#the only branding that could get me to go back to church
Photo
#dirty laundry#d20#dimension 20#dropout tv#aabria iyengar#surena marie#omar najam#danielle radford#dnd#the only branding that could get me to go back to church
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Temptation
Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3
Your dad is tired of you bringing home these unworthy men. None of them being fit to take care of you or to be given the family business since you are the only daughter. He decides to find you someone fit to be your husband and receive help from the father of the church. That’s when you meet Yuta, though just because he goes to church doesn’t mean he’s much of a saint
Mafia, murder, violence, mentions of religion, (will contain other things in the next chapters)
The date went rather well… yes he was acting weird time by time. For example he would look at you then towards the direction of the exit and finally to his right where a group of men sat. His eyes always seemed to be darting in thoes specific spots. He was very vague with the answers to your questions and would switch the topic to you. You could feel the floor move as he bounced his leg up and down. Was your dad really going to let you marry this man?
"Don’t you think I should be getting to know you a bit more?" You clasp your hands together under the table. "Tell me about your family!"
"They’re well, alive and well." Yuta pokes at his steak, clearly not being hungry. He had taken you to this big fancy restaurant and ordered himself the most expensive steak just so he could look at it.
"What is your field of work?" You ask as you sunk your fork into a grilled piece of fish.
Taking a sip of his wine he chokes at the sudden question. He clears his throat and answers the question after a few minutes of contemplating. "I am a business owner."
"Oh really? What is your business about?" You perk up. Obviously you knew about the business work and that topic intrigued you. Your father has thought you everything you knew.
"I don’t think you would be quite interested in it. I don’t sell jewelry or dresses. It’s just trade, nothing your small head should worry about." He pats his front pocket and pulls out a buisness card. "I’m under the Gojo franchise."
The small card was being handed to you and you accepted it. It had the company’s name written on it in a cursive font with big dark blue letters.
"What are you trying to say? That I’m not knowledgeable enough to understand any of this? Do you know who I am? I’m the daughter of one of the best wine distributors. You’re literally drinking our company brand as we speak!" You furrow your brows.
He quirks his brow and lifts the glass up to take a good look at it. Inspecting as if he actually knew how to evaluate such thing. You watch as he took a sip from the glass and tasted the drink. Dragging his eyes back to yours he simplify shrugged and put the glass to the side
Your father has taught you about being a lady and to never let anger get the best of you. But he just spouted the most ridiculous thing ever. Did he really think he was going to win you this way? Unbelievable man, this was the last time he was ever going to see you.
"That was really good actually, the best iv ever had." Yuta smiled at you. "Right, I’m sorry for saying that. I’m just not used to being around many women. I was secluded when I was younger and was always around buisness men. I really had no time to just be a kid. The second I was able to read and write I was forced to learn everything I know now." He looks down.
Was that even justifiable?! But at the same time your heart ached as he talked about his childhood. This poor man was forced to grow up too fast and never had the chance to be a boy. You reached out for his hand that rested on the table. He looked up at you with a small smile.
"Thank you for opening up to me, I know it was probably hard to tell me."
"Yea it’s kind of embarrassing for me to admit that I have no experience. I told father everything and he promised to find me a woman suitable for me. Someone kind, understanding, forgiving and stunning." He pressed your hand onto his cheek as he looked at you.
Your heart melted as you stated at his dark blue eyes. His soft warm soft cheeks made you want to pinch them.
"Yuta, goodness what am I going to do with you. Such a handsome man with a heart of gold. I want you to know that you can always rely on me." You say forgetting everything that happened a while ago.
"Wait does that mean you’ll give me a chance?" He looks at you surprised.
You nod at him with a blush on your face.
" I’m going to treat you so well you have no idea." He pulls your hand towards his lips and plants a kiss on it.
His eyes looking past you as his lips stayed on your skin. Until he looked to the side and let’s go. Intertwining your hands together he can’t help but wear a big smile on his face. You’ve never felt this way before but you felt excited. This was something new for you and him. It was going to be a such an experience.
He ended up taking you home but before he left he wanted to have another talk with your father. Probably saying that you both had agreed on dating. If things work out you guys should be getting married in a few years. You watched the both of them enter your dads office and when the door closed your mom grabbed your hand and dragged you to the kitchen.
You looked at her shocked as she grabbed your face and searched you up and down. She ignored your questions as she investigated to her heart’s content. When she decided you were clear she let out a sigh. She looked like she had been stressed all day.
"You arnt hurt are you?" She said worried
"No mom Im perfectly fine. You don’t look okay though." You say looking at her red puffy eyes and smudged makeup.
"I told your father to find you a good man y/n! A good man but he’s so stupid." She held your arms tight. "Don’t worry I’ll get you of of this."
Your mom was usually a vey calm and collected person. She was the standard in your big family and everyone wanted to be rich and elegant as her. Seeing her act like this frightened you. If anyone saw her acting like this they would think that she was out of her mind.
