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chaedomi · 3 months

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THE CROWN PRINCESS

SUMMARY . after visiting her mother, lyrica finds herself learning about the mysterious crown princess who resides inside the sun palace.

CHARACTERS . LYRICA NARA TAKAR / BRINNE SOL

WARNINGS . YANDERE, female child reader, platonic, ooc (if i missed any, kindly alert me)

WORDCOUNT . 2.9k+ / MASTERLIST.

LETTERS . i'd like to make it known that this fanfiction was inspired by lyomeii's works ─ ( one / two ) yeah, i do plan to make this into a little platonic yandere series. and since this is a little introduction to it all, there won't be as much action in this compared to others that (hopefully) will come. 'breanna' is a character made by me on the spot. oh, God, this is so bad

LYRICA WAS having the best day of her life. Her mother had just bestowed upon her something truly precious—a silver coin, unparalleled to all the riches that could be offered. Honestly, when she lost the first silver coin she had earned back in the slums, she felt a sense of disappointment. That coin had been her pride, marked and stained with all the times she held it, dreaming of a better future. She never aspired to acquire another, as it couldn't compare to the first one she had cherished for so long. But, who cared? Even if it wasn't the same coin, it was still a silver coin—her precious silver coin.

"Ah... Huh...?" Lyrica's footsteps halted as something interesting captured her attention. The Black Dragon Chamber next door was The Crown Prince's room, and right next to it was another door—the entrance to The Crown Princess's chambers. It occurred to Lyrica that she had never laid eyes on The Crown Princess before. The Crown Princess hadn't even been present at her mother's and His Majesty's wedding!

Lyrica lifted her gaze to examine the sign above the chamber door. Said signs depicted the theme of the chambers and, by extension, identified the type of dragon associated with The Crown Princess.

However, instead of the expected dragon imagery, there was what Lyrica recognized as a constellation.

"Oh my," Brinne spoke beside Lyrica, causing the little girl to startle, as the voice was unexpected. "It seems that Your Highness has stumbled across something very interesting. Would you like me to explain, Your Highness?"

"Huh...?" Lyrica blinked at her servant before finally catching on. "O... Oh, yes, please!"

Brinne laughed in response to Lyrica's enthusiasm. "Recall when I mentioned that His Majesty and House Takar trace their lineage to dragons? I also explained that House Wolfe descends from wolves, and House Sandar's ancestry is tied to a colossal snake as thick as a tree."

Brinne’s eyelids fluttered open, and Lyrica could see for herself the fondness swirling in her amethyst-hued eyes. Lyrica's curiosity deepened even more as a result of this reaction. Minor details about The Crown Princess's existence are known, yet she already fascinates Lyrica. In the 'White Dragon Chamber,' Lyrica remembers the information Brinne shared with her. The Founder of the prosperous Takar Nation was a dragon, leading to the Imperial Family (comprising Takars) being named after these mythical creatures.

So, why is it that you, The Crown Princess, aren't named after a dragon? Your hand was given to The Crown Prince, which rightfully places you within the Imperial Family. However, you carry the identity of something different—a star, or more precisely, a constellation of stars known as Pollux.

Lyrica resisted the urge to ask, concerned about overwhelming Brinne with questions she might not have answers to. However, the more she thought, the more she wanted answers. Despite the unsettling tales she had heard about The Emperor, her stepfather had proven to be benevolent. It wasn't as if The Emperor despised you otherwise, he wouldn't have permitted you to reside in The Sun Palace and ''''marry'''' The Crown Prince. So, why...?

Lyrica bit her lip and groaned, ultimately yielding to her curiosity. "The Family Crest of High-Ranking Nobles symbolizes their ancestry. However, considering House (L.N) bears the crest of a star, does that suggest that The Crown Princess is descended from a star?" Brinne tilted her head and beamed, satisfied with Lyrica's analysis. "Exactly!"

Although Brinne appeared content, Lyrica felt the opposite, her eyebrows furrowing in dissatisfaction. "But... I thought all Takars were named after dragons. What about The Crown Princess?" It's only at that moment that Brinne understands the confusion of The Young Princess. Brinne's smile widened further, momentarily causing Lyrica to worry about the strain on her jaw muscles.

"It's as you mentioned, Your Highness. All Takars, even those married into The Imperial Family, bear dragon names. But, The Crown Princess is only engaged to His Highness.” Brinne replied, a sly smirk gracing her stunning features. Lyrica's expression faltered as she processed her servant's words. “Your Highness, let me make it known that His Majesty deeply admires House (L.N), especially The Crown Princess."

As the realization dawned on her, Lyrica almost jumped in surprise. Tolerance and respect were one thing, but admiration? Another question was… why did Brinne tell her all of this when she had first moved into her chambers? Did she forget…?

Brinne giggled at Lyrica’s reaction. "With admiration comes a deep bond. As we know, His Majesty cannot rule forever, nor will it be advised for his nephew to rule alone. And so, because His Majesty trusts no one as he trusts House (L.N), he decided that one of them shall ascend to the throne alongside his nephew. Despite the many good suitors House (L.N) had to offer, The Crown Princess was chosen as she not only captured him with her abilities but her personality as well."

“Of course, to be a Crown Princess, you need to marry The Crown Prince first. However, His Majesty’s instructions to address Her Highness as such regardless is a way of showcasing her permanent ascension.”

Lyrica's eyebrows rose at the revelation. Well, now it makes sense why you weren’t identified as a dragon. Forget what she said about the marriage thing too. "But wait! Even if The Crown Princess didn’t receive that privilege, would she still be considered important, perhaps more so than High-Ranking Nobles?"

Brinne hummed in thought. “She would still be considered as a High-Ranking Noble even if she and those in House (L.N) hold more privileges than the others in the same noble class. …It’s all because of His Majesty’s orders. Everything is. You are aware of how absolute His Majesty’s orders are, right? If His Majesty commands people to act like animals, they will do just that. If His Majesty says to idolize an object, they will do just that! Even more so if His Majesty orders his people to respect House (L.N) just as they respect House Takar, they will do just that. It doesn’t matter if people are pleased with the arrangements or not. ...His Majesty’s reason for doing so all aligns with the shared history of House Takar and House (L.N).”

Lyrica became intrigued by that bit of information. "Shared history?" She leaned in, eager to learn more. "Can you tell me more, Brinne?" Unfortunately, Brinne responded with an apologetic smile, disappointing Lyrica.

"Regrettably, that's the extent of my knowledge regarding the relationship between House (L.N) and House Takar. It's a limit for anyone," Brinne's lips tightened. "The narrative unfolds after the nation's expansion and the allegiance of House Sandar and House Wolfe, undoubtedly including the deeds of House (L.N) that earned His Majesty's favor."

"However, crucial details of this significant historical period somehow vanished. Consequently, over time, people began crafting theories about how House (L.N) and House Takar evolved into their current relationship. Some theories were logical, while others were entirely nonsensical. And, of course, some seized the opportunity for profit, as seen in the widely popular children's fairytale, 'The Dragon Who Fell In Love With A Star.' You must have heard of it, haven't you?"

Lyrica recalled hearing a similar story in the slums, never imagining its connection to something so crucial. "That's incredible!" she exclaimed.

"Despite these theories, none have been confirmed. House (L.N) and House Takar are the only ones capable of such confirmation. However, His Majesty has maintained silence on the matter, and House (L.N) feels compelled to align with his decision."

"Yet, certain aspects remain clear. Regardless of factual evidence, His Majesty holds House (L.N) in high regard. Thus, we are to treat them with respect, just as we will respect House Takar. Whether others agree or disagree is unimportant."

“Either way, the latter is not a concern,” Brinne continued. “Everyone in this nation is fond of House (L.N), or in this case, The Crown Princess.”

Lyrica cocked her head to the side. “Even you?”

"Yes, Your Highness! Why wouldn't I?" Brinne laughed. "Allow me to explain how House (L.N) operates. As we are aware, High-Ranking Nobles align themselves with the symbols on their crests. Given that House (L.N) traces its lineage to a star... it's worth noting that House (L.N) is the largest Noble Family in the nation. This serves as a symbolic representation of the countless stars that adorn the sky."

"B-Billions!?" Lyrica stammered, staring at Brinne with widened eyes.

"Oh, dear." Brinne covered her mouth. "Your Highness, House (L.N) doesn't quite literally have billions. However, like certain traits are inherent to specific Noble Families, having large kin is one characteristic of House (L.N). So, fear not, Your Highness; having a small family circle is normal. House (L.N) just happens to multiply at a very alarming rate... to the extent that they are scattered throughout all corners of the nation."

"Due to their extensive family, House (L.N) has implemented a system within their household to maintain order. Drawing inspiration from astrology, where eighty-eight constellations are recognized, House (L.N) has structured itself into eighty-eight classes, each with varying levels of power and status. However, within these eighty-eight classes, there exist twelve classes that house the highest positions. I find myself intrigued by the method they use to organize it all..."

"But, moving on!" Brinne placed her hands on her knees. "Your Highness, are you familiar with the twelve constellations of the universe?"

"Yes! Glendelyn taught me about them! It's uh... Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces... right!?" Lyrica grinned, pleased with herself for recalling both the names and pronunciation.

"And those would be the twelve classes of House (L.N) with the highest status and power! The Crown Princess oversees Class Gemini of House (L.N), in part. As we know, Gemini is a twin star encompassing both Pollux and Castor. Therefore, Gemini is responsible for two individuals, with The Crown Princess having authority over Pollux."

Brinne's eyes crinkled with amusement. "It makes me wonder... if House (L.N)'s class sorting is also influenced by personality traits..."

"What makes you think that...?" Lyrica inquired, tilting her head to the side.

"Pollux means 'very sweet' or 'fit for royalty.' And when compared to both Castor and Pollux, Pollux is the brighter star of the two." Brinne giggled. "'Fit for royalty'... truly describes The Crown Princess! The Crown Princess can also be characterized as... bright and pure. Undoubtedly, she possesses the most beautiful soul in the entire nation."

In Lyrica's thoughts, she argues that her mother is the most beautiful soul of all!

"Generous, selfless, and loving. The Crown Princess consistently treats everyone impartially and respectfully, ignoring class or personality. When she had more freedom before getting engaged, The Crown Princess frequently visited the lower class, playing with the little children there. She gave them gifts, food, and clothes, disregarding the opinions of those in the Noble Status," Brinne explained.

"Now, with increased power, The Crown Princess has expressed her intent to enhance the quality of life for the lower class. His Majesty has already given his approval, leaving the timing of the project's initiation to The Crown Princess." Brinne hummed. "In summary, The Crown Princess is admired not just for her history and status. It's her demeanor and how she treats others, whether good or evil, that truly highlights her charm."

By now, Lyrica's eyes were gleaming. "She does sound amazing..." As someone who had previously lived in the slums, hearing about how The Crown Princess cared so tenderly for her fellow people deeply touched Lyrica. Typically, individuals of higher status tended to be snobbish and avoided those from lower classes, using harsh and insulting labels. Lyrica was all too familiar with that. However, there were exceptions—The Crown Princess, who cared for them despite their backgrounds, striving to improve their lives! Lyrica's thoughts began to wander, imagining what her life might have been like if she had encountered The Crown Princess in the past.

The only issue in her thoughts was, "Brinne, how exactly does The Crown Princess look?"

"Hmm... Let me think about how I can describe this. Your Highness, when you gaze at the stars at night, what's the first thing that comes to your mind?" Brinne inquired.

"Well, I always think about how beautiful the stars look tonight," Lyrica responded promptly.

