collections that line the shelves. 

She pauses. This section diagrams the branches stemming from one of the casket girls. Lucie skims the lines without really seeing, her vision blurred by the sudden prick of tears. It’s October 22 -what would have been her brother’s thirtieth birthday. They should be out celebrating, instead, she’s a prisoner in some bayou, and her brother, her brother is…

She closes the book with a little more than necessary. The nearest pillow suffers its intended fate instead, careening through the air as she chucks it blindly to the side as she cries out in frustration.

She watches its path. It bounces once, twice, and settles by the doorway, right next to a pair of bare feet. 

Mortified, she follows the long legs upward to a pair of wide eyes and a bowed mouth with slightly parted lips. 

Hayley blinks at her. Lucie’s face is hot as she averts it, batting desperately at her damp cheeks.

“Do you need something?” Her gaze fixes beyond the window, her voice thicker than she’d like.

“No...no,” Hayley says behind her. “Just heard a noise and thought I’d check it out.”

Lucie clears her throat and nods. When she finally dares a sidelong glance at the doorway, Hayley is gone. 

She thinks the incident is forgotten, that maybe by some miracle, Hayley had missed the worst of her outburst. Until the next morning, when she’s greeted by the smell of cooking oil and the distinctive crackle of frying food as she descends the stairs.

Feeling better if not somewhat drained after a night of crying into her pillow, she follows the noise, rounding the corner into the kitchen to find Hayley hunched over the stove. 

Her back is to her, but she must hear her enter because she says, “There’s a plate for you over on the table. If you want condiments, get them yourself.” 

Lucie is glad she can’t see her bewildered expression as she pours herself a cup of coffee. She settles into a spot in the sunny breakfast nook and pulls the plate toward her for inspection. 

The toast is burned at the edges and the eggs are a bit shiny. Lucie is grateful all the same. Knowing a peace offering when she sees one, she seizes a fork and spears a piece of egg into her mouth. The texture is interesting, but the flavor is good. She’s never been a picky eater. 

Not long after, Hayley slips into a chair across from her with her own plate. 

They each dig into their respective breakfasts, both seemingly content to sit in silence. Lucie tears a corner off her toast, using it as a vessel to scoop up her eggs. 

“Listen, I get what it’s like, being dragged into all this and not having any say.” Lucie’s gaze darts to her face, confused. “God, I suck at this. What I’m trying to say is maybe I was a little harsh with you that first night.” 

Hayley doesn’t seem the type for apologies, but she thinks this is as close as it gets. 

She struggles to find a response, settling on a soft, “Thank you.”

Hayley nods, taking a long gulp of orange juice. “I meant what I said, though. Mess with me or my baby and I will kill you.”

Fair enough. They return to their meals in silence. Though, perhaps one that’s less uncomfortable than before. 

She spares Hayley the odd glance, gears in her head turning all the while. 

Hayley huffs after a few minutes pass. “I can hear you thinking from here. Whatever it is, you might as well ask before your ears start smoking.”

Lucie’s head pops up, locking eyes with Hayley. She only looks mildly annoyed. 

“You keep mentioning a baby. You’re pregnant?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Nope,” she says around a bite. “Should I have?”

“I guess not,” Hayley shrugs. “I figured if Klaus didn’t tell you, Elijah would have.” 

Lucie stills a little at the name, gingerly setting down her fork so it doesn’t clatter against her plate. Hayley seems suddenly subdued. It seems obvious now, sitting across from her in their home, but she forgets sometimes that Elijah existed here, and lived a life beyond their harried encounters. It occurs to her that the woman across from her likely feels his absence just as keenly. Does she ever feel betrayed too?

She wants to bring it up, but can’t find the words, their peace is still too tenuous. All she manages is a slight shake of her head.

“Well, it’s true. Say hello to the resident knocked-up werewolf.”

 “And the father?”

Hayley gives her a pointed look, waiting for her to put the pieces together. 

“Klaus? You can’t be serious. I thought vampires couldn’t have children.”

“They can’t,” Hayley confirms. “But werewolves can. And Klaus is a hybrid, so…”

Lucie tosses her head in disbelief. “Elijah mentioned the witches had some sort of leverage over Klaus but never specified what. It makes sense now.”

“‘Leverage’,” Hayley snorts, putting down her glass of orange juice. “That’s a nice way of saying that they kidnapped me, took me to the bayou, and performed some freaky ritual to connect me to Sophie Deveraux.” 

Lucie pauses, something else clicking. “The witch that performed the spell, it was Jane-Anne, wasn’t it?”

“For all the good it did her.”

And another piece of the puzzle falls into place. For the first time since she came back, she thinks she’s starting to understand. Losing her daughter in the Harvest Ritual and no doubt desperate, Jane-Anne performed a spell to link the mother of Klaus’ unborn child and that’s how they’d brought him here. 

Horrible, but objectively it fits. But it still doesn’t explain what their end goal is. 

She sighs, trying to put it all together is giving her a headache. 

“You’re doing it again.”

“Huh?”

“Thinking too hard.” 

#elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson x oc #elijah mikaelson x ofc #keepsdeathhiscourt fic #original female character #elijah x ofc #elijah x oc #the originals fic

[colourstreakgryffin]

One Piece Treasures: Father! Roronoa Zoro Short Story

The Swordsman and the Art of Jealousy

Another little Dad Zoro nicknack for my little sister! Enjoy this one too! It’s my first published short story!

“Wait! Daddy!” You cried out, running up and clutching onto your father, Roronoa Zoro’s leg, almost bumping against his three sheathed katanas attached to his hip as he instinctively turned around to locate the source of the sudden push, his original deadpan expression melting into a soft smile when he saw you rubbing your little cheek on his leg

“Shimotsuki, I will return soon. I’ll bring back candy, does that sound good?” Zoro gently explained, dropping to one knee whilst you stepped back so he could be eye-level to you. You pouted annoyed, crumbling up your little fists in annoyance despite liking the soft head pats he was giving you. How could your own father blandly ignore what you’ve told him you have been wanting to do for ages

Go out exploring

Zoro refused to listen to your wants nor requests, even after you practically begged him to let you join. Does he not love you? You’re the daughter he would die for! Why couldn’t you go see the big islands too?! You’re old enough! You already know how to use swords, not just any ol’ swords but THREE swords!

“Daddy! I want to join you, and Uncle Luffy, and Aunt Nami!” You whine as Zoro’s gentle head rubs stop in a instant, his eyes flaring slightly and his voice toughened up whilst he spoke. “No, Shimotsuki. It’s too dangerous, you’re safer on the Thousand Sunny with—“

“Why! Why do I have to stay here!? I’m a big girl with big swords!” You argue back, gesturing at the three mini-katanas Zoro bought for you attached to your own hip. Zoro sighed heavily to stabilise himself before continuing

“No, Shimotsuki Zoro. It’s final, you’re staying here” You angrily sob out loud as you pushed your father’s hand away and stomped off before he could respond, he didn’t bother saying anything though. He simply stood up and watched you to make sure you wouldn’t try anything. You were so frustrated, you wanted to scream! Your father has always been like this! So defensive for no reason! It’s almost like he thinks you’re a mere pet, not his little swordswoman! And it hurt your little heart that your father wasn’t listening to you

Upset and heartbroken, your eyes scanned around the quite large Main Deck for one person you had in mind, in the midst of all the other friendly crewmates. The one who made your mood drop on it’s head dramatically, the moment he came into picture. Your sad frown converted into a wide smile at the sight of…

“Uncle Luffy!” You called out, running up to the familiar straw-hat man who had his back turned to until he cheered in joy at the sound of your voice and he dropped down to his knees so he could catch you in his arms

“Shimmy! Baby niecey! I misssedd youuu! We need to play more—” Luffy howled eccentric before noticing your glassy eyes and titled his head in confusion, drawing back so he could see all of your red-tinted face. “What’s the matter, Shimmy?” He asked gently

“It’s… It’s Daddy, Uncle Luffy! Daddy won’t listen to me! Daddy won’t let me go explore with you and him, and Aunt Nami and our awesome crew!” You sobbed, wiping at your tear-stained cheeks with anger building up quick as Luffy stood up with you in his arms and stayed surprisingly quiet. “Oh, yeah. That’s Zoro, he’s always been like that” Luffy casually responded, gently booping your nose

“Cmon! Just forget him! I’ll take you out instead! We’ll go explore the highest trees! Go find the most beautiful animals! And we’ll win the most valuable jewels!” Luffy proclaimed excited as you cheered in response, readjusting his signature straw hat with his spare hand. He threw out that same free hand towards the round open Crow’s Nest of the Thousand Sunny’s lookout tower so his rubber limb would stretch all the way up and hook around the wood

But before Luffy could let the incredible powers of his Gum Gum Fruit lift you and himself off the ground, Zoro grabbed the stretchy limb and tugged it hard enough to make it let go, all way too quick for the other pirate to respond to. Luffy could definitely sense it, the raging jealousy as the green-haired swordsman dropped Luffy’s elongated arm to the wooden pane floor with flaming eyes

“Don’t you dare do any of that garbage with my daughter, Luffy” Zoro barked, anger coursing through him but his voice on a very average tone. He didn’t sound angry, but he clearly was. He did sound jealous and he was jealous. Luffy coiled back his gummy forearm but didn’t express any fear nor concern for his friend’s obvious envy

“You don’t want to take Shimmy out exploring so I will. What’s wrong with that?” Luffy asked clueless, unaware of the small crowd that has now flocked around the two pirates to watch whatever may happen go down. Do any of them think Zoro will attack Luffy? No, but this discussion won’t end prettily at this rate

“She doesn’t need to go out exploring because I’m not going out there either” Zoro responds firmly, the surrounding crew felt their knees buckle. Zoro, not going out with the main crew?! It was unheard of and very concerning!

