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cr4yolaas · 10 months

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— forget me not . kaeya x reader

synopsis . you loved him, and you thought he loved you too. you had to pay for your ignorance. [concept from @/o1kawasgirlfriends on tiktok]

warnings . angst !! i use a lot of rhetorical device stuff idk. arguments (kaeya and reader), one-sided relationship, kaeya is manipulative, little bit of gore-type descriptions towards the end, barely proofread, idk if i characterized anyone properly lol

notes . umm i was going thru my google drive for school thingies and ended up finding this from so long ago n i was wondering why it sounded so unfamiliar . realized i nvr posted it 😭

the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered.

perhaps, the reason your chest felt so light was because you had placed the heart of clay once encased within your body into caramel hands. your heart, carved and sculpted to perfection by those who sat in celestia, had been put in the care of another.

how foolish.

and yet, you played with the idea. enjoyed it, even. the cotton in your ribcage began to feel familiar, warm, and you loved it. you loved the fuzzy sensation that blossomed when you caught a glance. you loved the grins that were smudged onto your face because of a man who had no cares and all the cares in the world. you adored it. and thus, you craved.

kaeya alberich. a name that rolled off of your tongue so gracefully, dripping off of the edge of your own chapped lips. a name that you called every so often, what with your position in mondstadt’s knights of favonius.

the concept that was once dreadful morphed into something you now deemed funny. you, an aspiring knight, wished only to protect your city. and instead, you had fallen for the man who was to help you reach that goal. stupid, stupid, stupid.

sword clashed against sword, the ring of metal echoing amongst the courtyard. there was no malice nor hatred laced in the slashes, no. there was adrenaline. excitement. energy. you could not say you loathed the one you were battling with, for he was the one that made your chest flutter and your teeth rot. adolescent grins were carved onto each of your faces, euphoria spilling through the cracks in your teeth. a sword clash that was not one of war or death or anger. in this moment, you couldn’t feel stupid. you could only feel ecstatic. joyful, even, as your blade knocked over his, and his eyes widened with both shock and pride.

“i’ve trained you well,” he spoke between heavy breaths. you watched as he walked over to pick up his sword, examining the worn hilt and the scratches painted across the metal. “excellent job.”

a mere hum escaped your lips, cracked and burning, as you lay on the floor. the cold stone was refreshing against your skin.

above you, a singular eye that reeked of crushed blueberries and ocean waves stared down. kaeya let out a gloved hand to assist you, pulling you up from the ground. “you can go home now. rest up. we have work tomorrow.” the words were soft to the ears, and you could’ve sworn the small grin on your face grew thrice.

kaeya sat in his office, waiting for you to bring him his coffee for the morning as usual. however, when you stepped in, you wore an expression of slight uncertainty, playing it off with a nervous smile. “sorry. i didn’t know which drink you wanted, so i got green tea, since i heard from lisa that it’s good to have in the earlier hours of the day.”

the man furrowed his brow at the cup. the green liquid that sat peacefully inside the porcelain seemed mocking, almost. “now, i thought you knew i prefer earl gray? you’ve always been good at keeping these things in that pretty little head of yours.”

“ah, i must’ve forgotten — apologies. i’ll do better next time.” kaeya dismissed the apology, staring down at the drink confusedly. the soft green was a great contrast to the obsidian black he was used to. he chose to ignore it for now, sipping at the drink absentmindedly.

you carried on with the morning, dropping off papers for your captain to finish and greeting the other knights. kaeya did the same, sitting at his desk and scribbling away with his favorite pen. and yet, the interaction continued to linger at the back of his head, itching at his skull endlessly.

odd.

you watched as jean dismissed herself from the building. the eyebags scribed onto her features were prominent, yet familiar. you pitied her for the stress placed atop her shoulders.

the halls of the headquarters were now silent. however, through the wooden door, you could hear the rough scratches of pen against paper, the sound seemingly louder than the hum of air around you.

this had become routine. kaeya would drop you off at your house once he finished his paperwork, wish you farewell, and make his merry way over to the tavern. you found comfort in the way he complained about work on the way back ( despite this, he never thought twice about quitting his job ) and how he would question you about your day right before reaching your doorstep. he held a tone towards you that was akin to honey, to dandelion kisses that you would constantly indulge in. unbeknownst to him ( or maybe he did know, after all ), he had you wrapped around his finger with every glance, every word.

both of you approached the door, your hands reaching for your keys. kaeya prepared to turn around, only for your grip to reach the end of his sleeve.

“...please stay.”

the aloof smirk on his face melted into a softer smile. “anything for you, dearest.” he stepped through the doorway, his boots clicking against the wooden floorboards.

kaeya welcomed himself onto your couch, motioning for you to sit beside you. “so,” he muttered. “what’s making you crave my presence?”

“i don’t know.” the response elicited a chuckle out of him. “... ‘m not sure. there’s something comforting and warm about talking to you. i can’t place it.”

your voice was soft, something he relished ever so slightly. he knew exactly what you were saying. it was a shame you didn’t.

and it was a shame he didn’t feel the same.

either way, he chose to succumb to your personal fantasies, feeding into them slowly and tantalizingly. “i may feel the same way.”

for your sake, he told himself.

there was a silence. sickening and dreadful. it gnawed at you, sculpting away at your limbs as you stared at the wall in front of you. “pardon?” your voice reeked of hesitance. his

confession felt ethereal, misplaced. despite the hint of wariness, you followed the hums of the sirens.

“did i not speak clearly enough?”

you gulped, face igniting with flames that even the most violent of ocean waves couldn’t quell. of course, you heard him perfectly. you just couldn’t quite process it. months of pining and obsessing over a man you were supposed to only know as a superior in the knights led up to this very moment spent on the cushions of your couch.

the moonlight that bled through the curtains illuminated his face, however, you still couldn’t place just what was swimming in his eyes. there was no genuineness. but there weren’t any hints of foul play.

and so, you fell into his hands once more.

kaeya seemed to be at his wit’s end lately. and unfortunately, you seemed to be the cause of it.

the crows of the evening invaded your window sill as your supposed lover stood across from you, his brow furrowed intensely as he struck you with his gaze. sharp and cold. the same way he stared at his enemies, those who he despised. maybe, if you waited for the rain to come, for the droplets to wash over the sorrowful earth, it would rid the sour expression on his face. however, rain showers didn’t come in the summer, and instead you would have to deal with the beatings of the sun as it melted the golden melodies you held onto so dearly.

“what do you mean you forgot about it?” venom dripped from his tongue so quickly, slowly forming a stream, a waterfall of white hot anger bleeding through the cracks in his teeth.

“i’m sorry, i-“

“are you, though?”

were you?

it was equally shocking to you. at least, it was once he brought it up. you had promised

to care for kaeya so dearly, and that came with remembering events that were important to him. so why was it that you made other plans today, of all days?

he shifted his stance, transferring his weight to his opposite leg. “he died today. and you forgot,” he took a step towards you. “how dare you?”

there was nothing for you to hold onto as you suffered through kaeya’s wrath, merely

watching as he spiraled into his long forgotten hole of pain and guilt and hatred. what could you do, anyways? he would swat your hand away again. remind you that he didn’t need to rely on you constantly. that he was his own person, and he didn’t need you hovering over him like a mother.

he ran a hand through his hair, the ribbon that held it in the day falling loose. an apology slipped from his lips, watered and broken. before you could reply, he escaped into the depths of night, clicking the front door softly. a rumble grew in your ribcage as guilt crawled up your spine carefully. so, so carefully. you doubt you ever even felt it.

the bedroom door creaked open. yellow rays, soft and gentle, barely there, fell from the crack between the wood and the doorway, and along with them came the man you could barely place. without a word, he made his way into the bathroom, leaving behind no trace. something he did so often, too often.

his arrival caused the book in your lap to fall. you clasped your hands together as you waited. how long were you willing to sit still, to hold for him as he moved as fast or slow as he wanted to?

kaeya slumped onto the bed, his back facing you once more as he propped his elbows on his knees. no words were spoken. the clock ticks and the gentle breezes said everything instead.

just as quickly as he sat, he collapsed into the spot beside you, his legs dangling off of the edge. a singular eye burned into the ceiling, writing scripts that couldn’t be deciphered by even teyvat’s top scholars. a mystery. just as you’d known him to be. just what you’d admired.

the path, eventually, circled back to you, in your mildly bewildered state. scrambled arpeggios flooded the room, the yellow light banished to the hallway as you both basked in the darkness. it was so sickeningly calming. almost as if you hadn’t just pissed him off.

your hands sneaked away from one another, remnants of sweat left on your palms. you didn’t want to look at him. but you did. his eye reeled you in so tenderly. it was far too tempting. and so, you stared, you drunk in every bit of eye contact he spared you, every second spent of silent gazes. you relished in it. and you loved it.

kaeya sighed, lifting himself up from his spot and burying himself beneath the blankets, handing you the wondrous sight of his back for the umpteenth time. vermillion flames of sorrow engulfed your being as you hoped for just a few more seconds, he would give you his face instead.

the bed bore a familiar coldness that the pile of blankets and pillows couldn’t dare rival. sunlit dust filtered in through the window, cascading onto your skin as the sun crawled onto the horizon. this time, the ceiling was barren. empty. the writings kaeya bore into the wood just last night had been erased, gone.

or were they?

perhaps it was your eyes playing tricks on you. your lips parted as you searched through your head for the memory of his gaze, locked onto your own, only to end up with nothing. the image seemed to have slipped from your grasp, sinking through the lines in your fingers.

you needed answers — but unfortunately, work always came first.

the paperwork in front of you was long forgotten, what with the ghouls scratching at your mind and your head resting deep in your hands. your leg shook beneath the desk violently. and at just the right second, a hurried alchemist stepped through the door.

“i’m here to collect a few papers, but,” he spoke, catching his breath — presumably from running from the lab where timaeus and sucrose worked to the knights’ headquarters. “are you alright? you look as if you’re in a state of distress - not from your work.” he held a look of concern that was, surprisingly, genuine.

you cleared your throat, letting your arms rest on your lap. “ah, well... it seems i’ve forgotten about him. pieces of him, i mean. it’s quite frightening.”

albedo closed the door behind him softly to give you both some privacy. “really? how often does this happen?”

“...a little too often,” you spoke, giggling softly in an attempt to lighten the mood. however, it was clear that the sound was strained. “i don’t know. he’s slipping from my memory.” the man nodded, lips parting to speak whatever conclusion he came to.

“hm. this is quite a rare case — but existent nonetheless,” he began, leaning against the wall as he started to ramble on. “the name escapes me, but it’s a sickness in which a person who faces one sided love begins to slowly forget about the one they admire. a phenomenon, really. it’ll start off with smaller things such as favorite colors or their birthday, but it quickly evolves into much larger memories like special events or anniversaries. through this process, the victim’s heart begins to deteriorate and rot slowly. as of now, there’s a cure, but no one’s sure if it’s that safe, considering how infrequent this is.” albedo snapped out of his trance of words as he looks back towards you, only to see your lip quivering as dews start spilling from your eyes. “…ah, i didn’t mean to scare you in any way... i’ll take my leave now.” however, before he could open the door, your hand stopped him, grasping desperately onto the end of his sleeve.