"Mama you don’t have to worry about me. Yuta is such a kind gentleman. He’s not going to harm me nor is he going to kill me. I don’t think he would hurt a fly actually. You can relax and be sure that everything will be fine." You hug her tight. "You can even supervise all my dates if you want. You already know it’s going to take a few years before I actually go home with him or get married. Papa isn’t that easy to sway." You kiss her head as you.
"Your father, I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I don’t know why he would agree to let him take you go on a date with a boy related to the Gojo’s."
There it was again, that last name that keeps popping up. You might have to start investigating that family to find out what this whole thing is about.
"Y/n be careful with that boy and if your scared that sometimes is going to happen just comply and find a way to escape him. That family, they’re not to be messed with. You can seriously get hu-"
"We’re leaving." You hear a voice from the kitchen entrance.
The both of you jump, startled by the voice that spoke behind you.
Leaving? You mouth confused.
Yuta grabs you by the arm and leads you to the front door. You try to stop in protest but he kept pushing you fowards as you walked.
"What do you mean she’s leaving?! F/n what the hell are you thinking?!" Your mother shouts.
Before you could heard the answer to that the door behind you was shut. All you could heard was faint steaming, crying and the loud crickets that created there sweet sounds of the night. Everything was happening so quick that it didn’t give you time to think and process.
You were in the car by the time you even had a question about this whole situation. You couldn’t even recall when he put the seatbelt on you or when started driving. This all felt like a dream.
"Who are you?" You ask.
Yuta turns to look at you, his glossy eyes shining with the moonlight. "What do you mean by that?"
"You arnt an average person are you? You’re different." You stare at him as he faces the road once again.
He didn’t answer for a long time. It almost felt like forever. You were starting to think you wernt going to get an answer.
"Yuta okkotsu, Ceo of the trading branch that belongs to the Gojo franchise. Born and raised in upper NewYork."
You frown seeing that he told you what you already knew. Then something else caught your eye. On the front pouch of his dress shirt was a pen that seemed to be pushed down. Meaning he had used it not too long ago because that wasn’t there when you met him. That means he had signed something recently. If your dad had sent you off with him and he has a pen on him that could only mean…
"Did you just buy me?" You ask.
His eyes drag back onto you. His once soft puppy eyes turned into sharp tiger eyes. "No, are you okay sweetheart? You’re asking me such odd questions tonight. I think you need rest." He says.
"No." You protest. "Why did my dad agree to let you go on a date with me? Why did he not Interagate you more? Why was he so aggressive with you in the beginning and now he’s not? Why is he always smiling when he sees you? Why am I in the car with you right now? Why am I going home with you? We’re not even married for me to be sleeping with you." When you finished you felt your body being launched forward by force.
Yuta had stomped on the breaks causing that to happen. You held your chest with you hand trying to calm down your racing heart.
"Do you always ask this many questions?"
The ride to his place was silent. Not a sound came out of the both of you. You looked out the window at the different houses and stores that you passed by.
They all looked unfamiliar because you’ve never been in this part of town. The buildings were big and the houses had such big land. They where huge mansions that sat on the hills and smaller ones that where ground level. The car came to a slow stop making you look in front of you. When you did you could see a man opening the gates letting the car go in, it was dark but that didn’t prevent you from seeing this huge white mansion that stood in front of you. It had balcony and vines hanging from the side. A handful of cars were parked on the far left side of the house under a tree. Did he own that many cars? What kind of person needed that much?
He helped you out and held your hand the entire time. Unlocking the door he took you straight upstairs quietly. Almost as if he was sneaking you inside his parents house. Looking at him from behind you started to realize thing, you could see how his dress shirt hugged his back. How his pants fit a little bit too perfectly on him. The smell of his cologne being leather scented. The jewelry he wore on his hands. A scar that wrapped around his wrist that looked like it was made not too long ago.
You stumbled on a step making him stop to make sure you were okay. He had been walking a little bit too fast making it difficult for you to catch up. He decided to walk a bit slower giving you more of a chance to look around. The house was huge from the looks of it. The walls where a creamy white and the floors where a dark brown wooden color. The house seemed to be very clean, everything looked perfect actually. Not a spec of dust in sight making it odd. Your mother was a clean freak but not even she could get it this clean. The walls were littered with crosses and pictures of saints. Unfortunately this place look like it had not been touched by a women. It was missing the home like feeling.
He ended up sitting you down in a chair that he had in what you assumed was his bedroom. It was twice the size of yours and a balcony. He had big dressers, a big bed, a sofa and a chair with a table. It seemed a bit too big for someone like him. Then again maybe that’s why you were here. His tall body moved around the room as he put things from his pocket on a dresser. He threw his coat that he had been carrying on a chair. Then turned back to you.
"I’m going to go downstairs to do something. You can stay here and do whatever females do on their free time." Yuta said as he walked to the mirror and fixed his shirt. "Your to absolutely not go downstairs okay?" He says making eye contact with you through the mirror. "No matter what you here you ignore it." You could see his intense gaze looking at you showing you how serious he was being.
You nod at him.