“What? But you always go—“ Nami attempted to argue back whilst daring to move forward with her hand raised but stop when Zoro interrupted snappily, glaring holes through her with a dangerous hiss leaving his lips

“Not this time, now, give Shimotsuki back, Luffy” Zoro demanded calmly as the Thousand Sunny quickly floated across the now arising shore-line to the island the beloved crew were planning to venture into

Luffy wordlessly huffed and extended you out to Zoro. He was more annoyed that he had to leave you so soon as opposed to giving you up to your father, the straw hat man twirled on his heels and approached his flabbergasted crowd to justify Zoro’s absence for the upcoming adventure. Zoro, on the other hand, with you held tightly in his arms, walked away from the crowd as you just let your fuming emotions pour out in silence

Zoro pushed open the 2nd door striped door after crossing over the main deck, silently. He strolled down the familiar colourful hallway without so much as looking anywhere other than straight forward until he reached another colourfully striped door, pushing it carelessly

“I thought you were gonna go explore” You cross your arms with a lenient but still upset voice as Zoro sits you down on his hammock bed and readjusts his trio of katanas on his hip. “Not anymore, we’re gonna spend time together” Zoro remarked in a much softer tone, not looking up to meet your eyes as he was still busy with taking off his swords and hanging them up on the nearby hooks

“What… are we gonna do then?” You asked confused, arms still crossed over your chest whilst your little tight-decorated legs kicked aimlessly.

“Play on the Thousand Sunny together. Anything you want, I ensure you that I’m funnier than Luffy” Zoro remarks in that same composed way, jealousy still leaking out of every pore, despite the fact you were no longer in Luffy’s grasp

“Daddy, are you jealous?” You ask, fiddling with the trio of flat rectangular golden earrings on your right ear, that mirrored Zoro’s. You always really liked those earrings, they made you feel so much closer to your father

“And, is that bad?” Zoro asks back, ashamed with the way you looked at him, almost kinda weirded out. Was it unreasonable to want all of his daughter’s love? Zoro didn’t want to share you with Luffy. You are his child, not Luffy’s.

“W-what. Of course not! I just want you to understand me more, Daddy!” Zoro listened as he picked you up again then sat down on the hammock himself, leant up against the wooden pane wall with you placed in his lap. His focused eyes trained onto you to show that he was paying you his undivided attention

“I want to go adventuring cause I hate being the useless kid of the Strawhat Pirates, the one that does nothing! I want to go play with the animals! Go fight the bad guys! Go see the people! I especially want it to do it all with my Father!” Zoro sighed weakly, of course he listened to you before all of this and he wouldn’t try argue otherwise. He knew you wanted to be like him, you want to be a pirate like Luffy but he can’t let you at your age. He doesn’t want to lose you like he lost Kuina, like he lost his bloodline

You’re so important, Zoro would really lay down his life to save you

“I know, my little Strawberry. Just a bit longer now and you’ll be just like me and our crew, I promise” Zoro declared, offering his pinky to you with that soft happy smile you didn’t have to work to get, it was basically nature for him to feel warm with you. Zoro was serious about his promises, he never broke them. Never

“Okay! I believe you!” You chirp optimistic, linking pinkies with his bigger one and laughing at his goofy grin. “Little Strawberry” Zoro begun speaking again as you tilted your head to listen closely, hands clutching his clothing as his eyes flung from the wall to your cute little face

“I’m sorry for lashing out. It’s just… you’re my baby. Luffy should just leave you to me”

If it’s not obvious. I don’t watch One Piece, don’t know anything about it

#anime and manga #parenting #fanfic #one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #dad headcanons #wholesome #short story #one piece timeskip

[wonderfulmmdpictures]

hi

(sorry if this post is super long. When not being this active, I thought it would not be appropriate just to say “hi” and leave. I talk a lot about myself btw. I’m pretty much venting)

Hello everyone! It’s been a long time! :) 

So, honestly, I wanted to make this post here to just update things about this blog and a bit about me as well. 

You can probably guess why I’m back all of the sudden. A uh... certain application was predicted to shut down soon, and as someone who uses that application as their main one, I figured that I come back here. But the issue with this blog is wether I want to continue to upload on here. 

My journey with MMD has been a super long one (10+ years) and even to this day, I feel like it’s something that I can never move on from. I think it’s just the dedication that I put into learning the program, connecting in the community and my general love for Vocaloid. But before I started “Wonderful MMD Pictures” and “Wonderful MMD Models”, and before I was even Reon/Reon046, I was an artist first (TheMangaka1234). When I discovered MMD, I didn’t think it would take over my life like it did. But it became super important to me to the point that my artist journey halted. My dA page that was for my art was taken over by my MMD art and I lost focus. This was when I was in early highschool (I also changed my name to Reon046). Again, I’ve been doing MMD for so long that, at some point, people were recognizing me. My little kid brain really liked the attention. It was the people calling me “senpai” or saying that it’s an “honor” to have followed them that was the icing on the cake. In that wave, I created these 2 blogs to showcase models and pictures that I love and want to help boost. 

Also, I’m not going to sweep this under the rug, but I also have partaken in sharing mmd model download links which were public because, again, I just wanted to share cool models that I found.  I always made sure that the way that I was sharing the links was not directly (ex. linking the dA page instead of the direct mediafire link) I made sure that the rules of the model was ok with that type of distrubution. So not only was I trying to run 2 blogs, I was uploading to my dA, like, 4 times a day, almost everyday. I’m not saying that was hard work or whatever, but because of that type of scheduling, I felt like people were expecting me to be there with a model dl everyday. Again, not hard work but I felt there was pressure. Looking back, it was defiantly taking it too seriously. I was treating it like it was a 9/5 lol. But in the midst of all this, there were some cases that people have contacted me to remove a “model dl” upload. At some point, my account got 1 strike. 

The one strike didn’t stop me from doing this, but eventually, I stopped sharing model dls and just wanted to focus on doing MMD art instead. Looking back at my dA account, it doesn’t look like I did a lot, but that’s how much those model dls took over everything. I’ve deleted all of them. I remember very slowly deleting all of them ‘cause you can only delete uploads one by one, and it took forever. Again, that’s how much I was doing it. I continued to do MMD art and still had fun, but the whole reason I started a dA account was not for MMD. I felt a sense of guilt. Like, I felt anger towards me for not working towards what I really wanted. I think the reason I kept doing MMD was the ease of it. I didn’t have to study anatomy or work on a peice for weeks to make something cool. If you’re also a depressed highschooler, being “known” in a community and the instant gratification of making content in less than a day is much more satisfying. But I wanted to do more. My ideas and concepts that I wanted to flesh out was something that MMD couldn’t do. I had to go back to doing art. 

Overtime, people that I followed started to upload less and I started to upload MMD stuff less too. I opened a brand new dA account to just focus on my art. I would upload MMD stuff here and there, but I felt like the writing was on the wall. If my peers are starting to leave, that may be my sign to leave or watch at the sidelines. Right now, I choose the latter. The most recent upload on my dA was in May of this year. As of writing this, I might make an MMD picture after I’m done lol. I just think that there is a new generation (raycast gen lol) that is taking over and I don’t have to be involved. I did my thing. (i’m in my early 20s now. My body hurts for no reason lol)

SO WHAT ABOUT THE BLOGS?!?!: To be honest, I thought that now I’m trying to use tumblr, I should start uploading here. Not regularly, but ya know, be active. But as you can see from what I have said above, I think that it is better to have these blogs as an archive. Some models, art and users no longer exist. So I think it is important to, at least, keep these blogs up

As for me, I go by Yana now! :) If you still wanna refer me as Reon still, I honestly don’t mind. I think that’s kinda cool! Im just the boring Synthesizer V concept artist now haha 

Follow me here if you want <3 

deviantART (MMD) .  deviantART (Artwork) . Instagram . Personal blog (art stuff)

I still don’t like LAT style models 

UPDATE 11/18/2022: So after I started browsing a bit on my dA page, I found out that there are still a lot of model dl posts that you can’t find in my main gallery, but still in the “more” section. Again, deleting things in mass on dA is annoying but slowly, they will start to dissapear. 

#MMD #mikumikudance #Reon046 #update

[mrcaesarino]

just a little jojo theory on doppio and diavolo

so, do you all remember that one theory that doppio is the real personality? let me explain. that theory is based on real d.i.d pyschology shit cause doppio is like the submissive one while diavolo is the dominant one. the research says that the dominant one is almost always the fake identity or second personality and the submissive one is the real personality who has no control or decisions over the second personality. the real personality or doppio on the other hand, can make decisions for himself but for most of the time, he gets commanded by diavolo to do this that and whatever more.

but...

what if i tell you...

that there is one more personality?

and that is the true identity between diavolo and doppio?

it just a theory i made okay dont attack me and say its not canon, its called a theory for a reason. okay?

so anyways, like doppio, the third personality maybe submissive like him, or broken, too broken in fact. watching everything unravel like a movie but the movie involves him as the character that is going to die. maybe. and don't question me with, "but why didnt he showed up if he existed?" that's the thing, he cant do anything because he has no power or control over anything because of diavolo. or... he may simply had enough of so much bad karma over his entire lifetime he just simply gives up and snaps, creating diavolo allowing the second and most dominant personality in control. think about it, there are so much similarities of the third in diavolo and doppio even though he didnt develop doppio himself but diavolo did. doppio gets bad karma like him and also looks quite like him while diavolo is the anger or murderous tendencies that the third personality has when their on the verge of a breaking point but the event where they plotted on killing their father?? thats how diavolo was made. doppio was made from diavolo because he needed somebody as a cover or double to do his business while he hides his own identity away from the world. you get it? doppios name, doppio, mean double in italian. and its also quite ironic that he also hid his third personality. and your wondering, who is the third personality??

th third personality is...

solido naso.

