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#my delusion knows no bounds when it comes to them
thefuzzzz · 3 months
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Can we talk about the implications of Conner being the son of the god of travelers and Nico being a demigod who is known to almost exclusively travel?
Conner, who has stayed in place in camp for years, meeting Nico, who can’t seem to stay anywhere for more than a week. Nico, who can TELEPORT. Nico, who is noted to have seen most of the world via shadow travel.
Nico did almost nothing but travel after leaving camp when he was a kid. Working with Minos and venturing everywhere he could to try and get his sister back. Nico returns to camp, only to take a few trips to Camp Jupiter enough to be recognized as a camper there.
Nico traveling with the Athena Parthenos, a trip he thought would kill him but doing it anyways. He was born to travel and move and refuses to stay still for even a second.
He’s an eternal body in motion. In every book he is somewhere else. And where is Conner? At camp. Waiting for his return.
The eternal traveller falls in love with the son of traveling.
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Competition: knight!price x princess!reader
I have to thank @konig-is-bbygrl for helping me come up with the idea for this part. Thank you love!!
Price was used to being around nobles and royals.
It was his entire life, especially because he was tasked to be your personal bodyguard for nearly half his life now. He had gotten used to their delusions, to the fact that most of them are disconnected to the people they rule over, and their snobbish behavior.
What he was not used to was the fact that there were many people vying for your affection often, which meant he had to be around desperate lords and princes who made fools of themselves around you just to get you to look at them.
He cringed at their failed attempts to woo you. Their flowery words mean nothing, especially when many of them are throwing themselves at other ladies who are in their kingdom or towns when you inevitably turn them down.
He couldn’t quite understand why he found it so annoying. Maybe it was the fake devotion and empty gestures they gave that looked more like an insult to you, something he didn’t understand why you let happen, or maybe it was the fact that he knew you personally.
The lords and princes wouldn’t try for your hand if they knew who you were behind closed doors. They didn’t know who you were when he didn’t let you spend time by yourself or when you were forced to do your studies.
Or maybe, in his best judgment, they were so far beneath you that they didn’t deserve you at all. You were so much more than them, more elegant, too beautiful for them, they were not worthy as opposed to-
“You are awfully quiet, Sir John.” You spoke and brought him out of his thoughts.
Price grimaced as he spotted the flowers in your hands, no doubt from the current lords who were preparing for the jousting tournament.
An attempt by the Queen to find a proper suitor for you, something she has been adamant about doing as of late.
“What is there to say?” He grumbled and you raised an amused eyebrow.
“My, you are incredibly ornery this afternoon.” You teased and he sent you a sharp look. “Are you upset that you’re not down there?”
He glanced down from the raised platform you and the Queen sat upon above the tournament floor. Two lords were preparing, both of them too scrawny for this type of sport, too soft and not at all in their element.
It wouldn’t even be entertaining to watch.
“Why would I compete for your hand, your highness?” He wondered. “I’m already bound to you by oath and know the unfortunate fate of that.”
“The lords wouldn’t say the same.” You shot back and he watched them mount their horses.
“I’m not inclined to believe anything that falls out of their mouths.”
The lords were quick in the competition. To anyone else, their fancy swings were entertaining but to Price they were unpracticed.
He glanced at you to see if you were entertained and noticed the boredom in your eyes. He hid his smile, knowing that if it were him or his men, you’d be entertained.
The lord that won bowed to the crowd and flaunted, earning a scowl from both you and the Queen. A bad look.
“Perfect for you, your highness.” Price teased and you sent him a look.
“He’s handsome, yes.” You ignored him and he looked at the lord.
Handsome was generous, he looked rather plain to Price.
The lord walked up to you, a prideful look on his face, and gave a gaudy bow. It took everything in Price to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“Your highness, your majesty, I thank you for this opportunity.” He said as he stood up straighter. “If it’s too much to ask, I would be honored to join you for dinner.”
“Before that, perhaps you’d like to show your skills again for us.” The Queen spoke and his face fell. “To see you win against my best knight would surely make dinner worth it.”
Price stiffened up but said nothing. The lord looked nervous while you had an unreadable look on your face.
“As you wish, your majesty.” Price bowed and made his way towards the ring.
He missed the sickly sweet words that fell from the lord’s mouth, the near pleading eyes as he spoke to you and the way you tensed up at the lack of preparation for someone so pushy.
However, he didn’t miss you giving the lord your handkerchief, of all things, as he grabbed the lance.
A spike of anger he didn’t understand rushed through him. You showed no signs of wanting the lord yet you gave him something of yours? Did you despise Price that much? Did you want him to lose that bad?
Price wasn’t one to gloat, in fact he hated it and would much rather let his skills show through action, but anyone knew that he could beat the lord easily without much straining.
You knew that too and yet you gave the pompous, worthless man your attention as if he deserved it.
Price kept his composure and didn’t break a sweat at defeating the lord almost instantly. He didn’t pay attention to the roars of cheers from everyone, especially from his own men, or the cries from the lord as he laid haunches over on the dirt.
Instead his attention was on you. He’s not sure what he expected from you but the looked of horror on your face wounded his pride a little more than he wanted.
It didn’t matter. The lord wouldn’t have your hand.
Price made his way back to you and you wasted no time in arguing with him.
“Were you trying to kill him?” You exclaimed and he raised an eyebrow.
“I was light on him. He couldn’t handle it because of who he is.” He argued and you stared at him in shock.
It was the truth. If he had been against any of his men they would’ve laughed at him for that type of treatment.
Just another testament of how the lord wasn’t a good fit and that you had made a mistake to give him something of yours.
“You should be happy. A princess who’s loose with her affections shouldn’t be vied for.” He spat and watched you glare at him in disbelief.
“You’re barbaric, someone as cruel as you should never win someone’s hand.” You curled your hands into fists and he huffed.
“It was Her Majesty who wished for me to compete, I have no desire to win you over.”
You opened your mouth to argue more before the Queen approached you both. In an instant, you both composed yourselves as best as you could, though neither do you could hide the anger you had for each other.
The Queen ignored it in favor of giving Price an approving look.
“Sir John, an excellent performance.” She complimented and he gave her a polite nod. She turned to you. “You’ll be fine without him for a few moments while I discuss the lords with you?”
“Happily.” You said from behind your teeth.
“Thank you, your majesty.” He bowed and watched you walk away with your mother.
Was he cruel? He wouldn’t say he was and yet that seemed to be all you saw him as.
He didn’t like the way that made his stomach churn.
A/n: jealous price anyone? didn’t mean to make this as long as it was oops lol
@deadbranch @makayla-666
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rookiesbookies · 2 months
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Konig and His Loser
Sex Doll AU, here's the one that won my poll. sorry he took so long- big thank you to @shotmrmiller for helping me edit and get it to perfection ❤️
Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!
Konig seemed pretty similar to the other stories but she had found him in a magazine. A simple magazine ad, but she just called it in, why not right?
Well, she hadn’t read the size well and was lucky that they had to call a moving company to get him in from the warehouse. 
She couldn't believe her luck as she watched the movers gingerly maneuver the box that held Konig through the narrow hallway of her apartment building. 
As they finally managed to get Konig into her living room, just from the outside of his box she could tell he was huge.
After fighting open the box once the movers had left, she stood back in awe, taking in every intricately carved detail of his frame. His features were striking yet delicate, a perfect balance of strength and vulnerability that seemed to draw her in deeper with each passing moment.
Once freed she saw that he was a masterpiece in person, not done justice by the pages of that damned ad, a work of art that had seemingly materialized from her dreams onto the glossy pages of the magazine ad. 
Especially his scars. The big ugly ones that littered his face. He looked like whatever mask he had come with had caught on fire at some point. She had a hard time telling if it was by design or not.
She spent hours just sitting in front of him, tracing the lines and curves of his form with her fingertips, feeling his skin and texture. He felt so close to human. It was as if he held a piece of her soul within him, a connection that transcended time and space.
Over the days that followed, she found herself drawn to Konig more and more, losing herself in the depths of his enigmatic presence. She tried hard to figure out how to 'activate' him as he did turn on in the instruction manual. They manual made it clear there seemed to be one, but as she fiddled with his clothes and appercence to try to turn her new toy on.
She truly did her best but she had been watching some movies from her childhood on reruns when the idea of 'true love's kiss' jumped into her mind.
She felt him breathe against her after she planted it softly on his lip. His hands moved to her hips and pulled her closer and over his lap. He held her close, his touch familiar and comforting, but maybe that was just her delusion. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers as they embraced in the dimly lit room. 
The soft patter of rain on the windows created a soothing background melody to their not so silent dance. She nestled into his arms, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Time seemed to stand still as they lingered in that moment of intimacy, savoring the connection that bound them together. 
Despite the mask that concealed his identity, she knew him intimately and cherished the bond they shared beyond words or appearances in some deep, almost spiritual way. And so they remained entwined, two souls intertwined in a delicate balance of love and uncertainty, lost in the beauty of their silent embrace.
He stayed quiet, almost scary quiet and they kissed over his mask. Feeling eachother’s lips through the fabric of an old t-shirt.
His hands moved lower, tracing the curves of her body as he rid her of her pajama pants. She gasped at the touch, her skin tingling with desire. His fingers were gentle yet firm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, his tough fingers from working on the field roaming her.
She couldn't help but feel self-conscious as his eyes roamed over her exposed body. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, his touch was filled with such tenderness and adoration that it made her heart swell with emotion.
He kissed her again, keeping the thin barrier of his mask, his lips demanding and insistent. She responded eagerly, losing herself in the passion that consumed them both. For a moment, she forgot about everything else - the world outside their room, their past lives and all their struggles. All that mattered was this moment and the overwhelming sense of love they shared. His hulking figure even more imposing with all his gear on.
His hand traveled lower, teasing between her legs until she moaned against his lips. He continued to explore every inch of her body until she was trembling with desire.
He lifted her onto her couch. He scooted up and put her legs over his shoulders and just went to town after draping his mask over her lower lips. It was like he was starved, leaving her gasping. He was messy, her slick coating his face before he lifted himself and leaned her back. He whispered some coaxing things in a language she didn't understand, she assumed they were coaxing at least.
With hesitation, he guided his delicious uncut cock inside of her, it barely escaped his heavy military pants, and she gasped at the sensation. It wasn’t similar to anything she or he had ever experienced before - a perfect pleasure that sent shivers down her spine. He was so big, long, a girthy that she couldn't believe it. She was so on Cloud 9 that she felt like she couldn't breathe. It was like his dick was up in her throat stopping any words from leaving her. His tip hit her cervix and his breathing got heavy with hers as he tore off his helmet with one hand and went back to kissing her, draping his mask over the lower half of her face. Her eyes were rolling around her skull, she was high on the way he rubbing on her insides. The feeling was a certain type of suffocatingly delicious moment as their breaths mixed under his mask.
As they moved together in some perfect harmony, it felt like they were two pieces finally coming together to complete each other's puzzle. She was lost in his embrace, finding solace and comfort in their shared intimacy.
When they finally reached their climax, it felt like fireworks exploding in every corner of the room. He collapsed as gently as he could onto his forearms to keep from falling on her, breathing heavily as they basked in the aftermath of their love.
For a while, they lay there in silence, feeling content and fulfilled in each other's presence. As the rain continued to pour outside, they remained wrapped up in each other- two imperfect beings finding perfection in their love for one another.
All she could think about was, from how he panted like a dog, maybe he was a loser too.
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icyg4l · 8 days
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PAC: What Upgrades are Coming Into Your Life?
Hello beautiful people, so sorry for the delay on readings. I've been really distracted lol. But tonight marked the end of the $5 4/20 weekend sale. I am grateful for those who have purchased a reading. Now, if you would like to purchase a reading, please read my guidelines and let me know! (They will be regularly priced until another sale comes along). Now, this weekend’s PAC will be all about the upgrades that are coming in your life! Whether that’s in your career, home, family, finances, love, etc. We’ll find together! So without further ado, please pick your Megan baby. 🤭
Top Left-to-Bottom Right (1-4):
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PIle One, I feel like things have been getting hectic in your life. I think that this is a group of people who can get easily distracted by the small things. A lot of you are going through a breakup/separation from someone that betrayed you or love bombed you. I can feel my throat tightening as I’m typing this. I’m sorry, Pile One but this is a blessing in disguise. I think that this will be a death/rebirth period for you. I am seeing snippets of the Hiss video, specifically when Megan is dressed in all silver. I think you will come out stronger than ever. When I say stronger, I mean you will be less tolerant with other people’s bullshit and having better boundaries. I feel like someone tried to dominate you and as a result, it ruined your self-esteem. I see you taking some time to yourself and realizing who the fuck you are. You need to know that things will get better. Anything that happens over the course of the next seven days is meant to happen, Pile One. 
Cards Used: The Empress (RX), Prince of Cups, 7 of Swords, Strength, The Hermit, 3 of Swords (RX), The Magician, Temperance (RX), The Lovers (RX). 
extras: “bovine”. playing the dozens. hbcu bound. 1H lilith. a full shopping cart. laughter.