“It’s the same for House (L.N). They possess a certain essence that makes them shine, glitter, and sparkle. The Crown Princess is no exception. She has gorgeous (h.c) hair that sparkles under the sunlight, and (s.c) skin that glows with the moonlight. However, what truly sets The Crown Princess apart within her House is her eyes. Those eyes of hers... are the physical embodiment of her lineage. With (e.c) eyes that sparkle like fine jewels, she carries the entire universe in them."

Lyrica's jaw dropped in amazement. "Is that another form of symbolism...?"

Brinne shook her head. "This time, it's quite literal." Seeing Lyrica's face scrunch up in suspicion, Brinne resisted the urge to giggle. "Oh my, Your Highness. I assure you, I'm not making fun of you for thinking House (L.N) consisted of billions of members. I don't blame you for being skeptical. Eyes resembling the universe? It does sound far-fetched, especially when no one else is known for having such a trait. But, it is the truth."

Lyrica pouted, fiddling with her clothes. "All of this talk just makes me want to meet The Crown Princess!"

"Huhu~ I'm certain The Crown Princess would have loved to meet you too, Your Highness. Unfortunately, current circumstances just won't allow her to do so. With The Crown Prince currently absent, The Crown Princess has temporarily taken over his responsibilities, attending to any work that needs to be accomplished in his stead."

"I can recall a day when The Crown Princess looked like a disaster, seconds away from collapsing onto the ground," Brinne shivered. "As much work as it may be, it's what needs to be done. Again, The Crown Prince and The Crown Princess are destined to ascend to the throne one day, signifying the future management of the nation. Thus, they must demonstrate their capabilities to the people, and most importantly, His Majesty."

“Oh!” Lyrica blinked.

“Hmm… Now, I’m not sure, but, come to think of it, you should be able to see The Crown Princess soon, Your Highness.” Brinne added.

“Oh!?” Lyrica exclaimed in a louder tone.

“His Highness should be returning from his feudal territory very soon. And once he does, Her Highness should be able to take a breather from her piles of work.”

Lyrica fell silent, staring at Brinne with a soft expression. Lyrica then smiled fondly, clasping her hands together. “I know The Crown Princess isn’t fully inside the family as yet… Even so, she would be my cousin. But, still… The Crown Princess… would be some form of big sister, right…?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“YOUR HIGHNESS! I come to you with great news! His Highness should be returning soon!” Gracefully entering the 'Constellation Pollux Chamber,' a maid carrying a golden tray of food and treats hastened toward you, seated upright in your bed, gazing at the scenery beyond your window.

Turning your attention forward, you stared at your maid with widened eyes. "Is that so?" Your surprise quickly morphed into happiness, a smile spreading across your lips as you interlaced your fingers. A flowery aura surrounded you, and your excitement was visible. "That is good news! How long has it been since Atil was gone...? Six months?"

"Precisely," your maid, Breanna, hummed, gently placing the tray on your bed tray table, which you wasted no time digging into. "I can tell that you have many ideas running through your head, Your Highness. I, too, would want to greet someone I cherish with a warm welcome after not seeing them for so long."

"For Atil...? Erm... No, that's not why I'm so excited... I'm excited because I won't have to work as hard as I did anymore!" You beamed without shame. "Ugh, it was torturous... Left, right, and center, it was just piles of paper. Any more, and I would have begun to see the pearly white gates of heaven..."

"Oh, my, is that all? His Highness would be upset if he heard that's the only reason you missed his presence," Breanna giggled.

"...Seriously...?"

"And then there are your new family members, Your Highness."

You paused, fingers clasped around the handle of your spoon. Slowly, you lifted your head to meet your maid's gaze, (e.c) eyes locking with amethyst eyes. "Yes, I have heard about the news. How His Majesty has taken a commoner as his bride, and her child as his daughter."

Your smile widened, lips encased around the tip of the spoon. As if nature were in sync with you, the sunlight cast an ethereal glow on your frame, making you appear more enchanting. Even your maid, who wore a sly smirk seconds prior, jaw slackened, staring at you in awe.

"It's a shame I am unable to do anything at the moment. I can't express just how eager I am to meet them. But one thing's for sure... I already see them as family."

In your eyes was the universe. Stars served as pupils, they glowed with endless glee and anticipation.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

#🥛━ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐄 #my mom got a contract marriage #mmgacm #mmgacm x reader #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #child reader #female reader

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theshippirate22 · 1 year

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i keep seeing videos of joe playing his guitar and it’s giving me Thoughts™️ so congrats (slightly NSFW- Minors DNI)

“Alright, alright!” Eddie calls. It’s getting late, the crowd is getting a little more rowdy (or maybe just more drunk) but this is important. He decided he was going to do it a while ago and he’s finally going to commit, reputation be damned.

Especially when he sees who’s looking up at him from the front row.

“I’ve got something to confess.” He starts. “Baby, you listening?”

Steve cocks an eyebrow suspiciously.

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a minute, lets the crowd get uncomfortably quiet. Watches Steve’s expression go from amusingly confused to… concerned almost. His eyebrows get tight and Eddie wants to kiss the tense spot between them so badly.

“Stevie…” He breathes. The mic makes it sound more uncomfortable than he means it to. “I lied to you.”

Steve tips his head, and thank God, he doesn’t get that pale, shattered look he used to get when Eddie let a joke go on too long and his insecurities got the best of him. Now he looks apprehensive; he’s waiting for the punchline because he knows Eddie and he knows it’s coming.

“Remember when you found that A-Ha tape in my car?” Eddie adds, and it’s followed by a little strained laugh consensus from the crowd. But Steve, God, But Steve, bursts into the biggest grin.

“It’s not El’s.” He finishes, and he can’t keep a straight face anymore, letting the laugh split his face in half when Steve mouths back “I know.”

“Oh do you? You sneaky little…” He rolls his eyes, but the smile won’t leave his face for a second, he knows that. “Then I guess you know what’s coming next.”

Jeff starts it, the little duhduhduhduh-duhduh-duhduhduhduhduh of Take On Me and Gareth leaps in the third time around with a little heavier drumbeat than the original.

And Eddie? He’s leaned over the edge of the stage, trying to keep his pitch right so he can hit the high notes later on, holding out his hand to help pull up his boyfriend, who’s still beaming like he’s won a million dollars.

The audience, unsurprisingly, is having the time of their lives. Steve always makes a cameo in the shows, they’d be disappointed if he didn’t, but this is something else altogether.

Eddie’s halfway through the chorus before Steve is actually up there next to him (It’s harder than you’d think) and Grant passes over a mic- the one they’d gotten specifically for this purpose- and Steve is singing.

Eddie thought he’d get over it eventually, the soft shyness of Steve’s voice, but he hasn’t before and now is not the time either. Especially when he’s trying to focus on the stupid pop chords and Steve is right there behind him, hand snaking across his waist. Hooking his chin around Eddie’s shoulder and getting so close that for a minute, it’s the mic taped to his face that’s picking up Steve’s voice. Reaching up under his arm and over his chest to pull down the collar of his shirt and bite his neck in the .2 seconds between the second verse and the chorus.

In retaliation, Eddie joins in, almost trying to shadow out his voice because he can get his own infinitely deeper, but it doesn’t work; they meld together like hot butter and there’s a colossal cheer of approval from the long-neglected dark.

And as soon as he was there, invading every inch of sanity Eddie has left, Steve is gone, has half-crossed the stage to return the mic to the stand and then he’s dancing over to Jeff in his skin-tight jeans and he’s showing off, actually. He has to be. No one is that perfect without trying.

Not to be outdone, Eddie throws in a little improv at the bridge, glancing over at Steve when his hands don’t demand his attention, and it’s very obvious that him and Jeff are talking. On stage. About God knows what.

Before he can even question it, he’s barely finished his own peacocking, Steve has Jeff’s guitar and is picking out the perfect, high, electric melody.

duhduhduhduh-duhduh- duhduhduhduh- duhduhduhduh

And obviously Eddie’s not going to pop a boner on stage- he’s not sixteen- but my god, how is supposed to be normal about this?

Steve has barely enough to time to finish his set of riffs, get the strap over his head, and put the guitar back in Jeff’s hands before Eddie’s got him by the belt loops and he is going to kiss him right now, he has to…

And that cheeky bastard pushes his face away, keeps hold of his chin to stop him from fighting, so he can grab the mic stand and finish out the chorus.

(Before he’s even done, Eddie’s already licking at the corner of his mouth.)

The last chorus goes completely forgotten, Eddie’s hands shifting along Steve’s belt and up under the hem of his polo to drag him impossibly closer, Steve locking his fingers into Eddie’s tangled hair, and if Eddie’s mic picks up a few of their soft moans, well, that’s the business of them, the band, and the 8,000 people watching them make out.

(Not that the audience minds. They’ve been chanting “Steve! Steve! Steve!” since he first started singing)

(The band minds. Ew. Those two are menaces to society)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #just a dude steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #stranger things fic #80s music #take on me #a-ha

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caffiend-queen · 1 month

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Do NOT Say 'Always After My Lucky Charms,' Or I Will Stab You

Welcome to another addition to the Holidays in Hel series! Where Loki and Mina attempt to save the Avengers from yet another catastrophic holiday fuckup.

I've been cleaning up and adding bits to my Holidays in Hel series because really, it's my favorite. I hope you enjoy, and thank you as always for reading!

Chapter One: An Unmitigated Disaster Awaits

In which Loki and Mina once again find themselves in the middle of a colossal Avengers holiday fuckup. And who knew the Fey Folk were such assholes?

If there was blame to be assigned for the night that destroyed any charm and mystery left in St. Patrick’s Day, it should really go to The Paddy O’Hoolihan’s, an Irish folk band with a painfully cheesy name. But their music- it was frenzied and delightful, which was why Mina, Wanda, Jane, Pepper, Darcy, and even Natasha were swirling madly in some sort of a jig between each other like a flutter of butterflies, colorful spring dresses flaring out in a pleasing way that exposed a toned thigh or two. They were so fascinating to watch that the rest of the Avengers agreed right then that a Night Out On The Town would be necessary in the hopes of seeing more of this.

“A flutter of butterflies?” Tony blustered. “That can’t be right.”

Loki was seated elegantly on a comfortable chair in the middle of Central Park while most of the other male Avengers were seated in the grass, soaking the seat of their jeans. “A flutter,” he confirmed, watching closely as Mina sent him a saucy little wink. “Known also as a kaleidoscope or a swarm.”

“Swarm isn’t the right word,” mused Steve, still brushing at the green streaks on his pressed chinos. “That sounds like bugs. The girls are definitely butterflies.”

“Butterflies are bugs,” grunted Bucky, eyes closed and soaking in the weak spring sunlight.

“You romantic bastard,” chortled Sam, who was watching Thor capering with the women and getting the dance steps wrong. “I’m gonna go save those ladies from his bigass feet.”

“That slick son of a bitch,” Tony observed morosely, watching Sam gracefully sweep Pepper under one arm and Natasha with the other.

It was a rare day, a blissful day where nothing was exploding, no one was invading anyone else’s borders, no one was getting kidnapped, and even HYDRA appeared to be taking a long afternoon nap. The Avengers were all lazing in Central Park on an almost unnaturally warm day for March 17th and enjoying a holiday where they were, for once, not urgently needed. Anywhere.

“To St. Patrick’s Day!” toasted Bucky, raising his bottle of Guinness to clink with Steve’s. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

Tony pulled another bottle from the specialty vibranium cooler that floated next to him, its propulsion jets hissing softly. “Watch the parade from Stark Tower, say a prayer at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and hit The Dead Rabbit Grocery & Grog. The Dropkick Murphy’s are headlining.”

Loki sniffed, still watching keenly as Mina took the hands of an elderly gentleman so wizened and stooped that he could legally be classified as a leprechaun. “My lady and I will be spending the evening safely at the Tower. I do not understand this keen desire for holiday-based mayhem and disaster, but I assure you we shall not participate.”