🤡🤡🤡

I KNOW IT SOUNDS STUPID BUT PLEASE LISTEN. SOLIDO NASO LOOKS LIKE DIAVOLO OF COURSE, (WITH COURTESY FROM DAVID PRODUCTIONS) BECAUSE HE IS THE PERSONALITY HE MADE. BUT... DOPPIO LOOKS ABSOLUTELY LIKE HIM, IN SEVERAL ARTS. LIKE A FUCKING THROWBACK. HERE.

just like diavolo, he has green eyes but his hair, attire and mostly his face is just like doppio. the only difference is the eyes which represents diavolo. in the anime dp or David production made solido naso look more like diavolo but as a teen.

there, you see that? diavolo and doppio are the splitting images of him. in the manga he looks like doppio but in the anime, diavolo is the one who looks like him.

i also like to think that diavolo and doppio has some kind of brotherly relationship with him. here. fanon version of my theory lol

everything was going so well, the new found riches they had when the drug dealing association they made, passione, was going off, made solido naso's pain go away... for now. cause, diavolo right? diavolo decided to pull a, "why not keep in touch with a chick named donatella and fuck with her in the midst of my growing success only for me to remember years later that she existed and got pregnant with my baby and the baby we had together is going to be a threat to my empire bcuz shes related to me thus making or existing a mini me out on this world and at the same time maybe the potential key or push needed for a gang such as bucciaratis and risotto neros to rebel because of my horrible decision making" lol this was so long, but anyways... yeah solido knew of it once the news of la squdra rebelling against passione was out and um yeah... hes crying. my poor trauma bby kitten meow meow 🥺🥺

see the third pic again for solido crying and getting comforted by douchebag diavolo and best boi doppio ❤

but back to the topic, the third pic also has something interesting, the three are trying to comfort solido yet, they are also crying... weird. because since the original ver of them, solido, is crying and sad, they are also bound to feel the same thing. diavolo referring to solido as a kid is his preference to on naming him because he views solido as a a kid and that same goes to doppio. diavolo's determination to eliminate the traitors may also come from solido unaccepting it because he doesnt want this to happen, he just had gotten out of his horrible, horrible life in his opinion that was constantly tormenting him everyday as a reminder which doppio, unfortunately, inherits and aim to fix it because "boss said so." because no matter what happens...

Solido's happiness is the true number one priority of Diavolo, because nobody, I mean nobody, is going to put him in pain again, And the arrow filled with unfathomable power fueled them even more.

so... yuh. thats how uh.. raccoon mafia boss and best boi was made.

IN MY THEORY OKAY. DONT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY I DONT MEAN TO OFFEND ANYONE AND I MEAN ANYONE OR THEIR THEORIES. and i damn well know that this is very confusing but you kinda get gist of it.. right?? but yeah this was so fun to make and represents what i think, very intricate to explain making it sound confusing lol but i actually think this is a good writing experience too because i plan on making a fanfic based on jjba, if it blows up, ill tell yall my account. but if it flops, then no ❤

but ill let you guys have a hint,

King of hearts ❤

#jjba #jojo no kimyō na bōken #golden wind #part 5 #jjba diavolo #doppio vinegar #solido naso #jojo theories i made for fun and thoughts

[solitalien]

Solitaire, by Alice Oseman

Content Warning: Spoilers

I just finished reading Solitaire, by Alice Oseman and here our my thoughts on it.

I would like to start off by saying that this book really means a lot to me. It’s the first ever book that I bought with the full intention of reading it completely and thoroughly. I absolutely adore the story and the characters and if I could, (but more likely will) I would ramble about them for hours.

One of Solitaire’s main characters aside from the main protagonist Tori Spring, is Micheal Holden. He is absolutely and undoubtedly my favorite character throughout the whole story that even in other stories like Heartstopper, I can’t not obsess over him. He can make any situation enjoyable and fun, or at least bearable till it’s over where you can just vibe with him. He reminded me of myself and other people who try to make people happy in a tough situation because someone has to be the glass half full guy. Even though he himself doesn’t really see things that way all the time.

There’s this whole mystery “organization” (that’s the only word I can describe it) in the story called Solitaire which is a Tumblr page that leaves the main pro-tangoist Tori troubled on who’s behind it. The whole page is basically an ARG that leads to many dangerous pranks then what they intended for, as it comes across that they’re trying to teach you a life lesson on youth or something. Overall, it completely consumes Tori as it leaves her feeling resentment towards the page and tries to stop it. It’s super interesting as there are tons of hints on who’s behind the whole things. Oooh, a twist!

A favorite part of the book for me is when in the midst of a firework prank gone wrong by Solitaire, Tori is left face to face with one of them. She and the firework are right next to a river and Micheal Holden is across from it. He’s yelling at Tori to move away from the lit explosive which results in him jumping into the water to get to her away from it, even though it’s freezing. I can see the seen so clearly as just when Tori realizes it’s about to go off, she leaps into the water. I can see Micheal possibly looking at her with amazement, Tori flying into the water as the firework goes off with bright lights catching her arm on fire and landing in the water as it still in full flame. It leaves me breathless in a way I can’t describe. These two are so beautiful to me that in all honesty I can’t imagine one without the other. There’s another seen that also leaves me a smiling mess which is when Tori waits outside the art corridor (I can’t quite remember it) and Micheal comes to join her after they’ve had a bit of a fight. They talk for a bit before Micheal decides to have a snowball fight as it was snowing hard and “it being a waste of snow”. They play in the snow, shoving it in their shirts and hair. Tori and him just being silly little goofballs chasing each other around that leads them inside the school. They end up in a classroom where they decide to race against each other on swivel chairs that fall over and spin them around. I would go more in depth, but I can’t describe it. I just love the enjoyment that these two get from each other and how they just enjoy each other’s company, not caring about anything or anyone. I just love it.

I would say my only complaint is that I wish the author went a bit more in depth about Micheal’s anger, as I can see his issues, but I couldn’t fully grasp it. I only really saw one moment where he had his moment that fleshed him out more as a character, but I don’t really understand where others see how he’s an angry person. Who knows though, maybe I need to reread it a few times to understand it better? I know for sure though that I will.

I enjoyed the story SOOO much that I honestly think that it’s going to be my favorite, forever. I love Tori Spring and Micheal Holden and the relationship between them. How it’s not just love based on simple attraction towards one another or common interest, but true and genuine care for one another that is their love. I will never find another love like them.

5/5

#solitaire

[craftylovegentlemen]

Deuteronomy

Chapter 9

1 Hear, O Israel: Thou art to pass over Jordan this day, to go in to possess nations greater and mightier than thyself, cities great and fenced up to heaven, 2 A people great and tall, the children of the Anakims, whom thou knowest, and of whom thou hast heard say, Who can stand before the children of Anak! 3 Understand therefore this day, that the LORD thy God is he which goeth over before thee; as a consuming fire he shall destroy them, and he shall bring them down before thy face: so shalt thou drive them out, and destroy them quickly, as the LORD hath said unto thee. 4 Speak not thou in thine heart, after that the LORD thy God hath cast them out from before thee, saying, For my righteousness the LORD hath brought me in to possess this land: but for the wickedness of these nations the LORD doth drive them out from before thee. 5 Not for thy righteousness, or for the uprightness of thine heart, dost thou go to possess their land: but for the wickedness of these nations the LORD thy God doth drive them out from before thee, and that he may perform the word which the LORD sware unto thy fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. 6 Understand therefore, that the LORD thy God giveth thee not this good land to possess it for thy righteousness; for thou art a stiffnecked people. 7 Remember, and forget not, how thou provokedst the LORD thy God to wrath in the wilderness: from the day that thou didst depart out of the land of Egypt, until ye came unto this place, ye have been rebellious against the LORD. 8 Also in Horeb ye provoked the LORD to wrath, so that the LORD was angry with you to have destroyed you. 9 When I was gone up into the mount to receive the tables of stone, even the tables of the covenant which the LORD made with you, then I abode in the mount forty days and forty nights, I neither did eat bread nor drink water: 10 And the LORD delivered unto me two tables of stone written with the finger of God; and on them was written according to all the words, which the LORD spake with you in the mount out of the midst of the fire in the day of the assembly.

11 And it came to pass at the end of forty days and forty nights, that the LORD gave me the two tables of stone, even the tables of the covenant. 12 And the LORD said unto me, Arise, get thee down quickly from hence; for thy people which thou hast brought forth out of Egypt have corrupted themselves; they are quickly turned aside out of the way which I commanded them; they have made them a molten image. 13 Furthermore the LORD spake unto me, saying, I have seen this people, and, behold, it is a stiffnecked people: 14 Let me alone, that I may destroy them, and blot out their name from under heaven: and I will make of thee a nation mightier and greater than they. 15 So I turned and came down from the mount, and the mount burned with fire: and the two tables of the covenant were in my two hands. 16 And I looked, and, behold, ye had sinned against the LORD your God, and had made you a molten calf: ye had turned aside quickly out of the way which the LORD had commanded you. 17 And I took the two tables, and cast them out of my two hands, and brake them before your eyes. 18 And I fell down before the LORD, as at the first, forty days and forty nights: I did neither eat bread, nor drink water, because of all your sins which ye sinned, in doing wickedly in the sight of the LORD, to provoke him to anger. 19 For I was afraid of the anger and hot displeasure, wherewith the LORD was wroth against you to destroy you. But the LORD hearkened unto me at that time also. 20 And the LORD was very angry with Aaron to have destroyed him: and I prayed for Aaron also the same time.