“you know how to treat me, don’t you?” he nodded slowly. “please. i could care less about the consequences.”

a hum left his mouth before he left with a single word, “understood.”

if you didn’t continue on with this parade of white hot sorrows, you might as well drown.

the porcelain walls confined you with your thoughts. with your ashen knees bent up to your chest, scrunched up hands buried beneath the water, you’d laugh at just how pitiful you looked. there was a ticking in your skull. it was due to end, to explode if you didn’t get an answer. then again, would there truly be any honest answer? even albedo’s scientific concoctions couldn’t dare get a truthful word out of kaeya in this situation, absolutely not. he was a man of secrets, and frankly, you fell into his trap. the nights replayed in and out on your bed, the book on your lap long forgotten as you stared at your lover’s plastic back. the pages were tainted. stained. all because you were slowly losing memory of his face, constructed of caramel blessings and dulcet poetry. you could not scribble it on paper, nor explain it, nor conjure it up in the confines of your imagination.

perhaps this was a bad dream. a bad dream where his face had been ripped and scratched and marred beyond words. you couldn’t dare face it. couldn’t dare accept it.

and, even through the blemishes of your eyes, you admired him. through the white lines, you adored him, loved him, cherished him.

how stupid.

you had come around full circle. the water in the tub had gone lukewarm from just how long you were sitting and staring, drumming your fingers against the stone of the bath to an unnamed rhythm of disarray. you were not the most religious of people, however, you prayed to whatever god heard you first that he could hear your melancholic symphonies just as well. unfortunately, that much was humanly impossible, for the distance from the house to the tavern was simply too great. he wouldn’t care to listen, wouldn’t tune in to hear a mere note. so you had to deal with your raptures alone. in your tub. as always.

three months had, apparently, been enough time.

however, three months was nothing compared to the five years you spent suffering with kaeya alberich. the cause of your downfall.

you couldn’t remember when it happened, where it happened - but all you knew was that the man who supposedly lived with you loathed you beyond description. there was a fierce stare in his eyes. you oblivious to where it sprouted from, merely observing as he prodded at your bones with a gaze of steel.

eventually, you could barely recognize he was there.

the man in blue had molded his anger into despair. you no longer found yourself victim to his stares, to his stabs. he was looking everywhere but you. and you didn’t know why.

the day you snapped was the day you had been banished from the home completely.

his voice was distant, however, you picked up on tidbits as he explained the situation to albedo, the chief alchemist who worked down in the city. according to him, you had thrown a fit, an unsettleable rage the moment he stepped into the room, purely because you had taken him as a stranger, recognized him as an intruder. the most noticeable part, however, was the look of fear in his eyes. one that contrasted the horrific glares he set you for weeks on end.

and so, as you lay on the wooden table of albedo’s lab, awaiting his arrival, you prayed that the sunkissed man would come too. however, such wishes were those of a fool, a moron, a selfish person. after all, you weren’t sure which sunkissed man you were hoping for, couldn’t place a face to the thought anymore. instead lay a blob of mishapen limbs that haunted your mind as the hours passed. only one man came in, dressed in a lab coat that fit him just right. his presence, sadly, did nothing to soothe your mind.

albedo sat on a chair placed too close and too far to the table. he seemed to be writing so fervently, as if his life depended on it — or rather, yours. with a sigh, he stood up, tightening the gloves that adorned his hands just before standing above you. “are you sure?” he spoke in a gentle tone, one that calmed the crashing waves in your guts and sent the ghouls away.

“yes, of course.”

time was of the essence. the alchemist - although not too experienced in the field of surgery - managed to work around the rot and mold building up inside in a good amount of time, using whatever scientific creations he had at hand. your sleeping form was a rather horrifying sight, for he wasn’t sure if you were still there every few seconds.

soon enough, the gaping hole in your chest had been stitched up neatly, your body dressed up in a plain white gown that albedo had borrowed from sucrose. he slumped onto the floor, not caring for how bad his posture was at the moment. now came the waiting. he would wait for you to awaken, no matter how long that would be, because this was his job - and he was dedicated.

surprisingly enough, it wasn’t that much time until you rose from your spot. he was achingly close to passing out, however, his path to sleep was quickly interrupted as you sat up. “good morning,” you spoke, voice somewhat raspy. you stood up, walking towards the counter to get a drink. “care to explain why i’m in your lab and you’re on the verge of falling asleep?”

“ah... surgery. i’m not sure it’d be very pleasant to hear the cause.” you hummed in response. the soft echo of chatter rang in the hallway, tempting you to step out. “don’t go out yet,” the boy spoke, as if he read your thoughts. “you need to recover for a bit. plus, i don’t think it’d be very fitting to step out in that gown.”

“oops.”

you returned to the table, sitting on the edge and allowing for your bare feet to ghost against the wooden floor. the iron stench of blood was still somewhat present in the air. your blood, you assumed. fortunately, albedo was able to take your mind off of the smell with his ( sleepy ) small talk, reminding you that it wouldn’t be safe to head home just yet considering your state.

it was comforting. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel like a piece was missing.

the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered once more.

everything seemed to lack its color recently. you couldn’t place it, and it irritated you. however, even while you were stressing over how dull everything was, there was an airiness in your chest that you couldn’t place, couldn’t rip out and inspect. it fluttered so harshly, knotting around your limbs hastily.

perhaps it was because of that sunkissed man who offered to take you under his wing as a knight.

and so the cycle starts again.

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agentmarvel · 9 months

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König art (top left) by @ave661 - original art here

Divider by @trashmouth-richie

Summary: König leaves a letter for you as he departs on his latest mission.

Pairing: König x Reader

Word Count: 2,000

Inspired by: Stalker's Tango by Autoheart (listen here)

MDNI - 18+

Tags: Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Meet-Cute, Well... kinda, König is a stalker, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Author Has Never Played Call Of Duty, Yandere Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Alternative Reader, König is feral for goth girls and no one will change my mind, Barista!Reader, Non-Graphic Violence, Abuse of Google Translate tbh, Reader might be a little cuckoo too, Explicit Sexual Content, No use of y/n, No description of reader outside of outfit specifics

😈

Oh, mein Liebling, you truly have no idea how much I adore you.

I remember the day we met, don’t you? That’s right! Exactly one year ago today, in this very coffee shop. Feels like yesterday, does it not?

You were so sweet to me from the moment I walked in. I saw the concern in your eyes when I nearly hit my head on that silly little bell over the door. When I came up to the counter, your eyes widened just a little. I don’t think you quite realized just how much I tower over you. But that surprise quickly melted into a mile wide, saccharine smile.

There was such softness to your voice when you asked me what you could get started for me. I barely took a breath before you offered your recommendations. I ordered the one you seemed most excited about. The sugar buzz and little nickel and dime costs were so well worth the mirth in your eyes. You looked so excited to make it. How could I possibly say no?

You asked my name; I gave it to you.

"König?" you repeated, scribbling it on the cup. I cannot begin to describe what that did to me, my darling, the way you said my name so sweetly. "Isn't that German for 'king'?"

The fact that you knew - oh, mein Herz sei still! - nearly had me on my knees. Do you speak German, kleines? No matter, I will teach you anything you would like. You will have plenty of time to learn.

You waited so patiently for me to nod, to tell you that was correct. I could see it in your eyes that you so desperately craved that validation. As soon as you got it, those expressive eyes of yours, even with all that dark make-up, lit up like an explosion. I could practically see the little hearts floating around your head. Your smile got so big, and I knew at that moment that you had me caught in your web.

Crafty, meine kleine Spinne, not often that I am the fly instead of the spider.

Then you turned around, that cute little skirt flaring just enough for me to see those fishnet stockings beneath. I swear, my heart skipped a beat. Jumped right out of my chest. Maybe that’s when you stole it, hmm?

Of no consequence. It is yours now.

Somehow, I do not feel you are told often enough, but mein gott, you are beautiful. The way the sunlight reflects off your pretty skin, the soft line of your jaw, every curve and dip of your body, each little freckle and scar and pore; I love everything about you. Every inch of you, head to toe, is worthy of worship. Will you let me worship you, my love?

I promise to treat you like the deity you truly are. I will gladly work my fingers down to bone to carve marble statues in your likeness, write every word you speak to me in the night sky, paint your beauty on canvas with my own blood if I have to, anything to show you how I crave being near you.

You’re all I think about, little darling. My first thought when I wake, my last thought before I sleep. It keeps getting harder to be away from you, even for something as important as my work. The frequency with which I must leave you sickens me at times. It kills me to be away from you. But I make due with your pretty pictures.

I have a few on my phone, little candids while you work or when you’re lost in your favorite show, but I keep two very special photos in the pocket of my vest - right over my heart so I always have you close.

The first one is you curled up on the bed, fast asleep. I’ve memorized every inch of your bare spine, the way your arms curl beneath your pillow, the way the satin sheets encase you with such enticing detail. I doubt you know I took the picture. It was the middle of the night during the spring, and you were so exhausted from your work day. I swear, I can still hear those precious little snores every time I look at it.

The other, however, is exponentially less tasteful, hübsche Spinne. Similar position, on your stomach with your knee pushed out to the side, but you threw the sheets off that summer night. Too hot for your poor, perfect body. Stripped down to nothing to stave off the heatwave. If only you would have asked me to fix your air conditioner instead of waiting for your landlord.

From across the room, by aid of the moonlight through your open window, I could see that pretty little cunt. I could see how wet you were. Fuck, you were soaked for me. Sweet little hole just begging to be stuffed full. I needed a little taste, needed to touch you. So I just ran my finger through your messy lips. Nearly lost control when I licked you off the tip. I’ve never been so fucking hard in my life, never wanted anyone so badly, struggling to fight the urge to bury my face in between your thighs, to force my tongue, fingers, anything inside you. Show you how perfect you really are.

But I stopped myself, kleines. I would never want to hurt you in any way you did not ask for. We both know you can’t take my cock without proper foreplay. Instead, I stood as close to you as I could and fucked my fist, biting down on one the t-shirts from your bedroom floor until I came.

(I’ll give that shirt back soon, love. I know it’s one of your favorites, and you’ve been looking for it for months.)

That’s the picture - my spend dripping between your cheeks, my cock dangling just inches from your pretty pussy. Almost right where it belongs, ja? I’ll let you have it all as soon as I get home to you. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darling; soon, we’ll never be apart again.

Oh, the things we will do when I come home… We will have months worth of lost time to make up for, though I cannot say why I will be gone so long. I am sure you understand.

We can start with movies, yes? I want you to show me all your favorites. Play me the things that make you laugh, show me what makes you cry (fuck, you are so pretty when you cry, do you know that?), teach me about the things that feed your nightmares so that I may chase them away for you.

What next? Music? Yes, music. You have a vast taste, don’t you? I could sit with you for hours listening to your favorite playlist. I have done so on many occasions, but to hold you, to dance with you, that would be ideal. You can choose our first dance, but choose wisely, mein Schatz, because I will not forget it. May just be our first dance on our wedding day, too.

I did not get a chance to tell you before this, but do you remember that little bar we went to? The one with the live music? You did not see me there, but I saw you. I also, unfortunately, saw the boisterous little gnat that tried to cozy up to you a few times. He would not take no for an answer, would he? Kept pestering you and trying to take you home with him, but no, not you, not my venomous little spider. Mein gutes Mädchen, you shot him down so quickly so many times. You are so well-behaved, even when you do not know I am there.

He will never bother you again, I assure you. I handled the situation after you left that night with my favorite knife. Ruined a perfectly good shirt, but I kept it for you in case you ever need a reminder of the lengths to which I will go to keep you safe.

Do not worry, it’s been washed. There are just some stubborn stains that refuse to come out.

Unfortunately, I must go. I’ve re-written this letter so many times to try to make it perfect for you, but it would seem I have run out of time. It will not be long before I return to you, my darling girl. Please, take care. I will see you soon enough.

All my love,

König

P.S. I hope you enjoy this little care package I have put together for you. Take an evening to pamper yourself for me before I come home. Ich liebe dich, meine Spinne ♡

You look at the letter in your hand, black ink stamped and splattered and smeared by the key strikes of a typewriter. The envelope taunts you from the countertop, boasting your name with flourish. Your heart is racing as it lodges itself inside your throat. You try to swallow around the lump that’s formed, but it only spurs tears.

There’s no surprise in the fact that you know exactly who sent this. He’s outrageously tall, broad shouldered, jacked as shit, and always wears a ballcap and a neoprene mask that hides the lower half of his face. You’ve only ever seen his eyes - those intense, wide blue eyes that you swear are glued to you at all times.

It’s involuntary and upon pure instinct (or perhaps morbid curiosity) that you grab the box and rip the wrapping paper off. The edges of the tape sealing the top are wrinkled enough for you to dig a nail under to peel it back, and immediately, the scent of a musky cologne hits you. It’s strangely pleasant, despite the fact that you can see something beneath the first layer of tissue paper that’s a deep red-brown. Your heart drops from your throat to the pit of your stomach as you lift the paper away.

A beige t-shirt, covered in blood stains, sits in your grasp. There’s a small tear in the collar. It smells a lot better than you’d expected, but still, a wave of nausea hits you. Gently, you hold the fabric up in front of you. A shirt that size would swallow you, reach your mid-thigh at minimum, so it’s certainly not your missing one.

Something falls from the shirt as it unfolds, a dull thud sounding off the laminate counter. It’s another box, a small one, that opens with little to no effort. Inside sits a knife with a fixed blade bearing an inscription: Ich liebe dich - I love you.

That same morbid curiosity gets the best of you, and you can’t stop yourself from looking inside the small box again. Beneath one more layer of tissue paper, you find three things: two pairs of panties you thought you had been eaten by your dryer (filthy, unwashed, and now covered in multiple questionable white stains) and another envelope. Your hands shake as you toss said panties back in the box and tear through the top of the seal. There’s cash inside, quite a lot of it. Suddenly the pampering comment makes sense.

Blankly, you place the knife box, the envelope, and the t-shirt back inside the box, folding in the flaps so nothing falls back out.