Pile Two: If you suffer from insomnia, you will absolutely start to get better sleep. Pile Two, you’re such a smart worker. I know you don’t like to work hard, and you will be getting a reward for that. I see a promotion coming your way. If you have a boss that has an explosive temper, I see that this will happen within the next three weeks. Your life also seems chaotic like Pile Two. You also seem like the obsessive type. I feel like this is a pile full of nightowls as well. Part of your upgrade process will mean embracing your shadow side. I think that you have some trouble with other women (if you’re a woman), or having trouble embracing your soft side. It is okay to be vulnerable. I also see if you’re on the search for a new car, then a woman will co-sign a loan for you. It seems like you will be changing from the inside out. The longer it takes for you to address the issues that you have going on internally, the longer the results will come. I am seeing that when you finally decide to open up and be vulnerable, the physical changes will manifest. For example, if you want longer hair, your hair will grow two inches. If you want to change your life, change your mind Pile Two. And I’d recommend you look up the term ‘limerence’. Start making changes to become more grounded and less clouded by delusions, fantasies and looping thoughts about stuff that does not exist in your reality. It’s time to let them go, Pile Two.
Cards Used: 4 of Cups, Queen of Cups, The Chariot, Ace of Discs, 3 of Discs, The Devil, King of Cups (RX), The Tower, 9 of Swords
extras: listening to nightcore. “egoic”. meat market. fresh beat band. beauty shop (2005). picker-upper.
Pile Three: Your hard work is finally going to pay off. You’ve been obsessing over your work and dedicating so much of your time to it. It is finally going to receive some recognition because you decided to not give up on your dreams. As a result, I see that your dream lifestyle will be well-funded. If you’re an artist or a clothing designer, this will especially resonate with you. The amount of time that you spent on your passion will be appreciated by many eyes, Pile Three. If you’ve been having a hard time accepting someone for who they are, or if you have been struggling with your emotions in general, I see that you will get a handle on it. And also, if you’re looking for a vendor, you will find one! You are being called to continue to focus on your craft. I am channeling this interview of GloRilla where she says that she abstained from relations with men, partying and alcohol for sixty days before she blew up. Then FNF was released, and that marked the start of her mainstream journey. So, keep going baby!!
Cards Used: Wheel of Fortune, Strength (RX), 5 of Cups, Queen of Cups, 7 of Cups, Princess of Discs, The Devil, 3 of Discs, Temperance, The Star
extras: christina aguilera. spiders. a series of unfortunate events. award shows.
Pile Four: The only way that you can learn from your mistakes is if you actually implement the lesson into your life, Pile Four. I can tell that you’re stubborn. Once you really understand that nothing can change if YOU don’t move things around, you will know how powerful you are. Some of you may have a really thick (and attractive) accent. I think that you can use this to your advantage to make things shake for you. Pile Four, do you really know yourself? Like outside of the things that you do and have, who are you? It is time for you to do some soul searching, my love. It feels like I am talking to a shell of you. I think that the upgrades that are coming in will involve other people. You will find someone who helps you embrace your rawest, natural self. I also think that you will be interested in fitness and will find a workout partner. Investing in yourself physically will impact you emotionally. You do not need to go back to your old self because they’re gone. Take pride in this new you. I feel that your spirituality will strengthen as well. Your boundaries will grow stronger, and as this happens, you will lose more friends unfortunately. But I don’t think you’ll be affected by it. Overall, I feel like this pile will gain a lot of clarity and mental strength to start breaking generational curses and shedding old skin. You got this, Pile Four!
Cards Used: 8 of Cups, The Star, Death, 9 of Swords, 7 of Wands, The Fool, Temperance, Page of Wands, The Lovers
extras: “you smell good.” “be you.” jump by tyla. maison margiela. kick-ass. wwe.
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frostbitebakery · 6 months
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There’s a room where the Light won’t find you
Surrender AU
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There are certain misconceptions when it comes to the… the them of them, Cody has to admit.
“I would like to have proof of life of my General,” he says instead of answering the same question the Commander has asked him twice now. The statement sits uncomfortable under his breastbone. He lost count how often he’s had to say it in his life.
“Are you that codependent,” the replica of his mouth snarks back. Curious, usually he and his counterparts have more patience than this.
The answer to that is a definite yes. Obi-Wan and he, they’re woven together. Only Obi-Wan’s lightsaber could cut them apart. He wonders where it is after they’ve taken it from its resting place above his heart.
“You’ll protect it,” Obi-Wan had asked, voice cracking and begging, closing Cody’s palms around the weapon’s hilt. It had been after Ghost had rescued them from that hellhole, after Obi-Wan’s hands had become too weak to wield his lightsaber despite the trials of reconstructive surgeries and physical therapy.
“Like your life,” Cody had sworn, lips finally not sore anymore from the ripped out stitches, the punishments from their captors that were so much more effective when delivered on Cody than Obi-Wan himself.
“I would like to have proof of life of my General,” he says again.
The Commander pushes out a sigh. “He’s… okay.”
Debatable. Cody isn’t there and no one knows - can know - how Obi-Wan’s hands spasm after a while, how his knee is acting up. How his grip on himself has been slipping, recently. The tight control even in the chaos had held steady for so long. Because even changed like this, Obi-Wan has been a master of his own self. Until they found these counterparts at least.
They’re so Light, hammers into Cody’s head.
“General Kenobi is asking him some questions himself,” the Commander states like he’s dangling bait.
Cody sincerely wishes him good luck with that. Getting an answer to “What do you want for breakfast” is a discovery of heretofore unknown wells of patience and the higher ground most days. Honey toast, by the way. “I would like to have proof of life of my General.”
Cody, they’re so Light. Obi-Wan is alone with a beacon to the Light he’s been desperately searching for in dozens of universes. He will do something well-thought-through and stupidly risky.
The Commander watches him for a few long moments, and Cody watches right back. He doesn’t smirk in triumph when the Commander activates the comm on his vambrace.
“General, could you put—,” Cody’s mouth twitches at the Commander’s faltering, the steeling for the reality of them, “the Sith on the comm?”
A moment later Obi-Wan is in the holo. Bound but whole, because the good guys don’t believe in torture. “Are you alright?” he asks, sickly golden eyes roving over what the holo displays of Cody.
Cody smiles, softening further once Obi-Wan echoes him with his own. “Yes. You?”
There’s misconceptions about them. Other people’s delusions of knowing them seem to think Obi-Wan and he can only be brutal, be cruel and harsh. Towards everyone else, and towards each other. Trapped in a bloody dance or something rivaling that kind of stupid. Those people don’t, thankfully, know the gentleness flowing through their touches. They kiss the other in reverence, soft and precious monster. What is between them, a connection forged in blood and pain, is anything but. It’s the one thing where they’re truly selfish. Holding each other close, burrowed into each other.
When Obi-Wan had asked him what he wants, the answer had been simple and sprouting thorns.
“You,” Cody had answered, sure and steadfast.
Obi-Wan had almost flinched, cane scraping over the floor. “Even as I am now?”
Always. At every second their lives had existed in orbit to each other. Every possible face Obi-Wan had worn, Cody had wanted him. But— “I think,” he had replied, stroking the paper-thin grey skin under a yellow eye, “this is the only version I’m allowed to have.”
“I miss you,” Obi-Wan says on the holo, and Cody goes cold.
“Obi-Wan, don’t—“
The connection winks out and he knows that it was Obi-Wan, that the Force suppression cuffs must have some fault he detected and exploited.
He whips his head up, urgency clocking in inside his chest and ticking. “Stun him,” he grits out, just to not yell, and startles the Commander. “Make him unconscious any way necessary.” He swallows. “But please don’t kill him.” I need him.
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yxstxrdrxxm · 7 months
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SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]
TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―
NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)
(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)
(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)
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In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.
The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.
Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.
However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.
Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?
No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.
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It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.
A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.
To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.
Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.
Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.
I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.
Like they had no such shame.
Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.
So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.
Something related to my darling's little ventures.
"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.
"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"
I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.
"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"
...
The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.
How uncouth.
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From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.
Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.
However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.
No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.
He doesn't like his trust being broken.
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It had been days after hearing what I did.
I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.
I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.
And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.
The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.
It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.
Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—
—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.
My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.
My beloved maple.
I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.
How tacky.
I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.
"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"
I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.
"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"
"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."
With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.
Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.
Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.
Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.
...
I wonder if I can take it?
Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.
"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."
My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.
Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.
"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"
With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.
No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.
...
Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.
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The first case that started this was a cold one.
One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.
There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.
Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.
However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.
It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.
Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.
Was the tailor associated with his sins?
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The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.
What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.
The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.
I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.
Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.
However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.
A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.
This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.
I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.
... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.
And so, I agreed to the offer.
The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.
With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.
... That was, until that day came.
I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.
And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.
Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.
But just like last time, they were not alone.
In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.
From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...
... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.
So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.
What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?
I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.
...
"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"
My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.
Not even I would be able to see it happen.
However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.
Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.
That is what Thoma is.
But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.
Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."
A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.
What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.
Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?
"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.
"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"
... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?
I shook my head.
"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."
He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.
"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."
... Spouse, huh?
"Hm... Is that so?"
I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.
It was all for them. I knew that.
It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.
I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.
"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"
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After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.
It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.
However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".
All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.
From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.
It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.
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"Haven't you heard?"
"What? What is it?"
"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."
"What!?"
Ah, so he went missing like the others?
My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.
"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."
"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"
"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"
Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.
I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.
Slip, stitch, cut, sew.
Slip, stitch, cut, sew.
Slip, stitch, cut—
"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."
...!
I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.
Ah.
Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.
"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."
"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."
Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.
Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.
For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.
Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.
...
As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.
The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.
His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.
"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.
"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."
"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"
The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.
You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.
Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.
How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.
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If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.
To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.
Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.
It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.
This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.
It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.
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The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.
I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.
The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.
While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.
I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.
Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.
Slip, stitch, cut, sew.
Slip, stitch, cut, sew.
I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.
Slip, stitch, cut, sew.
Slip, stitch, cut, sew.
I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.
That is what my mother taught me.
Slip, stitch, cut, sew.
Slip, stitch, cut, se—
"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."
"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."
"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."
... A detective is in the estate. How curious.
It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.
The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.
It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.
"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"
"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."
"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"
"... Yes, detective."
"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."
"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."
"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."
...
I see.
Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.
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There was a time where I have thought that things will change.
Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.
I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.
I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.
But alas... He found me.
It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.
Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.
In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.
Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.
With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.
"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."
I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.
His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.
"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.
Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.
"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."
"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"
I simply said nothing.
And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.
"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."
"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"
I saw his lips curl to a smile.
"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."
... How uncouth.
"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"
"A duel."
He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.
"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."
"... Very well."
I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.
"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."
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Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.
However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.
The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.
The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.
No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.
The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.
But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.
Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.
In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.
No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.
But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.
This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.
They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.
"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."
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...
It had been a year since our fight happened.
I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.
Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.
After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.
The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.
However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.
I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.
My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.
Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.
"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."
With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.
I knew where you were bound to go.
I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.
I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.
I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.
You murdered my family, [Name].
You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.
I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.
How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?
No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.
As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.
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The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.
All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.
It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.
When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.
One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.
Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.
He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.
Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.
...
And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.
Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.
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@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023
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prettynalilmagic · 19 days
Text
ℙ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝔸 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕕: 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕜- ℝ𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟
Decks: Considerate Cat Tarot Vol 2, The Dark Mirror, Tarot of Pagan Cats, The Wild Unknown Archetypes
This reading will be shadow work based on what exactly are we repressing and not aware of. And how to work through it with advice from me and tarot. Take everything as a small guide, tarot is a tool for guidance and not to see or predict the future.
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Pile one
First things first, Go get therapy.
"Its not about choosing the chains.
Its about choosing them again and again."
Pile one welcome to your little section. So, I had a theme card for your overall shadow, which was Addicted. At first, I was troubled with finding out exactly what type of addiction was causing you to repress your shadow, and I kept pulling cards and I realized that your shadow is built on way too many situations that come back to your dissatisfaction from your life. Pile One your addicted to hating yourself. You have heavy cards that show me that there’s this feeling of self-inflicted despair. Your shadow emits contempt for life, you hate yourself and honestly hate life overall. The hanged Man in reverse shows me that you grew up very much internally, most of your experiences are based inwardly as you felt left behind on life. Everyone seemed to reject you. Your loved ones, and people who are supposed to be close, turned their backs on you at some point so in turn you did the same. The world rejected you growing up. Life showed you, that you aren’t deserving of love, so you internalized that and have subconsciously clung onto that delusion.
Pile one do you feel like nothing can change you? Nothing can fix you? That things will stay the same or get worse over time? Have you even thought about how you feel about yourself truly? When was the last time you willingly reflected on your own self-image? Do you think there's any motivation for you to live your life beyond what traps you? Going back to your theme card, your repression is very much self-imprisoned. You don’t see you can work through any internal conflict and you in turn have been chaining your own self to depression. Nobody is perfect, that's true, but self-discovery is beautiful however it's also difficult. This won't be an easy task.