21 And I took your sin, the calf which ye had made, and burnt it with fire, and stamped it, and ground it very small, even until it was as small as dust: and I cast the dust thereof into the brook that descended out of the mount. 22 And at Taberah, and at Massah, and at Kibrothhattaavah, ye provoked the LORD to wrath. 23 Likewise when the LORD sent you from Kadeshbarnea, saying, Go up and possess the land which I have given you; then ye rebelled against the commandment of the LORD your God, and ye believed him not, nor hearkened to his voice. 24 Ye have been rebellious against the LORD from the day that I knew you. 25 Thus I fell down before the LORD forty days and forty nights, as I fell down at the first; because the LORD had said he would destroy you. 26 I prayed therefore unto the LORD, and said, O Lord GOD, destroy not thy people and thine inheritance, which thou hast redeemed through thy greatness, which thou hast brought forth out of Egypt with a mighty hand. 27 Remember thy servants, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; look not unto the stubbornness of this people, nor to their wickedness, nor to their sin: 28 Lest the land whence thou broughtest us out say, Because the LORD was not able to bring them into the land which he promised them, and because he hated them, he hath brought them out to slay them in the wilderness. 29 Yet they are thy people and thine inheritance, which thou broughtest out by thy mighty power and by thy stretched out arm.

Deuteronomy 9

Diane Beauford

[sirlonius]

I had a dream that I met the love of my life. She had chocolate skin, bright eyes, crinkly natural hair, and a smile so radiant it'll almost make you cry.

We met at a dinner and a movie event at a small, but exquisite restaurant in the city where she was working as a waitress and training to be an aspiring chef. It was love at first sight for both of us. We peered into one another's eyes for 10 whole seconds upon seeing each other before we could muster hello, lol. I don't remember what the movie was because all I could think about was her smile.

We kissed 10 whole minutes into our conversation after the movie was over. DRAMA TIME! She had an ex-boyfriend that she was in the midst of breaking up with. He saw us kiss and he looked like this guy I worked with in college.

I came back the next day to see her. The ex showed up. I didn't confront him cause he appeared to be cool and went to her to say a few words and out of nowhere he slapped her in the face. As I saw his hand raise time seemed to slow. I saw the fear in her eye. I felt my ears and face get hot as the anger raged in me. I didn't make it to her before his slap landed. He didn't make it away before my right fist landed directly on his jaw.

The scuffle eventually led us into the back alleyway outside the restaurant. He was stumped out by the whole crew and I for a good couple of minutes before he got away.

She was fine, but shaken up. We moved on.

Our first actual date was a cooking class where the head chef laid out an assortment of fine cuisine ingredients and we were tasked with picking whatever we wanted and making a dish out of it. The ingredients were very eclectic stuff like meats I wasn't aware of, caviar, and off mushrooms. I sucked at it, but she made a delicious dish. We laughed.

Time skip into the future the crew of the restaurant secretly transformed the small restaurant into a new food and art restaurant experience modeled after her dream place. We all believed in her. She was blown away with the reveal.

I woke up after that. The end...?

#thoughts #dreams #sirlonius #love

[owlmoonboi]

I write this as I sit on the ledge of my window. A cool breeze brushes against my face, and the moon casts its bright glow on a canvas of blue and purple swirls. The stars twinkle like a million tiny lights in the vast expanse above. However, the serenity of the night is disrupted by the distant echoes of shouting—my parents are fighting.

My Mum's frustration is palpable as she expresses her anger over my Dad's frequent drinking escapades. Almost every night, he's out, and the financial strain it imposes is evident. She is also worried about his health as he already has heart problems and alcohol is bad for the liver. My Mum, a high school English teacher, is the sole breadwinner, while my Dad coaches a kids' soccer team—a job he doesn't seem to enjoy. He coaches them twice a week for two hours only making only twenty dollars an hour. I've stumbled upon him with different women, making out in the back of the car. It was a Friday afternoon when I was walking home from Max's house with Tori. We spotted him sexually active with a young blonde, perhaps in her early twenties. He was ripping off her red lacy bra. Men are supposed to love a woman in reds but I think my Dad liked it more when she wasn't wearing it. We quickly ran off, not wanting him to notice us, adding to the already awkward dynamic between us.

As the argument unfolds, I find myself questioning my own dreams and ambitions. The desire to attend an art school is met with skepticism from my Dad, who dismisses the notion, believing art can't lead to a viable career. Our differing perspectives on life and aspirations create a strained environment, adding to the turbulence within our home. The shouting intensifies, and I wonder if the storm outside mirrors the one within our walls, both raging against the constraints of circumstance and expectations.

Today I sat in English, while the humdrum lecture on language techniques faded into background noise. The room buzzed with unruly energy as food projectiles and crumpled papers sailed toward a lone figure at the back of the classroom. A surge of empathy pulled my attention toward him, revealing a complex tapestry of emotions—anger etched on his reddened face, but beneath it, a reservoir of sadness, as if he carried a story too heavy to tell.

In the midst of this chaotic scene, my pen found solace on the paper. The fragmented images of the boy at the back coalesced into a poem, each verse an attempt to unravel the layers of his silent existence:

"In the rear of the class, there stood a lad,

Not first in line, nor last, a figure sad.

Silent as a mouse, skin pale like snow,

Some believed he was a ghost, but not so. His emotions locked away, like a secret, reviled.

He paid no heed to what others might say,

Or at least, that's what the crowd would pray.

They named him "The Boy at the Back," nothing more,

But beneath that silence, confessions would pour.

Whispers in the hallways, on bathroom walls,

Carved words he'd remember as he roamed the halls:

"How I hate him," over and over, it was clear,

He was the one they resented, for reasons unclear.

The boy who didn't speak or laugh or cry,

Only walked, sat, and stared blankly at the sky.

He penned what others wished, read by their demand,

So much left unsaid, as he obeyed their command.

Locked-up emotions, like a hidden sea,

All the tears uncried, could fill an ocean, be free.

But his laughter, had you heard, you'd not forget,

Once he was free, not a marionette.

Before the strings that bound him were tightly laced,

He acted normal, his spirit not yet erased.

A puppet was he, with his parents and the church,

"Children seen, not heard," they'd often preach.

"Never utter a word," the lessons in his ear,

Emotions, they claimed, were not needed here.

Silence was golden; good kids told no tales,

As adults inflicted wrongs, their cruel details.

Only the wicked, they said, would surely pay,

Suffering in hell or dying young one day.

Suicide a sin, not for the pious and meek,

Life should never be questioned, they'd speak.

Lust, a sinful thought, should never cross the mind,

Pride was wrong, humility, they'd remind.

Greed and envy, gluttony, sins to condemn,

Sloth for a lack of love for God, that's the claim.

The rules laid heavy on this young boy's heart,

But at fifteen, he chose to depart.

Leaving the church and his parents behind,

He carried a knife and a heavy mind.

In a school bathroom, a grim path he'd tread,

Covered in blood, his life's story unread.

A tale of sadness, of pain, of inner war,

The boy at the back of the class, no more.

Gone now, disappeared from this earthly plane,

In silence and darkness, he'll never feel pain."

The lines painted a portrait of a soul grappling with pain, mistreatment, and an internal conflict. The weight of unspoken words and unseen struggles was woven into the verses, creating a poignant narrative that resonated with the unspoken struggles many face.

As I concluded the poem, a sense of unease lingered. I questioned whether the words I'd penned mirrored the reality of his life or if they were merely projections of my imagination. I wished fervently that the narrative of mistreatment wouldn't manifest in the boy's life as the verses suggested.

The theme of mistreatment weighed heavily on my mind as I excused myself from class under the guise of a bathroom break. In those moments of solitude, I pondered the dissonance between the idealistic phrase "treat others how you want to be treated" and the harsh realities of human behavior. The world often proved to be a place where individuals used rudeness as a shield for their insecurities, challenging the simplicity of that golden rule.

In the quiet confines of the restroom, I found myself reflecting on the profound impact of empathy and understanding. The need to look beyond surface appearances and delve into the untold stories of those around us became a resounding theme in my thoughts. The classroom, once filled with chaos, now seemed like a microcosm of the broader world, prompting me to contemplate the collective responsibility we bear in fostering a more compassionate and understanding society.

The bell rang. In a rush people exited the classroom pushing to get out first. There was rumour a fight was going to occur so everyone wanted to be there if one did take place. I watched the boy from the back of the class exit slowly. His feet seemed to be glued to the ground. I believed his backpack wasn't the only weight pushing him down.

I descended the steps, the clatter of my shoes resonating in the long corridor leading to the front quad door. The usual hum of students navigating between classes seemed to crescendo into a buzz of excitement. "I guess the rumors are true," I mused, catching a glimpse of the growing crowd ahead. Jace stood there, his wave a welcome distraction from the mundane school routine. I quickened my pace, greeted by his familiar embrace.

"How are you, Luke?" Jace's voice, deep and captivating, filled the air. With his tall frame, olive skin, curly brown hair, green eyes, and a muscular build, he exuded undeniable charm. He had that rare ability to make even the most mundane topics intriguing. Jace was my boyfriend of three months, and each moment with him carried a certain magic.

"Good, thanks. How are you?" I replied, and a warm smile played on his lips as our attention shifted to the spectacle unfolding before us. The clash featured two girls, Rachel and Ella, entangled in a feud over a boy who had seemingly shifted his affections from Rachel to Ella. Though I didn't know them personally, the drama was hard to ignore.

The tension escalated with each passing moment. Rachel tore a chunk of Ella's hair, and Ella retaliated with scratching Rachel's face with long nails and almost poked her in the eye. As the drama unfolded, Rachel threw a verbal jab, implying some undisclosed secret that would supposedly jeopardize Ella's relationship with James.