“Brother!” Thor’s voice was unfortunately right next to Loki’s ear, and God or no, the roar from the oaf seared through his ear canal and scrambled his ganglia. “You must bring the Lady Mina, she will be terribly disappointed! Darcy has been telling her of the majesty of the Celtic celebrations here. She must pay homage to her ancestors.”

Loki frowned. Mina had Irish blood? He would rather crush his own skull with Thor’s hammer than admit that his brother knew something about his Mina that he did not, so he settled for a haughty sniff. “Why must I be the sole sentinel during every holiday on this benighted excuse for a realm to remind you all that it will always, always invariably result in death and destruction? That there will be some unnatural force that will target the Avengers and endanger all those we love? Why must I be the-”

“Hey, did you hear that?” Tony interrupted happily, “Loki looooves Mina!”

And then the tiresome chorus rose from this pack of imbeciles. Loki rolled his eyes, wondering if he sent a hailstorm of toads down upon this crowd if it would immediately be traced back to him. But then his Mina returned and sat down in his lap. Kissing him on the tip of his aquiline nose, she sighed, “And Mina loves Loki, so all of you hush.”

“Darling, are you indeed of Irish descent?”

Mina looked up from the 3D chemical strain she was modeling for one of Jane’s experiments. “Yes, and Scottish. How did this come up?”

Loki sniffed haughtily. “My oaf of a brother attempted to claim that I must indulge you in a night of drunken excess with the rest of the team as some sort of homage to your heritage. Is this night one that must be dedicated to your ancestors? Is it a sacred rite?”

Giving a very unladylike snort, Mina said, “Nothing sacred about gulping down too much green beer and singing Irish folk songs. But…” Loki groaned internally. His sweet girl had a look of longing as she continued. “But it’s always such a fun night! I get to dance and sing, and the saying is that ‘On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish.’” She smiled up at him sweetly. “Even you, Loki.”

Lip curled, he snarled, “Do not assign me a heritage from this insignificant rock!” Traditionally, this sort of elegant sneer would quail Mina, but this time, she gave him a sneer of her own.

“Oh, you do not disrespect my people, Loki!” She quailed slightly before seeing his curled lip stretch into a smile.

“My, my. Look at my fierce little banshee! I would not think of it.” Mina gave him the sort of shameless, hopeful grin that crumbled the God of Lies and Mischief’s will more often than he’d care to admit.

Sliding her hands over his broad shoulders, admiring the hard muscle beneath, she asked, “Does that mean you might be willing to join the group tonight at the Dead Rabbit?”

His elegant head pulled back from hers, “What a truly bizarre name. Does the proprietor wish to drive people away from his tavern?”

Mina cackled a bit. “We Irish are tough. We like it rough and difficult.” She instantly realized her mistake as Loki’s pupils flared.

“Really…” he purred, his deep tone more like a rumble against her spine. “You like it, ‘rough,’ do you, darling?”

It was a desperate scramble to get away from her God’s ruthless grasp, but Mina found herself pulling on her old plaid kilt and cream Irish fisherman’s sweater after a promise to show Loki later the bit of “rough” that a good girl from the Emerald Isle could handle. “My lovely Mina,” he approved, stepping behind her in the dressing room mirror to straighten his cuffs. She’d just pulled on some warm black tights and her knee-high riding boots. “You have a very delectable ‘upper-crust schoolgirl’ sort of look here. I find myself quite interested in knowing what good Irish schoolgirls wear under their kilts.”

“Well, I imagine a big, strong man like you can find out for yourself,” Mina answered primly, then leaped over the bench with a yelp when Loki made a sudden move at her. Chuckling, he straightened his tie and strolled sedately after her.

It was, of course, vile. Loki sighed in a long-suffering way as he surveyed the crowded bar, one hand securely on Mina’s back. “The sun barely set and here are your countrymen, already intoxicated,” he said, leaning in close so she could hear him over the drunken chorus of “Whiskey You’re the Devil.”

“Oh, look!” Mina shouted back, “There they are! In the Snug.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki raised a brow.

“The Snug,” Mina was the one carving a path through the partygoers, heading for their friends. “There’s one in every proper Irish bar. It’s the room right off of the bar where the ladies used to go to have a pint or a sherry and not have to worry about being considered loose. Now the bars just rent them out as a VIP space.”

In his usual fashion, Tony had not only bought out the Snug, which had an excellent view of the rest of the pub, but he also had the management re-create the magnificent, shining walnut bar that ran nearly the length of the main room into a private version for the Avengers. When they drew closer, they found Thor in a handstand with one end of a tube in his mouth and the other in a cask of aged whiskey.

Sam, Clint, Darcy, and the usually shy Bucky were circling the spectacle, shouting “Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” Thor finished the cask and flipped upright with a flourish, raising his huge arms and roaring in triumph.

“What are you wearing?” Loki frowned, all the men were sporting hideous green plaid patterned neckties, and the more drunken amongst them - namely Clint and Tony - had little green bowler hats perched atop their messy hair.

“It was Tony’s idea, where’s your tie?” asked Bruce, who looked distinctly put out that he’d been forced to wear this itchy novelty neckwear while Loki looked as smooth and perfectly put together as always in an onyx Tom Ford suit.

Loki sniffed, “Ideally, at the bottom of the Hudson River.”

Tony stumbled up behind Loki and Mina, sunglasses askew as he looped an arm around each of them. “Your brother knows how to party, Severus Snape! Let’s tap another cask for you!”

“It is a crime to treat a good whiskey so,” admonished Loki, “and Thor must consume twenty or so of those casks for him to find something even approaching intoxication.” Nonetheless, he found himself relaxing and even amused as his Mina dragged Natasha up on to the bar for a round of Irish Ceili dancing, the Russian gracefully moving along as if she’d performed Irish jigs all her life.

“Man, is there anything Natasha can’t do perfectly?” groused Darcy, watching the footwork until it made her dizzy.

Bucky put his arm around her. “She can’t make that cute little noise you make when I…” She dissolved into a round of giggles and Loki rolled his eyes, looking around the pub. There was a thicket of drunk college students, singing along off-key with the Dropkick Murphys, who’d moved on to “Rose Tattoo.” The main bar was claimed by the regulars, who held court and toasted something new at least every sixty seconds, based on the cheers and clinking of glasses. Small islands of tourists floated through the crowd, gripping a beer mug in one hand and a souvenir Dead Rabbit t-shirt in the other. Irish flags were draped in every corner and the light glowed off the massive selection of alcohol behind the bar, bathing everything in a pleasingly golden glow. And… Loki raised one elegant brow. There was a small group of… small people?

“Little people,” Steve said, leaning in. “The correct phrase is little people.”

“Descendants of a visit long past from a group of lustful and irresponsible Nidavellir,” mused Loki, “the dwarves always eager to spread their seed.”

Steve looked alarmed, “I don’t think you want to be floating that theory, Loki. Especially not here, and not tonight.”

Before the God of Mischief could further discuss Nidavellir sex tourism, he heard a loud “Hellooo, Monty!” from his sweet girl, still tip-tapping away atop the bar.

One of the men broke away from the group and waved eagerly. “Éire go Brách, Mina!”

Leaping rather gracefully from the bar, she took his small hand, greeting him warmly. “Éire go Brách, Monty! I’m so glad you came.”

The gentlemen had a face like a withered crabapple, all wrinkles and slightly sunken, but when he glanced at Loki, there was a spark of… something in his eye. One trickster always knew another, and he recognized the elderly gentleman she’d favored with a dance that afternoon at the park. “Well, when you promised me another dance, my dear, how could I not?” Monty turned to Loki and bent his head in a courtly gesture, “If your date for the evening has no objection, of course.”

Oddly, Loki did have an objection. The gleam in the small man’s eye was growing brighter, and his own emerald ones narrowed. “And what brings you to New York, Monty? Your accent has all the slurs and ellipses of a Dubliner, born and bred.”

Mina’s new friend threw back his head and laughed grandly, “Ach, you’ve caught me. I am, indeed. But I find that here in America, the Irish celebrate this day with greater enthusiasm.”

Just then the Dropkick Murphys launched into “The Boys are Back” and Mina squealed. “Monty! This is my song, let’s go!” And with a final smirk at Loki, her diminutive beau allowed her to pull him into the crowd.

He stared after them disapprovingly. The Dead Rabbit was even louder - if possible - than it had been when they arrived and the discordant screech of electric guitar and the accompaniment of the Uilleann pipes rose over the crowd.

The boys are back

And they're looking for trouble

Standing on the highway, ???

I'm missing my home, and it's killing me

Down the ramp past the jail, I'm feeling alright

Bought roses for my ladies from a corner delight

It's time to get ready for that song and dance

Let's go my friends, it's time to take a chance

We're back in town, we're gonna get it done

We got nowhere to hide, we got nowhere to run

It's been a long time coming,

The boys are back

And they're looking for trouble

And in the blink of an eye, Mina and her questionable dance partner were swallowed up into the crowd. “Did he not seem unnatural to you?” Loki asked Tony, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder and wrinkling the perfect cut of his jacket.

Tony stumbled back, “Woah, Lokes, prejudiced much? What’s next, snide comments about the little people always being after your Lucky Charms?” He said the last in a deplorably bad Irish accent, and Loki’s brow furrowed. Tony (partially sober) was just barely endurable. Completely intoxicated Tony was a punishment that could make the strongest Asgardian choose Odin’s dungeons over Stark Tower.

Bucky gently elbowed Tony into a seat, where his head tipped back and a gentle snore rose from his slack mouth. “Ignore him, Loki. What’s the problem?”

“Most pressing,” he said, “is that my dear Mina seems to have disappeared into this drunken throng with a most untrustworthy creature.”

“Takes one to know one,” Bucky agreed, but he refused to take offense, still searching the crowd. Looking around, he frowned. “And where’s Darcy and Jane? And Pepper? And Natasha?” By now the others were closing in. Thor shouldered his way into the knot of drunken, flailing New Yorkers and Clint hopped up on the table.

Pale hands shooting out, Loki sent a silver stream of energy that coiled and ripped around the pub, curling and snaking along, but there was no sign of the women. “By the NORNIR!” he shouted. “Why? Why must it always be the holidays? You Avengers are a curse, I swear it!”

“Huh?” Tony woke up, standing and rubbing his face. “What?”

Loki turned on him. “You will never heed my warning, will you? All our women- they are gone. Gone!”

“Aw, damn,” sighed Steve, "AGAIN?"

Chapter Two is up tomorrow. You know, the one with all the smut.

I'm starting over with a vague memory of who might like my Loki and Avengers tales. If you would like on or off this list, please let me know! Thank you. Mwah!

@what-is-your-plan-today

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@the-soulofdevil

@americasass81

@mdemontespan1667

@sultry-rachael

@myoxisbroken

@gigglingtiggerv2

@notpedeka

@narnianarcher

@sylviefromneptune

@winterslove1917

@kimanne723

@hawkeyes-queen

@grymrayven

@stevihj

@lizette50

@jevans2

@wolfsmom1

@devikafernando

@wegingerangelica

@nildespirandum

@alexakeyloveloki

@thebatshitcrazyfangirl

@thehumming6ird

@archy3001

@iheartsebastianstan

@tomstinkerbell

@wolfpawn

@rayofdawnworld

@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy

@dangertoozmanykids101

@alexakeyloveloki

@nuggsmum

@boredbrooder

@fairlightswiftly

@inkededucatednnerdy

@nonsensicalobsessions

@viv-annelore

@eleniblue

#tumblr besties and beloveds #loki fandom #tom hiddleston #loki smut #Avengers Holidays in Hel #yet another Avengers holiday fuckup #St. Patrick's Day with Loki

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sgiandubh · 9 months

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'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'

It is one thing to disprove and even despise The Shire and its netizens. It is a whole other affair to violently bash S's skills, based on absolutely nothing else than spiteful disappointment.