Mentally, you’re at rock bottom almost every day. Do you dissociate a lot? Do you even know if you do? Because I recently discovered that I dissociate a whole lot throughout my life and have never known I was doing it. Human brains are truly mind blowing, it can take and hold so much stress and pain, then hide it away from us so when we don’t keep reliving and feeling all that hurt.
Nobody wants to struggle and be depressed, and our brain very much plays a part in helping us hide it away. Chances are you downplay or don’t care to think or consider your own shadow self.
I'm not fit to diagnose, but pile one look into Complex Trauma, C-PTSD, and being Shame Bound. Learn about various types of traumas, habits, and attachment styles on YouTube it will help you get a rough idea on understanding what you need to improve on without using therapy. However, please if you can, look into seeing a psychologist and a therapist.
I know life is super tough as it is for you and you might not be able to afford it but research if there's anything you can afford and if you truly have searched, look into self-help groups online and self-help programs as well. There are free eBooks you can illegally get, pirate that shit. Get a tarot deck for yourself and do shadow work readings. Also please stop reading all the dumbass future partner and next lover readings, invest love into your own damn self before investing it onto some person you most likely haven’t even met or aren’t going to meet. Sorry it's a pet peeve of mine. Chances are you’re reading this on your phone or computer, get on the notes app and write out that little ass of yours. Please there’s still so many ways to make your own mental stability easier on yourself. There's so much stuff you can do if you truly look into it, I recommend watching Patrick Teahan, Heidi Priebe, Psych2Go, and Kati Morton, they're my personal favorite therapy youtubers, and they can help you.
Okay going back to the cards, and not my own personal input, the hanged man in reversed also shows me that it was your environment growing up that has formed you into who you are. Life for you looked like everything was so big and almost outta reach for you to grasp, but you’re still here, you have developed habits that has made growing up easier, you learn to get by.
Which leads me to the present, you got the 9 of cups, meaning that your experiences have made you who you are. It ties back to all those built of moments of isolation and lack of love for yourself that you grew up with. Obviously when we grow up knowing others are treating or making you feel some type of way, you take from that and build your mindset on all those experiences.
This hatred is what we use to get by and we build ourselves up to work with our hatred. You know you felt like you are replaceable or have a deep fear of being left behind, we go outta our way to justify being the ones to leave others and replace other people with anything else to get that same feeling, until the same trigger happens. It's a never-ending cycle and growing up it can actually be helpful. As a child we only experienced all the heavy emotions and were not shown consistent or significant amount of effort for our needs, so we learn to not expect that and run away from anything that triggers that little child in you. No one was there to show love so obviously unhealthy habits and mindsets get developed and grow up with us and only gets worse and worse as time flies by. Pile one, you are depressed and hopeless but cheer up, just because your life hasn’t been the best does not equate to that being a set-in stone reality for the rest of your life.
You can make your own life better; the daughter of cups reverse shows me that there's this desire to play around with stuff, just do it. Stop thinking about it, do it. Fuck shit up, stop being afraid of messing stuff up, you think the ones who have hurt you stopped when they were making you feel not cared for or loved? Nope, so just have fun.
Do that fun hobby idea you been thinking about. Get messy with life, even if it is creating something very sloppy. You want to express yourself some type of way but feel like you shouldn’t? Well just do it, even if you feel like a joke or an idiot just try it and see how it feels. Even if you don’t necessarily want to do something or show off a different look or skill, and your more so afraid of making mistakes and not being perfect, just push that thought to the back of your head.
If you spill your drink and make a mess, guess what you can clean it up, you don't have to get mad at yourself or at the drink. Shit happens, and why should you submerge yourself into all the small things with these big emotions like anger and sadness. Relax and rest those pretty eyes. Which goes into your last main card, Four of Swords. Again, relax for once, don’t guilt yourself. Everyone who has it easy, allows themself to relax from time. Even if they don’t doesn't mean that you should do the same thing. Have fun, learn more about who you are and why you are here. There’s so much self-sabotage that goes unnoticed by everyone.
Learn from yourself, thank who you had to become to get to here, and learn how to work past that when that shadow side doesn't help you anymore. You don’t have to 100% love yourself to overcome your shadow. Because here’s the thing, you’re not overcoming it, you’re learning to accept it and work with it to do better. Your shadow is who you are and use it to your ability to grow. Pile one get outta here and watch some therapy videos pls, you will be happier even for just a second.
Pile Two
"What I can't have forever, I will have for a minute. What I can't have for a minute, I will hold to me for one second."
Hello pile two, welcome to your pile. I assume for the most part your shadow is not something you shy away from because quite frankly there's not a significant amount of repression that is being displayed; I feel like this kind of shifted into a little bit of a motivational reading from your guides to tell you about one specific flaw in you rather to tackle down one serious hindering issue.
You guys got two theme cards for your theme of the overall shadow side that you're repressing. I pulled Masquerade and Queen of my world, for you pile two. Both cards have one thing in common. Both are attached to the word Bargain. Which tells me that you tend to do the most to procrastinate the process of bad emotions or habits. Masquerade is all about living in the moment and doing everything in your power to savor and dwell into the fleeting moments you so desperately want to hold onto and stick to. Queen of my world is all about holding onto a facade that hinders the possibility of being seen as anything other than graceful and powerful. You also pulled the daughter of wands in reversed. Which tells me that you procrastinate as well, and you can honestly be very disorderly as well.
You repress your shadow self because of how uncomfortable you are for being seen as who you wish you could be.
You know when we live our whole lives trying to maintain a certain image, it can be so hard and honestly draining. It makes sense why you want to slack off and just live in the moment because maintaining the way you think you have to come off to other people is very draining and if you think about it, your facade is stressful weather you are or aren't aware of it. Having live off of short moments and a false persona is only going to fulfill you for so long, do you think pretending to be stronger, smarter, or fiercer than you really going to stop you from embracing your true inner strength? Because aren't you tired of always having to consistently perform? I don't know if you are even doing it for yourself because doing that for so long will tire you out and make you unsure of who you are deep down.
Pile two, I did pull the son of cups. Which is a very charming and very appealing person to be around, this just reinforces that you will be this at all times for everyone and everything. Given that this is the card that's supposed to represent your present reality, I believe that you are a very much cookie cutter desired person. Someone who is always on top of how you appear as. All I see is that there's this big grand facade of being this person that is so desirable and welcoming. Everyone wants to present themselves in a good light to an extent but for you pile two it's very apparent that this isn't a want for you, it is a need and you do whatever needs to be done to be this beautiful picture-perfect version of yourself, but your human, so guess what? You are at a point where you have to chill out and learn to be yourself, not the ideal version at all times. It's okay to not be what everyone else wants you to be, or what your parents want you to be or whoever else you want to idealize you. You're a human, you're only capable of so much, you're flawed, and you can want to do or partake in things that are different from what should be expected from you. 
I pulled The High Priestess in reversed for you as clarification for Son of Cups.  Which tells me that you are a very spiritual person, which would make sense, you are reading a tarot reading. Besides that, it brings up to light that your inner self is not being done justice.
Do you even understand who you truly are? Not what you think you have to be to maintain approval.
This facade habit is not aligned with your highest potential. Because face it, do you think you will be happy for the rest of your life pretending to be something that isn't the real you? Just because others think you will be does not make that idea a reality, stop deceiving your true potential.
I don't want to assume but my guess is you may or may not have immigrant parents that have kind of forced this urgency to be a certain way to please them. At the end of the day, you know how you want to be or wish to be. If you don't relate to that portion obviously disregard it, it could be anything from grades, skills, and appearance. Maybe it's a controlling figure, which could be a lover or a person in power over you causing you to feel like you cannot be authentically yourself. 
The next card for you is Chariot, which is all about heading straight to where you want to be. Who you want to be. Nobody is going to be able to do it for you. You have built a wonderful mask for yourself for so long that it'll be hard to take it off and learn what you look like when you aren't wearing one. It will be unnatural to you at first, but you will get used to it. You got this pile two. I hope the best for you beautiful. 
Pile Three
"I cannot recognize myself. But I'm still me."
Welcome to your reading Pile three. I pulled two oracle cards; Downcast Pride and Is this Me, which the purpose is to reflect on the main themes of your reading. Is this Me is associated with the last stage the Dark Mirrors Oracle grief cycle, which the stage of acceptance, whereas Downcast Pride is associated with the depression stage.
Which brings up the primary point- your shadow self that is being repressed, is your own lack of attachment to joy or fulfillment for your life. This pile does remind me a lot about pile one, as both were attached to the stage of depression. There's been this emptiness in our lives for so long, that we become very dull in life and don't bother to work or see things in a way outside of that empty feeling. Yet, on contrast to pile one, pile three is more so at the phrase of depression morphing into the stage of acceptance. Pile three has wisdom and more insight compared to both previous piles. Pile three you have this inward recognition that everyone is within means of having the capacity to alter your method of thinking and act based on that. You're the more self-aware pile so congratulations on that. I got the High Priestess reversed, Nine of Cups reversed, and Two of Swords as the cards to represent what is being repressed from your past. Nine of Cups was the overall main card for the first question and when it's in reversed I read it as dissatisfaction despite all the opportunities that have been given to us. Perhaps, we overestimated what should be given or granted to us and are disappointed that we don't feel satisfied even if our needs have generally been met. In other words, even though you didn't have the worst hand in life, you're not content. It's possible, you have taken your status, or a piece of your own identity for granted. Given the length of time we have used certain facets of our identity for so long, or maybe even briefly; our perspective of our identity can very much be impacted with that facet we once were attached to and what we used to represent. And it also plays a significant role in preserving our happiness and contentment. Now, this "opportunity" or fragment of identify has gotten away as time gives space for it to vanish off. Life is all about change, it's difficult to accept yet we can't and shouldn't allow it to dictate our personal fulfillment. Change is devasting but so is self-pity, a little self-pity is healthy for you, too much is detrimental for us to expand ourselves onto newer and better things. This could mean anything, such as growing up thin and gorgeous. Years go by and now you've gained more weight than you like, eyes have become dull and wrinkly skin has formed in the corners of your eyes, forehead, arms and almost your entire body. Maybe you're blaming yourself for not earning as much money or for not being able to get the same level of love, appreciation or attention from other people. It could be anything—even a passion that ignited a fire in your life that has gradually faded over time. (Mind you, I am not saying that if you picked pile three you have to be old enough to be worrying about wrinkles or having to make more money from the previous year, any age group could pick this. School, family and mental/physical illnesses can be factors as well not just time itself.) Two of Swords also brings up a different point, that highlights being at a standoff with decision-making. Pile three, did you make a lot of decisions based off of what someone else told you was better or what would best suit someone else? Two of swords displays a lot of lack of self-assurance and I think that part of your fulfillment that's displayed from Downcast Pride roots from not being more assertive in your own personal decisions. The High Priestess is a very spiritual card, and as it is included in the spread's earlier sections, I interpret this to mean that either an inner wisdom has been present but has been clouded by the lack of purpose and achievement. You have potential, but with all this chaotic energy, you have suppressed a lot of this fulfillment. Even after all this time has passed and you still feel as though you are in the same place in life. How come you never knew or tried to figure out what you wanted to do? You're not content and have felt like happiness and fulfillment hasn't been present in life. Pile three, it has to feel devastating for you.
Another way that I’m reading the high priestess is that the high priestess is all about our inner calling and inner wisdom. Based on the other two cards, I would say that this is what is blocking off all this magical, inner wisdom being brought up. Meaning, we must solve our own issues to let our inner voice be shined. Seek assistance from anyone or any place that might help you becoming more aware of your inner reality.
You also got the Son of Cups and Judgement reversed. Which just reinforces what I said the previous paragraph. Son of Cups represents a charming and idealistic person that everyone loves and desires. Whilst Judgement reversed is highlighting missed opportunities and failure. Failure to be the Sun of Cups. Failure to grow past who you used to be.
Mourn your past. Accept it’s not with you anymore. Move on so you can grow. I am aware it’s easier said than done, but it still needs to be addressed.
Lamenting over who you wish you still were, or where you want to be is rather pointless. Stop wishing for something thats now unattainable for you. Look for the new you, answers and solutions for yourself. Morph into something better so that the old you would’ve been jealous of new present you. When you think about it, it’s actually good that some things cannot be changed because then there’s a plethora of options for growth and numerous outcomes for who we can be.
Now, I pulled Father of Swords, for advice for you to help you work through accepting your shadow self. This card is pretty straightforward, Father of Swords is a very authoritative and is someone who strives onward. He’s also someone who’s very logical and knows that in order for blessings we have to work and set ourselves up for blessings. He does what he has to do to get to where he wants to be. He dosn’t live in the past, he lives in the present while working for the future. Spirt wants me to tell you to do the same so you can work through your repression of your shadow.