Tears sting the corners of your eyes. It’s terrifying to feel this way, and your mind is running a million miles per hour. Hundreds of thoughts are flooding your brain while thousands more sit in the recesses, but none of them will settle enough to be coherent. Why did he choose you? How long had he been watching you? How did he get into your home? Is he inside your head, too?

You’ll have to find a way to thank him for such thoughtful gifts when he comes home. Turns out your feelings for him aren’t quite as unrequited as you thought, hmm?

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig #könig cod #stalker romance #jj writes #mind the tags y'all #könig mw2 #könig imagine #könig fanfiction

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him-x-her · 23 days

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Vee is For Vampires - Chapter 4: I am scared to death to fall in love.

Author: @sinnysioux AO3: SinnySioux Vamp!Ville x f!reader Warnings: Definite smut. 18+ Read on AO3 Previous Chapter ❥ Next Chapter ❥ Fic Masterlist

My body awakens at seven in the morning. I open my eyes to the audacity of the bright sunlight and realise I forgot to draw my curtains. As soon as my mind wanders to last night I smile brightly, bury my face in my duvet and giggle like a teenager. I look down to see Ville’s black V neck shirt on me and reach down to smell the fabric. It smells like his signature woody scent… and berries? I feel warm and comforted and for a moment consider never taking it off.

I think about the way he kissed and healed my palm, the way he stroked my hair as I sobbed into his chest, and his velvety accent. I try to remember the phrase he used but my mind is foggy. Rakatang? Rakusan? I type it into Google Translate to no avail. Damn Finnish boyfriend.

I pause.

Boyfriend? Do I really have a vampire boyfriend? Who heals my wounds with the blood on his tongue? Whose singing and guitar-playing speak directly to my vagina? I shiver and think about him trying to unbutton my jeans with his teeth. I take these thoughts to the shower and run my hands all over my body, wishing they were his. I was incredibly strong to resist him last night, but if he touches me tonight I am DONE.

I towel try my hair and begin my skincare routine when my phone begins to ring. Fuck, it’s work. I swallow hard, bring the phone to my ear and answer. “Vicky, hi…”

My boss, Vicky, begins her tirade of questions: “Where were you? What happened? Why didn’t you call?”. I resist the temptation to tell her to shove her shitty office job and make up a lie about a car collision, concussion and hospitalisation. I tell her I feel shaky on my feet and have a bit of double vision. It’s Tuesday and we agree that I should remain off work for the rest of the week, with the view to return on Monday. I end the call and my beaming smile returns.

I wonder where he will take me on our date. I wonder if he will sing to me again. I wonder if he will make me scream… with pleasure, this time.

I decide to spend the day shopping. I want to look irresistible; and I want to make him sweat. I decide on a manicure and pedicure. I sit with my feet in the warm foot spa, feeling relaxed and calm. A woman a couple of seats over is having a loud animated conversation in another language on her phone. I roll my eyes.

“Rakastan sinua, heippa!” I freeze. I look over and see the woman is getting a pedi too.

“Excuse me… were you speaking Finnish?” I ask shakily.

“Yes! Do you know Finnish?” she asks, excited.

“No but… I heard you say, um, rakastan? If that’s right? Can you tell me what it means?” I hold my breath.

“Oh, yeah! It means ‘I love you’!” My eyes widen

“…w-what?” My facial expression concerns her.

“Are you okay? Do you need some water?” I feel bad for worrying her.

“It’s okay, it’s uh, it’s just… my Finnish boyfriend said this to me last night.” I blush and feel my face warm with the heat.

“Aww, he loves you! That’s sweet!” My pedicurist returns with multiple shades for me to pick from and I am grateful for the distraction as I process what I have just learned. I type ‘I love you’ into Google Translate and the Finnish translation comes up as ‘Minä rakastan sinua’. I’m certain these were his words last night. Oh my god. I can’t help but type “I love you too” into the translator, as my pedicurist paints my toenails the dark red gel colour I selected.

I walk around the shopping centre in a daze, thinking about what to wear. I see a simple bodycon dress in deep red in the Zara window. I go inside, purchase it and leave within a grand total of six minutes. I check my phone and see that I still have a few hours so I hop on the tube and swing by Agent Provocateur. I’m a little out of my element, having not had sex for over a year. I am immensely grateful to the saleswoman who asks me if I need help.

“Um… I need a black lace set that will make my gothic boyfriend worship the ground I walk on”, she laughs and directs me towards three different lines. I end up purchasing a black lace demi cup bra, with extra straps above the cups, giving the set a bit of a harness feel. I also choose the matching french knickers. If he wants to treat me like a goddess, I want to make sure I’m dressed like one.

…

Back at home, I hook my phone up to my Bluetooth speaker and play a little music as I put on my makeup. A dark red lip, obviously, and a subtle winged eyeliner. I style my hair into loose waves. I’m dressed and ready, and I like what I see in the mirror. I have a good feeling about tonight, and I sing and dance around my apartment to Miss Murder by AFI. My tight dress and stiletto heels make me feel like my own Miss Murder, and I giggle to myself. There is a knock at my door and I quickly turn the music off.

Bracing myself, I open the door. Ville’s mouth is agape as he takes me in. I bite my lip as I scan his body, his outfit, his HAIR. True to his word, Ville has left his hats at home, and treated me to his beautiful brown curls which fall to his neck. He’s wearing his converse, of course, skinny jeans and a crisp black satin shirt. Half of the buttons are undone, teasing part of one of his portrait tattoos. His long shirt sleeves are rolled up to the forearm, teasing his thorn tattoo sleeve. I try to ignore the arousal I feel between my legs as I watch his gaze rise from my heels, to my hips, to my chest, to my eyes. We both hesitate for a moment.

“You look absolutely breathtaking”, Ville breathes, as I blush.

“You look… good enough to eat”, I wink. His laughter cuts the tension and he takes my hand in his large palm as I close the apartment door and step into the cool night.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to hold back my excitement.

“I thought I’d take you out to dinner, and the rest is a mystery”, he smirks.

“Hmph!” I complain.

“Let’s see where the night takes us, my love.” My heart stops as he mutters the L word; as we come to a stop beside a BMW with a driver in front. I get into the back of the car with him and we hold hands.

Ville compliments my outfit, removes his hand from mine and places it on my thigh, lovingly. I try to contain my lust, as I think about climbing on top of him in the back of this goddamn BMW.

“I could’ve sent you a photo, but I realise we haven’t even exchanged numbers” I say, regretfully. We remedy this by saving each other’s numbers in our phones. “Now you’ve got to send me a selfie in your coffin” I laugh.

“I actually have one, you know!” he joins in the laughter, and everything feels lighter. The world seems insignificant when we are together and enjoying each others company. Of course I correctly predict it is a black coffin with a deep red velvet lining. My gothic vampire boyfriend is nothing if not predictable in his tastes.

“Are we okay talking about this… in front of.. y’know?” I gesture towards our driver.

“Oh, yes, of course. Elias has worked for my family for years. I could learn to drive, but I much prefer being a passenger princess”, he grins.

“And what a beautiful princess you are!” I laugh.

“Not as beautiful as you” he says, earnestly, and lifts my hand to kiss it. I melt into him and we snuggle together in the backseat.

…

We stop outside a restaurant. It seems to be fully built with glass. It is entirely transparent and I can see spotlights and Japanese blossom trees as decor. I make a mental note to have a little photoshoot with a blossom tree later. We exit the car and walk inside. We are greeted and taken to a booth in the corner of the restaurant. I takes me a moment to realise we are the only diners here. “Wow, this place is so empty” I observe.

“I hired it out for the evening; I figured this would make us both more comfortable” he smiles.

“Ville… that must have cost a fortune” I say, wondering how he can afford such wealth yet remain so humble.

“I was in a semi-successful band, remember? Please don’t worry about money.” He reassures me. We order some Japanese sushi and gyozas for starters. I order a glass of white wine to settle my nerves; Ville orders a beer. We get to know each other more in-depth.

Ville tells me he was in a band called HIM, short for His Infernal Majesty, and that the majority of his songs are about romance and heartbreak. I put a note of his band in my phone and make a mental note to check them out on Spotify tomorrow. He places his large hands palms facing up on the table and I follow his silent command, placing my smaller hands in his. He traces little circles on my skin with his thumbs, and I begin to feel relaxed and open. We talk about relationships and Ville tells me his last girlfriend left him when he became a vampire.

“I don’t think she really liked me as much as she liked the idea of dating someone in a band.” My heart aches for him momentarily, but then I remember.

“Her loss is my gain”, I smile brightly.

“No” says Ville “It’s my gain. I am incredibly lucky to be sitting here with you.” I blush furiously when he asks about my previous relationships.

“I’ve dated a few guys, nothing serious. I think a couple of them were more into themselves than into me. It’s difficult to date in your thirties” I say, embarrassed.

“I don’t understand why a man fortunate enough to be in your presence wouldn’t worship the ground you walk upon.” He says, seriously.

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve never really found my type. It’s not like any of them knew how to make a woman orgasm.” Oh god, why did I say that? I look down and pray for the ground to swallow me whole.

Ville squeezes my hands, “If you’ll let me, I will not rest until you have the mind blowing orgasm you deserve.” I look up and am completely consumed in his shiny, green eyes. I press my thighs together under the table instinctively, afraid of getting aroused too quickly.

Our food arrives and I notice Ville picks at his plate but doesn’t really eat. “Is it okay?” I ask.

“It’s fine” says Ville “I fed before I came, just in case, and food is… it’s alright, but it doesn’t really satisfy me the way blood does” he says.

“I guess that makes sense” I say diplomatically.

“Besides…” whispers Ville, “I’ve been hungry for something else since my shirt was cruelly stolen”. I both laugh and blush, unsure of what to say, but certain of one thing: if he initiates sex, I will be completely unable to refuse.

“Was Vampire Heart about your ex?” I ask inquisitively.

“In part, yes” he sighs “but a lot of people shunned me when it happened. I lost a lot of people I love through stupid, reckless decisions. I turned my whole band into vampires, against their will. I was lucky they did not kill me, to be honest, although they’ve promised they will if I step foot in Finland again”. A moment of silence passes as he feels sorry for himself.

“Oh, Ville…” remembering his promise to take me to Finland, I am disappointed for both of us.

As if he can read my mind, Ville responds “I will still take you to Finland, though. It’s a beautiful country and, to be frank, I miss my parents.” How sweet.

“Um, Ville… before we continue, I need to ask you something” he nods cautiously. “Can you read my mind?”

He suppresses an obnoxious laugh and instead giggles silently. “No… I can’t read your mind. I can, however, read emotions and intentions. For example, I think both of us are having a hard time repressing a great deal of lust” he grins. The blood rushes to my cheeks instantly and I flush; I am sure the embarrassment is all over my face. “I’m sorry, perhaps I should have phrased things more tactfully.” He says, regretfully.

“No, it’s okay” I sigh “If I can’t hide my feelings in front of you, then I’m not going to waste my energy trying to” I smile.

A waitress comes to take our mains order but Ville is not hungry, so I order a green tea instead. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat?” He asks, worried.

“I’ve eaten”, I reassure him “Also, I’m sure you and your intuition know that I’m hungry for something else”, I lower my eyes and blush.

“You temptress” grins Ville. Underneath the table, I run my ankle up the inside of his thigh.

His hand grips my ankle as his emerald eyes stare straight into my soul. “Behave, baby, unless you want me to fuck you right here on this table.” I do as I’m told, the dam between my legs threatening to break. He pays the bill and takes my hand, leading me back to the car.

Ville whispers something to Elias and then leans back, his arm around my waist. He thumbs my chin with his free hand and tilts my face to his to deliver a sweet kiss. I run my tongue across his lip, requesting permission for access. He obliges and we kiss passionately; my starving tongue desperate for his. I place a hand on his knee and gently travel upward, stroking, massaging. I get to the top of his thigh when his strong hand grabs mine and he sighs.

“Patience, darling. Not here.” I pout and sit back in my seat, arms folded, aware that I am being dramatic. He laughs, “We’re going to have to do something about that attitude… and I know just the thing” he winks.

“You’re so meeaan” I whine.

“No, I just want it to be perfect. I promise you it will be.” He strokes my cheek and I close my eyes and sigh, making yet another mental note, this time to stop throwing myself at him.

The car pulls up and we get out at the Thames embankment. “I thought we could go for a romantic stroll, as long as you promise not to push me in for telling you to behave…” I laugh out loud.

“Well, I can’t make any promises”, I chide, trying my best to look innocent. We walk along the river and talk about Finland and Ville’s family. I learn that he has a brother called Jesse who’s really into film making, and has directed a couple of HIM videos.

“What do your parents do?” I ask curiously.