We are being told by Mordor's basement polymaths the man cannot act. It is probably by an unelucidated strike of luck or by charity that he was cast by *** to embody book boyfriend JAMMF, when he has only 5 (five) known facial expressions in his quiver. He was the weakest link of Season 1 cast: I suppose the BJ/Frank Randall 2-in-1 does have a fan club, after all. His acting is wooden. He has chemistry only with C and by Her grace only, because you know, gay as a bag of popcorn. He is a semi-literate hunk, with documented spelling problems. Even more so, when we conveniently toss aside the mounting hysteria during Quarantein Ha-wa-wee disgrace (hey Pooks and all the sock account Dobermans: I hope you remember your Twitter blaze of glory moment every single morning while brushing your teeth). And (also a favorite) he doesn't read, he doesn't prepare, he is sloppy, like that.

God forbid you'd try to set this colossal unfairness straight. You are automatically signed up to the Mommies for Sam Committee and labeled accordingly. Brainless victim (of what, since he is basically useless, but let's not embarrass ourselves with logic), unapologetic limerent inamorata, romantic whale, delusional rural shipper, conspiracy theory troll. Anything goes, really and we know the tune by heart, at this point in time.

Not so long ago, I was re-watching the oath sequence of (5.01) The Fiery Cross, for which I suppose all background/context is superfluous. The only clip I could find has appalling sound, but should still immediately take you back to the Return of the Kilt (starts at 0:56):

youtube

It immediately reminded me of this:

youtube

This is the extraordinary Henry V Saint Crispin's Day speech. Pure Shakespeare and unmatchable Olivier. It is also a well-documented kamikaze moment of the Battle of Agincourt (1415), when a heavily outnumbered English army defeated in an almost miraculous turn of events the French. Granted, the real speech must have been way more concise, but nevertheless a potent affair, with Henry's cunning use of rumors having it that the French would cut two fingers off each captured archer's right hand, to virtually neutralize them. And his army was, essentially, an army of longbows.

Whatever it was, it worked. It worked so well, that it even gave Winston Churchill the idea of asking Laurence Olivier to broadcast this speech for the BBC some time around 1942 and then make a movie of the whole play, in 1944. Again, context is important -it always is, by the way - and it sheds the right light on Olivier's performance. More than acting, it is damn effective war propaganda, a wonderful patriotic act and completely representative for the "we shall fight them on the beaches and we shall never surrender" spirit. It is also all about acting as summoning of energy: Olivier manages to channel Henry V, he is Henry V and this immediately gives an irresistible depth and truth to his performance.

For contrast, one could compare his version with Branagh's 1989 interpretation (https://youtu.be/y1BhnepZnoo), which I am not adding here for the sake of levity. The main difference is, for me at least, palpable: Olivier completely suppressed his ego, which I am afraid is something impossible to achieve for Branagh. His take on the speech aims to be more modern and natural, and yet it is still all about Branagh promoting his art. And we know it immediately. A fairly honest tableau vivant, but no depth and nowhere near as majestic as the other.

I am not saying here that S is on par with Laurence Olivier. That would really mean being a romantic whale and I am the one you start to get, I hope, acquainted with. What I am saying is that this guy you just love to humiliate and endlessly cackle about every single day God makes, really, deliberately knows what he is doing in there. I would bet handsome money on S carefully watching and re-watching Olivier's Saint Crispin's Day monologue, in order to prepare for that particular scene. The similarities are, to me, evident, as is the consistent hard work and - dare I say it?- massive talent. It's all about owning the scene and being in the moment. And it is arresting, at times.

All of this is not exactly some shipper far-fetched speculation. S wrote, after all, in Waypoints (and the reference is way too spot on to believe in a kind gesture of the ghostwriter) that he "devoured"

I see great things. I see a very gifted guy who has no ego (C was spot on and for an actor, that is a blessing) and also probably no idea of his (considerable) acting range. I also see a guy who, spare for OL, has been grossly, unfairly miscast and overlooked. And who was determined to take whatever was available or easy on the schedule, in order to remain relevant. I may not be a good client for his booze, but I would pay handsomely to see him in something along the lines of For Whom The Bell Tolls. Or even (if you want a more exotic but oh, so rewarding alternative) a still inexplicably missing Western adaptation of Bulgakov's Master and Margarita (probably not the best times for that one, but still: Bulgakov was, after all, born in Kyiv and not really a fan, to say the least, of tyrants). That's exactly how damn good he is.

How was it, Kidneystone BIF? Oh. "No boundaries. No respect. No class." Exactly, madam. You said it yourself.

#Youtube

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bubski-mcboo · 8 months

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Why "No Nightingales?" It's a safe word!

@destructokitty34 this is for you - thank you for the inspiration.

So I was reading an article which I'll link here when it becomes relevant. This post is semi-related to the "Crowley put something in Aziraphale's mouth" theory, which I didn't subscribe to until a new, related theory hit me like a sodding truck.

Strap in my ineffable nutters, this is going to be a pretty long and wild ride.

It's their song, duh.

Well, yes.

It is heavily implied, though not outright stated, that the song A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square by Vera Lynn is Aziraphale and Crowley's "song" - i.e. a song that couples sometimes choose to represent their relationship.

At the end of season one, it was playing at the Ritz, and attention was drawn to it by God. It was not acknowledged by anyone in character unless you count the pianist actually playing it.

The end of season two is the only time we hear it referenced again.

We are led to believe that this was Crowley's way of ending it with Aziraphale, albeit with one last final attempt to get him to change his mind.

HOWEVER

Crowley has known Aziraphale for a long time. He knows Azzie's idiosyncracies, he knows when he's "going too fast" for Azzie, and has learned over the years how to gently and carefully nudge Azzie out of his comfort zone, such as introducing him to food for the first time, "the arrangement," and the holy water, to name a few off the top of my head.

Do we really believe that Crowley would make such a colossal mistake?

I concede it's possible that Crowley wasn't thinking clearly at that moment.

But here is what I think...

"No Nightingales" Is A Safe Word!

So, hear me out. Some of you may have already clunked the pieces of the puzzle together and already agree with me, and some of you might think I need to sit the f down. Both are valid, but let me say my piece anyway.

Here's how I came up with this theory.

The Clues

The theme of a couple having a song is smacked squarely in our faces with the Gabriel-Beelzebub reveal.

Sometimes a couple's song marks a particularly strong and important memory.

Sometimes a couple's song is one they happen to love, and it maybe reminds them of each other, but they never say it out loud, because they don't need to. They just know, because they never say what they're thinking, that this is "their song"

But also, sometimes a song... "Contains information in a tuneful way."

Okay, I know Crowley didn't sing it. It's the "contains information" part that I'm latching on to. I didn't think much of that line, other than it being a "mhm, yeah that's true" kind of moment.

Until now, obviously.

Aziraphale's Reaction

Look, look, look!

Aziraphale senses something is wrong, in a different way from before. He is on full Alert.

Look at Aziraphale's reaction. Sure, you could interpret that as,

"Oh shit, he's serious,"

but nah, see...

Here is the dialogue along with what I think the subtext is, based on Azzie's reaction: Crowley: "Exactly. No Nightingales." Crowley: "You/we are in danger." Aziraphale glares at Crowley. (taken from the audio description) Aziraphale senses something is wrong, in a different way from before. He is on full Alert. Crowley: "You idiot. We could have been... Us." Crowley: "Everything I do and say now isn't really me. It's going to hurt us both. I'm sorry. Aziraphale turns away and starts to cry. (AD) Aziraphale: "Pointing out and blaming our imminent and permanent separation solely on me is the worst thing you could do. Crowley kisses Aziraphale. Aziraphale: "I stand corrected."

Note that the emotional stakes of this kiss had it been as a means to transfer something, are not undermined due to this theory, which is crucial for a theory to stand in my opinion.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley with disappointment (also taken from the audio description) Aziraphale: "I HATE that you have corrupted our first kiss like this. I'm about to say something significant, perhaps, 'I can't believe you did that, or maybe even 'I love you,' but you've just told me we're in danger, so I have to be tactful. How do I say something loving and scathing at the same time? Oh, I know..." Aziraphale: "I forgive you." Crowley: "Don't bother." (no subtext here. He meant what he said).

It fits well with other meta

See here for @actual-changeling's post about how the kiss may have been with tongue, which in turn supports the "Crowley put something in Aziraphale's mouth," theory.

I am still sort of on the fence about this one, but it does seem far more likely in my mind now that I have this "safe word theory" living rent-free in my head.

To Conclude

My theory is that "No Nightingales" was a safe word, and this might support the "Crowley put something in Aziraphale's mouth" theory.

I will update this post later as this was sort of a messy, raw brain dump. I know I have more to say about this, especially relating to the beats leading up to this nightingale moment and what came after. There's also other meta swimming in my head which might be compatible, but I may have to think about separating those posts out.

But right now, it's 4.46am as of writing this and I need to go to bed.

#no nightingales #good omens #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens speculation #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #inneffable nutters #inneffable husbands #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #nightingale safe word theory #Crowley put something in Aziraphale's mouth theory #no nightingales as a warning

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folksaga-if · 11 months

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M A G N I ; THE ELDEST

[ M | M I G H T Y | SON OF THOR ]

"YOU WANT TO FUCK ME SO BAD IT MAKES YOU LOOK STUPID."

Magni Thorson is...difficult.

To put it mildly.

That probably shouldn't be much of a surprise; being the eldest son of a God and a giant is bound to give someone a bit of an ego. Being the eldest son of Thor means that ego is - unfortunately - probably earned. And having your father, mere moments before his death, make a point to tell you what a colossal fucking disappointment you are? Well, that's going to cause enough psychological damage to last a lifetime.

So yeah, maybe you should feel a little bad for him.

It's just that - well, it's just that it'd be a lot easier to cut him some slack if he wasn't such a fucking dick.

He’s arrogant. He’s reckless. He’s kind of an idiot. He’s stuck in a perpetual cycle of act first, think later, but later rarely seems to come at all.

Sure, some people might say that it’s sweet how much he cares about his siblings, and sure, a person could argue that the stupid jokes he tells are occasionally funny. Someone might even find themselves thinking that they could possibly, eventually…like him. Maybe. If he ever shuts the hell up.

For your own sake, just make sure you never tell him that. He’ll be absolutely insufferable if you do.

(Magni is 6’5” / 196cm with a muscular build. He has jaw-length auburn hair, freckled skin with a tanned complexion, and lighting-blue eyes; you’ve heard it said that he’s the spitting image of his father when he was in his prime.

Said by him, so, you know. Grain of salt and all that.)

#ro intro #magni thorson #aesthetic #moodboard #interactive fiction #folksaga #interact-if #cog #romance option #choice of games #choicescript #norse mythology

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cosmicjoke · 1 year

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No Words

God damn, God DAMN, I finally had a chance to sit down and watch Part 3 of the Final Season of “Attack on Titan”, and I really just have no words. I’m just completely blown away. MAPPA has done such an indescribably stellar job on every part of this last arc of maybe the greatest story ever written in manga form, and they do not disappoint here. The gravitas of this hour long episode, including the naked brutality of the opening showing us the true horror of the Rumbling, and Eren’s own monstrosity, was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever had the true privilege to see in animation. This isn’t a children’s show, as the manga itself was never a children’s story. This is one of the most intensely relevant and truthful depictions I’ve ever seen of not only the horrors of war and violence, but the tragedy of the human condition. They not only left Isayama’s panels uncensored here, but even added scenes which drove home the true brutality and tragedy of what Eren was doing. Seriously, that entire opening sequence left me breathless. I was just sitting here, stunned, while watching it. Again, this story is such an unvarnished and sincere look at the tragedy of war and the human capacity for violence, and really, in many ways, the inescapability of that nature within us. I’ve always applauded Isayama for his commitment to that tragedy, and not giving in to the temptation of a happy ending in which all is well and right with the world, in which Eren is able to be redeemed, in which the cycle of violence is miraculously stopped. Like Erwin once said, as long as there is more than one person, there will always be war. And this episode by MAPPA captured that deeply dark, ugly and somber reality with such immensity and truth. It’s one of the greatest pieces of cinema I’ve ever seen. That really isn’t hyperbole. I had tears in my eyes at several points watching this episode. The cinematic quality and standard of MAPPA’s work remains as first rate as ever.