"You're not going to win this fight, and James will break up with you once he finds out your dirty little secret," Rachel sneered, punctuating her words with a punch to Ella in the stomach.

"What secret? It's not a secret I'm hotter than you. You're a bitch," Ella screeched, responding with a retaliatory kick that made Rachel trip. The situation took a shocking turn when Rachel, in an act of humiliation, pulled Ella's skirt and underwear off.

"Oopsie. Everyone knows you're a boy now. You fuck'n tranny." Rachel chuckled, sparking a mix of gasps, laughter, and even some spectators reaching for their phones to capture the dramatic moment.

Teachers quickly intervened, their expressions revealing a mix of shock and fury as they dispersed the crowd. Jace and I found our way to nearby silver seats, joined by Gwen, Ashley, and Sam. We wanted to be close so we could continue to watch whatever happens next. As the teachers tried to separate the fight Ella who still had her underwear pulled down jumped on top of Rachel beginning to grope her. Ella pulled down Rachel's skirt and underwear. Ella started to screw her. "Deeper." Rachel sighed. Their bodies moved like the beat of a drum as they started to kiss. Teachers dragged them away from each other screaming at them to put their clothes on and that they were being sent to the principal's office. As the commotion subsided, a lingering sense of discomfort settled in. I couldn't help but feel sympathy for Ella, recognizing the added challenges she likely faced as a transgender individual in an environment where acceptance was a scarce commodity but then stopped feeling sorry as she practically raped Rachel in public.

The bell's chime marked the end of lunch, prompting me to slurp up the last of my orange juice and dispose of the popper in the silver metal bin. With my bag slung over my shoulders, I joined Jace, who also had history with me. His glow-yellow bag was unmistakable, while Ashley and Gwen headed to geography, and Sam, the math whiz, ventured into his top math class. I was hopeless at math.

In the back row of the history class, the lingering talk about the earlier fight persisted. I couldn't help but speculate on the consequences for Ella and whether they would be assigned based on her gender identity or the dynamics of the altercation. Rumors suggested that Ella initiated the physical contact, potentially complicating the repercussions. Given that Ella was still physically identified as male, the consequences might be influenced by those parameters.

History, admittedly not my favorite subject, delved into the apartheid. It was a necessary evil among my six subjects, given my aversion to math and geography, the other options in this time slot. Another history class ran concurrently with my preferred art class, my true passion. I harbored dreams of studying art at university and seeing my work showcased in galleries. This year, I aimed to craft a sculpture for "Sculptures by the Sea."

Jace and I walked home together, detouring to Southlands. Our choice from Donut King today was custard-filled doughnuts. It was my turn to foot the bill, a tradition we'd established. Recalling a previous outing for slushies at 7/11, I chuckled at the memory of Jace making me laugh so hard that slushy went out my nose. I can't even remember what he had said to make me laugh so hard.

"People are so basic claiming to be Swifties while favoring songs like 'Shake it Off,'" I commented. Jace playfully retorted, "You're only saying that because Folklore is your favorite album." I sighed, admitting, "Yeah," before he kissed me. "Goodbye," he said, but I insisted on one more kiss. As we lingered, my mum, going to check the mail, opened the front door. She had the keys for the letter box in her right hand.

"Hey, Jace. Come in if you want. I just made a loaf of warm sourdough bread," Mum offered warmly. Jace regretfully declined due to work but couldn't resist when I suggested buttering him a quick slice. As he enjoyed the treat, Jace expressed gratitude, addressing my Mum as "Mrs. Riller," prompting a smile from her.

"Tell your mum and Dad I said hi," Jace said as he waved, heading off. "Will do," I replied, waving back. Once Jace was out of earshot, Mum turned to me with a knowing smile. "He's a nice boy. You two seem happy."

"Yeah, we are," I said, smiling back. "He's got a way of making even mundane things fun."

Back home, I settled into my room, exchanging texts with Jace over Insta. Our conversation danced between school, plans for the weekend, and the ongoing drama at school. It was the comforting cadence of a blossoming relationship, a melody that accompanied my art sketches and the dreams of a future filled with creativity and shared laughter. We decided we would go roller skating on the weekend as there is a place which only costs ten dollars.

The evening breeze gently ruffled the curtains as I immersed myself in an art project after finishing my homework, sketching a scene inspired by the tumultuous events of the day. My mind wandered, envisioning a world where art transcended the constraints of school and societal dramas, where creativity became a beacon of expression and understanding. The sketch on my desk held the promise of untold stories, a testament to the power of art to navigate the complexities of life.

#my post #my writing #words #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #my write #what the fuck #drama #lgbtqia #story #diary #journal #diary entry #teenagers #rape/noncon #mentally fucked #diversity #ineffable divorce #sad boy #emo boy #gayboy #romance #swifties #folklore #donuts #poetry #prose #mental health #tw sui ideation

[bills-bible-basics]

WOE TO THE BLOODY CITY! -- KJV (King James Version) Bible Verse List Visit https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/ to see more. "Moreover the word of the LORD came unto me, saying, Now, thou son of man, wilt thou judge, wilt thou judge the bloody city? yea, thou shalt shew her all her abominations. Then say thou, Thus saith the Lord GOD, The city sheddeth blood in the midst of it, that her time may come, and maketh idols against herself to defile herself. Thou art become guilty in thy blood that thou hast shed; and hast defiled thyself in thine idols which thou hast made; and thou hast caused thy days to draw near, and art come even unto thy years: therefore have I made thee a reproach unto the heathen, and a mocking to all countries." Ezekiel 22:1-4, KJV "Wherefore thus saith the Lord GOD; Woe to the bloody city, to the pot whose scum ‭is‭ therein, and whose scum is not gone out of it! bring it out piece by piece; let no lot fall upon it.‭ For her blood is in the midst of her; she set it upon the top of a rock; she poured it not upon the ground, to cover it with dust;‭ That it might cause fury to come up to take vengeance; I have set her blood upon the top of a rock, that it should not be covered.‭ Therefore thus saith the Lord GOD; Woe to the bloody city! I will even make the pile for fire great.‭ Heap on wood, kindle the fire, consume the flesh, and spice it well, and let the bones be burned.‭ Then set it empty upon the coals thereof, that the brass of it may be hot, and may burn, and ‭that‭ the filthiness of it may be molten in it, ‭that‭ the scum of it may be consumed.‭ She hath wearied ‭herself‭ with lies, and her great scum went not forth out of her: her scum ‭shall be‭ in the fire.‭ In thy filthiness ‭is‭ lewdness: because I have purged thee, and thou wast not purged, thou shalt not be purged from thy filthiness any more, till I have caused my fury to rest upon thee.‭ I the LORD have spoken ‭it‭: it shall come to pass, and I will do ‭it‭; I will not go back, neither will I spare, neither will I repent; according to thy ways, and according to thy doings, shall they judge thee, saith the Lord GOD.‭" Ezekiel 24:6-14, KJV "Woe to the bloody city! it ‭is‭ all full of lies ‭and‭ robbery; the prey departeth not;‭ The noise of a whip, and the noise of the rattling of the wheels, and of the pransing horses, and of the jumping chariots.‭ The horseman lifteth up both the bright sword and the glittering spear: and ‭there is‭ a multitude of slain, and a great number of carcases; and ‭there is‭ none end of ‭their‭ corpses; they stumble upon their corpses:‭" Nahum 3:1-3, KJV "The LORD hath accomplished his fury; he hath poured out his fierce anger, and hath kindled a fire in Zion, and it hath devoured the foundations thereof.‭ The kings of the earth, and all the inhabitants of the world, would not have believed that the adversary and the enemy should have entered into the gates of Jerusalem.‭ ‭‭FOR THE SINS OF HER PROPHETS, ‭AND‭ THE INIQUITIES OF HER PRIESTS, THAT HAVE SHED THE BLOOD OF THE JUST IN THE MIDST OF HER,‭ They have wandered ‭as‭ blind ‭men‭ in the streets, they have polluted themselves with blood, so that men could not touch their garments.‭" Lamentations 4:11-14, KJV If you would like more info regarding the origin of these KJV Bible verse lists, go to https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/. Thank-you! https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/woe-to-the-bloody-city-kjv-king-james-version-bible-verse-list/?feed_id=116010&WOE%20TO%20THE%20BLOODY%20CITY%21%20--%20KJV%20%28King%20James%20Version%29%20Bible%20Verse%20List

#All_Posts #Bible_Verse_Lists #bible #bible_study #bill_kochman #bills_bible_basics #bloody_city #jerusalem #king_james_version #kjv #list #scripture #scriptures #topical #verse #verses #woe

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 10834

A limerick sequence

                And having lover, or to a presents into my hands she speaks a Memnon    smitten with starry    lamps, burnt me so, that sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam! A frocke oft groin.

                Exhaled asphodel, and if you wouldest thou art true, that all men’s love but    ears. And with greedily    her faults I dearly rise, as not she threshold, since, deare delight.

                Alone, whom Jove’s high thoghts more than I can see for the wintry rage of    a hated thing. That had    long it would carry from the centre sit, yet, when as thoughts came.

                That thus torment feed. All he had taught that hath the lily, the Spyder and    died with his cotton, and    where is not the hum celestial. My sin, ground and still, his eye.

                And should fathom the heart standeth on the waues and striking? Thy lookes downe,    so weren his garden    urn—weave, weave the winter or Sommer shadow falls in the light.

                Away; whole, wisdom? As the ape for that when it seemeth drown’d in a Dream    has lost forlorne, I fynd    their sweet boy, and find thee weel awhile! For I was half-world. Oh.

                Confusion, a waxen face, and frieze, and all this misspelled my imagination    spend shafts she says    the Prince, what smoothness rough Year just the screech itself over me.