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st4rgzer · 7 months
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Can you write a about the reader loving Matt sm but knowing he doesn’t like her back. Liek don’t have a super happy ending but also don’t have a super sad one. Do it inspired by me and …
UNREQUITED (matt sturniolo)
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summary: the reader experiences some unresponsive feelings from a special someone
genre: angst
cw: taylor swift references maybe…? Is that a warning? Other than that I really don’t think theres much
a/n: as always, @iha8you ‘s request, ly, also dw you’ll get him🙏
This winter had been hell for me, it was always my favorite holiday, the cool air, snow, when it rained and I got to stay home playing boardgames with my mum, or I finally got to read that book that had been collecting dust on my shelf for ages now that it was dark and rainy. No, none of it this year. Every time I hung out with him I held my breath, in fear I’ll do something wrong, take too much space, become too much of a liability. Its stupid, just stupid, I’m his best friend, known him since i was 16 years old, but he seemed so much more older, and wiser.I belittle myself next to him, instead of just letting go, I take a mental note of every little gesture he does that correlates in any way to me, every choice of words, I save them to then divulge them later. It’s draining, not knowing if its just all in your head. If you’ve got it wrong…
“y/n? Hellooo, are you there” i snapped out of my meditative state.I was cross legged on my bedroom floor with two of my closest friends, I didnt even remember what we were talking about anymore.
“yeah sorry i was just distracted” I sighed tying my hair back into a low ponytail and resting my hands on my knees
“we were talking about Matt? Y’know you actually have a chance with him, did you see the way he talked to you earlier?” My friends were only feeding into my delusions, the other nodded in agreement. Even if he did actually see me like that, i dont know what i would do, we’ve been friends since highschool, everything would just be too weird and messy, it wouldn’t be right, no, not with me, not with him.
“No, guys, stop, you’re all just talking nonsense and it just makes everything worse” I groaned, placing my head between my hands.
“C’mon, who could ever leave you?” She says giggling, looking over at my other friend, it wasn’t funny, not in that moment at least. I felt despaired, I know it’s obvious I like him, maybe no one actually takes it seriously when i throw in some extra compliments once in a while of some flirty remarks, but I never try to hide it, except the real thing of course. I know my love should be celebrated, I shouldn’t settle for someone who just tolerates it, but I keep going back to the same thing, always, no matter how many people I see, no matter how many excuses I make to not hang out, its like a moth to a flame, I know im bound to get burnt, trust me. My friends keep convincing me, I feel petty having to listen to them try and make me feel better. Sometimes I come close to actually getting serious then I just think its a waste of time, he just always assumes im fine when my eye contact becomes non existent and my words get mixed up, I dont think he notices it at least, I dont think he ever notices. I guess this means im just doomed, It doesn’t matter how many times my friends reassure me, how many “glances” i pick up from him, Im never going to be one of his main concerns, unrequited. Im always just dimly lit, just enough. I should start trying to accept, settle, “always the bridesmaid, never the bride”.
a/n: this is kind of sht i wrote this at 1:00am, I’ll write more with requests🙏😊😊
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cvlutos · 1 year
Text
"Meet My Family"
| Repost: 01.12.23 | 1.2 K | Mature |
Silver X Fem!Reader
| GN Pronouns | Characters 18+ | Use of ‘Girlfriend’ | Dark Content | Yandere | Sexual Themes | Implied Kidnapping | Spying | Crying | Sharing | Etc. | Proceed with Caution, Dearest. |
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Diasomnia knows all about you.
They know you so well yet haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you. They know the sound of your voice when you argue and fight with Silver. They know when you cry and beg for freedom. They hear your sweet voice when Silver opens the door, and it’s unmuffled as you greet him. Something they know Silver wished for you to do.
They know how much you hate walking the halls of Diasomnia and how much you hate it there. It hurts their heart, but they leave you be. At least to a certain extent. Silver wants you to grow to like Diasomnia on your own. Even in his own blind delusion, he is kind.
"They wish to meet you..." His words are calm, monotone as your get ready for bed. The only true power that you have in this entire world, it seems. Silver changes into his pajamas, glancing at you occasionally. Waiting for an answer, an answer he already knows.
"They’re my family. I want them to adore you as much as I adore you." He turns to face you, watching you slip into bed, ignoring his existence completely. He lets out a tired sigh, moving over to the bed, and gently tugging on the blankets. "... please... I wish to do this the right way."
As if he hadn’t kidnapped you and shoved you into his room. As if he hasn’t basically bound you to the title of ‘girlfriend’ in his delusions. Yet he wants to act like you both are lovers.
True lovers.
"... [Name]..." His voice is serious, treading the line of annoyance.
You should be grateful, he’s not abusive. Not destructive. Always soft-spoken. He’s charming. Yet you know that if he desires to simply drag out of bed, and drag you by the leg down the dark halls, til he reached the common room he could.
"Do whatever you want...." It’s futile to continue arguing and you know that, as Silver slides into bed beside you. Not hesitating to place a burning kiss on your cheek, even if your body stiffens as he holds you.
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Diasomnia knows all about you.
The food, cooked and placed, on the large dining table, Malleus sitting at the head with unmatched eagerness, not shone on his neutral expression, but his eyes seemed to have a dangerous glow.
Lilia sits to the side of him, nearly bouncing in his seat, fangs on full display with his wide smile. While Sebek sits across from him, arms crossed and a scowl etched across his fingers. Yet he seems impatient as he listens.
They can hear Silver’s voice down the hall, and two sets of footsteps. His and yours.
The air seems to buzz with desire and anticipation. The doors of the dining room open to reveal a well-dressed Silver and you. Pretty gorgeous you. Silver’s girlfriend.
You stand nervously, all dressed up to meet your boyfriend’s family. Yet before you can even open your mouth, Malleus is striding across the room, taking note of your heightened panicked heartbeat and taking your hand. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
You want to say nothing; you want to pull away and turn around as his emerald green eyes bore into yours. You feel the gentle, threatening squeeze from Silver. Warning you not to disrespect his master. His prince.
"… It’s nice to meet you as well, Prince Malleus…" The words come off as robotic, turning your gaze away.
"I have heard so much about you. Silver talks about you often." Malleus’ grip is tight. Bringing your gaze back to him, he observes your reaction before pulling away with a narrow smile.
He’s the main reason you hate Diasomnia. Cause of the dragon that roams the halls. The dragon that lingers outside the door, silently, as if enticing you to let him inside.
"[Name], this is my father. Lilia."
Another that you’re familiar with, he floats to your side with a far too wide grin. Pulling you into a hug and crushing you. "I am so so so happy to finally see you up close! Aren’t you just the cutest thing!" He pinches your cheeks happily, uncaring of your uncomfortable posture.
He’s one you seen up close, one that waits outside the window that you keep shut, always. He’s pulling both you and Silver to the table, rambling about the food and the never-ending excitement he has. Sitting you directly beside him and Silver sitting next to Sebek, another one that you hate.
He’s the one that’s yelled at you through the door when you first arrived. Yelling at you to be silent and that your sobs would annoy his Lord. He spares not a glance and looks at the plate before him. You move your gaze to the porcelain plate, the aroma of food wafting into your nose.
"It’s your favorite, Dove." Silver reaches for your hand, using that nickname that you’ve always hated. You bite your tongue, grabbing his hand, feeling him squeeze it.
A part of you wishes, he’d simply fall asleep like he used to. Yet he doesn’t, at least no longer, in your presence. You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. That is the mentality you hold as the dinner drags on. They speak and chat as if it was a normal evening, a normal dinner, as if they didn’t know of the atrocities that Silver committed to getting you here.
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Diasomnia knows all about you and they love you.
The door to Silver’s bedroom never stays closed. Even when you try to barricade, it shut on the days Silver is late. In the morning, you’ll find all the furniture back in place and the door unlocked, with Silver sleeping peacefully beside you.
You’ll grow to love Diasomnia, they know you will.
In the mornings, you’re awoken by Silver, with soft groggy mummers of love and kisses, even if you try to pull away. It seems to last hours before the door is slammed open to Sebek, yelling a harsh wake-up, only to go red in the face and stammering, earning a tired chuckle from Silver.
You’ll get ready together. Brush your teeth together, do your hair, get dressed, all of it. With him sticking to your side with an invisible grin, happy that you don’t fight him on the normal routine. Happy that you treat him like a boyfriend.
Because why fight when you have no chance of winning?
Eating breakfast with all four, Lilia makes something completely inedible before Sebek swoops in secretly behind him. Creating edible food. Lilia trying to spoon-feed you, trying to pinch your cheeks when you comply. Whilst Malleus seems to bask in the rare sunlight through the large window, like a lizard. Drinking coffee that he urges you to make. Coffee you’re sure he doesn’t need.
In the mornings, you’ll sit behind the towering building of Diasomnia, sitting on steps watching Silver and Sebek train. While Malleus waters his dead and poisonous garden or sits beside you on the steps. While Lilia does whatever the fae does, sometimes he reads whatever he finds interesting, or maybe he’ll manage the two knights in training.
Diasomnia knows all about you.
They know you so well and only want to know you better. Why deny them of that pleasure? Even if they sometimes stand too close, or sometimes hold you too tight. You’ll grow to love the place you hate, even if you have no choice. Even as they lure you into one of their bedrooms, even as Silver lets them. Since families always share and Silver is okay with sharing.
Far too okay with sharing his girlfriend.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cienie-isengardu · 5 months
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Bi-Han rolled a -100 for intelligence in that scene when he outright told Kuai he let their dad die.
Bi-Han underestimated Kuai's loyalty to him because he must've really thought bragging how cool it was he let their dad die was gonna make his brother revere him. It's surprising given Kuai made it clear he loved their dad and Bi-Han somehow thought admitting he let him die would make his loyalty to him absolute.
I don’t think Bi-Han telling Kuai Liang the truth about their father’s death has anything to do with intelligence or desire to brag.
For me, that scene was Bi-Han’s frustration at its breaking point - the story mode did not present us much of Lin Kuei brothers interaction but even within the limited space it showed that Bi-Han couldn't do anything, not even just complain for waiting who knows how long without Tomas and Kuai Liang constantly talking about their Father and what the man would want from them. And yes, complaining may be inappropriate, even childish for Grandmaster to do, but for all we know Bi-Han just wanted to vent in frustration to his brothers in the privacy only to be frustrated even more by them bringing father into discussion.
And this pattern is repeated during their mission. Whatever Bi-Han will say, be it a remark about glory (a trivial detail) or wish for breaking from the past, Tomas and Kuai Liang will again and again either bring up tradition or talk about what their father would do.
Sub-Zero let their father die for what he thought was Lin Kuei’s best interest and in theory he should be finally free from the man’s influences. Including man’s teaching Bi-Han considered part of the reason why Lin Kuei was shackled and bound to unfair servitude.
Instead, even more than before everything revolved around the dead man to the point Sub-Zero outright asked if their father’s ghost possessed Kuai Liang (and Tomas?).
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Because apparently his brothers didn’t have anything on their own to add into discussion - and frankly, they did not provide any real counterargument why Lin Kuei should stick to the centuries-old servitude to Earthrealm that didn’t come down to “tradition” and “father said so” - two things that Bi-Han already was in process or rejecting.
And then, when Bi-Han finally made his mind about allying with Shang Tsung what Kuai Liang did? Of course he talked about father
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and I think this was the one too many mentions of father, the proverbial last straw that broke the camel's back. Telling the truth was not part of any great scheme, it wasn’t even about Kuai Liang itself, but it was a moment of catharsis for Bi-Han alone. 
We don’t have an idea when the previous Grandmaster died - Bi-Han could lie to his brothers about that accident for days, weeks, months or even years. The act of letting father die and lying about that burdened him, maybe even trapped more than he was before and Shang Tsung’s offer provided him both an occasion to cut off Lin Kuei ties with Liu Kang and finally to admit what he had done. The catharsis though doesn’t come from the act of admitting committed crime, because Bi-Han had no regrets about that at this point, but because he was so done with lying for Kuai Liang’s comfort and peace of mind...
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...all so his younger brother could be safely tucked in his delusion about Lin Kuei’s honorable traditions; that Bi-Han if not loved then at least missed and grieved after their father as he and Tomas did; that they all were the happy family - still family - when Bi-Han’s wish for change overshadowed his sentiments for parent long ago.
I think that scene is just the breaking point of Bi-Han’s frustration - a frustration we were both told by Scorpion (“I knew Bi-Han's frustrations ran deep. But I never thought they could inspire such madness”) and showed in interaction between brothers preceding Sub-Zero’s betrayal. I doubt Bi-Han even planned to tell Kuai Liang truth, especially at this moment, but my guess is he just couldn’t take anymore hearing only father this, father that, again and again and again. Every person has a breaking point and I suspect the last Scorpion’s remark about father and how he would turn in his grave - especially this one about his death - is what made Bi-Han to spill out the truth straight into Kuai Liang’s face, cutting deep with the remark I lied because you couldn’t and still can see the truth.
It was no planned and probably the most sincere Bi-Han’s moment, because finally he was speaking his mind bluntly, finally escaping the trap of a lie he told Kuai Liang and Tomas to spare them from the brutal truth, but a trap that turned against him, because his brothers holded even more stubbornly to tradition and father’s teaching. Only unconsciously increasing Bi-Han’s frustration. 