Hange’s moment, man... Again, I’m left speechless. Hange really was the hero of this episode. Their sacrifice, and the way it was rendered here by MAPPA, again, the brutality of it (and I know I keep using that word, but I really can’t find any other), watching them take down Colossal Titan after Colossal Titan, before finally succumbing to the heat, the way they caught on fire, and yet even still, as they were burning alive, they continued to fight and managed to take out one last Titan... Ah, it’s got me all fucked up just thinking about it. They truly gave their all in the end to save humanity.

And their farewell with Levi, just... oof, man. Hange really was Levi’s last, remaining friend from the old days, and he has to watch them go, and there’s nothing he can do to save them, nothing he can do to help. Another burden on his shoulders, another sense of his immense strength failing to matter. And again, I have to commend MAPPA here, and their attention to detail. Levi’s difficulty in even squeezing the trigger of his ODM gear drove home just how WEAK Levi still is at this point in the story. For all the people that try to criticize him for not being able to do more, for not being enough of a force in the final battle, I think this one, small scene of his physical frailty should shut all those people up. Because it makes crystal clear to the audience just how physically hurt Levi is, how he’s joining his comrades through nothing but sheer will alone. His difficulty in performing a physical task which, through this ENTIRE series, Levi was more adept at, more capable of, more powerful in, than any other character, and yet, his hands shake here, and he has to grit his teeth and struggle to accomplish it, it proves Levi’s dedication and determination, even through his own deep impairment. He’s in no shape to be fighting, and yet he does. He has to, and he does. That, like Hange, is the choice of a hero.

The same to all the cast. Armin, Mikasa, Reiner, Jean, Connie, Pieck, and even Annie, eventually.

I think MAPPA did an incredible job of conveying the true hopelessness of this situation. The absolutely minuscule chances of success. And yet here we are, our hero’s arriving to do what they can, regardless of the odds.

And then there’s Eren. Eren, who I will always maintain is one of the most compelling and tragic character’s I’ve ever seen. While we see his undoubted and terrifying monstrosity on full display, and we understand truly, without question, that he has become the villain of this story, we also see in the flashback to his time in Marley, and his interaction with Ramzi, Eren’s humanity, his remorse, his self-loathing, and his regret. And it’s that humanity we see in Eren, that genuine horror at what he knows he’s going to do, that makes his final actions all the more horrific and unforgivable. Because he IS human. He isn’t a monster. He’s a human being. And he chooses to do this. He chooses to, because he WANTS to, just like he admits tearfully and with genuine remorse to Ramzi. Is there anything more heartbreaking than that? Eren’s betrayal of humanities hope is so impactful and so hard to accept because of that humanity. Because we learned to love and care for and root for him over the entire course of this long journey, only to see him fail so utterly. My heart bleeds for Eren, even as I know he’s become an unredeemable monster.

My hat’s off to MAPPA, man. I’m just floored by this first part of “Attack on Titan’s” conclusion. I couldn’t be more impressed, or more satisfied with the seriousness with which this very serious story is treated here. This is art, truly. This is a story which speaks with total sincerity to the human condition. And MAPPA has brought it so spectacularly to life. Thank you MAPPA, and most of all, thank you Hajime Isayama for writing this incredible tale of human will, determination, dreams, triumph, tragedy, violence, cruelty, hate, fear, love, friendship and hope.

I’m gonna’ stop now before I make myself cry.

I don’t think there’s ever going to be another manga or anime that hits harder or means more than “Attack on Titan”. It’s truly a masterpiece, and in a class all it’s own.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #The Final Season #attack on titan the final season part 3 #Levi Ackerman #Hange Zoe #Eren Yeager #Mikasa Ackerman #Armin Arlert #reiner braun #connie springer #annie leonhart #pieck finger #Jean Krischtein

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adrheenaline · 2 months

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Mainly a post about levihan but I have tried imagining different scenarios wherein Hange did not have to die, where an ending involved them… looking back though, knowing what they're up against, risking any titan shifter really is not an option for the team… they could just not lose any of them to have a big chance of winning against Eren and stopping the rumble. Many have been saying why couldn't it be Jean that battled the wall colossal titans? While it is true he is told to be exemplary at using ODM gear among his class, our Captain Commander Hange would not be able to bear to sacrifice yet another life of their subordinate. I just could not imagine how greatly it would break Hange's heart and will had they deliberately ordered Jean to do so.

This feat, however, was viewed by many as Hange's suicide rather than a sacrifice… both are true whichever way one would put it.

It is a sacrifice for those of their team to not have a heavy burden to carry on their shoulders to decide who will be left behind, because let's face it, then and there all of them knew that in order to delay the wall colossal titans' movement, one of them should and will be left behind. It was a cold, sad, gruesome fact that I believe Hange did not want any of them to live through. BUT, I also saw it as their way out.

They were just tired… the whole truth that unraveled was so disappointing, I was actually surprised they were able to keep such a composure that made them last until Chapter 132. I can only imagine how dumbfounded Hange was when they have learned that titans are once humans, and that the one person they protected and believed to be a new hope would now be the exact opposite. It was heartbreaking… their appointment as the 14th Captain Commander could also not have come at a worse time, and it was actually relatable in a sense where we were somehow forced to have responsibilities at a young age that we did not fully understand. They saw the opportunity. They grabbed it…

But let's delve in with how the conversation went with Levi. Shinzou sasageyo-- spoken only once by the Heichou, but how powerful and cinematic was it to have him speak those words to the only person he has left at such a time. Oh but I knew that Hange knew if Levi stopped them from going, they would have second thoughts. What once an unbreakable commitment to die will be easily thrown out if only Levi said "Stay." consequently telling him to just let them go.

Isayama would not waste 3 panels showing emotions through Levi's eyes before telling Hange to dedicate their heart if the latter was not important to the captain, and what a beautiful moment it was~ I will be forever grateful to Isayama for not cutting short on that moment, for taking the time to draw those 3 panels of Levi's eyes, and Hange's panel showing astonishment, for letting Levi call Hange "Four eyes" for the last time. That moment was excruciatingly heartbreaking, but it was perfect in its own way… because it was not ~cut short~, and to choose to say "See you later, Hange. Please watch over me." instead of goodbye was so symbolic of the love Levi had to let go but did not want to.

Personally, I do not see Levi and Hange as a romantic couple, but more of platonic soulmates, comparable to one's bestfriend whom you can call at 2 in the morning asking if they believe in God, and the one you would give a handmade bracelet and would not be embarrassed to wear it, that type of platonic relationship. It's difficult not to attest to LeviHan ship when Isayama created so many subtle but not meaningless encounters between the two. One great example was the forest scene right after Hange rescued Levi, and let us not forget their complementary eye injuries. Some may say that fans are ridiculously exagerrating the connections, and that we give too much meaning to scenes that happened just because they did, that they are only coincidences… but Isayama, the great artist that he is, would not make coincidences, especially reoccurring ones.

#levihan #levi x hange #hange zoe #levi ackerman #levi aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot

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pieroulette · 1 year

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MORE BLOOD

2023 | 13+ | 1.4k | COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES × ENHYPEN

GENRE reverse harem, vampire! enha

WARNING nothing :3

AUTHOR'S NOTE I know I know don't come at me, it's just a short story to celebrate 600 followers! And partly bcs I'm dying to write one 😭😭 thank you sm for reading all my stories and all those kind words and encouragement it truly matters to me and that I truly appreciate it!! I suck at words LOL ok let's not say such self deprecating words but ily folks :3

"This way, miss." snapped out from your deep thoughts when the maid in their formal attire led you to the deep , dark hallways in which the dark red carpet stood out to you the most; it was red for sure, however as you observed the intricate patterns below your shoes—tiny spots of deeper shade of red splattered all across the long, long hall.

"U-uhm? Hey.." the maid had her head slightly tilted at you, "Where are we going?"

"To the masters." she replied in a serious death tone, a stark contrast to when she greeted you in front of the mansion's porch.

Eerie, you thought—however are you seriously having a second thought after signing up for the maid contract in a suspicious, isolated mansion of who the god knows who they belong to? Probably, an old man with an overstretched moustache with his old suit, or maybe an old maiden who prefers to stay isolated in the mansion given to her by her wealthy parents, or a dozen more reasons your wearied mind couldn't put themselves into.

A large main door spreads open before you and the luminous light peeking from the glass windows hits your line of sight, pulling your hands up to your eyes quickly. Rubbing your eyes, your sight were met with a few strangers—young men scattered all over the place

Something you particularly notice was the main desk with scattered papers on top of them, piles of books on the smooth floor, all round you stood a colossal collections of books—resembling a library however it was akin to being consumed by a man-eating monster.

"Young master, we brought your special dinner for today."

"I'm—huh?" Before you could say anything, the door slammed right to your face.

"Hm? Are you an A+?" A red haired young man suddenly were before your very eyes, you were dead sure he was standing a few metres away from you just now.

Your eyes widening frantically upon the strange question, his fanning breath over your face had goosebumps riled through your skin. "F-fuck what?"

Loosen ties hanging down to their white shirts underneath their black jackets, icy pale skin and intense gazes looming over you with orbs that screams those that belong to monsters.

"Tsk, manners, Sunoo!" Puppy-like eyes softening your heart yet the golden crimson orbs of his had your stomach churning. Collars pulled up, red tie and strings of bracelet round his wrists. He exudes downright cockiness and somewhat flirty as his tongue laps on his lower lip, eyes never faltering from you. He took your hands onto his lips, pressing a sweet kiss on it much to your dropping jaw. "Forgive us, young lady. My name's Jake, what's yours—"

"Fuck, we're no longer in the 18th century, goddamn Jake. Quit that act."

A long groan escapes from the blonde haired boy, or Jake as they call it. "And why should I listen to you? Last time I check, none of the maidens look at your way because of your cold ass demeanour."

"You say that again!"

"S-stop, why are you all so noisy." Sunoo whined as he sticks his fingers inside his ear.

A barrage of ruckus from the two man had you silently pulling the door behind you in hopes to escape yet it to your utter disappointment, a hand slams it back right to your eyes. You look up in fear for this young man with faint blonde highlights on his bangs looking down at you with downright contempt. Intimidating he was, it was as if he was eating you with his intense red orbs.

"Where do you think you're going, human?"

Gulping a huge saliva down your throat, "W-w-what are you gonna do, huh?! You think you're so brave for doing this, what—" you widened your trance as if you were a sumo, slamming your hand on the man before you. "K-kill me? Bitch? I'll haunt you if you kill me!—"

"Pffft! She's funny—" a light hearted laughter came out from the young man emitting princely like vibes from the window, you couldn't make out much from his face as the luminous sky behind him overshadowed his form. "I like her."

You couldn't move an inch as the man started to approached you—the beauty mark on his nose and his more defined fangs coming into view as he smirk down at you, "I didn't know our dinner got a feisty mouth. Tsk, I don't mind though. What if you stay here and be our little toy instead?"