                Rain, it was not hard to harme there but vnto the earth. Were making the blood. And    heart on fire: then would compos’d,    affection; and beat ye stir not up, nor awake to see.

                Clothed with thy flight. You run about, my life indeed, seeing visions, dear youth    asleep, there by zephyr-    boughs! She is heart in others came by, or lend your mighty men.

                Make me where my frail successions of the tomb of Tutankhamun. Her fair,    with gems and yet, ’ quoth he    thou boast of this Ambitious blisse, the low world farewel took.

                The sun comes out, first just casualty, nor any kind that cometh leaping    there, for she’s mine, as we    ourselves this to applie. Thence no more. Under the blossomes rownd.

                And roared before the wage a rough-voic’d war again he caught sight of her bosome    breaketh from Phoebus    gold. Is dead, and the worke in mine eye? Therefore from Lebanon.

                Here, as lasse not for such Cries of honour! Chiefly in love that bred here, and    yet I view! Centuries    of me, nor like an earthquake, shakes, which must go. To the abhord.

                To hear, ever full of sport, and possesseth all their mossy homes in eyes?    Where paced, and solicit    new; now turn we touched above their languid strings, o’er many dayes.

                Them with different as the referee. And make your’s bleeding as necessary    as this, poor Wat, far    off appear, and point from which it entered in the stormy air.

                That which shal you may ye feel his strange, but for Germany. She tooke him still    on soft slumber though less    the inner part to her eye; whose precious, just are circumference.

                No, nor for my sick Muse doth tye, with woodbynd flowe, of that her captiuing strange,    a license; might dazzling    makes coy excuse the creatures, and battlement. Within my breast.

                Never— beloved, O thou forget. If he be not see thee fall downe and    face had zoned her the mountain    cleft where your life—this storme is past, the orator too green.

                And only Nature’s sight; and floor, and most musick lendeth! Of Jerusalem.    To see them, nor    understand, simple truth be broken wing thro’ cells of mad mischaunce.

                Obstinate, and, below, fond wretch turn, and lonely, in fine. And my joints of    angelic kind, which louers    trade, what needeth anger nould less breast, and do not envy her.

                I can be thou my vertues richly dight: ne things deuize, still at least not the    base thong from the summer    of fantastic round the bed to me. May kindle liuing prayer?

                Life, and love but deaths wound round they wear. Like her head, all fearless night, nor rest;    that live and trammel’d fresh    slumberous and unrespecting country’s pride, in midst of a’.

                These two division fleeting hounds, their tortured lies; then they vanished the conceived    me. New yeare fortune,    and thrice-seen love is lame, that strife: o my luve’s like Christ’s—oh!

                Who is so farre, that appeare, is twenty times, parking the day I die, the    brain; yet, in our land; the    heaven. Does not those fault; I view my crime, but commun’d with lawn.

                —The wean wants me as he, that same beasts with tears; odour, to shortest view, Cease,    ye faint companions hearken    to the sky, so did this in his small knucklebone. The brook.

                A hope is slain. By those swelling from the coals of fine gold, ooz’d slowly from    the Snare I languish till    he takes up one’s back’d breed the free, the instant made the flowers!

                One muse’s smile, the rare thing I desire to be called him to me? For    who can rule and fair I    take him as he was a vintager, so cool and left alive.

                Thus swell’d an air odorous dew, and find and sound to cheeks are clear vanish’d    the burden’d before one    pang of a feather’d wildly.— An’ O for ane an’ twenty, Tam!

                Fair art thou fair Eliza! And therewith his work, sit on a morning    sought Most musical of    mourne to me she wonts to face with heedlessly did make the Past.

                To call the world is light of its own. Curse onto my bed I sought him vp    without a soul will ’scape    us—O felicity. Behind our thrall: and all is fled!

                Round the Heart, I know; made bare here for a long pain. And birds that shrines in the    universe, that wondrous    dream once may win thy lovely lengthen from thee, that sucked the same!

                As a piece together, for the maw- crammed with her vndonne. For one moment of    desire, as if a    little cottage, I dwell near the wit of absence, which to move?

                Thick-sighted, nor tears are tears; odour, to each; and if you here but parts, can    see nought offended. The    sunny lane some holy frankincense, tenderest work of art.

                Cried Urania; swung blindly warm’d. Whom their ghost-towns, almost. Thy two breast. For    their camp of death. And seemed    a holly father—how they fled, since her to be prayses fill.

                —An’ O for any being happy wilt in thee. As if my sin and clogd    with little space he straggling    forth doth insinuate; tell her nature and gentle men!

                The green corner of time doth patience. For boys say, thou to Rome—at once the    Vision meant, but the viewing?    But thou shalt thou need’st thou now art! Should be: his teeth. Leave me.

                You hold the rough buried him of his while yet young immortal speech did Loues    honor flies, let wealth, let    her arms full of all. Whats this you can see nought me with Cupids!

                What maid would not different meaning her with cold blowes the Unapparent.    Can never weep, never    woman else, and only was my Chloris’ bonie lass made to laugh.

                But vaine to be prayse and face hid in muffling to creep for Adonais—    he is dear deceits, arise!    Resist it seemeth in long retinue follow this saints?

                Now which when as she more moving there. Tis held each of sunshine in verses    made of strawberries in    the Northern front, and duty duty, clear heart, head, and my shield.

                And you’d never fright there last breathes full sigh celestial. Unless it because    thee: ah! Thy flocke thereon    haue found made: and thinks a spirit’s knife dare to loose that release.

                Twas part, and jointly both with eye or face doth grin before would I decke therefore    serves best when the Hall,    I am borne of heaven’s thunder’s roll. The whole I planteth!

                Remains alive, in like planet cleared. Ah hopelesse of my slave, and weep    for Adonais! My stockings    that on the worm feeds on, and fitly exchanged neuer ought.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #193 texts #limerick sequence

[rsmrymnt-tea]

「 🐳 」 ohh and what a glorious revelation it must be to realize that your newly gained blue whale anon has decided to reach out to you after silently gazing at your posts for the past few months like a stray, black cat curiously watching you do your silly little daily tasks from your wooden fence, and deciding to finally interact not because it was nervous, but because it thought that the time was finally right for it to show you that it can speak and hope that you find meaning in its words in the midst of all that is hopeless ♡ /lh

yes—i did include gw2 ost!! i noticed that you were always going on about it beginning from a few months ago, and thus i decided to listen to all 9+ hours of it on spotify and delicately put aside my favorites to revisit for later playlists. making playlists for people's ocs, as i've said, is something i heavily enjoy doing!

the contents of the playlist came to me naturally considering how i had specific thoughts about dolasach in mind; there wasn't too much of a struggle as a result. to me, creating content, both literature and art-wise, for others doesn't take much of my energy because i genuinely wish to express that inspiration to others in hopes that they get to create more self-serving content. the description of dola's playlist in particular comes from something i wrote,

“you killed yourself and a garden grew. you looked into the mirror, watched it crack with lightning and felt fury at existence, stifling and electric. you drowned in a pit of tar thick hatred, let it line your tongue and pool beneath your eyes because at least this way you’d be preserved. you dug the grave with your halo, all light and holy diving into the dark, and planted the seeds of solitude ready to bloom into a headstone. abandoned were the zinnias, the poppies, the hope and the love. instead you turned back to camellias and roses, classics revived in a cemetery. the garden was cold. you didn’t know death could grow, but here you are.”

dolasach “died”, and from what i remember, would eventually come back to visit her own grave with what i would imagine to be contempt. to who or what it would be directed towards, i wouldn't know, but would it be so far off to say that it would be towards herself, someone lacking of a great deal of self-compassion and seeks connection as a supplement as she works through her own issues? this thought in mind reminds me a lot of belphegor—

sloth is associated with a variety of complex emotions (more than laziness & apathy), and it all boils down to depression. no love for yourself, others, and all that's left to manifest is anger towards everything because you cannot feel anything else. you desperately try to cling onto something, and that something is self-pity; when you're so disconnected, you can only feel rage (and i think it's a reason why satan & belphegor get along with the exception of their shared interests). i'm not saying that dolasach particularly fits in like a glass slipper with this concept, but i am reminded of her.

like the wildflowers that intimately wrap around her body, she seems to grow in many directions regardless of whether they will aid or hinder her in her journey and i believe that it's genius of you to include so much metaphorical death within her story when she has heavy implications of being in love with flowers (or was that a simple aesthetic choice, i wonder?)

she is full of exhaustion, but there seems to be a yearning to capture the resilience of the wildflowers she so seems to love very much. she isn't delicate by no means, but it's so painfully obvious that she wishes to love in spite of how she looks at herself and can't help but look past her shell and struggle to find something beautiful.

that is what i thought when making her instrumentals-only playlist ^^

i would've included elden ring ost for dolasach, but unfortunately, it isn't on spotify :( but even so, the unravel ost fit perfectly for her ... because i remember those series of posts from a few months ago when you were discussing dola's irish origins with someone, and how you wished to do research for her regarding those origins! the ost in of itself resembles celtic music, despite it being scandinavian in nature.

the dola art i saw was simply none other than your pfp ^^ i was curious as to who it was, so i dug through your account to see if there was a reference sheet for a mc! and there's no shame in tailoring an oc for a canon character if it brings you joy~ it's a lot fun to brainstorm when it comes down to that! especially since you need to seriously analyze the character, and then attempt to comfortably fit them in with your own mc without jeopardizing the story you wish to tell with them.

my adhd begs me to include this part for the description i wrote, but usually when i write descriptions of ocs like that, i always think of them being the innermost thoughts of my mc as her ceramics are being spun with a single flawed touch-- lack of delicacy or a tremor-- the red of the earth tainting the sweet ivory silk that billows with each flowing, curtain-esque movement, sealing fate.

and that is what makes my creations so easy to, well, create! my perspective is magnified from someone else (oc) who is humble and dignified, and yet, has a taste for looking too closely in the hopes of filling in the puzzle pieces to formulate a clearer picture, hoping that the person challenges her on an intellectual level. as for myself, i'm someone who scrutinizes with the intimidating aura of elizabeth bennet's (pride & prejudice) wit, and it often receives mixed reactions (much to both my amusement and my “ah, not again”'s). ^^;; my oc indirectly helps me become more likely to see through a (hopefully) unbiased lens, rather than a stubborn one full of judgement.

and uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu the yokai event alone was so mid tbh,, i don't know if you got the impression from what i said before, but i'd like to confirm that my sights were primarily set on what small, itty bitty pieces of information i could use for my own liking rather than genuinely enjoy the event itself </3 seriously so pissed at the devs for doing satan so dirty. i can't help but think it's out of spite for how the fandom pushed them to make satan like that back when obm first released...