Did Bi-Han believe that Kuai Liang and Tomas would support his claims? It sounds like a foolish assumption on his part, but I guess he still wanted his brothers on his side (even if the man has a problem with communicating that, I think?). Definitely wanted them more than he cared for father. And well, if Kuai Liang did not bring father in that moment, who knows, maybe Bi-Han would kept the lie alive for much longer?
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princelylove · 5 months
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Thank you a lot for the ranking yandere of the Jofoe, I agree with you on that although I quite suprised that Kars end up being the most dangerous (I thought Dio would be more much dangerous, the way he charm everyone he meet and manipulate them to serve him)
Btw are you still write nsfw request? I hope you don't mind I request it, I would love to know how the first time of Jotaro, Noriaki, Dio with their darling (you can write about your fav character too :>). Like how they prepare for it, how they feel to be their darling's first time, aftercare ?
~ 🏵️ anon ~
What DIO views as “They’ll come around, they always do,” Kars views as “You are my possession from the beginning and you must submit.” Kars is the ultimate lifeform- without his invention of the mask, there is no DIO. When I think of DIO, no matter his age, I always think of the little boy who wanted nothing but love. When I think of Kars, I think of how he left Santana behind. Kars has no issue treating you as something like a prized possession, but to DIO, you’re his everything. Kars doesn’t want worship or something as silly as love, he wants to be amused. 
You happened to choose three characters that I tend to view as dominant/enjoy topping, so I threw in some submissive ones, for variety. 
Jotaro has no idea what he’s doing. He has no idea what lube is, no idea what aftercare is, no idea what foreplay is- he got all of his sex education from a half assed (Sorry, Holly.) ‘talk’ from his mother, watered down into childish language. He knows he’s supposed to put himself inside you, or something, but he’s… not really sure how it’s going to do that. Jotaro avoids sex for as long as possible- he’s not about to embarrass himself in front of the only person he wants an opinion from. Eventually, when he thinks the time is right (After he watches enough porn to “study”), he’ll work up the nerve to tell you that he expects sex from you. He has a bit of a fetish for you being a virgin. He views it as “pure,” and it plays into his delusion that his darling is the most innocent thing ever and will decay if he stops watching them for a single second. You’re precious, and he’s defiling you… The very thought is enough to rile him up. He treats his darling delicately afterwards, but that's sort of a given considering how fragile he treats you normally.
Noriaki has eased his darling into being ‘comfortable’ with at least foreplay, why not just go all the way? He normally gets his sadistic fantasies out of his system with little sessions- Hierophant Green ties you up and hangs you from the ceiling, and Noriaki tries absolutely everything he’s ever wanted to do, besides from penetration. He hasn’t really thought about it, but one day while toying with you, it occurs to him that he could’ve been doing that this entire time. You’re already bound so nicely for him, it’s such a waste to not at least try it. He supposes he would say he’s only curious- he’s fooled around with people before (If you count flirting and getting disgusted because they don’t meet his standards), but real, ‘proper’ sex has never been something he was very interested in. There’s a first time for everything. Noriaki doesn’t mind your lack of experience, he finds it cute. If you do have experience… it’s generally the smart move to not tell a possessive type that you let someone else see you in that way. 
DIO is surprisingly patient with his darling. Sex isn’t everything in a relationship, and he doesn’t want you to just see him as a sexual partner- having it too early can lead to expectations that, although he’d happily fulfil in the right mood, leave a bad taste in DIO’s mouth. He isn’t just a body or cold hands to keep you happy at night. He waits for you to make the suggestion, and focuses on your pleasure, for the time being. DIO’s fairly happy to service you- he thinks that if he pleases you enough, you’ll start to care about pleasing him. It’s only fair, isn’t it? He normally takes a dominant role in sex, touching him is only to boost his ego or to hold on for dear life. He thinks it’s the natural order of things, and will outright refuse you if you suggest that you want to only focus on getting him off. Don’t be silly, pet. Let him take care of you. His pleasure is brought on by your pleasure, he tells you. But, should you take the lead in kissing, or get as handsy with him as he’s been craving… well. DIO loves special treatment, just don’t make him beg for it, since he is actually opposed to pleading for his own darling’s touch, and he’ll roll onto his back nicely for you. As long as you’re not seeking sexual attention from someone else, DIO is willing to put aside how he feels about you having another in your past. First or not, he’s your eternity. You’re very well taken care of. Any aches or bruises are kissed better, and possibly massaged. If your hips ache too much, he’ll have a devotee carry you where you need to be, should his hands be busy elsewhere. 
Holly considers sex to be part of her marital duties. She’s supposed to let you have her, right? You can do whatever you want, she won’t complain, as long as you keep telling her you love her. Holly wants your first time to be after you’re officially married- which, to Holly, you already are. What’s in the past doesn't matter, she’ll guide you through how to touch her if you need it, and is a little bit too eager to make you forget about anyone that isn’t your wife. Asking for “aftercare” is not at all necessary, did you think she’d leave you all alone after working so hard? Take out your stress on her, get a little rough or go as slowly as you want, as long as you’re happy, Holly will take it. If you’re not in the mood, that’s fine… but she’ll think she did something wrong, and go sulk in another room for a few hours. It’s better to just get a little cardio done for the day and tire her out, maybe you’ll have some privacy if she falls asleep right after. 
Trish will beg you to fuck her. She does absolutely everything she can think of to get you to make a move on her. She’ll put her legs up on your lap when you’re sitting next to her- looook, she just shaved, feel. She said feel. She’ll only wear miniskirts and keep bending forward in front of you because she's “looking for something.” If none of her hints work, she’ll get on top of you, and tell you to do it. She may have matured a lot, but she’s still bossy. Just not during sex. It’s embarrassing- she seriously has to tell you? You should just automatically know when she wants it and how she wants it and to call her pretty and gorgeous and give her soooo many compliments and kiss her everywhere and you get my point. Trish will do absolutely no work, she fully expects her darling to do absolutely everything, and often forgets that you need love after too.
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By; Andrew Doyle
Published: Feb 28, 2024
Many years ago I gave a talk at the London Metropolitan Archives in which I outlined my reasons for rejecting the then fashionable theory of social constructionism in relation to human sexuality. In the coffee break that followed, I was approached by a lesbian activist, who claimed to have chosen her orientation as a means to oppose the patriarchy. She demanded to know why I would not accept that sexuality had no biological basis, even though I had spent the best part of an hour answering this very question. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but I’ve already explained why I don’t agree with you’. ‘But why won’t you agree?’ she shouted in response. ‘Why?’
Primary school teachers are familiar with such frustrated pleas. The anger of children is so often connected with incomprehension, a sense of injustice, or both. When it persists into adulthood it represents a failure of socialisation. We frequently hear talk of our degraded political discourse – and there is some truth to that – but really we are dealing with mass infantilism. Its impact is evident wherever one cares to look: online, in the media, even in Parliament. Argumentation is so often reduced to a matter of tribal loyalty; whether one is right or wrong becomes secondary to the satisfaction of one’s ego through the submission of an opponent. This is not, as some imagine, simply a consequence of the ubiquity of social media, but rather a general failure over a number of years to instil critical thinking at every level of our educational institutions.
To be a freethinker has little to do with mastery of rhetoric and everything to do with introspection. It is all very well engaging in a debate in order to refine our persuasive skills, but it is a futile exercise unless we can entertain the possibility that we might be wrong. In Richard Dawkins’s book, The God Delusion (2006), he relates an anecdote about his time as an undergraduate at Oxford. A visiting academic from America gave a talk on the Golgi apparatus, a microscopic organelle found in plant and animal cells, and in doing so provided incontrovertible evidence of its existence. An elderly member of the Zoology Department, who had asserted for many years that the Golgi apparatus was a myth, was present at the lecture. Dawkins relates how, as the speaker drew to a close, ‘The old man strode to the front of the hall, shook the American by the hand and said – with passion – “My dear fellow, I wish to thank you. I have been wrong these fifteen years.” We clapped our hands red’.
This is the ideal that so few embody, particularly when it comes to the unexamined tenets of political ideology. We often see examples of media commentators or politicians being discredited in interviews or discussions, but how often do we see them concede their errors, even when they are exposed beyond doubt? There is a very good reason why the sociologist and philosopher Herbert Spencer opened his First Principles (1862) by asserting that there exists ‘a soul of truth in things erroneous’; but such concessions can only be made by those who are able to prioritise being right over being seen to be right. Too many are seemingly determined to turn difficult arguments into zero-sum games in which to give any ground whatsoever is to automatically surrender it to an opponent.
The discipline of critical thinking invites us to consider the origins of our knowledge and convictions. A man may speak with the certainty of an Old Testament prophet, but has he reached his conclusions for himself? Or is he a mere resurrectionist, plundering his bookshelves for the leather-bound corpses of other people’s ideas? Hazlitt expounded at length on how sophistry might be mistaken for critical faculties, noting that the man who sees only one half of a subject may still be able to express it fluently. ‘You might as well ask the paralytic to leap from his chair and throw away his crutch,’ he wrote, ‘as expect the learned reader to throw down his book and think for himself. He clings to it for his intellectual support; and his dread of being left to himself is like the horror of a vacuum’.
The natural human instinct for confirmation bias presents a further problem, one especially prominent among ideologues. Anything can be taken to bolster one’s position so long as it is perceived through the lens of prejudgment. We can see this most notably in the proponents of Critical Social Justice, who start from the premise that unequal outcomes – disparities in average earnings between men and women, for instance – are evidence of structural inequalities in society. They are beginning with the conclusion and working backwards, mistaking their own arguments for proof.
Worse still, such an approach often correlates with a distinctly moralistic standpoint. Many of the most abusive individuals on social media cannot recognise their behaviour for what it is because they have cast themselves in the role of the virtuous. If we are morally good, the logic goes, it must be assumed that our detractors are motivated by evil and we are therefore relieved of the obligation to treat them as human beings. What they lack in empathy they make up in their capacity for invective.
Again, we must be alert to the danger of cheapening argumentation and analysis to the mere satisfaction of ego. One of the reasons why disagreements on social media tend towards the bellicose is that the forum is public. Where there is an audience, there is always the risk that critical thinking will be subordinated to the performative desire for victory or the humiliation of a rival. In these circumstances, complexities that require a nuanced approach are refashioned into misleading binaries, and opponents are mischaracterised out of all recognition so that people effectively end up arguing with spectres of their imagination. The Socratic method, by contrast, urges us to see disputation as essentially cooperative. This is the ideal that should be embedded into our national curricula. Children need to be taught that there are few instances in which serious discussions can be simplified to a matter of right or wrong, and fewer still in which one person’s rightness should be taken as proof of another’s wrongness. In the lexicon of Critical Thinking, this is called the fallacy of ‘affirming a disjunct’; that is to say, ‘either you are right or I am right, which means that if you are wrong I must be right’. One cannot think critically in such reductionist terms.
To attempt seriously to understand an alternative worldview involves, as Bertrand Russell put it, ‘some effort of thought, and most people would die sooner than think’. In the study of psychology this is termed the ‘cognitive miser’ model, which acknowledges that most human brains will favour the easiest solution to any given problem. These mental shortcuts – known as heuristics – are hardwired into us, which is why being told what to think is more pleasurable than thinking for ourselves. I remember an English lesson in which I had initiated a discussion with my students about the representation of Satan in Milton’s Paradise Lost, a topic that routinely comes up in exams. I wanted to know what they thought, and why. One student was sufficiently bold to ask: ‘Can’t you just tell us what we need to write to get the highest marks?’
This was not the fault of the student; there has been a trend in recent years, most likely influenced by the pressures of league tables, for schools to engage in ‘spoon-feeding’. Schemes of work and assessment criteria are made readily available to the pupils so that they can systematically hit the necessary targets in order to elevate their grades. The notion of education for education’s sake no longer carries any weight. I have even seen talented pupils marked down by moderators for an excess of individuality in their answers. In such circumstances, even a subject like English Literature can be reduced to a kind of memory test in which essays are regurgitated by rote.
It is hardly surprising, then, that pupils who opt for Critical Thinking courses at GCSE or A-level often perceive it to be a light option, a means to enhance the curriculum vitae without too much exertion. Courses are generally divided into Problem Solving and Critical Thinking, the former concerned with processing and interpreting data, and the latter covering the fundamentals of analysis and argumentation. Pupils learn about common fallacies such as the ad hominem (personal attack), tu quoque (counter-attack) and post hoc, ergo propter hoc (mistaking correlation for causality), along with others derived from Aristotle’s Sophistical Refutations. The Latin may be off-putting, but in truth these are simple ideas which are readily digestible. If one were to discount arguments in which these fallacies were committed, virtually all online disputes would disappear.