“Oh god!” says Ville, hiding his face with his hands.

“What??” I implore.

Ville looks up. “My mum is into dressmaking, more as a hobby than a business, and my dad… uh, he owns a sex shop in Helsinki.”

I blink. “I’m sorry, what?” Ville laughs nervously.

“Yeah, I worked there as a teenager, I’ve seen a lot of really bad pornos”. I am not sure what to say. “It’s a good thing… I think… it made me realise that I dislike porn, mostly. I’m not into any weird fetishes. I think sex should be sacred, passionate, gentle, personal… I mean, I’m not opposed to using a cock ring” he laughs “but porn takes the magic out of it, if that makes sense”. This man is a literal treasure.

“It does make sense” I agree “So much of porn is just… misogynistic and violent. It takes the love out of making love, I guess…”

“Exactly” he smiles. We hold hands until we get to a darker part of the embankment. “Trust me” says Ville, and we walk up a small hill. The trek is treacherous in my stilettos but Ville has a tight grip on my waist. We reach a little clearing with a beautiful view of the Thames.

Ville sits on the ground; I hesitate. “Sit on my lap, to save sullying your beautiful dress”. I blush for the millionth time tonight and do as he says, my back against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and we watch the boats go by, illuminating the water.

“I like it here” Ville says, “It’s dark enough so if you look up, you can see the stars”. I look up and sure enough the night sky is sparking with stars. I feel at peace.

“Ville… I think this is the most perfect and romantic first date I’ve ever had… thank you”. He smiles proudly.

“No, thank you for giving me a chance. You are more of a wonder than all of the stars in the sky.” I twist and he nuzzles his face into my chest. I run my fingers through his hair as we hold each other and embrace the night.

…

As we walk back to the car, Ville slips a vape pen from his pocket and inhales deeply. “Ah, that explains the berries!” I smile.

“What?” asks Ville.

“You’ve moved on to vaping?” I question.

“Yeah, someone smart told me that cigarettes would kill me” he winks.

“Well, that was before I knew you were undead!” I roll my eyes.

Back in the car, Ville wraps his arms around me to warm me; my skin chilly from walking around without a jacket. Elias stops the car outside Ville’s home. Ville gets out, walks round the back of the car, and opens my door, extending his hand. I let him lead me inside, just like last time…

Once inside, I let go of him and drape myself on the chaise longue, giggling. Ville looks at me curiously. “I just wanted to see if I matched the decor!” I laugh, swinging my legs to a seated position.

Ville takes my hand to help me up and presses his forehead to mine. “Let’s see if you match my bedsheets” he smiles wickedly, with a hint of hunger in his eyes. I know that my pretty underwear is already soaking.

He leads me up the stairs to his ornate red and black room. My heart begins to beat rapidly and I’m sure he can hear it. “I have no expectations”, says Ville “I just want to spend time with you. There is no pressure to do or to say anything, okay?” He senses my fear. The vampire rockstar has probably slept with so many beautiful women that I would pale in comparison.

My alcohol-fuelled confidence has all but worn off. “Ville… do you think you could maybe… play me a song?” I ask pathetically.

“I was hoping you would ask.” A wide grin spreads across Ville’s face. “I have the perfect one.” I kick off my heels and get myself comfortable on his bed, my back against the headboard, my ass on his pillow. Ville grabs his guitar and sits on the end of the bed, facing me. He pulls off his converse and crosses his legs, tuning his guitar whilst I sit patiently, my legs to one side. He looks into my eyes, demands my attention, and sings directly into my soul:

In the biblical sense and sensibility

Let me know you

I'll kiss that smile off your face

Just say when

I'm not afraid to say "I love you"

Any more than I used to be baby, I am scared to death

To fall in love (with you)

All these pick-up lines from hell

Icebreakers infernal

From a heart so black and blue

Only for you

Just say when again

I'm not afraid to say, "I love you"

Any more than I used to be, babe

I am scared to death

I am scared to death to fall in love with you

With you

I'm not afraid to say, "I love you."

Anymore than I used to be, babe

I am scared to death

I am scared to death to fall in love

I'm not afraid to admit I adore you

Any more than I was before baby, I am scared to death

To fall in love with you

With you

I'm scared to death

And you're sweet like poison

Tears well in my eyes as he sings his love song, unwavering, only for me. In a swift motion I kneel in front of Ville on the bed, and take his face in both of my palms. Shakily I say “Minäkin rakastan sinua”.

His eyes widen, shocked, amazed “You…” he trails off.

I smile as the tears make their way down my face. “I love you too, baby. Always.” He shoves his guitar off the bed and kneels to meet me, kissing me deeply, lapping at my tongue with his.

He moves his fingers quickly, unbuttoning his shirt, yanking it over his shoulders. I let my hands glide over his smooth chest, enjoying the feel of his cool skin. Ville moves his large hands to my back, running them up and down until he finds the zip and pulls. He leans forward, forcing me down into his sheets; before I know it, his body is atop mine. His cool hands glide up my legs, seductively squeezing until he reaches the top of my thighs under my dress.

With both thumbs, he circles my clitoris through my lace panties. I cry out, releasing the pent up frustration. Ville moans “So wet, baby. So ready for me.” I sigh. “Let me taste you” he purrs, and moves his head between my legs. His tongue tasting my love through the gaps in the lace. I cry out again, arching my back at the way he tortures me. I move to rip my panties down my legs but he grabs both of my wrists and pins them either side of my head.

“Oh no, baby, I plan on taking my time.” He continues to torture and tease. With a solitary finger he moves my panties aside and dives between my lips with his tongue. I throw my head back and moan as he feasts on the nectar between my thighs; I grasp his hair between my fingers and pull as my muscles tense. His tongue moves to flick up and down over my clit as he penetrates me with a finger. I begin to writhe underneath him. He adds a second finger and I start to lose it.

“Don’t stop!” I pant as I rock backwards and forward desperately fucking his fingers. I whimper as he stops abruptly and moves his fingers to my mouth; I suck them hungrily as he closes his eyes and moans. I push him forward to sit up, and lift my dress up and over my head.

Ville stares at my body in my new lingerie set “Vitun kaunis!” he says with smouldering eyes. I don’t know what it means, but I know he approves. I reach out to run my fingers down his chest, until I reach his belt buckle. I undo it furiously, deliberately slipping my fingers between his boxers and skin. He bites his lower lip, holding back, allowing me control. He slips off the bed to pull his jeans off. He stands before me in his boxers, his arousal desperately trying to escape from its confines. I climb off the bed and kneel in front of him, using my fingertips to roll his waist band down until the beast is free. I gasp at the sheer size of him and imagine the sweet pain it will likely bring me. I swirl around his perfectly pink head with my tongue, sucking him gently. As he moans I look up, taking in the picture of his face when he is pleasured. I use my hand to pull and push, slowly to start off with and then faster. His fingers make their way into my hair, desperately pushing, forcing his cock further down my throat. I oblige to his noisy request, deepthroating his cock as far as it will go. My gag reflex activates and my eyes begin to water as I service him.

“Stop!” He gasps, and I heed his request, breathing the air back into my lungs. “I don’t want to cum too early, babe, not without being inside you.” I feel faint; this man is going to kill me. He guides me back to the bed and climbs on top of me, gliding his smooth, warm cock from my clit to my vaginal entry, teasing, but not going in. By this point, my breasts have made their way out of their demi cups. Ville hungrily circles a nipple with his tongue, sucking and biting me gently. I moan loudly and arch my back as he pleasures me completely, moving to the other nipple. He presses his body to mine and I dig my nails into his back, enjoying the foreplay, but ready for the main event. I push at him to roll over, and straddle his waist. I remove my bra and position the head of his dick at my entry way. I slide down his thick pole gradually, moaning as his large cock presses against my walls, stretches me, and forces its way into me.

Once he is in, I lean forward and rest my palms either side of Ville’s head; his eyes are at chest level. “Vittu minua, baby” he whispers hoarsely.

“What?” I whisper.

“FUCK me!” he moans and strikes my ass aggressively with his palm. I shiver with pleasure and oblige, grinding into him deeply.

I moan loudly as I move up and down him; his teeth pinch at the skin of my neck, leaving sweet strawberry marks. I whimper as he claims me, brands me; I am his. He continues thrusting from below as my walls begin to tighten rhythmically. I succumb noisily to my explosive orgasm; as he follows suit, emptying himself inside me.

I collapse on top of him, panting, trying to catch my breath. He buries his face in my neck and wraps his strong arms around my weakened frame. “That was fucking amazing, baby.”

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

#ville valo fanfic #ville valo x reader #HIM fanfic #vv fanfic #vv x reader #VV #HIM

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cleolinda · 1 year

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Varney the Vampire: Chapter 14

Chapter 13: Interview with the vampyre

This is a short chapter and also a good one. If you were a fan of Henry Bannerworth Knowing That He Is In Dracula, this is the chapter for you.

I'm going to tag this "cannibalism" for real-life reasons, and also "unreality" because I want to talk about an aspect of fiction that might not be great for you if you don't feel like you're on solid ground. I mean, if people are using that tag for Goncharov, this is the high-octane stuff.

Chapter XIV.

HENRY'S AGREEMENT WITH SIR FRANCIS VARNEY. -- THE SUDDEN ARRIVAL AT THE HALL. -- FLORA'S ALARM.

To catch you up, the Bannerworth family's new neighbor has offered to buy Bannerworth Estate, since the family obviously will not want to live there now that a mysterious vampyre is harassing them by night. Upon arriving at the neighbor's house, Henry Bannerworth discovers that said neighbor: is the fucking vampyre. Like just chilling there, in a dim room, vampyring. Henry promptly starts having a very apparent breakdown, all while his kinda-uncle Marchdale is like, "Shhhhh, Henry, it's rude to tell people they're vampyres."

I. Still interviewing the vampyre

The unnamed servant brings the unnamed refreshments that Sir Francis has called for—unnamed but for "a glass of wine."

"You take nothing yourself?" said Henry. "I am under a strict regimen," replied Varney. "The simplest diet alone does for me, and I have accustomed myself to long abstinence." "He will not eat or drink," muttered Henry, abstractedly.

I grew up with the impression, and you may have too, that vampires specifically don't like wine, but why? I spent way too long googling this without getting a solid answer, as you will remember from our Public Domain Wine Dot Com digression. But I have finally learned that the "I never drink......... wine" thing was not in Stoker's Dracula, nor anything before it; much the way that Nosferatu (1922) introduced the concept of sunlight crisping vampires, it was the Balderston-Deane play adaptation (1924) that introduced the line, which was then adapted by Tod Browning for the screen (1931):

youtube

Both the line as written and Bela Lugosi's delivery put an outsized emphasis on it being wine. He could have been saying he didn't drink coffee after dinner. I'm spending an hour on google trying to figure out if it has anything to do with communion wine—nope. It ain't blood. That's all. As Henry points out, Varney doesn't eat or drink, period, and that's the underlying premise here. Because, you know. He's dead. That is the story that James Malcolm Rymer has going at this point in time, and he might or might not stick with it.

I'll wrap this segment up by noting that Henry is absolutely sure that the painting and the person are the same, because they both bear "the mark or cieatrix [a transcriber mistyped cicatrix?] of a wound in the forehead, which the painter had slightly indented in the portrait, but which was much more plainly visible on the forehead of Sir Francis Varney." A cicatrix—[sic]atrix?—is just a scar. The dude has a telltale scar.

II. Will u sell the house tho

Varney still has real estate on his mind (one wonders if this gave Stoker any ideas):

"I cannot yet," answered Henry, "I will think. My present impression is, to let you have it on whatever terms you may yourself propose, always provided you consent to one of mine." "Name it." "That you never show yourself in my family." "How very unkind. I understand you have a charming sister, young, beautiful, and accomplished. Shall I confess, now, that I had hopes of making myself agreeable to her?"

NOOOOOOOOO

This is already bad for both Flora and her devoted Charles Holland, obviously, but you have to remember that Varney was inspired by the template of Polidori's Lord Ruthven, who was, pop-culturally, the Dracula of his time. And (SPOILER), the way the story ends is that Our Hero Aubrey is unable to prevent Lord Ruthven, who he has discovered to be a vampyre, from marrying, murdering, and vampyring his sister:

When on the staircase, Lord Ruthven whispered in his ear—"Remember your oath, and know, if not my bride to day, your sister is dishonoured. Women are frail!"