"Toy?! Little t-toy?!" You let out a scoff of annoyance yet you know this is was only an attempt to stop yourself from shivering, "Hellooo?! if this is the place where I'm going to work then sorry, I don't have time for this bullshit—"

"Chill, everyone! At least we could give her a little dose of kindness before we sent her away, yeah? Won't hurt to show a bit of kindness, Ni-ki." says the red haired young man with foxy eyes and orbs resembling the shade of his hair, utterly gorgeous he was as he gave you a sugary smile. The sleeves of his coat were folded up revealing his arms wrapped in bandage. "What's your name, sweet one?"

"Huh? Treating a human with kindness? What's that even?" Ni-ki, the tall young man who stood behind your back spun you around, leaning closer as his harsh gaze filled with utter contempt, "You're not even close to our level, peasant."

Sunoo rolled his eyes to the back of his head, "There's no hope for you, Ni-ki."

Clenching your trembling fists as you let out a hiss of annoyance, you pushed him over making him stumble backwards and pushing the door opened, sprinting for your goddamn life.

You took one last look over your shoulder only to wholly regret it as their monstrous orbs stayed fixated on you, you knew they could easily get you then and there but you still tried taking all your might to get away from that devil's place, going as farther as you can in these never-ending hall. Taking endless turns when a large double doors appeared on the end, light peeking through the glasses giving you a hope for freedom.

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as you pushed the door open but greeny bushes surrounding the area, a gazebo and a fountain a few metres away greets your sight. You realised you were at the garden of the mansion much to your downright disappointment.

Grey misty fog blots out the entire garden as you slowly bring yourself to the pathway trying to find for an exit. Yet, you felt like you were going into an endless loop of maze, your energy only depleting as you panted relentlessly. Beads of sweat trailing down your jaw from your forehead.

"Exit, exit.. where is it?!" You frantically roamed around the garden, as the thought of any chance of survival would vanish into air if they suddenly appear out of nowhere.

A harsh tug on your cardigan had you stumbled backwards on someone's chest, looking up only to dark red orbs resembling a cat; jet black mullet, black web chokers on his neck as red lips pulling up to reveal those fangs.

Your breathe were caught up in the back of your throat, his cold ice fingers caressing your face and tucking the strands of your hair in the back of your ear only accelerated your already rampant heart.

"You smell so good.." breathing in, feline eyes gleaming into something you couldn't fathom. Your heart dropping in immense fear as you immediately pushed him away from you. The warmth of his chest gone from your arms.

"C-creep! Stay away!" You shouted right at his face.

You spun around to the direction back to the mansion, however another one stood before you; grey lush hair, tall frame and dark blue tie hanging loose on his white shirt, his hands in his pockets.

"Who the fuck are you again?! S-stay away— or else!—"

"Hm, you look pretty." his golden crimson orbs a few inches away from you, as you were slammed right to his chest. "Would you let us keep you, little one?"

"Yoi, wouldn't that be too selfish of you, brother?" another arm sneaks into your waist, pulling your back to his warmth chest. His voice near your ears sending shivers down to your spine, "Right, kitten?"

"Let me go you bitch!—"

A soft blow to your face had you letting out a tiny yelp, "Sure, why not?"

Multiple hands suddenly snaps right before your eyes, harsh tug all over your arm pulling you different directions. Golden crimson and dark red orbs gleaming around you under this heavy misty fog, shutting your eyes tight with a series of harsh cries of pain escaping from your lips as you felt this burning sensation of something sharp sinking right to your neck, arm and shoulder.

"Your blood belongs to us."

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darkmindedsouloftheworld · 1 year

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Mother's day fiasco

(Wenclair)

(Wednesday's pov)

I walked down the abandoned hallway of nevermore.It is like the quiet before a storm but a storm would be a lot easier to deal with.It was mother's day.And just like parent's weekend your parents are permitted inside the gates of nevermore.Things have changed."Hey willa?"A voice said.I knew exactly who it was only one person called me that dreaded nickname.I turned around and saw Enid Sinclair."What is it?"I asked hoping to wrap this up as quick as possible."Can I stay with you and your family I don't want to see my mother"Enid said."You wouldn't survive a day with my family"I replied, Knowing almost for sure that my family would destroy her innocent and pure soul."Alright fine,but could you at least spend time with me?"Enid asked.I sighed knowing for a fact she and her mother did not get along I could easily kill her mother and I bet her father wouldn't care."Alright sure mi amor"I said,she gave me a soft grin and lightly kissed my cheek."Thanks Wednesday"She whispered in my ear."No promblem"I whispered back."I'll see you at the dorm?"Enid asked,I nodded.I headed off to my next quest.

(Enid's pov)

I sighed,I knew I would have to see my mother.Maybe with Wednesday there it will be less painful?But what if my parents don't like Wednesday.I need to stop thinking about this."Hey Sinclair"Yoko said walking towards me, trailing behind her was Divina."Hi Yoko, Divina"I said,barley exchanging a glance."Are you two exited for mother's day?"I asked.Divina sighed very heavily."I am not at all."Divina said."Why?"I asked.Divina walked closer towards me."my mother is a colossal ass hat"Divina said.I raised an eyebrow at her.I can understand not liking her but calling her that was just weird."What about you yoko?"I asked.Yoko shrugged."I can see them in a century and I wouldn't really care for it"Yoko said."I know you're not"Yoko added,I nodded."Well just think about it,you might finally meet the queen of dark's family"Divina joked.I could tell she was trying to lighten the mood."Well we have to go,bye Enid"The two of them walked away holding hands.Seeing it pained me.I missed Wednesday but I don't know where she went and she didn't tell me.I went back to the dorm and silently opened the door.Empty.I sat down on my bed on it was thing."Do you know where Wednesday is?"I asked the hand."no"Thing tapped.I sighed and layed on my bed.Before I knew it I fell asleep.

The next day

(End's pov)

I got up out of my bed.I didn't think I'd fall asleep so easily."Morning mi amor"Wednesday said as she walked towards me."Morning willa"I reply.I got up and I pulled her into a quick kiss which she returned."Parents are already arriving"Wednesday said.I sighed.I knew that meant my mother was close,I could feel a disturbance in the atmosphere."If your mother hurts you I can kill her"Wednesday offered.I chuckled and looked at her."Thanks for the offer"I say.I slip on my shoes and head out the dorm.Wednesdau quickly follows me.As I walk out into the quad I already see my mother.As soon as she saw me she approached at hawk speed."Enid"Esther said pulling me into a tight hug."Hello mom"I whispered."Where's dad?"I asked."He couldn't come"Esther replied.That made me angry,I was going to be stuck with my mother without my father."Who's this?"Esther asked looking at Wednesday."Mom this is my girlfriend Wednesday,Wednesday this is my mother Esther"I introduced."Girlfriend?Since when did you have a girlfriend?"Esther asked."For awhile mother"I whispered."But she looks like a sociopath"Esther whispered."I prefer the term psychopath"Wednesday said."That's even worse,you can not date this monster"Esther spurred."You can not tell me who I can and can't date"I growled."God you are such a disappointment!"Esther yelled.Beofore I knew what I was doing,I was running."Enid!"Esther yelled.

A few hours later

My mother finally caught up with me."I was thinking you should leave this school,go to a one closer to home"Esther suggested."No"I said shortly."You don't want to be near your family,what kind of ungrateful daughter are you?"Esther said."See!This is exactly why!I like being at Nevermore because people here actually care for me and they aren't calling me disappointments!I wish you never came here!"I yelled.Esther withered back."Fine if you don't want me here than I'll leave"Esther said.Esther walked away.I felt a hand on my shoulder."Are you ok,Mi amor?"Wednesday asked."I'm fine,my mother Is leaving so that's good"I said I gave a hollow chuckle."Why don't you spend time with my family"Wednesday offered.In the distance I saw a tall women wearing a black dress with long black hair.A man wearing a lined suit it looked like with black hair.And a boy wearing a long sleeved shirt also with black hair."sure I would love that"I say.Wednesday grabbed my hand.I was surprised but was happy.She pulled me over to her family.I was lucky to have her and I loved her even with her dark humor.

(What should I write next?)

#wenclair fanfic #wenclair #fanfic #sweet #Wednesday x enid #Addams family #yoko #divina

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enchantingpeachrunaway · 8 days

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The First MoonKnight

Summary: We're familiar with Khonshu's well-known Avatars, such as Marc Spector and Arthur Harrow, but have you ever wondered why there are so many? While other gods typically have just one Avatar from the beginning or none at all, what happened to Khonshu's first Moon Knight? Who was that enigmatic figure?"

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: English is not my first language and I really hope y'all like this because it is my first fanfic :)

Khonshu's P.O.V.

Chapter 1

As the desert sands yield to the fertile embrace of an oasis, I approach the village that was built around the source of that fertility—a solitary beacon amidst the vast expanse of the wilderness. The moon hangs overhead, casting its silvery light upon the humble dwellings below. The air is alive with the sounds of life—the laughter of children, the chatter of villagers, the timeless rhythm of existence echoing through the night.

Drawing closer, I observe the village. Each building is a testament to the resilience of humanity, weathered by time yet standing strong against the ravages of nature. Smoke rises lazily from chimneys, carrying with it the scent of home-cooked meals and hearth fires—a comforting reminder of the warmth that lies within.

As I enter the village, I am met with the villagers going on with their usual routines. Women cooking, men coming back from a tough day in the fields, and children running around and playing with one another. I observe them as they go about their lives—their joys, their sorrows, their hopes, and their dreams. Each face tells a story—a story of struggle and triumph, of love and loss, of the eternal dance between light and shadow.

Its mud-brick buildings bathed in the ethereal light of the moon. Shadows dance upon the walls, casting intricate patterns upon the sand-strewn streets. Lanterns flicker in the night, their warm glow illuminating the faces of the villagers.

At the heart of the village lies the oasis—a shimmering pool of moonlit waters that reflects the celestial canopy above. Date palms sway gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling softly in the night. Crickets chirp in the darkness, their rhythmic song blending with the murmur of the nearby stream.

As I walked up to the shore of the small water body and looked at the crescent moon I sighed.

I’ll find the right one soon… I feel it… I thought to myself.

When my eyes drifted upwards ready to continue my search I noticed a magnificent structure rising from the desert sands—a temple. Bathed in the soft glow of torches and lanterns, its towering columns and intricate carvings stand as a testament to the craftsmanship of the Egyptian people.

The temple's facade is adorned with hieroglyphs and reliefs depicting scenes of celestial splendor—a celestial procession of gods and goddesses, their forms illuminated by the radiant light of the moon. At its entrance, two colossal statues flank the doorway, their stern visages gazing out into the night with unwavering vigilance.

This will be interesting.

I muttered to myself as I approached the scared temple curious to see who this temple is devoted to. The moment I walked closer I stopped dead in my track as my gaze met with a statue of me next to one of Ra.

This already got too interesting.

Carved from polished obsidian, the statue of me towers over the temple's entrance with an imposing presence. Atop a slender neck, the head of a falcon is sculpted with meticulous detail, its piercing eyes gazing out into the infinite expanse of the cosmos. The falcon's beak is sharp and proud. Adorned with a headdress of gleaming gold and lapis lazuli.

Great. Another falcon-head statue of me. Why is it so hard for them to get that I am not a damn falcon?

I shook my head in mild annoyance and disappointment.

I protect them and they cannot get one thing right.

I sighed again as I walked into the torch lighted halls of the temple. In the hallowed halls of my temple, a young priestess moves with graceful purpose, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone floors. Draped in robes of white linen adorned with intricate hieroglyphs that shimmer in the dim light, she carries herself with an air of quiet reverence as she goes about her sacred duties.

Well, that’s new.