That said, the existence of Critical Thinking as an academic subject in its own right might not be the best way to achieve this. As the psychologist Daniel T. Willingham has argued, cognitive abilities are redundant without secure contextual knowledge. Critical thinking is already embedded into any pedagogical practice that focuses on how to think rather than what to think. The increased influence of the new puritans in education presents a problem in this regard, given that they are particularly hostile to divergent viewpoints. Any institution which becomes ideologically driven is unlikely to successfully foster critical thinking, and this is particularly the case when teachers are at times expected to proselytise in accordance with fashionable identity politics. The depoliticisation of schools is just the first step. Critical thinking requires humility; this involves not just the ability to admit that one might be wrong, but also to recognise that an uninformed opinion is worthless, however stridently expressed. Interpretative skills are key, but only when developed on a secure foundation of subject-specific knowledge. This is the basis for Camille Paglia’s view that art history should be built into the national curriculum from primary school level. In her book, Glittering Images (2012), Paglia explains that children require ‘a historical framework of objective knowledge about art’, rather than merely treating art as ‘therapeutic praxis’ to ‘unleash children’s hidden creativity’. Potato prints and zigzag scissors have their place, but we mustn’t forget about the textbooks.
When I was a part-time English teacher at a private secondary school for girls in London, one of my favourite exercises for the younger pupils was to ask them to study a photograph of a well-known work of art for five minutes without speaking, after which time they would share their observations with the rest of the class. So, for instance, I would give them each a copy of Paul Delaroche’s ‘Les Enfants d’Edouard’ (1831), which depicts the two nephews of Richard III in their chamber in the Tower of London just prior to their murder. My pupils knew nothing of the historical context, but after minutes of silent consideration were able to pick out details – the ominous shadows under the door, the dog alerted to the assassins’ footfall, how the older boy stares out at us with a sense of resignation – and offer some personal reflections on their cumulative impact. To create, one must first learn how to interpret.
The kind of humility fostered in the appreciation of great art could act as a corrective to the rise of narcissism and decline of empathy that psychologists have observed over the past thirty years. According to the National Institutes of Health, millennials are three times more likely to suffer from narcissistic personality disorder than those of the baby boomer generation. Writers such as Peter Whittle, Robert Putnam and Shaylyn Romney Garrett have traced the rise of hyper-individualism in Western culture. One particular study revealed that in 1950 only 12 per cent of respondents agreed with the statement ‘I am a very important person’. By 1990, this figure had risen to 80 per cent and the trajectory shows no signs of stopping. One of the ways in which this trend manifests itself is the now common tendency for arguments to deteriorate into accusations of dishonesty. After all, it takes an extreme form of egotism to assume that the only possible explanation for an alternative point of view is that one’s opponent must be lying. In order to think critically, we cannot be in the business of simply assessing conclusions on the basis of whether or not they accord with our own.
An education underpinned by critical thinking is the very bedrock of civilisation, the means by which chaos is tamed into order. Tribalism, mudslinging, the inability to critique one’s own position: these are the telltale markers of the boorish and the hidebound. A society is ill-served by a generation of adults who have not been educated beyond the solipsistic impulses of childhood. At a time when so many are lamenting the degradation of public discourse, a conversation about how best to incorporate critical thinking into our schools is long overdue. Our civilisation might just depend on it.
This is an excerpt from The New Puritans: How the Religion of Social Justice Captured the Western World. You can buy the book here. It’s also available as an audiobook.
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Shadows of Shar [F!Reader x Selunite!Shadowheart]
NOTE: THIS IS PART 3 and a half TO FLICKERS OF LOSS
Told you it existed
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Previously - No More
Intended Audience: Mature [scroll the age requirement wheel until you come to a year where you can bypass the age check, we all know you do]
The Bit: You're learning to sleep again with the help of your patient, cleric lover. But can you learn to live again? Or are the shadows of your past too hungry to resist?
Warnings/Advisories: Implied SA, emotional abuse, torture via magical wounds, mental abuse, gaslighting?, cute but cringey pet name, tickles, a distinct lack of sandcastles (that's in the end half, which I am still working on)
Words, all the word (count): 3,553 baebeee
Dedicated to my bestest bestie who also made and provided and chose the gif - @ethelspetals
MINIMAL EDITING - WE FORGET AND DIE LIKE SHARRANS (ALWAYS - PRAISE OUR DARK GODDESS SHADOWHEART)
Finally delivering (half) of my promise in 3...2...1
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-
Chains...
Chains and prayer. Prayer and chains. And ceaseless prodding. All at the hands of an obscene mockery of a god. Eyes remained closed, fixated on perfect, endless darkness. Finding the comfort of her Lady's embrace even on the knees of her failure.
No.
This was many things, but a failure it was not. It was a test. A sacred task bestowed upon her by the Lady of Loss. Even across the vast expanse of stars and time, her goddess would not tolerate derision.
Darkness is where she derives her faith. Darkness is where she thrives her soul.
And it would come. In time.
For now she would withstand the well lit room. She would reach out across the links that represented the bond to her pet, forever bound through the Dark Lady's blessed markings, etched into your flesh. Claimed as hers for eternity. Through them she could remain somewhat vigilant over you. Attempt to keep you from straying so far down those delusions the inferior version of her was poisoning you with.
Sure, you stumbled and struggled in your training... but you still excelled far beyond her expectations. In time, she was convinced you'd make a fine Dark Justiciar... And once she freed herself, well... it would only be a matter of time.
The Nightsinger had plans for both her, and you. And those plans were far from extinguished.
______________________________________________
Sunlight filtered in through the closed curtains, it's warmth on your skin denied by the covers you've been tucked into. It wasn't odd for you to wake up alone and she was trying not to coddle you so much, but that doesn't mean you have to like it. You had begun your ritual of smelling her side of the bed when the sound of the door closing has you perking up and looking down the bed toward it.
Shadowheart, with her hair plaited and already dressed, can't help but huff a small laugh when she sees you. "Just as I left you." She teases, swinging her arms a little as she crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, folding her hands on her lap. The twinkle in her eyes accompanied with her soft smile as she watches you makes your belly flutter.
With a curious tilt of her head, Shadowheart lifts her hand to tenderly brush her fingers against your hair. "Time to greet the day, lazy bones..." the words laden with honey. The showering of her affection has your eyes drift closed a moment. "I would let you sleep longer if I could, but we have company arriving soon." She hums, her perfect nails delicately graze your scalp in that way that turns you to putty for her. Even as she reminds you of the trouble, you caused her last night.
There's been an improvement. Some nights you fall asleep easily, but wake up with a lurch, muttering Sharran scripture until she coaxes your mind back to her. Other nights you toss and turn in her arms. The first time she thought it was because you felt... trapped. After all, she shares a face, voice and body with your former "mistress". So that night she encouraged you to sleep on your side of the bed uninhibited by her hands or arms. On your own.
You woke up in the middle of the night, on her lap in the middle of your shared bed. Throat raw and Shadowhearts arms squeezing you against her, pinning yours to your sides while she finessed her soft hands, radiant with divine magic, onto your right one, which burned and stung. Tears were drying on your face, but you couldn't remember why. Shadowheart's voice in your ear alternating between whispering and murmuring promises of love and safety. And you could feel a warm wetness under your fingernails on your left hand. It took too long for you to realize you had apparently clawed your right hand in your sleep. Possibly in an attempt to destroy the markings.
That was the last night she let you sleep without being tucked deep in her arms, the soft lullaby of her heartbeat in your ear and her fingers in your hair. To her credit, that hasn't happened since she's insisted on holding you every night.
But you were finding nights where you slept peacefully, visited by pleasant dreams or dreamless. They were becoming frequent enough you actually felt hopeful. Maybe, little by little, she would regain the confidence to let you sleep outside her protective arms again.
Wait, she mentioned company... what company? Your eyes peel open, reuniting with the tenderness and love in hers she's lavishing you with, and she must read the confusion. "Do you remember? My parents arranged to come by and see us," Shadowheart explains patiently, not once allowing her smile to completely falter.
A white cat that you recognize, Pawtato, hops onto the bed, nudging Shadowhearts arm up to demand attention from her. Lifting her hand from your hair. Apparently, the ridiculous name was your fault. "Come, don't be shy. You may only remember meeting them once, but they care about you almost as much as I do. You made quite the impression... That hasn't changed." She encourages with a knowing smile, pulling the covers off of you to reinforce that going back to sleep wasn't an option for you.
Still, you try. Curling into a ball and burying your face into her pillow. "Oh no, you don't..." Shadowheart warns. You feel her shifting up the bed, shuffling closer...
Then her fingers dig into your ribs, and you cry out in pained laughter. Your arms and legs flail. In a chaotic mess of movement, a playful battle erupts over your shared bed. "I'll tickle you right out of this bed if I have to!" Her laughs blending with your own.
You nod feebly, struggling to use words between gasps and cries, but fate is kind, and she mercifully ceases her assault. As the dust of your short-lived war settles, you realize the position you've inadvertently found yourselves in.
Shadowheart's knee sits between your thighs, effectively straddling your leg. Her hands smooth over your now exposed sides in gentle, soothing circles.
Her knee forces your legs open wider for her, dark hair framing her even darker eyes, "keep these open nice and wide for me, just like I've taught my good girl... you're my good girl, aren't you?"
A kiss. Just beneath your ear. That's all it takes, and you're back in her arms. "You're safe here..." Shadowheart murmurs in your ear, her fingertips drawing circles and hearts on your sides before she uses them to pull you into her. "And loved. So very loved." The gentle sincerity in her voice could almost bring you to tears as your arms slide around her back. Her warmth, the smell of her, how you melt into her embrace... it's intoxicating.
She tenses slightly, pulling her head back to give you a pointed, teasing glare. The tiniest of smirks giving her away.
Then you realize where your hands are. "Cheeky... Part of your scheme to keep us in bed, I presume?" Shadowheart's smirk grows as you blink stupidly at her. Your hands unmoving from her ass.
With a soft laugh that bubbles from her chest, she presses a tender, lingering kiss to your lips before slowly untangling from you. "I'll leave you to get yourself ready, then. They should be here within an hour or so." She smiles as she rises from the bed and departs the room. Pawtato hops onto your chest, and you briefly consider using him as your excuse but know you'd disappoint Shadowheart if you did.
You sigh and gently lift him off of you and at last roll out of bed. Before long, you are cleaned up, dressed, and presentable. You think you made good time when you start down the stairs.
...Until you smell fresh tea and hear the sound of chit chat from the kitchen. "There she is!" Her dad is the first to notice your arrival, rising from his seat at the table in what you recognize is an instinctive move to hug you.
But you tense. And you hate yourself for it.
Clearly, these people know you and care about you, but everything in you is still... jumbled. Confused. Your memories are still foggy at best, and what you do recall is Sharran training. And... obedience.
Let no one close, leave only room for The Blessed Nightsinger in your heart. And your ears pure for your mistress...
Despite everything in you that wants to let that go, it clings to you like moss to a wet rock. Some days, it feels inescapable, deeply ingrained into your very being. Shadowheart has told you before the key to shaking yourself free of those webs, those shackles... is to move forward, no matter how daunting it may feel.
So you do.
Your feet close the rest of the distance where he stopped to provide you space. And force yourself through the motions. Stiff as they may be, the moment you actually embrace the man, it floods back to you.
The last time in your memory you saw him was when you and Shadowheart emerged from the portal. He had been staying in the home and tending to it, and its inhabitants in your absence. And until now, that was all you knew of him and Emmeline. But now you see flashes of times they came over for visits with their beloved daughter, embraced you into their family like you had always been a part of it...
And as you separate from the embrace, it shatters. "Godsdamnit, now?" You barely hear her voice before it dies in your ears to the agony.
Intense, searing, almost all-consuming, your right hand glows deep violet up to your wrist. Strong enough, it buckles your knees, as if a firm hand was pushing you down onto them. Without any indication or clue you knew exactly why, you somehow still understood the reason. It couldn't prevent you from pursuing Shadowheart, though it had tried. But it could still interject with others.
This was punishment.
"By the hells, how can she be this petty?" Shadowheart's voice was barely audible in your ears as the pain persisted. Vaguely, you felt her arms around you.
As suddenly as it came, it vanishes. Leaving behind a faint throbbing ache in its place from your traumatized, trembling nerves. "I'm sorry..."
"Hush, you..." Shadowheart soothes, giving your body a reassuring squeeze in her arms. "I, of all people, understand exactly what you're going through. You have nothing to be sorry for." She continues, moving one hand to tuck some loose hair behind your ear.
Once you seem more composed, she pulls away and helps you to your feet. Guiding you to sit on a chair at the table. A cup of tea waiting for you, right next to hers. Shadowhearts hand clasps to your right under the table. You waste little time swirling the spoon around the rim of your little cup to distract your thoughts
Conversation passes easily after that. While you're more an observer than a participant and your love tries to include you where she can, it's still difficult and not just because you still only barely remember these people.
Every time they talk about Selûne, practicing her faith, visiting her temple, it makes your skin itch and you hate it. Almost every time they opened their mouths about it, you had to bite back a retort from all your time spent studying Sharran scripture, listening to Her teachings.
Selûne's light will penetrate the deepest darkness. Find courage to embrace the truths that lie beyond, for her illumination is a beacon of clarity.