That is to say, in the context of 1819 rather than the consumptive Victorian "angel of the house" trope, morally "frail": the unnamed sister was willing to have premarital sex with Ruthven. Meanwhile, Aubrey has a literal rage stroke and is unable to tell anyone what Ruthven is, until after the marriage has been solemnized. These are the actual final lines of the story:

Aubrey's weakness increased; the effusion of blood produced symptoms of the near approach of death. He desired his sister's guardians might be called, and when the midnight hour had struck, he related composedly what the reader has perused—he died immediately after. The guardians hastened to protect Miss Aubrey; but when they arrived, it was too late. Lord Ruthven had disappeared, and Aubrey's sister had glutted the thirst of a VAMPYRE!

Welp. We're gonna need to call in some wellness checks on Henry, I think. But notice that we are in the 1840s—the Victorian era—now, and Flora has thoroughly been coded as both pure (to possibly a racist degree) and physically frail (except for when she's blasting vampyres). We are assured over and over that Flora is the very soul of goodness, and entirely worthy of that paragon of manhood, Charles Holland. I think the two of them might be in for some trouble, but it won't be "moral" temptation. Probably.

"You make yourself agreeable to her? The sight of you would blast her for ever, and drive her to madness." "Am I so hideous?" "No, but -- you are -- " "Hush, Henry, hush," cried Marchdale. "Remember you are in this gentleman's house."

Marchdale manages to drag Henry away before he can insult the vampyre who wants to continue stalking Henry's sister any further, because that would just be uncouth.

"Adieu," said Sir Francis Varney, and he made one of the most elegant bows in the world, while there came over his face a peculiarity of expression that was strange, if not painful, to contemplate.

Peculiar in what way? I have filed this away for later.

III. Coping: not even once

"Marchdale, it would be charity of some one to kill me."

"This man, Varney, is a vampyre." "Hush! hush!"

"I tell you, Marchdale," cried Henry, in a wild, excited manner, "he is a vampyre. He is the dreadful being who visited Flora at the still hour of midnight, and drained the life-blood from her veins. He is a vampyre. There are such things. I cannot doubt now. Oh, God, I wish now that your lightnings would blast me, as here I stand, for ever into annihilation, for I am going mad to be compelled to feel that such horrors can really have existence."

Honestly, I think half the problem is Marchdale telling him to shut up and not rock the boat. Everyone would feel a lot better if they could just gear up, ride out, and—

"Nay, talk not to me. What can I do? Shall I kill him? Is it not a sacred duty to destroy such a thing? Oh, horror -- horror. He must be killed -- destroyed -- burnt, and the very dust to which he is consumed must be scattered to the winds of Heaven. It would be a deed well done, Marchdale."

—yeah, that.

But how do you just go do that? This isn't Count Dracula, who lives in a spooky abbey and then flees home to his spooky castle and gets dealt with there. This is a dude who's going around the neighborhood being friendly and asking to buy estates. He's got servants, he's throwing around money on properties, he's trying to court your sister. How do you just go in and murderate him? What if, somehow, he's not a vampyre, and you were Extremely Mistaken the whole time, and now you're on trial for homicide?

Two examples from my taste in television come to mind:

One is the Hammersmith Ghost episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crime, in which a man decided to go hunt down and shoot a Boo Ghost™ harassing a district of London in 1804. It ended with one Francis Smith on trial for the murder of a bricklayer who happened to be wearing an unfortunate amount of white. I am sure Smith absolutely believed he was shooting a real ghost, right up until it became tragically apparent that the ghost hadn't already been dead.

The other one is the FASCINATING "Hunting Vampires" episode of Expedition Unknown, in which Josh Gates visits rural Romania to get scared by a cat and talk to a man who actually... well. Let me quote the fan wiki (content note: technically necrocannibalism?):

The next day, Josh meets Petra Rotar, a local journalist, and they drive to Craiova where they meet Daniela Barbu, a prosecutor. She had to charge six men who desecrated and exhumed the grave of Petre Toma. After Petre died villagers began to get sick and have nightmares with Petre in them. Six men went to the cemetery and pulled out Petre's heart, grilled it and prepared a potion from the ashes and everybody who was sick drank it. The villagers' jail term was suspended […] . Petra and Josh go to Marotinu de Sus and to the cemetery where they find Petre Toma's grave. Two angry villagers come but they are able to calm down and one of the men, Florin, is related to a man who dug up the body. Florin and Josh row across a lake to meet Florin's cousin Mitrica Mircea, where Mitrica [one of the six men] recounts the story for them and believes what he did was the right thing.

Like. This happened:

'No one is bothered who did it, it's their own business,' declared 80-year-old Tudor Stoica, shading his face with a fraying hat. 'This ritual often takes place, but in secret, within the family. The problem comes when the police get involved.'

This happened! And they're all sure they're doing the right thing! And I'm tagging this post "unreality," so if you have issues with certain kinds of ideations, I'm gonna say skip down to the next pull quote, but I'm trying to describe a certain quality in fiction:

Of course I want to say that Mitrica Mircea wasn't doing the right thing, this is real life, there are no vampires to go around staking. But it's a funny thing, how people in genre fiction have to realize they're in genre fiction and things are real, and people in real life have to remember they're in real life and things aren't real, but also, the nature of consciousness is such that a fictional character might express the belief that they live in the real world, and a real person might find themselves in a traumatic moment thinking, This feels just like a movie. Do you ever find yourself in real life saying, "This feels like that moment in movies where the characters don't believe in monsters, and that's why they get eaten?" Can you, then, understand a character in fiction going through the same thing? I can't believe this is really happening, but it is.

Except that they are wrong, because it is fiction.

But they can't know that.

I feel fairly confident of my reality, and I'm confident none of my neighbors need to be staked. But I'll stop there in case anyone else isn't.

"Yes; but reflect, Henry, for a moment upon the length to which you might [have to] carry out so dangerous an argument. It is said that vampyres are made by vampyres sucking the blood of those who, but for that circumstance, would have died and gone to decay in the tomb along with ordinary mortals; but that being so attacked during life by a vampyre, they themselves, after death, become such." "Well -- well, what is that to me?" "Have you forgotten Flora?" A cry of despair came from poor Henry's lips, and in a moment he seemed completely, mentally and physically, prostrated. "God of Heaven!" he moaned, "I had forgotten her!"

H E N R Y.

IV. Marchdale what is your deal

Kinda-Sorta Uncle Marchdale pleads with Henry to not curl up and die because Flora needs him! Possibly to stake her someday! No, Marchdale, Flora has Charles Holland now! HUMPH, says Marchdale to that. As you will recall, Marchdale and Charles Holland loathed each other on sight for literally, in the literal sense of literally, no reason, and Marchdale stands by that:

"I, therefore, now prophecy to you that Charles Holland will yet be so stung with horror at the circumstance of a vampyre visiting Flora, that he will never make her his wife."

Bro, why are you like this. On one hand, Henry insists that Charles Holland is the soul of honor:

"You are, you may depend, entirely wrong. I cannot be deceived in Charles. From you such words produce no effect but one of regret that you should so much err in your estimate of any one. From any one but yourself they would have produced in me a feeling of anger I might have found it difficult to smother."

On the other hand, one might perhaps become concerned that the text keeps raising the issue of whether Charles Holland is trustworthy or not.

V. Anyway, when do we kill him

Henry and Marchdale agree that they won't tell the family that their new neighbor is the vampyre stalking Flora, because that always works out just fine. Marchdale declares, in fact, that there is no way that "this Sir Francis Varney, or whatever his real name may be, will obtrude himself upon you." Obviously, Varney will be intruding on them anon. Should he try such a thing, Henry announces that he will kill Varney really most sincerely dead:

"It would be fatal, so help me, Heaven; and then would I take especial care that no power of resuscitation should ever enable that man again to walk the earth." [Marchdale, very helpfully:] "They say the only way of destroying a vampyre is to fix him to the earth with a stake, so that he cannot move, and then, of course, decomposition will take its course, as in ordinary cases." "Fire would consume him, and be a quicker process," said Henry.

Well, I hope to fuck that they know where the matches are.

Varney the Vampire masterpost

#varney the vampire #unreality #cannibalism #vampires #vampire studies #long post #video

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saruin · 2 years

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LittleDica's Cas Room Recoloring Tutorial

Part 1. Walls and Floors

I was asked by the lovely @faaeish to create a tutorial on how I recolor my CAS backgrounds, namely the one by LittleDica.

Now I want to make a disclaimer first: this is the way I go about editing this room, other creators may have different methods but this is how I do it. Idk if my way may be a little funky but I just wanted to make that clear lol. Also I didn't know how detailed to make this so I'm gonna put as much detail as I can without it being tooooo wordy.

Ok I'm gonna assume you have access to all of the tools you'll need to edit this room and some knowledge on how to use them:

Sims4Studio

LittleDica's Room package file and Recoloring Kit

An Image editing program (photoshop, paint tool sai, gimp, etc)

Google (or any site you'd like for images, if you want them)

First things first, open up the cas room in S4S it will look like something like this:

In the texture tab, navigate to the third texture down, that's the walls and floor texture, we'll be starting off with this.

After you've downloaded the Recoloring Kit for the room, extract the files (there should be walls and floor.psd, objects.psd and sky.psd). Open up the walls and floors.psd with your favorite image editing program. I will be using Gimp

it will look something like this when you open it and have a mess of layers and for me it has an empty group (I always delete it first).

I'll try to describe the different layers in case you want to keep them.

UV Walls -> the UV layer for the walls and floors of the room

Livello 4 -> extra layer that shows the main highlights and shadows of the room

Livello 7 -> a seam shadow for the back wall and the ceiling, in overlay mode

Horizontal -> normal layer in overlay mode with wood texture and layer mask to add texture to the base boarding around the room

Livello 5 copia -> layer in addition mode to add luminosity to the sunlight on the floor

Livello 5 -> layer in addition mode to add sunlight to various places around the room

Room Curve -> layer in overlay mode to add shadow and highlights to baseboards

Livello 6 -> Baseboard and ceiling layer mask

Brick -> Base game brick texture

Floor -> base game floor texture

Livello 2 -> base color for walls

You can keep and use these for your recolor but I usually delete everything except for the UV walls and Livello 4

Since I've explained the layers, here is a diagram of the UV layout and what everything represents.

Now is the fun part, once you've gotten use to the different layers and the layout of the mesh play around with different themes, choose what colors you want, whatever designs you like. Maybe you had an idea for a room design beforehand this is your chance to get creative!

*Another thing to keep in mind! The texture on the walls will stretch out and distort slightly once you import it into S4S

Example: What the image might look like in your editor vs what it looks like in cas.

Just scale down the height of your images and it should look better. I don't have a specific science for this, you'll just have to eyeball it till it looks good! (This goes for any other textures that may look stretched out/distorted in your room.)

Before/After

And finally -> The texture for the rooms and walls come in a default size of 2048x2048, if you want to reduce the amount of pixilation in any images you use (cause they will definitely lower in quality once you're in CAS), increase the canvas size to 4096x4096

That's it for now, the next tutorial will be Objects and Sky. Since walls and floors will have the most detail I wanted to get it out of the way first.

#saruin's tutorials

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yang2sfishkeeper · 2 years

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ateez as vampires (hyung line)

side note: this is not a sexy-blood dripping down chin interpretation (as much as I wish it was) might do the maknae line if i dont forget this acc exists

HONGJOONG:

The kind that has tried every lasting occupation known to man. He was probably an oil paint portrait artist whenever those were a thing, a philosopher and then a nursery daycare teacher all in the span of fifty years. Any form of vampirism takes a backseat to his colourful portfolio, and I firmly believe he is currently a haute couture designer for vintage pieces; and only drinks the blood of people who refuse to ethically source their leather and furs. The image of him living in some apartment in Paris smoking a cigarette (that has a hole in it because of his fangs) is perfect to me.

SEONGHWA:

The brooding, edward cullen type. I’m talking; hand perpetually covering ¾ of his face, avoiding sunlight at all costs, falls in love with some pale girl kind of edward cullen. He has to move every ten years because all the women feel like cougars when they go after him despite him being at least double their age. He lives in some dusty cob-webbed mansion in the forest during the weekends but his real house is a small flat and he’s best friends with his elder neighbour who he has dinner with sometimes. Wears contacts to cover his eye colour but it's not strong enough so people think he’s always wearing red Halloween contacts.

YUNHO :

Newly turned vampire who just wants to go back to his normal life. Has trouble controlling his cravings and tries to drink a gallon of tomato juice because that's what google told him to do. He got violently sick and now just sticks to blood bags. Doesn’t understand why he’s always surrounded by crows and black cats (he is a dog person) but is very thankful to have so many furry friends. Definitely the type to accidentally show his strength by breaking the football goal net, or accidentally shaking someone’s hand very tightly because he was excited. People thought he was a werewolf, honestly.