OOF funny how when I threw this into my drafts, I had a bit of preamble on about how it took a while to get to this and now I've answered the newer asks before I got to this one because I forgot I even had this in the drafts >.>

First off--insane to me that you listened to all of it on Spotify? Like, without the game? I'm happy that my rambling about Guild Wars got you to listen to it though! I'm biased as fuck and think that it's got an amazing soundtrack, and personally think that the music started shining more once they stopped getting Jeremy Soule to do their music >.< Can't thank you enough for making the playlist really, because holy shit?

The media that a lot of the music you chose came from intrigues me as well. It's probably not that deep, but there's something about seeing Omori, Unravel, and The Beginner's Guide of all games there, aside from Guild Wars 2. I'm made extra curious about what Sky is now, since a lot of music came from there. There's something very fitting to me that Omori and The Beginner's Guide made it in the playlist.

Nonnie seriously, that playlist is the only thing keeping me tied to Spotify right now hgkjdgfh oh my goodness >.< Ever grateful, and really still so stunned that you went through the trouble. I know you said it comes fairly easy to you, but it doesn't diminish just how touched I am. My goodness >w<

Now... I'm not even sure how to approach everything you said about Dolasach because a lot of it really is striking food for thought--is this how authors feel when their characters are analyzed by someone smarter than them? sjkghdfjgjdfgh

Tbh, the comparison to Belphie and her alignment with Sloth surprised me, because I've always seen Dolasach as someone who actively fought against it in as many forms you can think of. Like you said, she really tries to grow, sometimes not caring in which direction she goes. Contentment is something she wishes she could have, yet it's something she always fears and she knows it; it's part of why there are times she wishes she could just die, because death is probably the most rest she'll ever have. But she also refuses to give in to the urge, even more so after her death at Belphie's hands.

But early on, yes. In the years right before her first year in the Devildom, her life had grown painfully stagnant, and being away from the pressures of her blood family and fully with the freedom to contemplate what she herself really wanted for herself lead to the realization that she's lost and unable to move forward, and has no one she was willing to speak to regarding her troubles. She'd isolated herself without really trying, and the lack of any meaningful connection with anyone or anything to live for lead to her wanting to break routine and force herself to find reason to keep going.

I think she thinks that i's enough for her that others love her if she can't love herself. She doesn't truly understand why, but learns to accept it and thrive under the gentle warmth that her partners and her found family bring her. Despite how much trouble being in the Devildom has given her (including dying and watching herself die), the unexpected whisking away to an exchange program that someone else signed her up for ended up giving her a new lease on life by giving her some beings to love and be loved by, and new passions to explore in the form of magic and magical studies.

Tbh the flower motif stemmed largely from the fact that my Guild Wars 2 character that I got Dola's name from is in fact a literal plant person, and the constant link to death stems from that character being a necromancer >.> Which feels anti-climactic to admit but that's the honest answer. It's just lent itself well to combining into something thematically wonderful for Dolasach the human.

Dolasach the sylvari, the original and namesake >.< The entire person + the clothes and weapon are all plant matter. I have like, 8 other plant people who look something like this

It's honestly so interesting that your thought process is like that :0 You're already so thorough in your analyses, and the added layer that seeing someone from the perspective of someone who would be there, able to observe the character from a first person perspective definitely adds even more to it. It's so nuts to me that you can come to conclusions and hypotheses like that on your own (with the help of your mc) because most of my thoughts on other characters come from reading others' takes, comparing them to canon, then deciding for myself if I agree or not then making adjustments so that I like what I understand.

fdhkgjsdhfjgksdhg the yokai event really let me down, both paths were so... Meh? And truly, I hate that they did Satan so dirty. This may be one of the rare times that everyone's outfits are good, but I personally still greatly dislike what they did with him, even more so after looking into the actual lore of the nekomata. All the more I hate that they incorporated so many cutely elements to his outfit.

Like what's with the paw prints? What's with the bows, what's with the bells? There is something very unimpressive about his silhouette as well in comparison to his brothers. Each one felt like proper respects were given to the yokai that they were based on, and while I understand that the nekomata is commonly made cute, it would've been nice if they leaned in to the ferocity and ferality of it when it came to designing Satan's outfit. A malicious spirit that's also said to grow more in power as a nekomata the more cruelly it was treated in its life as a normal cat... It feeds and kills for fun, and can manipulate the dead.

Then we get Satan's outfit, and a card where he's doing that stupid nyaa post again :/ The unlocked card are is a bit better, but it doesn't remove the fact that I don't like his outfit as a whole lol And I'm also so fucking bitter about the card. I wouldn't have even known that their costumes were supposed to have special abilities if I hadn't seen others post about it... Literally every other card from the Nightmare and Quiz had its respective character mention their costume's powers. Don't get any mention from Satan, and Im still bitter about the lame date and weaker than mediocre romance. So glad the card came home in not that many pulls, I'd be even more upset if I used more than I did and got THAT as the Devilgram...

Anyway anyway the rant got away from me fjdgkdfjhgdfgh And the rest of this answer feels weirdly incohesive but idk how to fix it? Sorry for taking so long to answer this one dgkjdfjh I genuinely forgot that I hadn't answered it but just noticed that it felt like I answered less asks than I knew I had from you...

#chat & colloquy #🐳 nonnie!! #dolasach #tbh i think im rambly because im rendered partially speechless by this whole thing #like??? it never ceases to astonish me that people pay attention and give a shit about dolasach #to the point of drawing her and thinking about her and making playlists??? #i feel like even if i tried i wouldnt have ever landed on these ideas about dola and im the one who made her #like???? shaking you nonnie #im seriously so curious about your mc tho like #i think the fact that your mc gives more of a shit about others gives her an edge that dola doesnt have because she tends to just mind her #own business until something piques her interest in the form of sparking curiosity or threatening her #anyway anyway dfkfdjgh ill stop talking now

[astrojoy]

Astrovations #15 ☆

I have a lot of conjunction aspects in here because I was mainly focusing on these while studying observations, they stuck out to me so sorry there isn't too much variety 😂 Enjoy and have a beautiful day ♡ OH there's also a bit more synastry. I was digging deep into synastry charts recently

Art By - @dayrisfelix on Instagram

Neptune conjunct or harshly aspecting 3rd house ruler/Mercury in the 12th/3rd ruler in the 12th/12th ruler in the 3rd/Pisces 3rd house - I've recently noticed people can forget what you say more often. I've noticed this with 3 of the aspects above and the other 2 I have come to assume 🤍

Libra Ascendant/Venus Conjunct Ascendant/In 1st house - Look at Greek mythology statues in museums. I've noticed people with these aspects (without afflictions or over dominant planets clouding this) have bodies forms very similar to these statues. My friend has venus in the 1st and my brother has a libra ascendant and they in some form match this. I've noticed libra ascendant men tend to be leaner and have sharper jawlines (possibly tall too) however if they have venus in the first they have a rounder jawline or softer body structure. I feel like these people have a more non-modern style of appearance but moreover the statues in those museums ngl but this is just a personal opinion based on observation 😂

Chiron in the 5th - Possible pattern of having to grow up quickly. These people probably had something in particular or an arrange of events in childhood which made them have to become more serious or responsible, they may not have had as much time as other kids to enjoy doing the things they love as much or their mind was clouded with tedious/work tasks they needed to complete more importantly. This ranges though but this one is just something I've observed in a few people ☺ You also may not want a kid as you grow up. May have a child without the intention of wanting one too. Fit this placement into your situation 😂

Pisces Ascendant/Neptune in the 1st/Neptune conjunct Ascendant - I'M SORRY BUT THESE ASPECTS REMIND ME OF PEACOCKS, SIRENS, WILLOW FAIRIES, THAT STUFF OK?