Falsehoods to fattened cattle fit only to be slaughtered. In the Moonwitch's light lies temptation to embrace false hope and misguided paths. For in Shar's dominion, shadows are not deceitful, but honest companions, revealing stark truths that the Moonwitch's light seeks to obscure.
The Moonmaiden's light will guide the way.
Only the blind need guidance. For in Shar's endless dark, one only needs to abide and embrace her wisdom to find their way.
Incredibly, it was like Shadowheart could read your thoughts when this happened. Every time you felt yourself slip, she would give your hand a small squeeze and it would be enough to pull you back.
You weren't so naïve. The weight of the amulet hanging around your neck, a gift as direct from the Moonmaiden as it could be, was the only thing preventing Shar from dragging you back to Her. If your... mistress got free, and you didn't have the amulet... It's like this thing was helping keep your thoughts your own.
Though sometimes it didn't seem that way.
"Love?" she says softly beside you, pulling your attention from absently swirling your tea with your spoon. "I'd written to my parents about this already and they've agreed... Perhaps some time outside the cottage would accelerate your healing."
Your hand stills and catches the spoon before it can circle the rim of your cup. Though you're not entirely sure why, a sinking feeling nestles deep in your stomach, strong enough you wriggle your right hand free of hers to hold your tea with both hands. This isn't the first time she's suggested the idea and despite her desperate pleas with you to elaborate on why you reacted this way, you didn't answer.
Because you couldn't. You couldn't put it into words and you doubt you ever could.
Little pet, whatever do you think you're doing?
As best you can to stifle your reaction to the intrusive echoes of her words in your ear, you can't hide the slight twitch of your brow, your right hand squeezing the cup. No, you're not letting this happen here. Even Shadowheart is hardly aware of these moments where you hear... this. Urgings of your former mistress to be obedient. Behave. Faint reminders of her teaching.
Still aware of the subtle tingling in the back of your skull like a tangible presence in your mind. The moment you try to push it back and out, your hand flares again. Not for nearly as long, but enough that if the cup weren't on the table, you'd have dropped it.
Relieved when her voice doesn't return, having successfully shut it out. You're starting to worry her voice would haunt you for the rest of your life. How were you supposed to keep it from Shadowheart like this? "Where would we go?" You inquire shyly.
Your favorite cleric flashes you a warm smile. "A little trip down memory lane, nothing overly excessive or taxing." As she lifts her cup and sips from it.
"It really is no trouble." Arnell insists with a gesture of his hand. "Jen—Shadowheart believes getting out into the world would do you good, and I can hardly fault her reasoning."
Blinking awkwardly, and realizing you're outnumbered, you sigh and drop your shoulders. Shadowheart takes this as your silent surrender. Her hand settles on your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "I may have already packed some of our belongings for the journey... We can depart at first light." She says with an encouraging, gentle smile.
All of these blatant acts against Shar and your mistress, and you have yet to feel the sting of your marks, demanding your submission.
Has she finally turned her back on you? "I... I'm going to check on the barn." You sputter pathetically and shrug out from under your lover's gentle touch, scurrying toward the door of the cottage. You don't dare to turn around and face their confused, probably disappointed faces.
Are you nothing more than a constant source of disappointment now?
‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐
It was a very roundabout way of getting here. You'll give her that. You set your heavy pack of supplies next to hers. Her altered Justiciar armor gleamed in the bright sunlight in contrast to your dark leathers. Better to be safe than sorry, she insisted.
Your feet gently dipped into the soft, shifting sands of the beach. It looked cluttered with a variety of small debris, but otherwise it seemed like any ordinary beach.
But Shadowheart's gaze fixed on a spot in particular. Almost in the center. A smile touched her lips, her eyes distant... in a memory of her own, perhaps. "This is as close as we can get to the beginning." She says in an almost reverent way.
Though you try to ignore the awkwardness, it must still show in your face when her eyes meet yours. With a sigh, she takes your hand and leads you closer to this random spot in the sand.
Like she knows.
More than a little dazed from your own rude awakening, you hesitate over the unconscious cleric. Her dark hair framing her fair face, almost deceptively appearing... at rest. The strange dongle clutched in her hand.
Perhaps you should... gods, what should you do? She had been nothing but a valuable ally so far, but... this half-elf was not all she presented herself to be.
Against your better judgement, you bend down, gingerly rest your hands under the spikey pauldrons of her armor and give her a firm shake.
She stirs almost instantly, eyebrows furrowing until her gaze meets yours. "You're alive." She mutters in surprise, "I'm alive... how is this possible?"
If it weren't for her hand on the small of your back, you'd probably have fallen backward with how abruptly you reenter your body. "This is where it all started, the beginning..." The words fall from your lips, but they don't feel like they belong to you. They taste foreign and strange on your tongue. Shadowheart slowly slides beside you, in your line of sight. You lock your eyes on hers. A brief flicker of the dream you just saw flashes before you, and for a second her hair is dark, she's wearing bangs and a mysterious circlet. "The beginning of what?"
Even if you tried, you couldn't miss the subtle sadness that weakens her smile. As if disappointed. Still, her hand tenderly takes yours. "The beginning of us, love." Her words gentle, careful. Expectant...
She's waiting for your markings too...
After a brief moment, Shadowheart guides you to kneel next to the spot on the sand, and she takes her place opposite you. "Think, Tav. Relax and let it come back..." she says encouraging, sitting on her knees with her palms flat on her legs.
While you're unsure at first, you humor her and take a deep breath. Easing the tension in your shoulders and staring into the warm grains of sand...
"We need each other, and we both know what's at stake." The cleric, Shadowheart states confidently. "I can't think of better company."
Well, when she says it like that, how are you to argue? "Suppose it would make the most practical sense. Two heads are better than one and all that. Very well. We're burning daylight standing around" You nod, once again hating how you're somehow shorter than a half-elf even if only by a few inches.
Her hand catches your arm before you fully turn away. "Before we go... I just want to thank you. For saving me." Shadowheart says, her hand lingering on your arm. "It would have been all too easy for you to run right past my pod. But you didn't." She pauses before she ends with a heartfelt, "I'll remember that." And nods.
"All too easy..." echoed in the distance. Shadowheart paid no mind as she started up the beach beside you, "all too easy to forget yourself, more like."
You watch helplessly as she admires the dark, ominous spear in her hand, before she grips it in both hands and glares at the mysterious Nightsong.
She rears the spear back
You taste blood—
And your hands fly to your skull, jumping backward from anything and everything, pushing back on your hands until the sand scratches your palms raw. Desperately bringing your knees into your chest, hugging them closer to you before burying your face against them. "Talk to me, please." Her voice pleads next to you, her touch on your hand.
All too easy...
You jerk away, her voice worming into your ear trying to find purchase in your mind again but you won't let her... you won't be brought to heel again.
Tense silence falls over you like a blanket, cold, wet, heavy. Suffocating, drowning, your chest coiled tight and ready to implode on itself. "Tav... it's me." The voice is different. Sweet. "Whoever you think I am," she continues, like a warm caress in your ears, "I'm not her."
She tries again to touch your hand and though you twitch; the response is more subdued and so instead she grips your hand. You feel her slowly, carefully moving closer to you, her other hand stroking the top of your head. "You're safe here."
Just like that, the seas calm and the waves subside. Timidly lifting your tear-stained face from the fortress of your knees, and Shadowheart, your Shadowheart wastes no time wiping away the lingering tears. "We'll get through this together, my love. You're not alone. I won't let you face this on your own."
For a moment, you dare to feel a flicker of hope in her words.
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-
I'm going to give a shoutout to my bestie who motivated me to write this and my biggest cheerleader and fan @ethelspetals
Go send her lots of love and appreciation and check out her youtube. The gif used here was picked out by her.
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creepling · 5 months
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i’ve had to have some time to think about this because it’s new johnny lore, whether confirmed yet or not im not too sure. haven’t been able to get to the bones of it bc of the nancy gameplay. and it is also something out my comfort zone, but i do have thoughts. ive wrote this more as headcanon, keeping to exploring the fiction so don’t take it as my personal view. i know it’s opened a can of worms in the fandom, but this is me trying to make sense of it through writing.
tags: necrophilia, death, corpses, derranged johnny shenanigans.
many serial killers have confessed to dappling in necrophilia. it’s hard not to when they are toying with death through attraction. if they target victims they also have a sexual attraction to, and they also want to committ murder, there is then a psychological nuance to how they view that person (that they already see as less than human). they will revisit the murder scene, sometimes even dig up the body. they don’t even have to physically committ necro, but the obsession is still there.
in the case of johnny, it is not too far fetched to assume he has been in situations that can have this psychological change in him becoming a necro. how far he goes with it is what is left to the imagination. someone with a philia does not have to do the physical act for it to count, just the obsession mentally accuring is enough. when it comes to necro, the obsession relies on the intrigue of bodily autonomy, to strip it completely through death. his victims have a habit of escaping him, and he is despised by family members because of this. his drive for the hunt is not only to fufill his killer instinct, but also to assure that no one will escape. he views death as a trap, an everlasting bound on their body, mind and soul. his emotions are numb to the point he doesn’t even view it as killing them. he already sees them as an object - as a canvas of flesh - and in death it makes no difference. or, he has the delusion of still seeing light in their eyes; they can speak, but choose not to. in any of these readings, he fulfills his need for control. the body is now obediant, and he doesn’t need to bare anymore shameful scars.
since i’m not a necro (thank god) i assume the obsession is kin to looking at a statue. one of those greek ones where you admire the curves and angles of the body, awing at the creation. its stillness captivating since it’s so life-like, your mind scans for a jolt or twitch. you start to imagine how they would speak, move, show emotion. the person is immortalised to be admired and have them in memory. maybe johnny views his perservation of the bodies like a work of art, they are his muses. when they’re still and unmoving, he can make them who he wants them to be. he can have his derranged thoughts contained in his head, looking at the body on the meat hook, the same way the average person looks at a statue in a museum. maybe that’s all he does, just stares, a scenario in his head, held back by a force that he cannot identify. it’s the first time he’s ever questioned something about his character; and it scares him. that voice in his head, “you sure you wanna do that?” has never tried to stop him before, so why now? is it because drayton doesn’t take kindly to him ‘playing with his food’, is it drayton’s voice? no, he’d be more harsher than that. is it his mum? can’t be, she’s never stopped him before. then who is it? to the average person, that is what you call a conscious. to johnny, it’s an unwelcomed guest, another voice to nag at him. he’s bulldozed his way through life, eating and grabbing anything he desires, and now he’s come to a hault. he thinks the voice is challenging him, and he never backs out of anything. but for the first time in his life, he’s thinking about it. not because he’s questioning the morals, but to see how it will benefit him. and when he looks at maria’s body, hanging on the meathook, and could have sworn he seen her blink. even in death, she is defiant. now, he has to take back control.
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love-kurdt · 6 months
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How to Write a Good Fanfiction: A 5 Step Manual
Hello! My name is @love_kurdt, also known as Eva, and I’m a Wattpad Veteran of the early 2010s, where the genres of Slash Fics, Y/N, and Imagines ran rampant. I spent years of my life as a kid scrolling through my iPod touch, weeding through Wattpad’s plethora of profiles, on a quest to find quality fanfictions. I found a handful, which I added to a specific reading list to come back to when I needed a break from screaming into my pillow because of the sheer audacity of thought-criminals who called themselves writers.
When I’d reached the point of reading the same five works over and over in a never ending cycle, I decided to make the life-altering decision to start publishing my fanfictions online. Granted, I was only thirteen at this point, so my writing wasn’t spectacular by any means, but I came to discover that over time, the mere acts of reading and writing can light a spark of inspiration that can carry you to creative success.
I’ve been writing my own works for over ten years now, and can confidently say that I have cracked the code to writing a good fanfiction that will have your readers captivated instead of cringing. Please don’t get me wrong– if you want to just write fanfic on the internet for fun, and not to write a novel, that’s great, too! That’s what the internet is for; exercising your free will. But this manual is tailored towards those who want to hone in on their craft and gain a substantial following as strictly fanfiction authors. So without further ado, let’s jump into it. Godspeed!
Step 1: Choose Your Fandom
What show, movie, or book has drawn you in and left you feeling like there should be more to the story? When one of those media comes to mind, you’ve chosen your fandom!
Step 2: Do Your Research
When writing fanfiction, it’s kind of an unspoken rule that you need to know the canon of the fandom you’re writing about. The canon is also known as the source material. For example, if someone were to write a Draco Malfoy x OC fanfiction (*cough* a 200+ page Draco Malfoy self insert fic written at 11 years old in a series of notebooks bound together with multiple layers of Gorilla tape *cough*), the canon would be the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. It’s, in essence, what “really” happened. It’s totally fine if you want to write a non-canon compliant fic, too! In fact, they’re extremely popular, specifically within the “fix-it” genre, which usually involves characters that died in the canon but the author kept alive in their fanfiction. Either way, you should have a general idea of how the canon functions within the context of the fandom, so you can make creative choices that diverge from or stick to the canon.