YEOSANG:

Sitting on a chaise lounge, monotonously sipping on a glass of blood while wearing eyeliner. That’s sort of the image I get when thinking of him. Something very high class and untouchable that demands respect from his peers. But at the same time he’s only pretending to read The Art of War, and is using it to cover his copy of some trashy romance novel he’s actually reading. Secretly really wants the modern human experience, but is too attached to the concept of velvet couches to really let go. I can see him pointing towards any form of fast food and saying “What... desperate concoction is that?” While grimacing (he really wants to try it)

#ateez #ateez vampire au #vampire ateez #hongjoong #seonghwa #yeosang #yunho #ateez imagines #kpopfic #ateez non idol au #i havent posted here in almsot a year hahaha

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farm-witches-fic-recs · 2 years

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Greetings and salutations, all!

Our farm witch friends know what’s up and they’ve brought us another round of their recommendations to share with the community.

Check out this week’s faves from around town and be sure to leave the creators some love!

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Bigger than the whole sky (@blackandwhiteandrose) “This is just a really, really beautiful look at David's life before SC and his views on love. You don't need to have watched Lone Star or be familiar with TK to read it, but that's a nice little easter egg for those of us who have.”

Click/snap/whirr (@smallumbrella369) “It's so emotive. The writing is evocative, the characters feel real, and the ideas in the stories always feel fresh. This gave me goosebumps.”

Fate is kind when you wish (@januarium) “It is so sweet and funny and heartwarming. I love magical fics. In this one David wishes he knew what Patrick was thinking, in the days before they get together, and he gets his wish! It’s just so funny and lovely! Of course Patrick is smitten with David, so it’s great to hear his inner dialogues about that! But, unexpectedly, he is also quite the swear-er in his head! I love the way you can just hear those thoughts as you read them. David’s reactions are wonderful. And they are just so lovely together. There’s also a WONDERFUL podfic of this by the WONDERFUL Amanita Fierce, which I also highly recommend!!”

Google it (@rosedavid) “A collection of Patrick's Google searches throughout the events of canon. It's such a cute little new angle we get to see our favorite Button in, and takes us a bit more inside his headspace. Quick, but super fun read!!”

How, Patrick (@madlori) “The comment threads from Patrick's followers are so spot on.”

Left unsaid (treeperson/@treepyful) “It's a rare pair (Jake/Mutt), it’s long enough to tell a beautiful story, but still short enough to read it multiple times in a week! There's like 8 words of dialog, and still I can hear so much of their feelings, it's a picture painted so magnificently, and in exquisite detail.”

On your marks, get set, bake! (@floosilver8) “Even though the fic takes place in the summer, baking always feels like a holiday activity to me so it's the perfect time to read this fic! Everyone's favorite Button is a contestant on the Great Canadian Baking Show where David is a judge, and sparks fly instantly. Just like Patrick's chocolate souffle, it's sweet, hot, and absolutely delicious!”

Red, White, and Blue Jays (@grapehyasynth) “A gorgeous adaptation of a lovely book. This made me want to read the book on which it's based. It's so beautifully written, hitting all the notes of the original but still feeling like it's own story, and so, so romantic. Read. It.”

Shine like silver (@stereopticons) “Stunning is the only word I have for this piece. It's such a gorgeous post-canon story about David finding a passion that he lost. It's a must-read for the fandom IMO.”

Standing in the sunlight in the middle of the street (apothefarley) “The writing is gorgeous. You can feel David’s thoughts. You can feel their love. And bonus, Patrick sings “Case of You” to David.”

Tonight I'll drift in a dream with you (torakowalski) “It’s got sweet caretaking, loads of humor, zany Roses, and some zinger lines.”

What’s in a name? (railmedaddy/@rmd-writes) “I love how the writer developed a story behind the "a helllmet" exchange David and Alexis share in S2.” You have no home, you have no walls (odofidi) “This was such a dark and heartbreaking version of David and his struggle with addiction to deal with an unrequited (so he thought) love for his best friend. I loved the way it was written, going back and forth from present time to the past and how the reader discovers David’s fall into addiction and his struggle to stay sober and how his sobriety becomes so important to him; how he grew from that and how he finally reaches a place where he can love himself and accept being loved by someone. It’s beautifully written and I don’t often see it recommended.”

#friends of farm witches fic recs #friends of farm witches #sc fic rec #sc fanfic #schitts creek fic #SC fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #david x patrick #mutt schitt #jake x mutt

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technomancyshenanigans · 7 days

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get prime numbersed idiot

ouh god ive been Construct 7'ed again

2. lighter or matches? matches! theyre more satisfying and i like the smell of them

3. do you leave the window open at night? that would require me to take down the blackout curtain i have up, so no. also its currently 1:08 am and still almost 100 outside, that AC aint free

5. what color are your eyes? a really, really dark brown, they look cool in sunlight

7. hair-ties or scrunchies? emily i am going to be deadass, i didnt know there was a difference. i had to google this. but all i have is scrunchies, theyre way nicer to my hair

11. favorite extracurricular activity? previously aforementioned Rock Accent

13. when was the last time you ate? i am literally eating Andy Capp's Hot Fries as im writing this. and they are WAY better than the hot cheeto fries i will die on this hill

17. are you farsighted or nearsighted? nearsighted as FUCK, im like a -7.8 lmao

19. imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails? i would absolutely try, and just fuck the whole thing up cause my hands are shaky. and then feel bad and try and fix it with some acetone. further worsening the problem before just breaking out the stick-on nails

23. how do you feel about chilly weather? generally negatively, but right now i want to sleep in the freezer

29. how do you like your shower water? like, close to scalding.

31. what type of music keeps you grounded? uuuh theres some vocal trance albums i really like, but i have a whole playlist of just like, good-vibe happy music that i love (i can send it to you if you want)

37. someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years? yeah, theres like, 4? tho a few i havent talked to in a bit

41. how do you take your coffee? one cream, one sweet sweet'n low! unless im really trying to wake up, then black

43. what’s your take on spicy foods? my roomates made me downsize the hotsauce shelf in the fridge, that should cover it. :(

47. what was the last message you sent? "the most time consuming part is just waiting for it to rise lol" you get no context on this one

#.txt

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astronautdinosaur · 3 months

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Here's a story about a wolf.

It begins a long time ago when a much younger version of me went off to Europe for the first time. I studied in Italy. I walked cobblestone streets. So many cobblestone streets. I rode trains and saw places I might never see again. I came home and those journeys eventually inspired me to paint astronauts.

Last fall I traveled to Europe again. I began in Copenhagen, and spent the next 10 days heading north, first to Malmo and Gothenburg, in Sweden, and then on to Oslo, Norway for a gallery show I was supposed to be having . A show which, I found out just a few days before I was supposed to leave, had been canceled. Well, delayed. To a time and place that wasn't Oslo. This all happened for a very sad and extremely valid reason but it left me traveling Europe, alone, on a trip that suddenly had no real purpose. But it was about to find one.

From Oslo I flew to Riga, Latvia and met up with my brother at the airport, who had arrived just before me from Boston. We spent the next week traveling through Latvia and Lithuania to the places where our ancestors once lived. I didn't really have any preconceived notions as to how this part of the trip would go. There would probably be no long lost Listfield cousins to find. No one in my family is left in this part of the world. I guess I wanted to see where I come from. I wanted to walk the same cobblestone streets my ancestors once did. I didn't expect anything profound to happen. It did though.

Our trip ended in Vilnius, Lithuania's very charming capital city. Arriving late, and tired from the road, we wound up by chance walking along the river that winds its way through the center of town. The sun was setting, and it was a mild September night. People were about. Lots of people. So very many people. My brother noticed it first: something was happening. That's when we saw the wolf.

On the riverbank just ahead of us was a large statue of a wolf. Looming over it was an ancient castle tower, lit dramatically from below and perched precariously on a hill. As the last bit of sunlight faded, the wolf spoke.

I don’t speak Lithuanian, but some quick googling revealed that the wolf was sharing the story of the founding of Vilnius. It spoke in a booming voice, with occasional pauses as music swelled. Fire from an unknown source danced around the bottom of the wolf and eventually, as the night wore on, it was engulfed in flames. Smoke and hot ash fell on our faces. I wondered if we were a safe enough distance away.

As the fire subsumed, we wandered off, dazed, along the river bank with hundreds of Vilnius residents. We had just celebrated the fall equinox and the 700th anniversary of the founding of Vilnius. It felt like we had just been part of something very primeval. I felt Lithuanian. I felt pagan. I felt wolf. I returned to my hotel room, ash still on my face.

My next show THE EQUINOX opens March 21, 2024 at StolenSpace Gallery in London, and features 9 new paintings of an astronaut traveling to some of the places I visited on this trip, accompanied by a wolf who appears in one form or another in each of them. Sometimes as a companion, sometimes as a statue, a relic, a mural, a ghost, or a metaphor.

Epilogue: My third great grandfather was born in the small town of Šėta, Lithuania, sometime around the year 1837. His name was Wolfe.

#scott listfield #astronaut #scottlistfield #painting #artists on tumblr #lithuania #vilnius #wolf #wolf art

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sassycordy · 2 years

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so the gals at the @jumpingpuddlespodcast and I were chatting about the city of atlantis in between recording. and we started talking about the design of the city and how we would've loved if it had taken more of an inspiration from the greek/minoan/roman civilizations! (i truly believe the ancients were pretentious enough to walk around in togas lmfao) so i did a quick google search and these are some of my fav pics I've stumbled onto!

that first picture of the statues in a circle above a circle of water IS SO ATLANTIS CODED. @stargatelov3r actually highlighted that the circle of water could very much be a gate! and this is 100% canon to me now ahha. like im SURE the ancients had some secret caverns under the base where they did all kinds of shady rituals/experiments ahah.

once again, the amazing ash pointed out that of course the ancients would have statues of themselves all over the city lol. and I LOVE the idea of the statues being at the entrance of atlantis. (also obsessed with the different platforms that are separated by water + range in height !!!)

100% believe that the city had some sort of canal that ran in between all the platforms and connected the city! also the ARCHES AND THE BOATS MHMMMMM

an indor bathhouse !! the ancients definitely didn’t believe in private bathrooms unless you were on the council or extremely rich lmfao

I like to think there would be a bunch of these little temples on the water all over the city! each temple would be dedicated to a different god and they could have public services every once a while :)))))

THE COLUMNS !!!!!!!! it's actually a crime there weren't any in the show aha. and I love the no walls/open space in this pic! I love the idea of waking up to the ocean right outside (also ik this is kinda dangerous but we're gonna pretend this is before the wraith war so the ancients had unlimited ZPM energy hehe)

I feel like this one is self explanatory. except I think the monarchy was an outdated belief in ancient culture & they had more of a roman republic kinda vibe. but the throne is there for show ahha

all I have to say for this is W A T E R F A L L S !!! it’s what we deserved !!!!!

the arches. the sunlight. the little pond. the stairs. im just babbling now but OHMYNSOFSF (I like to think this is Elizabeth's private bath ahah)

also ash mentioned that it would've been cool to see the ancients have murals painted on the walls AND Y'ALLLLLLL. this is where the minoan influence comes into play! known for their bright colors and beautiful wall art, I can just picture images like this depicting the ancients and their history all over the city <33333

#sassy cordy speaks #stargate atlantis #sga #WHAT WE COULD'VE HAD #listen I still love the city #but I just RLY dislike all of the concrete #also it makes no sense ?? it should be COVERED in plants bc it was under water for ten thousand years #also I know its probably bc the budget for the show was like 3 dollars #but I definitely picture the atlantis base looking like these pics now ahah #also sorry this is long #I graduated with a history degree and I am obsessed with archaeology + architecture so this is like all my fav things in one post ahha!#also i needed to include something of minoan culture in this post bc some ppl believe it inspired the story of atlantis !!#and yea i can def see the similarities ahah

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ayliamc · 8 months

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Italia

Day 2 - Lemon Frenzy 🍋

Steps walked: 23,862

Flights climbed: 7

Vehicles ridden: 1

Points of interest visited: 1

Lemons spotted: all of them.

Drugs are great. We took some to sleep and it enabled us to get thru the night and wake up comfortable in the morning, ready to face the day.

Our B&B host, Dino, chided us for not telling him ahead of time that we are both vegano, that he could have plant milks for us, and that his wife is vegan. (Of course not as strict now they have a kid because kids make everything harder, he says. “Wait til you have kids,” to which I got to reply with delight “Oh no I’m sterile.”) He was hilariously Italian as he went on and on about mozzarella, erculano, and how we’re going too fast and we go to bed too early.