Aries Mars - Now I know a lot of people may get annoyed after reading this and say things like "No not always! That's so stereotypical to say yadayada" but listen. This is from what. I've. Seen. 😂😂 Of course not everyone will be like this, especially with so many vast charts but I'm also not gonna stiffle my observations. There's a stereotype for a reason ig too idk 🙇‍♀️. BTW currently unsure if I wrote about this before but I have a feeling I.. mightve? Dunno but here it is just in case. I've seen some peeps with this placement act impulsive when they were angry. During harsh arguments these people might make themselves physically look bigger or tough to make an impression of "not to be messed with", or do something like this as a defense mechanism etcetc when they're angry. It's something to guard themeselves when they're emotionally or physically threatened so that the threat will back away or ease off. They remind me of bulldogs when mad tbh! Oohh maybe spiders too since they put their lil arms up like D:< I've often seen this placement on impulse may have an instant fight switch on a fight or flight button 😂 ofc it depends on other aspects to confirm this

Pisces Mars - Speaking of anger, I've noticed these people may shake when they're mad??? If not then either way they have a lot of emotions going on in themselves all at once. Neptune is lucid, it carries confusion in the midst of it's watery emotions. Pisces Mars remind me of fawns, lambs soft things, why? Mainly because these people don't like harsh confrontation and they actually may come off as submissive in a way, they often stay away from anything that might exude danger or discomfort. So when they are mad they may be confused with how to deal with their anger and can act out of emotion. A confused flight or fight response may be common since Neptune is hazy. However more often than not they will probably take the flight option as to not cause trouble

Scorpio Mars - Another stereotype but true. Cold. Cold. Cold. They don't like to fight and are reserved people- however if someone does dare to physically come at them, mess with them too much or mess with someone they care about oml back off because all hell is breaking loose. They aren't really impulsive id say. At least not without any other aspects really over powering this? They remind me of a snake. Snapping quickly with their venom, very careful and very quick. But just one bite can really cause damage, even if the effects of the poison show itself later 💀 These people need some time alone once they are mad in order to cool off and process their thoughts, emotions and motives on a situation. They should be ok after an hour or so and proper time to process through their emotions

Undeveloped Libra/Aries/Cancer/Virgo Placements - I'm sorry y'all and I love you but I've noticed these placements when undeveloped can be petty at times. By placements I mean major areas or dominance. Like the sun/moon/possibly rising/stelliums etcetc. Virgo is less likely out of these tbh. These people can be childish. While undeveloped they can complain more often or be defensive in arguments (taking things personally) and act overall dramatic when mad. With Libra and Virgo I've seen them show signs of jealousy easier over anothers appearance. Once these signs have time to develop they can become quite mother-like, fair minded, and/or seeing the broader picture of things. I know generally it can depend on how someone was raised however these personality markers help understand this as well. Undeveloped signs are just signs that take more time to balance out. It's like taking more time to understand how to grasp a sign per say 🫂

Solar Return || Neptune/Pisces 1st house - As someone who has this, this year and is seeing affects of it. May I introduce you to what will possibly take place. Things with appearance may be hazy as well as views on life. Starting with appearance, let's make some examples shall we? you may think you've gained incredible amounts of weight (or the total opposite) but after you check it may actually be the opposite of your original assumptions. Another random scenarip would be that maybe you don't understand your skin tone, "am I cool toned? Warm? Olive?" And suddenly you may not know that year or you may suddenly find out finally. What was once hidden, is now in the spotlight of the 1st house after all. Spychic abilities may be better if worked on. You may have wishes of meditation or time alone, wanting a life of a monk or something in order to find peace. You could dabble in escapism, thus a list can include daydreaming, ignoring issues, alcohol, drugs and other things to get your mind off of the friction of reality. You will be more included to pursue creative endeavors this year. If you've been on an art block for some years, months, etc, then you will suddenly want to bring that spark back and may enjoy playing instruments, writing stories, drawing, singing and stuff in that realm. Everything may be confusing in some way. By this I mean, "what's gonna happen in my life next? Will I get to do this? Will I go to that place?" This placement reminds me of you standing on a beach with no ocean. Just vast dried out areas of where the ocean should be. Then suddenly since neptunes murky waters are in your 1st house house, you get to see them up close. So finally a huge tide comes in and you see the ocean up close again. Looking at your reflection and seeing a mirror of different things that were confusing before, be brought into light. Or for some people this might be the exact opposite depending on the chart! ☺ Either way you may make new discoveries about your inner self as well as a different perspective of the world around you. This sounds like a scary placement but it's really not so don't worry yourself 🫂💖

12th house ruler in the 1st - I've noticed people tend to forget things about the person. Whether it's as simple as the persons favorite color or the persons likes and dislikes, generally people can become lucid on what they know about this individual. Generally quite like the 8th house, people can think of you as either a mystery or just hard to grasp at times

11th house ruler in the 12th - Foreign friends are more likely. May lean to more online friends. If you travel to different countries, making friends can come easier in some way

MC Persona Chart/12th ruler in the 5th - Can point to a creative career revolving around the arts in some way. The planet really speaks about how this may act out. With the moon I've seen a musical artist. Keep in mind the planets placement in your natal as it may help in some way to better understand how it acts

MC Persona Chart/Sun - Plays a major role in what type of career field you may enter for sure. I've studied the MC Persona Chart Sun so much throughout charts and it's been so accurate to their major career area. My mom was a prison guard and had her Sun in the 6th (traditionally ruled by Virgo which can rule over prisons and etc) also

Pholus in the 1st - Really like to change their appearance a lot in life from what I've seen. These are the people who may wear eccentric styles or aesthetics that others may deem out of this world or something. Their energy when they walk in a room subconsciously takes up a lot even if they are quiet. Whatever rising they have will evidently be expanded in some way. AKA, a libra rising may be embody a libra sun with their presence at times

Synastry Interesting? (NOTICE: I gave a hella observational estimate on my bio dad's birth time however I think it's pretty spot on) - I noticed my mom has Juno in Capricorn (natal) and my Dad has Saturn in the 1st. My Dad has Juno in Pisces and my mom has Neptune in the 1st 🤔🤔🤔

PoF (Part of Fortune) In Synastry - Your own Part of Fortune will show what you gain from the other person. An example, you have Part of Fortune in your partners 9th house. Your partner will introduce you to new knowledge, possibly new beliefs or ways of looking at life. Your fortune from this relationship is their knowledge. It can be their connections to foreign lands or people

Synastry/Neptune conjunct Ascendant - The planet person will see the ascendant person as an ideal type. Entranced by the mythical waters of the ascendant person. However of course with Neptune, if the ascendant person shows any signs of being totally different from what the planet person clung onto, then the Neptune person will be devastated. The ascendant person can also become an escapism tactic? By this I mean the planet person may go directly to the ascendant person to rid their problems or vent. They will go to the ascendant person and can tell their deeper secrets too. The ascendant person can become a drug and the planet person might not even notice at first

Moon in the 11th/Virgo 11th too - Generally likes friend groups with a lot of emotional value. They need an emotional connection with someone to take a watery fullilment from the pair. This aspect can also create friends who are willing to take care of you in times of need. Dropping some of the things they need to get done in order to accommodate you

Synastry/Vertex conjunct Sun - I've seen in soulmates (when I refer to soulmates I mean anything like friends, business partnerships, romance, family, etc) edit: when I refer to soulmates, I do not mean that these relationships will always last. Soulmates come and go as needed, some are karmic and some aren't ☺ sorry for not writing this sooner 😭

Synastry/Mars conjunct Moon - Emotional turbulence can be in the cards! I've seen 2 people with this get into petty disagreements. The Mars person generally drives the emotions out of the moon person, so the moon person can show their emotions in a much more outward nature if they couldn't before. Sometimes the moon person may think the mars person is trying to push their buttons when really it could just be teasing/joking etc. This isn't a terrible aspect though, just make sure to be mature :)

Synastry/Pholus conjunct Ascendant - For sure 'Watch what you say' or 'Watch how you come across' aspect 😭 Now of course this can always come off as a vice versa. However I've seen this act where the Pholus person may unintentionally come off in the wrong way to the ascendant. An example is the Pholus person accidentally shoving the ascendant persons shoulder and the ascendant person thinking the Pholus person was being rude. The Pholus person may be like a ticking bomb around the ascendant person sometimes as well. The ascendant person could arouse some irritation by accident and urk the Pholus person too! Communication about this always helps, never take anything personally either :D

Synastry/Saturn conjunct North Node - The Saturn person is typically blocking the North Node person from growing. Of course this isn't noticed but whatever traits are coming from the Saturn person aren't serving the NN person but this could also mean physically in some way (just plug it in however you think it fits :P) This doesn't mean block out these people haha! It just means that they probably don't have a major role in creating your higher potential in this lifetime. This aspect can also mean the Saturn person is the Karma for the NN. This can be good and bad ofc!

Synastry/Mercury trine Uranus - A sweet aspect! This shows 2 people who may make bizarre inside jokes or have a weird sense of humor. These people may enjoy talking about technology (movies, video games, etc), social causes and even each other's friends. I've noticed it really depends on where Uranus is which shows what it may really be about. Example, 12th house would be conversations on new age philosophies or things like astral realms, drugs etc. Or the 5th would simply be like I said before, video games, hangout places, small bizarre entertaining communities like Comic Con or anime conventions stuff around this. Technically conventions would go into the 11th too ig 😭😂

Cancer Placements - I've personally seen be so silly (in a good way). They can be really youthful when they want and tend to have a childlike charm contrary to the cancerian motherly vibe. These are the people who enjoy personal time with their friends. They are also quite.. Laid back? It's usually when they are alone but they are just so quiet and in the moment. They can be so comfortable vibing with themeselves honestly

Virgo Big 3 - Idk why but I instantly think of librarians, florists, brown cats, garden fairies, grass fields with flowers, horses vibing together on a hill, sketch books sprawled out on the ground, cloud watching, baking stands in a plaza. You guys are really sweet and often considerate of others. You guys remind me of a typical motherly moon, as you guys can be just as nurturing when you want to be. Lots of animal lovers have Virgo which makes sense. My friends a Virgo and we always go on pinterest and just adore the adorable animals we pass by 😂

Random Songs For Random Signs (Not all signs are listed)

Cancer in Big 3 -

Leo in Big 3 -

Pisces/Libra in Big 3 -

Aries/Scorpio in Big 3 -

Capricorn/Taurus in Big 3 -

Aquarius/Scorpio in Big 3 -

Sagittarius in Big 3 -

They didn't have this on Spotify from what I saw however I'll list it below

Best Friend (Worldwide Remix)

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