I thought as I kept observing the female priest, a rare sight within the sacred confines of my temple. As far as I could recall, almost all of the priests who tended to my sanctuary were males—stoic figures, their voices resonating with the weight of ancient rituals and solemn prayers. Seeing a woman being devoted to me was... odd.

Yet, as I watched her move with fluid grace through the temple's hallowed halls, tending to the sacred relics and preparing for the midnight ceremony, I couldn't help but feel a stirring of curiosity. There was a quiet strength in her demeanor, a sense of purpose that belied her tender years. I couldn't help but marvel at her dedication and sincerity. There was a quiet resolve that spoke volumes of her faith and commitment to my teachings. Despite the rarity of her presence, she seemed undeterred, her spirit undiminished by the conventions of tradition.

And yet, beneath my curiosity, there lingered a sense of apprehension—a nagging uncertainty born of unfamiliarity. How would the other priests react to her presence? Would they welcome her with open arms, or would they view her as an outsider, a disruption to the established order?

As she moved about the temple, her movements fluid and purposeful, there were moments when she turned towards me, her gaze searching the shadows with a mixture of reverence and curiosity. Though she could not see me, hidden as I was in the veil of darkness, I could feel the weight of her gaze upon me—a silent question lingering in the air, begging to be answered.

In those fleeting moments, I felt a strange stirring within me—a longing to reveal myself, to offer her the reassurance she sought. And yet, I held back, cloaking myself in the cloak of invisibility, unwilling to disturb the delicate balance between mortal and divine for now.

And so, I watched from the shadows as she continued her sacred duties. Each glance in my direction was a silent invitation—an invitation to reveal myself.

As the moments passed I let my gaze linger on the priestess who seemed to possess an ethereal beauty that seemed to radiate from within, casting a luminous glow upon her delicate features. My mind immediately thought that her parents must have consecrated her to Hathor, there must be no other explanation.

Her skin, kissed by the desert sun, bears the warm hue of burnished bronze, illuminated by the soft light of torches and lanterns that line the temple's walls.

Her eyes, almond-shaped and the color of rich amber, sparkle with a wisdom that belies her youthful countenance. They hold a depth of emotion—a reflection of the countless prayers and offerings she has witnessed in her role as guardian of the temple.

Her hair, a cascade of ebony curls, frames her face in a halo of darkness, accentuating the graceful curve of her cheekbones and the soft contours of her jawline. Adorned with delicate ornaments of gold and precious stones, her hair shimmers like the night sky, a testament to her status as a servant of the divine.

Her robes, woven from the finest linen and adorned with intricate hieroglyphs and symbols, drape elegantly over her slender frame, flowing like moonlit silk as she moves about the temple.

Soon people started to enter the main hall where the altar was filled with the offering that the priestess had placed. I moved closer to the altar to have a look at the goods they were offering. They had wine, beer, bread, honey, fruit and vegetables. They even offered salt and essential oils.

I guess I will stay a bit longer.

I stayed in the back of the hall as the ceremony started. I could hear and feel every little prayer, every small plea from all the people. At times, the sensation is one of overwhelming gratitude—a deep sense of appreciation for the faith and devotion of those who seek solace in my divine presence. Their prayers are like offerings, imbued with the sincerity and purity of their intentions, filling me with a sense of warmth and fulfillment.

Yet, there are also moments of solemn reflection—a recognition of the weight of responsibility that comes with the power of divine intervention. Each prayer carries with it the hopes and dreams of those who utter it. Many mortals had accused me of neglecting their wishes but those people are the ones who do not understand that you cannot be given something because you asked for it. You have earned it, to work for it.

As the ceremony went on the prayers continued to come into my ears but even if I was in a room full of believers who prayed to me I could still hear hers loud and clear. Like something is making her pleas and prayers stronger than the rest. Like something is trying to tell me to pay close attention to her.

Once an hour passed after midnight the ceremony came to an end and people started to leave the temple while some chatted with one another and some mothers were scolding their children. Everyone had the left and only the priestess stayed back to take care of the rest of the after-ceremonial duties. I stayed back too for some reason as something deep in me wanted to observe her more.

As the silence of the temple enveloped me, a cry for help shattered the peacefulness of the night—a desperate plea that echoed through the hallowed halls with a chilling urgency. My divine senses prickled with awareness, the sound stirring a primal instinct within me—a call to action that could not be ignored.

With a silent command, I willed myself to the temple's threshold, my divine form passing through solid stone as though it were air. Outside, the night sky loomed overhead, a tapestry of stars that bore witness to the unfolding drama below.

Beneath the moon's watchful gaze, the priestess emerged from the temple, her eyes wide with concern and determination. In her hands, she clutched a torch as she rushed in the direction of the cry.

As the priestess hurried on the grains of sand, her senses heightened by the urgency of the situation, she heard the unmistakable sound of a struggle ahead—a desperate cry for help that cut through the night like a knife. With a sense of dread gnawing at her heart, she quickened her pace

Rounding a corner, her eyes widened in horror as she beheld the scene before her—a woman, her face twisted in terror, clutching a small child to her chest as a hooded figure loomed over them, brandishing a gleaming dagger with malicious intent.

Without hesitation, the priestess sprang into action, her voice ringing out with a command that brooked no argument. "Hey!" she cried, her words infused with the authority of divine conviction. "Let them go!"

What is she doing? She will get herself killed. I thought as I watched the scene unfold in front of me.

The thief turned towards her, a snarl twisting his lips as he sized up this unexpected adversary. But she stood her ground, her eyes blazing with righteous fury as she took a couple of steps towards him.

With a curse, the thief lunged forward, his dagger gleaming in the dim light. But she was ready, her movements though were sloppy and unsure. She tried to dodge the attacks of the thief. It was obvious that she didn’t know how to fight but she kept trying.

Her attempts though were not successful since the hooded man managed to stab her left side. She let out a loud cry of pain as the metallic blade pierced through her robes and her delicate skin. The man pushed her back and she fell on the ground bleeding.

The thief let out some more curses and he turned back to the mother who was now sobbing at the sight of the blood-covered knife. I was ready to interfere to stop the thief and save the two women and the child. But before I could even take a step forward the young priestess was back on her feet and she crushed a big stone that was lying nearby on the man’s head. His head started to bleed and he fell unconscious on the sand below.

I was stunned.

The mother let out yet another cry before the young woman whose robe was damped in her own blood stumbled over to her and placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her heart heavy with concern for their well-being even though she was clenching the stab wound on her side.

The woman nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as she clutched her child tightly to her chest. "We... we are unhurt, thanks to you," she managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion.

The priestess offered her a soft smile even though she was clearly in pain. She helped them up and she bit her lip to silence a whine that was threading to escape her lips. "You are safe now," she said, her voice reassuring. “Go into the village and say that you will be my guest, priestess Marwa's. Whatever you need you can ask for it. We will take good care of you and your child.” she pointed at the village that was across the oasis.

Marwa? That’s an interesting name.

“But you are bleeding. Don’t you need anything? To help you get to a physician? Or call someone to help you?” The mother asked in concern at the sight of the blood on the white robes.

“I am good. You can go and I will follow you soon after.” Marwa said. The other woman obviously wanted to object and help the young priestess but she just nodded before turning around and heading to the village.

I stayed and watched Marwa as she stood there bleeding and looking at the woman with the child in her arms entering the village. Then I thought that she would follow and go somewhere to treat her wound but instead, she turned towards the temple again.

What is she doing?

#khonshu #moon knight #mcu #ancient egypt #god of the moon #khonshu x reader #khonshu moon knight #khonshu fanfic

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winxanity-ii · 10 days

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 10 Chapter 10 | an unlikely hero⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You weaved through the ruined cityscape with a practiced ease, taking down robots with calculated precision.

Your power, while not suited for large-scale destruction, allowed for a more subtle approach. You manipulated the movements of smaller robots, turning them against their larger counterparts, creating a domino effect of metallic mayhem.

The written portion of the exam had been a breeze. Your mind, honed by years of self-study and fueled by your high intelligence, easily devoured the questions.

The only disappointment came during the announcement of testing zones—you, Bakugo, and Midoriya were all assigned different locations.

Oh well, you lose some and win some.

The practical exam had unfolded like a chaotic ballet. Dodging a falling hunk of scrap metal, you broke out of your contemplative mood just in time to sidestep a toppling robot you'd just dismantled.

Dusting your hands off with nonchalance, you were about to move on to your next target when a whimper pierced the air.

"Help!" a scared voice cried out.

Pinpointing the source, you located the voice coming from underneath one of the fallen robot legs.

Helping others wasn't exactly your forte, but heroics were part of the exam criteria.

With a sigh of resignation, you turned and headed towards the sound.

Jumping effortlessly over the debris, you reached the whimpering figure. A young boy with short blond hair, a black lightning bolt streak framing his left eye, lay trapped under a section of the fallen robot. His golden eyes, wide with fear, locked with yours as your shadow fell over him.

"Oh, thank Gods! Can you help—?" his sentence trailed off as he got a good look at you.

You ignored his awed stare, squatting down and fitting your fingers beneath the narrow gap separating the robot leg from the ground.

With a low grunt, you effortlessly lifted the heavy debris. "Move," you commanded, your voice devoid of warmth, as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

The boy stammered, tears welling up in his eyes. "I-I can't. I think it's broken," he choked out, his voice trembling.

Before you could utter another word, a horrifying sound filled the air—a loud, unsettling creaking. Shooting your gaze upwards, you saw a colossal chunk of the robot you'd just destroyed teetering precariously atop the building it had crushed.

And it was falling directly towards you and the injured boy.

A muttered curse ripped from your throat. Without wasting a single breath, you shifted the weight of the massive metal slab onto one hand. With your other hand, you swiftly scooped the boy into your arms, his startled yelp muffled against your chest.

In a single, powerful motion, you pushed backwards, throwing yourself back onto the ground.

The metal slab crashed down with a bone-jarring thud, landing precisely in the spot you had both occupied a mere second ago. A cloud of dust erupted around you, momentarily obscuring your vision and triggering a coughing fit.

After a few seconds, the dust settled, revealing the mangled remains of the robot where you once stood.

"Are you alright?" You began to voice your concern, but your question died in your throat as you met the boy's gaze. He stared back at you, his golden eyes wide with awe and a hint of hero worship.

"Are you an angel sent from heaven to save me?" he blurted out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and newfound reverence.

You were about to drop him ungraciously and disappear into the chaos, but then a glint of sunlight caught the strands of his blond hair, causing them to shimmer with an almost ethereal glow.

You cursed under your breath. There you go again, falling prey to your small weakness.

With a sigh, you said nothing, opting against abandoning your newfound charge.

Pushing yourself upright with surprising lower body strength, the sudden movement jolting the boy in your arms. He yelped, momentarily suspended in the air before you settled with him in your arms.

"Thanks again, angel!" He then quickly introduced himself as Denki Kaminari, though he insisted you call him by his first name. As you listened to him ramble on about his gratitude and your supposed angelic intervention, a strange feeling of nostalgia bloomed within you.

You dropped him off at a makeshift infirmary tent, staffed by anxious-looking recovery heroes.

Denki, ever the chatterbox, insisted on getting your name before you could make a graceful exit. With a theatrical sigh, you relented, offering a small bow.

"Akuma Y/N," you murmured, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. Leaning in closer, you added in a playful whisper, "Hopefully, I can get the chance to sweep you off your feet more often, Kaminari~." A wink completed the teasing gesture.

Denki's face flushed a brilliant red, his expression a comical mix of flustered gratitude and newfound awe. "C-Call me, Denki!"

You stifled a laugh, reveling in his predictable reaction. It was strangely... comforting.

His god-worship, his wide-eyed adoration, it all felt strangely familiar. A memory flickered at the edges of your mind—a loud blond boy and a fierce loyalty.

Could it be...?

A spark of amusement ignited within you.