We escaped long enough to trek thru Pompei to get to a cafe that allegedly had vegan-as-is croissants (unlabeled). If you know anything about me, you know I can’t resist a vegan croissant. We booked it thru town with a minor detour due to some big church thing for Madonna (I can’t believe she tours in Pompei!) to get our croissants where Google translate helped mediate the exchange. We got two citrus croissants that were not labeled anywhere as vegan but the guy didn’t correct us when we asked “vegano?” three or four times.

We checked out and leisurely made our way to the train station - another long walk - only to arrive at the platform at the same time as the train to Sorrento. How perfect! Except we don’t have tickets yet… so we buy our tickets, the train leaves, and we’re forced to wait forty minutes for the next train, only to discover no one ever asked for our tickets and no entry required them. We could have totally gotten on the first train without paying and we wouldn’t have had to wait. Crime does pay, as it turns out.

‘Twas a crowded train ride to the end of the line, where we then had to trudge for nearly half an hour with our bags on cobbled streets and unreliable sidewalks to get to our hotel. (Side note: i wonder why no one ever talks about all the vespas and scooters in Italy. There are so many! I just figured I would have heard about it before this.*)

We checked in to our hotel around lunchtime, ate our croissants illicitly on the balcony (no food allowed in our hotel room), and headed back out. Naturally, all the stuff we wanted to visit was back in the direction of the train station, but a 25 minute walk goes much easier without two backpacks and a roll-y bag with dysfunctional wheels.

To paint the scene, all these walks are lined with more citrus trees than you’ve ever seen in your life and drivers who might not actually run you down but you probably shouldn’t test that theory.

We grabbed a quick lunch at a family owned Italian restaurant and had some tasty food including “the best tomato pie [Dan has] ever had” then continued on my lemon quest.

Walking on our way to a limoncello Lemon grove we passed another one that we were able to walk around in. It was so pretty. A lovely garden with lemon trees, orange trees, olive trees, squash plants, tomato plants, and peppers. They also had a restaurant but we were so full we decided we’d come back for dinner.

On to I Giardini di Cataldo where we had hoped to have a tour and a limoncello workshop but they didn’t have any available for the day. Womp womp. We tasted some limoncello and got lemon sorbet and ate it in their lemon garden before continuing to meander in the direction of shops.

Fortunately I had set a limit as to how many Lemon things I could get for myself and I immediately met that limit so I guess I’m done shopping for the… trip. Except I still need a Leonardo souvenir, I mean let’s not get crazy.

Here I am casually showing off all my lemons.

Another 25 minute walk to the hotel to drop off our stuff. By this point, I can confirm we had already exceeded yesterdays step count.

Just before sunset we walked to a dock overlooking the coast and watched the last rays of orange sunlight disappear behind the horizon. The coast is a steep cliff face that drops off into the ocean, but in the distance you can actually see Napoli looking like an island, in reality just more of the Italian coast. Then Dan’s eagle eyes spotted a bat. Then another. And sure enough within a nook of the cliff, at least half a dozen bats had roused and were feasting. It was awesome. We watched them for a little bit. I think a few more even joined them as we watched. It certainly felt like there were more bats there when we left.

And the days recurring themes of walking and lemons continued as we headed back to La Limonaia, the lovely lemon grove where we had decided to dine. Our wonderful server was very confident about our “vegano” requests and he had the chef prepare dishes for us. For Dan, a lemon vegan cream sauce on linguini and for me, a salad made with fresh veggies from their garden. Those same veggies we had seen in the afternoon as we wandered around the grove. So fresh! And I could totally tell. I slathered my tomatoes in balsamic glaze and enjoyed some of the best tomatoes I’ve ever had. (Also a hilarious thing we’ve noticed here is when they bring you bread it comes in a little paper bag as opposed to a bowl or a plate. It’s so funny.) We drank, we ate, we were merry, all under the lemon trees. ‘Twas in general a near perfect dinner experience and we happened upon it by happenstance. Not only a great way to celebrate Jimmy Carter’s birthday but our 12 year anniversary. Six years of marriage. I can’t believe I’m old enough for that but there it is.

After dinner we met Carol at her hotel which was thankfully in the same direction as our hotel so we wouldn’t have to backtrack anymore. She got us drinks, gave us a lemon souvenir she’d gotten in Capri that day, and she and her group regaled us with stories from their trip. As ours is still near the beginning, theirs is coming to an end. We chatted until we noticed the bartender was waiting for us to be done to leave so we wrapped it up and Dan and I walked back to our hotel to gratefully rest.

*Sarcasm

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 2 years

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Jupiter Brain Snare

A quick, QUICK something. Happy Spooky Szn! I usually avoid pairing two real people so there's no smut because that could be weird for them and awkward. Anyways... lol

Pairing: Winston Duke x Lupita Nyongo

Tags: Hypnosis, Sex Pollen

Winston was a humble plant dad searching Lowes for the perfect plant to take home while his wife Lupita searched for perfect shade of green paint to go in the study. Winston needed a unique and impressive plant that could thrive without direct sunlight. Lupita suggested a peace lily, but as he explained, it was too basic. Lowes' selection in itself was basic. He was getting frustrated.. until he noticed a wet pink flyer between two plants. A nearby grower was boasting of unique crossbreeds with a business called Rare & Cool Plantz.

He called the number first to make sure the sellers were home before heading the 10 minutes in their direction to view their selection. They were a dodgy European couple from a city he hadn't heard of in Austria. He made it a mental memento to google Hallstatt when he left. There were all sorts of odd and unique looking plants, one in particular catching his fancy. It was a white jellyfish plant. It looked like something that would be found deep underwater but it also seemed to be thriving.

"That's a Jupiter Brain Snare."

"What's the maintenance?"

"It's so bland, what about these orange ones," Lupita stood next to large flower bulbs shaped like stars.

"Those are Tiger Scratch," the man pointed but Winston had made his decision.

"I'll take this.. Jupiter Brain Snare.

"Water every other hour."

Every other hour? It was high maintenance. That would be an impossible task. Still, he wanted it. He paid $50 to sit it the computer desk and admire it constantly watering the soil every hour until he was sleepy, his head nodding. He couldn’t be vigilant all the time between work and sleep. He went nine hours without watering his plant to find it drooping. A little stream woke it up, but it wasn't the same so he sat as he intended to do with his laptop and worked away, only stopping when his head began to drop. He'd jolt and keep typing as if she weren't just asleep and then he'd be out again.

He opened his eyes to his wife standing before him in bright orange lingerie he'd never seen and an orange feather boa. She dropped her matching orange strappy heel on the desk and yanked him up by his collar. He watched her full red painted lips as she whispered something he did not hear and she pushed him backward, back into his seat. His heart was pounding as she rounded the desk and sat on it parting her thighs and wrapping his neck with the boa. He was in heaven when she pulled him in, motorboating between her thighs.

"Hnn," he woke with a start wiping his drool and steadying himself in his chair. "LULU."

"What," she appeared wide-eyed. "I'm on the phone." She was in brown overalls, her locs tied back with a scarf. He shook his head and she left him sitting still clinging to the dream. He woke his computer and began to type again, mumbling to himself.

"Now what did you want," Lupita reappeared in a bright red bodysuit with red patent leather thigh high boots. His jaw dropped. "You called me for a reason," she approached sweeping everything off the desk and shutting the laptop. She sat it on the lounge chair. Then she climbed over the desk and stood watching him as he gazed up at his giantess, enviting her size 8.5 stilleto boot to his face. She was stepping on him like a little submissive bug and he was growing hard watching her taunting red lipped smile. "Are you a good boy, Winston?"

"Yes my Kenyan-Mexican goddess," he whimpered feeling the cold water when he snapped awake seeing his wife's concerned face at the entrance of the study in the same brown overalls with an oven mitt.

"Winston," she stared, "Are you okay? You've been acting weird." She approached and he hid his erection with his hand. "Winston.. are you having sex dreams," she grinned now close to his face. He didn't want to admit something that made him feel like a pubescent boy again. "Winston," she teased poking at him.

"Maybe I should take a break, this work is making me delirious. I'll be in the room."

"Rawrr," Lupita growled after him smiling as he turned the corner to head to their bedroom. He couldn't sleep. Away from the desk he was wide awake. He decided to go bother his wife in the kitchen, tasting the food and horseplaying until she kicked him out. He hung around instead making kissy faces in her peripheral. "WINSTON," she marched back to his desk. "You're driving me crazy, what about your work.."

"I'll finish dinner and youu.. finish reading through that report for me, I can't focus."

"Don't burn my rice!"

"I am African, I don't burn rice!"

Lupita settled in the desk chair and woke her husband's laptop finding a document with a lot of text. He had four windows open and then outlook and teams. "Okay," she sighed looking at the white jellyfish plant that sat in front of her. It looked bigger than usual. It had little white vines that weren't there before. She did a double take and started to read aloud. About 8 lines in her eyelids began to droop. She smelt something distinct. It was that plant! "WIN- wins-," she slurred seeing him re-enter the study sweaty all over, glowing and oiled in loincloth with an axe over his shoulder.

"Sweetheart I'm going to chop wood in the forest. A man's nature calls." His voice was deep and very un-American. His pecs danced as he headed out the door.

"I'm coming," she scooted behind him grabbing her keys. She watched his juicy ass and powerful thighs from behind reaching out for a handful when she heard a loud smash and fall. She was back in the desk chair salivating and staring dead ahead. She wiped her mouth and Winston was standing fully clothed with a ladle in hand. The plant was a mess on the floor. He jumped on it stomping it like a snake.

"It's the plant," he swallowed.

The End

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @localtrapgod @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @miyuhpapayuh @ladymac82 @harleycativy @goddessofthundathighs @nobodybaby93 @theegoldenchild @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @thadelightfulone

#original #winston duke #mbaku imagine #mbaku #m'baku #black panther fanfiction #lupita nyong'o #lupita nyongo fanfiction #nakia black panther #nakia fanfiction

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redhairedwolfwitch · 2 years

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30. Painting - OC x Platonic!Reader - Football!AU

@purple-dahlias' Seven sentence fic July day 30: painting

a/n: this is also set after the events of tears, but before the events of sunlight. It's also set slightly before the events of braid.

One of the plus sides of being loaned from your lesser known club up north down to Arsenal was that you could finally go to the museums and galleries that you hadn't been able to see before, and with an upcoming day off, you buried yourself in google maps research.

Atlas had warned you the night before that she was most likely going to spend the day in bed when you mentioned exploring London, although she wanted updates on how you were doing, most likely checking that you weren't going to get lost in London.

Finally walking into the Natural History Museum, clad in a baseball cap and sunglasses, you were not willing to admit how long it had taken you to traverse the London Underground, instead making a beeline first for the dinosaurs, snapping photos on your phone and grinning as you read over each information plaque.

You didn't expect a small child to be watching you in awe as you walked over to the gallery section, removing your sunglasses to take in the paintings in their full glamour, you paused to look down at the small child tugging at your jeans, asking if you were one of the new footballers at Arsenal.

Taking a photo with them as the adult with her took the photo, you walked around other museum exhibits you were interested in, texting Atlas about being recognised in front of a painting of a rhino from the 1700s, before heading into the gift shop, and then back to trying to traverse the London Underground again to get back for dinner at the flat you shared with Atlas.

"You could have told me you were going to a museum!" Atlas grumbled, having glanced over your shoulder as you went through your photos to post for your socials, retweeting the photo you'd taken with the small child earlier in the process as you stirred the dinner with a wooden spoon in your free hand, "I got you something from the gift shop though!"

Pausing in your stirring, you ignored Atlas' warning of not letting the food burn and stick the pan in favour of staring at your instagram notifications, as you read over your followers briefly, spotting some significant names, including some of your teammates at Arsenal who hadn't followed you before, whilst the Natural History Museum had liked your post.

#sevensentenceficjuly #oc x reader #oc imagine #own character #this au is inspired by the women's euros #football au #football!AU #alternate universe #staying in my woso hole but i'd like to go to a museum with dinosaurs too

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winxsource · 2 years

Photo

It’s a bit long, so interview under the cut, where @gossipqueen2000 tells us more about her, her writing process and Fenice!

I call Mo up on a Saturday evening, it’s 5 o’clock for me, 4 for her.

"I went shopping today," she tells me, then promptly turns on the camera so I can see a bunch of shopping bags and sundresses, while she's sitting barefoot on the hardwood floor of her house. For the first ten minutes of our interview it is just us, cooing over the new clothing, the good discounts she got and how there's not a single good dress store near her, then, easy like that she tells me, "okay, hit me with the questions."

That's Monalisa, known as gossipqueen2000 on AO3, for you. The loudest extrovert in the block, who carries the easiest conversations and switches topics in the same chaotic pace her brain works on.