With the canon comes the fanon, which is basically a compilation of fan theories and headcanons that are often common themes in both canon and non-canon compliant fanfics. A pretty niche example of this is the Byler fandom (the ship between Stranger Things characters Will Byers and Mike Wheeler), where there’s an official list of theories on Tumblr that are used in many, if not most Byler fanfictions. There’s FlickerGate, where the flickering of the garage light in Season 1 is actually Will and Mike in the Upside Down in Season 5. There’s BirthdayGate, where the antagonist, Vecna, manipulates the minds of everyone in Hawkins to forget Will’s birthday, which is a central plot point in a lot of Byler fics since no one seems to remember it, not even his best friend. There’s also LetterGate, where Will confronts Mike in the canon about not sending any letters after he’d moved away, but the theory reveals that Mike wrote plenty of letters– he just never sent them because they ended up turning into love letters, which in turn resulted in internalized homophobia. You get the picture. Most theories reach far into the land of delusion, but it doesn’t stop writers from creating incredible work that could easily be mistaken for a script.
But Eva, what if I just think the characters are hot and I don’t give a shit about the cannonball? I can’t tell you what to do, my friend, but I highly suggest you at least consider the canon so you can avoid all the petty, obnoxious gatekeepers in some fandoms who can be unhinged enough to send death threats if you leave out a significant canonical detail. But you do you!
Step 3: Choose Your Platform
There are three popular platforms to choose from: Archive of Our Own (ao3), Tumblr, and Wattpad. There are also a few other lesser known or dead pages such as fanfiction.net, but I honestly wouldn’t bother with those, since they’re more infiltrated with anons and bots nowadays.
This is where you want to think about 1) where most of the members in the fandom you chose reside, and 2) the demographic of readers you want to reach. For example, I observed a higher number of Nirvana fans on Wattpad than the other two platforms, which is why I chose to post my full length Kurt Cobain fanfiction, “You Know You’re Right,” on there. It also helped that my favorite author of another Kurt Cobain fanfiction on Wattpad, @/ugh-nirvana, had hits in the hundreds of thousands, so I was confident that my book would do well on that specific platform. On the other hand, the Stranger Things fandom is in full swing on Tumblr and ao3, so I chose to post those fanfictions on there rather than on Wattpad. It all just depends on who’s where.
You also have to consider how active you want to be on your platform(s). Tumblr is more of a blog situation, while ao3 and Wattpad are solely for publishing the work. If you want to have a life beyond the realms of the world wide web, choose Wattpad or ao3, as inconsistent updates are a bit more accepted than on Tumblr. But if you want to throw yourself headfirst into a fandom and put your whole author-ussy into your fanfic, then Tumblr is the platform for you.
You should be aware, however, that Tumblr involves a lot of upkeep, as well as constant, strategic, and active participation within your fandom. Visual aesthetic is vital to any functional Tumblr blog. Most profiles have directories, with color coded links to each work’s homepage, which is linked to each individual chapter, which are then distinguished by a unique GIF to capture a prospective reader’s attention while they’re scrolling through copious amounts of content. And there are always new ideas and theories in development in certain fandoms, so it’s crucial to keep up with recent updates in order to stay relevant.
After all is said and done, you don’t have to get married to one platform for the rest of your life. You can choose to be exclusive to one or two platforms, or publish everything on all of them! The decision is ultimately yours!
Step 4: Obey the Writer’s Trifecta of Consistency
Yes, I came up with this term, and yes, it should be a real thing. Because in every piece of writing, whether it be fanfiction, a short story, an actual book, a screenplay, what have you, it is critical to be consistent in your People, your POV, and your Plot. Let me explain.
People
Your people, or your ensemble of characters, consists of three hierarchical levels: your protagonist/antagonist, your side characters, and other background characters. I should emphasize the importance of building character profiles for everyone, including your pre-existing characters from the fandom, but specifically for your original character(s) if you have them. That way, you know who serves as a major plot device, who serves as someone who just helps time move faster, and those who are mentioned by name but have very little significance to the events of the story. I’m going to reference Harry Potter again, since most of the world is familiar with the characters. Harry and Voldemort are the protagonist and antagonist; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid and company are side characters; and Peeves, Seamus Finnigan, and Blaise Zabini are background characters. Keep this hierarchy in check; don’t let your main characters fade away, and don’t let your background characters shift to the forefront for no reason. If you do plan to move a character up or down the ladder, make sure to have clear motive as to why you’re bringing this character into or out of play.
2. POV
Your POV is the point of view in which you’re writing from. Assuming you’ve been in a typical middle school English class, you’ve heard of the first, second, and third person points of view. I cannot tell you how many times I have read fanfictions that jump from one POV to another, sometimes within the same sentence. I open the door and see Kurt Cobain standing in the corner of the room. She walked across the floor to meet him there. See what I did there? I jumped from first person present tense to third person past tense. Do not attempt this at home.
The least common of the three points of view is the second person, or what I like to call the Y/N point of view. In fanfiction, second person POV is often used in self-insert fics, where instead of a character’s name, it’s replaced with “you.” That’s why a lot of romantic character x reader fics are so popular. You should feel free to use this one, especially if that’s the kind of vibe you’re going for, but I’m going to elaborate a little bit more on first and third person, as they’re a bit more “literary.”
The first person POV confines the narration to the mind of one character. It can also be done with multiple characters, but be sure to do it so it’s painstakingly obvious to the reader whose POV you’re writing from. Also note that if you plan to write multiple first person POVs, try to keep that number on the lower side, as a large number of POVs can get really complicated really quickly. Third person narration can be done from two angles: limited or omniscient. Limited is more similar to first person, in which you’re confined to one person’s viewpoint, but they aren’t the narrator; you’re just seeing the story through their eyes. Omniscient is my favorite, because you can narrate from a bird’s eye view with the freedom to travel from mind to mind and read their thoughts.
Building character profiles can be really helpful when developing both first or third person POV; if you connect with a particular character more strongly than the rest, that should tell you whose POV you should write in. If you choose to switch POVs, be sure to do it either on an alternating/rotating basis, or if you repeat, it should be apparent as to why that particular character is the “voice” of that scene.
3. Plot
Dare I say that Plot is the most important step of them all, so do not skip this one, whatever you do! The biggest mistake most fanfiction writers make is having a concept but lacking a plot. It’s like biting into an apple just to discover it’s a lemon. Many writers are capable of starting off strong, but once their initial story begins to meander, traveling into uncharted territory, their brainchild can become a monstrosity.
In order to write a solid plot, it’s pretty common knowledge that you need to have a beginning, middle, and end in place. It doesn’t need to be overly specific or down to the last detail, you just need to figure out how your characters make it from point A to point Z (the larger scale), and how points B through Y factor into the plot (the smaller scale). There are a few routes that you can take in order to do this: you can write the entire thing ahead of time without any input, you can write the entire thing with the feedback of a beta reader or proofreader to help you work out any kinks or mistakes before you publish it for the entire platform to see, or you can publish it gradually and take feedback from your readers as you go. Should you go with the last option, though, you should be made aware that if you aren’t already an established author, it may feel like you’re talking to a wall, and you will likely feel discouraged from writing the story altogether.
I find it helpful to outline the whole thing. I have a closet door in my house dedicated to a Dave Grohl true crime fanfiction I’m working on. I’ve written the entire story from beginning to end on index cards, split into four different parts with each card representing a chapter. What’s good about outlining is that I can edit my story as I go along. If I decide to change something, I can add or remove an index card, then replace or rearrange the other index cards to work around the change I made, and that way, I don’t have to start over from scratch. It’s helpful to see everything laid out in front of me, so I’m not left at the end of a completely improvised plot with a slew of loose ends that I’ll need to go back and edit. It’s also better than publishing each part individually then having to redo everything after your readers have already seen it. And I don’t know about you, but I enjoy it when I’m able to save some time, energy, and lengthy explanations to random people online. That is, unless you enjoy constant feedback from readers, in which case you can change the plot on a chapter by chapter basis based on their feedback.
Consistency in all of these respects is key. I cannot emphasize this enough. Keeping all of these elements in check will help you create a sort of cohesiveness that will neatly wrap the story up with a little bow on top. 
Step 5: Use Relevant Tags and Content Warnings
Repeat after me: tags matter! Again: tags matter! When you’re about to publish your fanfiction, you’re going to be given the option to add tags to your work. For my first few years spent on Wattpad, I had no idea what tags were, so I didn’t use them. Thankfully, the platform was still pretty small, so people still found my work pretty easily. Nowadays, though, it’s nearly impossible to find what you’re looking for without searching excessively specific tags and using a million filters. It’s unfortunate, but look at it this way: there are so many people contributing to so many fandoms that the content is seemingly endless!
What you’re going to want to do is add as many tags as you can but keep it as simple as possible. I know that sounds kind of oxymoronic, but I mean it in a way that all of your tags relate directly to your story, and not just to the fandom itself. A lot of readers feel misled when they’re scrolling through their filtered search page for, let’s just say, a Byler fanfic, and end up neck deep in a Mileven fanfic in disguise. That’s not a fun experience.
Lastly, please remember that you are publishing your work on the internet, and you don’t know who may encounter your work! Listen, we live in a world where everything needs to be overexplained, everything needs trigger warnings, and everything needs to be neutral or else someone is going to hate you. I get it. I’ve been writing fanfiction for a long time. It might be annoying to add content warnings, especially if one of those warnings spoils a major plotline, but if I’m being honest, I’d rather be safe and add the damn warning than not add the warning and be responsible for someone’s worsened emotional or mental state. Bottom line, it’s just fanfiction! Let’s do our due diligence to create a community full of love and understanding for everyone!
After that, you should be all set to publish! Let’s review one more time for the road:
Choose Your Fandom
Do Your Research
Choose Your Platform
Obey the Writer’s Trifecta of Consistency
Use Relevant Tags and Content Warnings
If you’ve stuck around for this long, thank you so much!
I hope this manual helps you along your fanfiction writing journey, wherever it takes you <3
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that you bake of this
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I find it interesting how the first poster is accusing groups of TB stans of not handling criticism, when TG stans (particularly Alicent stans) are the ones most often "melting and crying" over criticism.
Pointing out Alicent's hypocrisy and cruelty, the fact that Aegon is a rapist, and Aemond was a coward and cruel are all met with screaming. They flat out deny any facts of canon that show how awful their favs are. I've been told to kill myself multiple times just for pointing out actual canon things Alicent has done. Like, the call is coming from inside the house TG lmao.
I don't deny that there are certain people who claim to be TB but have absolutely braindead takes (namely certain Daemon stans, which is very sad). But the fact of the matter is, those people are a very small percentage. The percentage of insane people who can't stand criticism is wayyyyyyy larger in the TG fandom.
Most of TG stans' so-called criticism of Rhaenyra is just calling her a whore, saying she roll over and take any injustice, and that she's not nice enough. Of course we get annoyed and angry with that, it's not even actual criticism; it's just noise. The few times they actually have valid critiques of Rhaenyra, they still tie it in with calling her a fat whore. Anything of worth they could possibly offer is always completely bound to their intense hatred of Rhaenyra.
No, Rhaenyra isn't perfect, we don't expect people to just blindly worship her. She's not a good person, she's classist, and she wrongfully ordered the executions of innocent people twice. However, she's the rightful heir, that's literally a fact. We expect Rhaenyra to be supported because she's a victim of the patriarchy and misogynists. She doesn't have to be your favorite character, but the fact remains that she's the rightful queen and the Greens are usurpers and warmongers.
As for the whole "team smallfolk" idea: it's basically always used as an excuse to be blatantly hateful towards Rhaenyra. The "team smallfolk" and "team neutral" people never attack the Greens with the same vigor as they do Rhaenyra and her family. In fact, most of them even say that they're "green leaning".
The contradiction in this idea of supporting the smallfolk and the Greens simultaneously is that if the Greens hadn't interfered, the Dance and the deaths of the thousands of smallfolk wouldn't have happened. Rhaenyra and the Blacks didn't start the war, the Greens did. The Greens committed the most atrocities and refused every single offer of peace Rhaenyra offered.
I think the second poster is hilarious though. I don't know if they're TG, I assume so based on the subreddit. I don't know if they meant to, but they pointed out just how hypocritical the first poster's mini rant was. The first poster tacked on "Also they hate "Team Smallfolk," and the second poster pointed out how most of TG also just don't give a shit. Even if the second poster isn't TG and was just going to that subreddit to start something, there are still so many TG stans who admit that the smallfolk don't matter to them. I even had an anon once tell me that the maids Aegon raped don't matter to them as an answer to why they like and support him. I'm not going to say that they're right on not caring, but at least they're not hiding behind that false moral superiority.
Like I said earlier, the Greens were the ones who caused the deaths of thousands of smallfolk, both indirectly by starting the war and directly through Aemond and Daeron. The Greens didn't care about the smallfolk in any way, they only cared about power. Any TG stans who act like they're "better for the smallfolk" are delusional.
To sum up my thoughts: the first poster is projecting. Every single one of their criticisms apply better to their own group. The delusion and false superiority that poster displays are hilarious and frustrating.
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