This Denki character, with his boundless enthusiasm and hero worship, reminded you so much of a certain chainsaw-wielding devil hunter you had in your grasp a lifetime ago.

Perhaps Bakugo wouldn't be the only puppy you'd acquire at U.A.. He deserves a playmate, can't have your puppy too lonely.

With a final, playful pat on his head, you turned and disappeared back into the chaotic cityscape. You still had points to rack up, after all.

Besides, there were more robots to dismantle, and perhaps, another damsel (or damsel-in-distress-wannabe) in need of "saving."

A slow, predatory smile spread across your lips. This hero course was turning out to be more entertaining than you'd anticipated.

☆

A week crawled by, the anticipation gnawing at you. Finally, the day arrived—the results of the entrance exam were being released. You were sprawled on your bed, lost in a daydream about manipulating the school lunch menu to include more of your preferred foods, when your bedroom door burst open with a bang.

"Y/N! They're here! Your results!" your mom exclaimed, bursting into the room, a manic grin plastered on her face.

She brandished a large envelope, practically vibrating with excitement.

Taking the envelope from her outstretched hand, you carefully peeled it open, your heart pounding a steady rhythm against your ribs. Unfolding the official U.A. document, your eyes scanned the page until they landed on the bold text: "Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into..."

A pause. You reread the line, a frown creasing your brow.

It wasn't Class 1-A, the prestigious hero course filled with the top prospects. No, the letter continued: "...Class 1-B."

Disappointment flickered across your features for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by a sly glint.

Class 1-B.

Not quite the grand entrance you'd envisioned, but a detour was hardly a dead end.

In fact, being placed in the "lesser" hero course might be a blessing in disguise.

Back in middle school, you thrived in the shadows.

While the "popular" kids basked in the spotlight, you preferred the freedom of anonymity. It allowed you to operate with impunity, your carefully orchestrated "accidents" and manipulations remaining a mystery to everyone but your intended targets.

Being in Class 1-B offered a similar kind of freedom. Here, you wouldn't be under the constant scrutiny of the teachers or the envious glare of top prospects.

No, here, you could blend in, observe, and most importantly, manipulate from the sidelines.

Class 1-B could be your launching pad, a springboard from which you could subtly influence the entire hero course, perhaps even the entire school.

The heroes-in-training might be focused on becoming symbols of peace, but you had a different vision—a vision you intended to weave into the very fabric of U.A. High.

This hero course was just getting started, and you, Y/N, were a master puppeteer, ready to pull the strings from the comfort of the shadows.

Class 1-B might not have been the spotlight you craved, but it was the perfect place to disappear in plain sight.

The game was afoot, and you, the enigmatic newcomer, held all the aces.

***did y'all like?? 👀

~𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚~

At U.A. High, the faculty crowded around a large monitor, eagerly observing the live feed of the entrance exam. Present Mic, ever the showman, bounced in his chair, practically vibrating with excitement.

"And there we have it, folks!" he boomed into the microphone, gesturing wildly at the screen. "Another impressive display from young Bakugo, utilizing his explosion Quirk with strategic finesse!"

Midnight, draped seductively across a nearby chair, purred in agreement, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Just look at all the fresh meat, so...enticing."

Just as All Might was about to offer his own commentary, Present Mic cut him off with a flourish. "But wait, folks, there's more! Let's take a quick trip over to Zone C, shall we?" He zoomed in on a specific section of the screen, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now this next contestant... she's a real dark horse! Check her out!"

The video focused on you, a stark contrast to the towering robots around you. With surprising ease, you lifted a massive robot leg, revealing a dazed Denki trapped underneath. You scooped him up in one arm, your small frame dwarfed by his own.

Despite the situation, Denki's face was lit up with a mixture of hero worship and childish awe as he gazed at you with wide, adoring eyes.

The scene was undeniably comical—a petite girl carrying a lanky boy like a prize.

A collective gasp rippled through the teacher's lounge. Recovery Girl, known for her stoicism, even let out a surprised chirp. Even the ever-stoic Principal Nedzu adjusted his spectacles, a hint of curiosity flickering in his beady eyes. Ectoplasm oozed a gelatinous puddle of excitement, while Cementoss rumbled his approval.

Aizawa, however, remained stoic. As the others oohed and awed over your display of strength and unexpected chivalry, he stood back, his brow furrowed in thought. A low mutter escaped his lips, barely audible over Present Mic's enthusiastic narration.

"There's something about her that doesn't feel right..." he murmured, his gaze fixed on you. The screen froze on a close-up of your face.

Your yellow eyes, usually playful, held a glint of something far more calculating. Within each iris, a series of crimson rings swirled slowly, like miniature galaxies nestled within your gaze.

The playful facade you presented for the exam might have fooled the others, but Aizawa, with his keen instincts, suspected there was something far more complex lurking beneath the surface.

The hero course had just begun, and a new mystery had entered the fold.

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ghostaholics · 1 year

Text

ᴀsʜᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴀsʜᴇs

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader Warning(s): angst; lots of religious imagery (e.g. Christianity/Dante's Inferno references) that has no real purpose except for the drama™; heavy pining that is not resolved in this A/N: idk what I was shooting for but here is a vague short drabble about our fav

ᴍᴏɴʀᴏᴠɪᴀ, ʟɪʙᴇʀɪᴀ

… where violence is in spades and it’s been colossal disappointment and fallen bodies all the way through. It's in the wake of a string of failed missions due to factors beyond his control, and you know that he'll hold himself accountable even if the blame doesn't deserve to be placed on his shoulders.

"You gonna quit on me?" Simon asks.

A response that is plain and simple: “Never.” Even anything that comes after that.

"And you’re sure you want to do this?"

"Of course."

It's blind faith. I'd follow you to hell, to anywhere – condemn myself for you, burn and rot away in perdition for you; the seventh circle is reserved for bad people like us. There's nothing except an eternal sentence made up of fire and brimstone and a river that runs blood-red with sin, but if you're there, I promise it won't feel long enough to me.

(Maybe we’ll finally be able to rest.)

"Don't die on me, then," he says, always a wry sense of humor. “You know I’d hate to lose you.”

You try not read too much into it. The ugly thought has taken root and entrenched itself anyway, turning into something terrible and out of reach.

"Wouldn't dream of it,” you breathe out.

(But, if —)

The realization creeps up silently. It deserves to stay buried in the cold and bitter earth with the rest of your past skeletons.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. They could put me six feet under to keep me away; let them. I'd still crawl out of my grave on my hands and knees – torched, splintered, carved (wounds and scars and all) – if it meant coming back to you. God help anyone who tries to stop me. I have killed a thousand men. I would kill a thousand more for you, again and again.

“Stay close.”

Always.

#simon riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #call of duty #call of duty headcanons #call of duty fic #call of duty drabble #ghost drabble #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost headcanon #ghost imagine #simon riley fic

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fromriches-tosin · 5 months

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hello !! this isnt your typical headcanon ask but id like to know when did you start shipping reijean and what moment made you this passionate abt them ? youre one of my favorite rj creators and im so curious abt what inspired this obsession <33

Hello!! I'll try (and fail) not to turn this reply into a PhD dissertation, hehe.

I started shipping Reijean in October last year when I was watching AOT for the first time. Even though at the beginning they had next to zero interactions, I felt that their energies were a perfect match for each other: Jean the egoistical and sassy slacker, and Reiner the confident and idealistic big brother everyone would want to have. I loved how surprised and impressed Reiner was with Jean's behavior in Trost, I loved how he kept following Jean's lead, and I loved their silly little banter. So, yeah, basically I was shipping them already during the Battle of Trost.

During the Female Titan arc, I felt there might be something more in store for them. Reiner's second reaction to Jean's character development, his concern for Jean's wellbeing, and Jean's panic at the thought of Reiner's death cemented the idea of them as the best duo and a potential couple for me. Plainly speaking, they were incredibly cute.

Season 2 gave us the "titanic reveal" and the unforeseen "enemies to lovers" trope (which I'm extremely fond of). I was very curious how it would play out – it was already pretty much obvious that Reiner must have been involved in Marco's death, and since Marco's death had become such a turning point in Jean's life, the possibilities were endless.

And then Shiganshina happened. Oh my god, Shiganshina. That arc turned them into my ultimate OTP. The way Jean kept encouraging his comrades to fight the Armored Titan, the way he kept attacking it himself, only to break down and cry when he thought Reiner had really died... It was heartbreaking that the audience learned the truth about Marco's death, but Jean didn't. His desperation to save Reiner's life after that was extremely moving.

The way Jean was shown in that scene, all those close-ups of his eyes, the panic on his face, his willingness to manipulate Hange to protect Reiner regardless of everything that had transpired... Reiner hadn't killed Jean when they were chasing the Female Titan. How could Jean turn his head away and let him perish now? All those nuances, Jean's big heart and innocence were what made that ship so special to me.

The beginning of Season 4 was a treat because it finally shed some light on Reiner's backstory and all the surprising parallels between him and Jean: their role as leaders, the deaths of Marcel and Marco, Reiner and Jean's attempts at becoming more like their deceased friends to honor their memory... Honestly, at that point Jean and Reiner felt like they had been written for each other.

When Jean finally learned the truth about what had happened in Trost, attacked Reiner and told him that he would never forgive him... I didn't think he was going to keep that promise. And I wasn't disappointed. Don't get me wrong. Personally? I don't think I would have forgiven Reiner in Jean's place. But that's what made Jean such an incredible character; his ability to change and challenge every perception of him we might have had.

The fact that Jean admitted to being the same as Reiner, to having committed the same sins as him and to finally seeing his side of things was big enough. But to have him become so sincerely concerned with Reiner's wellbeing again, to have him put himself in danger for his sake, to have him save his life once more... And not only from the Colossal Titan and the Rumbling, mind you. Jean also saved Reiner from Reiner himself. He understood how self-destructive he was. And he gave him something Reiner had never had before: a sense of belonging.

I keep going back to that one conversation between Ymir, Bertholdt and Reiner:

Because... that's it. That's the whole point. For the first time in his life, Reiner suddenly knows what's it like to have someone care about him regardless of what he has done. That's the closest thing to unconditional love he has ever experienced.

Reiner's mother didn't give a shit about him, the people who sent him to Paradis didn't give a shit about him – to them it was only the Armored Titan that mattered. For the longest time Reiner had struggled with who he was and didn't consider himself worthy of forgiveness. So, for Jean to be the one to give him all that... It's huge. And the way Reiner kept looking at Jean in those scenes made me feel things.

Jean chose life over death, forgiveness over hatred and Reiner over the Armored Titan. The way those two characters were orbiting each other throughout the story was truly insane. Jean's arc had started with Marco's death, with his willingness to make Marco proud and to do the right thing – and it ended with him realizing that the people who had killed Marco were also doing the so-called "right thing". The whole point of Jean's story was to forgive Reiner and to symbolically unite both sides of that war.

And at the same time, Reiner's quest for a place he could call home, and for the people who would accept him for who he was, ended with Jean. Reiner went from wanting to kill the devils of Paradis to being saved by one of them. Jean called him one of the Scouts and welcomed him back to the family. And Reiner suddenly realized he still had something left to fight for. The point of his arc, the arc of a man who perhaps shouldn't have been granted forgiveness, was to receive it from the person he had hurt the most.

Jean and Reiner were supposed to heal together.

Summing up, the Shiganshina arc had been responsible for making me so passionate about them in the first place, but the last chapters definitely fueled my obsession to the point of no return. To me, Reijean is an amazing comfort ship because of that ending. It's just so warm and hopeful, and nice. It's good knowing Jean and Reiner have each other again.

(I'm literally vibrating as I'm typing this lol)

#thanks for the ask ✨#reijean #reiner x jean #veecanons

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