I ask her the question we got the most, by anons, @blue-aconite and @astrid-v alike, what's your writing process?

She scoffs, "you know what my writing process is like, it's chaotic." And it is, in the best way possible. Mo continues, “I do go chronologically, but not always in complete sentences, because my brain works faster than my hands. More often than not dialogue comes first and I write it down before I forget and then I come back up and fill in the gaps. Normally I know the ending, or at least wherever I want the story to go… I would love to say I have an outline, but no I don’t often start out with one. I have one in my head and when I do get stuck, then I write it down, if for no other reason than just so my beta can get to know what’s happening!”

She laughs then, an inside joke because I’m her beta and yes, this is a recurring argument we have. Mo’s got a loud, explosive laugh, the type that makes you laugh in return even if you’re not in on the joke, even if you don’t know the subject at all.

Still laughing, she tells me, “most people don’t want to admit it, but as writers, we usually don’t control the characters,” finally she’s serious, “we just become vessels for them. Often they just do whatever they want to do and you have to handle it.”

I ask her if she’s a planner or pantser (question asked by @leadingrebel) and for a second we both scramble, thinking the second term means “painter”. She doesn’t think about it for a second, launching on her answer, “Oh, I’m a painter for sure. To me it’s way more about capturing the emotion of the scene, than getting down the details. I can always come back and add them, like a painter, after I have the whole thing down I can then pause and think oh, here I could add more shadows, more texture, but initially it is about capturing an emotion. Sometimes I find that if I write too much detail down outright, then I lose the will to write, because it’s like… What’s going to happen is on the paper, is it not? Why do I have to bother actually writing it now?”

I let her finish, then I say “It’s actually pantser, I just googled it. Not painter” and she lets out a gasp and laughs, exclaiming, “well I like my version better. It should be painter.”

I agree, as I know any of her readers would. Her stories are impressionist paintings in words: beautiful from afar, yes, but upon closer inspection they’re a constant breaking of the rules, sentences that go on for too long and read like slam poetry instead of simple prose, an explosive use of adjectives and characters who feel so much, too much. When reading Gossipqueen2000’s works sunlight is not just white, it dances on the water with splashes of orange, red, blue and green.

What’s the hardest scene you’ve written?

She lets out a morose sigh, “smut scenes! Wait, no, let me rephrase this — Smut scenes are technically difficult. It’s a hard balance to not make it sound like a cheap porno or an anatomy book. It has to be actually hot. So, for me, that’s the hardest to write, which is sad because I think all stories should have some sexy sprinkled in,” then she takes a deep breath before continuing, “now emotionally speaking, I think the fic I wrote for the last Holiday Exchange - Vendetta -, which had a torture scene in it, was the hardest to write. Because I think writing torture and making it physical and equally vulnerable is difficult, a lot of times I pick a perspective to write from and I try to make it hurt me. I have to believe what I’m writing and if it’s not hurting me, then I don’t think it’s going to hurt anyone.”

And what scenes are you really proud of writing?

“In Love, Lived and Lost there’s a scene between Riven and a flute player and I remember writing it and being really proud of how the overall story flowed, — that whole story came out a lot better than I expected, it was the first time I wrote something so short, but that conveys such a long period of time and I was very proud of that —, but specially of how that scene sounded, when read out loud.”

Then I ask her the question all writers hate and secretly love just the same, what’s your favorite work you’ve produced?

The change in the mood is immediate, gone is the serious tone and she gasps dramatically. I can just see her clutching her chest, the theater kid that she is at heart, “AAH, don’t do this! This is like asking a mom what they’re favorite child is! Can I give the top 3?”

Sure.

“Number 1 is Loved, Lived and Lost and number 2 is Fenice; I’m very proud of both, but while Fenice has potential to reach number 1 when I finish it, for now it stays as second. Now the third one… I’m debating between Isn’t Bite Also Touch and Behind Closed Doors…” she takes a long pause and I know she’s got her AO3 open and is scrolling through her works, the same way I am, “but Isn’t Bite Also Touch has too many unpublished parts which are my favorite, so I’ll go with Behind Closed Doors. I’m very proud of this one.”

Both Isn’t Bite Also Touch and Behind Closed Doors are smut fics, the ones she claimed are very difficult to write. I don’t point it out to her, instead I ask what’s the easiest thing to write and she snorts at my question, because for anyone who’s so much as opened her collection of works, it should jump to the eye.

“Angst, duh. Pain. I love a good angst. I love a good hurt. Pain is a solid bed fellow and I’ve hooked up with it a couple of times. You can make it diverse, you can sprinkle variety, but pain is always amazing to write.”

In a teasing manner, given the previous answer, I ask if she draws from real life experience.

“Oh my god, all the time. ALL THE TIME. So much of who I am seeps into it, but I do think this is true for all authors. Especially with a material like Fate, where the characters are in our age group,” then she pauses “or should be,” Mo says, a jab at the characters who supposedly are sixteen year old, but all look like college kids. We both scoff at this and she continues, “So much of who you are when you’re this close in age to a character – from the fashion sense, to the food they eat, etc — ends up inevitably leaking into the story.”

What do you do for a living? How and when did you choose your career path? — I ask this in a somewhat hesitant way, because I know Mo values her privacy and she too stops before answering.

“I work in public service and I know it’s vague, but I want to keep it that way,” she says cautiously, “I always knew I wanted to be in public service. My entire family’s made of people who are in the public service and I grew up knowing that my job, whatever I chose it, would be something that could help others. I didn’t have a straight line of career and if you’re in your twenties, my one advice is take those small roads. There’s no shame in working retail, there’s no shame in working for others and we do what we have to do… Just keep your eyes in the big picture.”

This answer is very reminiscent of how she writes, of the little rich channels and tangents that flourish in the midst of thousands and thousands words, all coming together in the end to form a beautiful larger picture. We leak into our writing, as Mo said and we leak into our interviews.

We jump into the last segment of the interview, flash questions, but I already know she’s going to take me on a trip, because Mo’s never done anything “quick and done” in her life.

Describe your writing in three words? (question asked by @lizzabet)

“Chaos, passion and… Vulnerability.”

Do you have a somewhat bad habit that you don't want to give up? If so, why?

“I start WIPS all the time, even though I have no time. I don’t want to give it up, though, because ideas slip through our fingers sometimes and just because I don’t have time right now, doesn’t mean I won’t have time later. This translates in my real life too, I have a lot of goals and I like to know I’m having some movement in them, even if I don’t get to accomplish them now. The bad side of this is that sometimes having so many tabs open makes the actual accomplishments diminish in comparison and I have to remind myself when I finish a chapter that this is worth celebrating, even if I didn’t finish all the other 30 fics yet. YET!”

Which unexplained thing in the world would you like to explain in one of your works one day?

“What is an unexplained thing in the world? Like if we’re talking about real life mysteries like loch ness monster, folklore, etc. I’d like to have a crack at all of them, eventually.”

Which fate character do you consider to be the most realistic?

“As a highschooler, none of them. If we think of them as college kids, I can't believe I’m gonna say this, but I think… Aisha, Musa and Sam. Sam because he’s so bland, he’s got no personality and I’m sorry, but if he just disappears I wouldn’t be mad. Musa because I think tuning yourself out is a very natural reaction to trauma and grief and I’ve even done this myself. I think she’s very realistic. Aisha because I’ve known people who were very type A and I like that they showed us one character who doesn't think checking out the weird noise in the night is a good idea and I think she’s very real in that regard.”

What type of fan content do you make (Fics, gifsets, videos…)?

“I only write, I don’t know how to draw or gif.”

Since when have you been making fan content?

“I’ve been reading fanfics since I found out about the internet, far too early for some of the stuff I read. The first time I wrote fanfic I was 13 or 14 it was for another fandom, but I wasn’t involved WITH the fandom then, I just produced it and left it there.”

How did you get involved with Fate?

“When I found Fate, I had very low expectations, which worked in my favor and got me hooked! I’ve been in this fandom since the start. “

What part of fandom are you most grateful for?

“I think the real friendships I made are the ones I’m most grateful for. I was never active in fandom, truly, until pandemic hit and I’m grateful for having it when the world was/is going insane.”

Based only on likes and comments, how many people do you think read/see your work?

“Fifty people, but they’re the best fifty people.“

I have to pause at this and roll my eyes, because with Fenice sitting on 400 kudos and 10.348 hits, she must be really bad at math. Writers, sigh.

Do you find reviews of your work useful?

“OMG yes, sometimes they’re the best motivators and they help you flesh out your stories. Especially before I had a beta, a lot of times I didn’t know exactly how my scenes were coming across and the comments really helped! Now, even though I do have a beta, I still think they’re very inspiring. It’s satisfying to see if the scenes I wanted to hit actually hit. They’re the best part of writing, hearing that people enjoyed your work!”

“I also want to brag that I get the best comments. I love @leadingrebel, she used to leave the best comments on Fenice, they made my day. I used to really get the best comments on that story!”

What type of content do you interact with more often in the Fate fandom? Do you have favorites or recommendations?

“I love reading and I really recommend How the Night Changes by @skloomdumpster and A Man Plants a Tree in Whose Shade He May Never Sit by @septemberrie, not just because I beta-read both of them. Tempting Fate by both @fitztragedy and @septemberrie was fantastic and that anonymous writer who did the rivusa series at the very beginning, their work was great!”

What are you working on at the moment? Can you give us a sneak peek?

“I’m still working on Fenice, but right now I'm also working on an unpublished story called Troy and I don’t think a sneak peek would make any sense. All I can tell is that it is a fantasy/historical AU, centered around my favorite ships rivusa and skloom. I’m not publishing until I have written everything, because the thing I learned the most while writing Fenice is that, especially with such long works, it really helps with the cohesiveness of it all to write the entire thing first, before publishing. You can always come back and add more, but it’s good to have the entire material done.”

We both stop, take our drinks and stretch. Now’s the time for the dreaded questions she’s known I’d get into from the start.

Fenice, easily one of the most well spoken fics in the fandom and that is an epic in itself, as it is nearly a hundred thousand words, still unfinished. I start easy:

Where did you get inspiration for Fenice?

There were several works that were coming up back to back when Fate just came out. Several that definitely inspired me: there was this writer who was anonymous and did the rivusa series, Breathe Again by @alphinias was one, Too Much Too Little by @fitztragedy and @skloomdumpster/lilshitwayne was another and the one thing I noticed was that they explored the war times we suppose are gonna happen, but I wanted to explore the aftermath. I wanted to skip the war entirely and deal with its aftermath, but it also started as a need to see how these two people could come together and grow with each other, supporting one another.

If you were to change something or rewrite, how would you do Fenice now?

“One of the headcanons for Fenice was that Riven was kinda stuck, he was in no man’s land. He was with Beatrix and Rosalind, but he had also helped the heroes. At the time my understanding of Riven wasn’t so great and now, after writing more and reading more, if I was to rewrite it I’d make Riven a lot more loud in terms of pushing back against the ‘adults’. He wouldn’t be as quiet as I made him, in terms of how he deals with Saul, but I also think his quietness has a purpose in Fenice.”

“Once you flash down these characters, I can see that Sky is the Prince Charming archetype, who will sacrifice himself to save everyone if given the option. It’s a line he’s willing to cross and we know it from the start.”

“Riven’s character has always been the Pirate archetype: he’s the rebel and antihero who doesn’t respect authority, but he has rules and morals too, except it’s his own code. It’s not that he likes chaos and wants the world to burn, but that he’ll do it if it benefits him and helps those whom he loves. I think now if I was to rewrite Fenice, Riven would start more vengeful, which he didn’t really get to do. I’d make him more angry at his situation, than sad.”

And finally, When are we getting the final chapter of Fenice?

“I feel so bad whenever someone asks me about this! Not because I don’t love Fenice, but because it is so close to the end – I think we only have two chapters more —, but I’m nothing if not a slave to my muse. My absolute aim is that this will be finished before season 2 is released. I also want to say that I never thought I’d get such loyal readers. I never thought the story was that unique and it’s beyond humbling to see people actually care and continue to want to read it.”

We both breathe out as this is the last big question and I ask her if there’s anything she wants to tell but that I haven’t asked?

“Writing is my therapy.”

I remember one last question @septemberrie sent, in gif format, a simple “How dare you?” regarding all the tears she’s made us cry, all the cliffhangers she’s left us on.

Mo takes a pause, then I can hear her shrug and can see her easy smile as she answers “when one has such great friends, such as all of you, how can one possibly not dare?”

-- Interview written by @skloomdumpster | Jo

#Fate: The Winx Saga #fate the winx saga #rivusa #winxsource #gossipqueen2000 #creatorinterview

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