"Splendid, You’re not hungry are you? I think I might heave something downstairs if not I can get you anything you want." He approaches you and presses a kiss on your lips as if this was the norm. You look at him with a look he could not possibly look away from. "Your really something huh? How about when I get back we can have some fun." He leans till the both of your noses are touching. Forehead pressed giants forehead. You reach for your neck and touch the cross necklace that rested there. He takes a step back and looks at you amusingly. "Right."
Walking out he closes the door behind him leaving you alone in this cold room. Your hand runs through the cold bedding sending chills through your body. The things you mom had said played over and over in your head. Maybe now was the time to find out who he was. Standing up you walk to the coat he had threw to the side.
Picking it up you slipped your hand in each pocket taking anything out. You pulled out some money, recipes, cigarettes, and a folded paper. Slowly you unfolded it afraid that he could possibly be right outside the door. The white crinkled paper contained random numbers and your name on it.
You take a seat in the hard floor and shove it in your dress. You would probably find use for it later on. Suddney someghing shiny caught your eye, looking down at it you spick it up. It seems to be a pin with a design in the front of it. The more you looked at it the more it reminded you of the one your dad wore. It was a cuff link, these were used a show off wealth and status. Usually the things on them had meaning. This design was one you remember seeing somewhere. Holding it up for the light you look at it more trying to catch every detail you could. Then you remember that you saw it in the card he had given you. Quickly you looked for the card you had stuffed somewhere.
Unfortunately you weren’t careful enough with it and it ended up slipping out of your fingers. You gasped as it hit the floor making a loud echo. That’s when it started to roll away from you. Quickly you ran to grab it but missed the first time. It was rolling faster and faster gaining speed. You struggled to grab it and by the time it stared to loose momentum it had went under the double doors. You bite your lip debating on whether you should go out but you would be in big trouble if he found out you grabbed it. Cuff links can range from cheap to very expensive and that’s one looked like it was worth a heavy penny.
Opening the door you look around the floor to find the dam thing heading down the stairs. Everytime the link made impact on a step, a loud clink could be heard. You wince at each sound it made. Taking your heels off to make less noise you chase after it. Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs you snag it before it could run any further. You take a deep breath relieved that you finally had it back. 
"Well I haven’t seen one of you since the last one." A man said. Turning around you see a tall man with a long beard looking at you. Somehow the hair didn’t transfer to his shiny bald head. You weren’t sure who this man was so you tried making conversation really short with him so you could get back but maybe this could work out with you.
"Oh, your telling me he’s had other girls?"
"Obviously he has, you must be an idiot to believe that man hasn’t had a woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a child somewhere." He laughs.
Well now you knew that whole sob story was a lie.
"Right because he’s a very important guy right?"
"I think you’re underestimating him, he’s literally the reason the Gojo franchise is still running with no competition. Then again he literally m-" before he could finish his sentence a long shot rang out. You quickly duck from the sound taking cover from the shooting. Who in the world could be carrying in such a nice neighborhood?! Usually you heard these type of things on the other side of town. It took you a minute before you looked back up but when you did Yuta stood infront of you.
"Didn’t I tell you to wait upstairs." Yuta squats down to get eye level with you.
Behind him you could see a crowed of men walking out a room. He must of getting out of a meeting but why was it at his house? He quickly snagged your attention by grabbing your face.
"You’re not answering." He says.
There was no point in lying to him. Slowly you open your hand and show him the cuff link. He looked at you surprised and took it from you.
"Where you trying to give this to me? Because you knew I had a meeting?" He says as his ears began to turn pink.
You had no idea how he came up with that conclusion but you didn’t deny it.
"Well that was really kind of you and uh darling, where are you heels?" Yuta looks down at your feet that touched the floor. You laugh awkwardly not knowing how to explain yourself. It didn’t matter much since he picked you right off your feet and carried you upstairs. Looking over his shoulder you look down to see if the man you had spoken too was still there. Instead you saw a crowed and a group of people carrying something out the door.
"Y/n, let’s get some rest. You have a long day tomorrow."
#yuta okkotsu#yuta okkotsu x you#yuta okkotsu x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x y/n#yuta okkotsu x y/n#yuuta x you#yuuta x y/n#yuuta headcanons#jjk yuuta#yuuta okkotsu#yuta x y/n#okkotsu yuuta#yuta x reader#okkotsu yuuta x reader#yuta oneshot#jujustsu kaisen x reader
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
on smelling the flowers
Walk One
My dog takes great pleasure in our evening walks. I have not always felt the same. Our walks, historically, go like this: she pulls on her leash, and I follow behind doom scrolling social media on my phone. The heat of the evening feels oppressive, the breeze hot and taunting. She is happy, and I think only of getting back inside to lay down in the AC. She insists on smelling every fallen fruit and darts after bugs with joy. I endure.
On one of our very first walks together, Daisy rolls on her back, feet in the air, happier than I have ever seen her. I pull out my phone to take a quick video of her joy, feeling it rise in my chest as well, until my nose catches up with the situation. My dog, finally out of the shy shelter dog phase, has rolled in feces. Any joy I felt is lost in the realization that I will now need to wash a three legged dog who hates bath time and that I might be late to work because of it. Daisy, despite being covered in shit, seems to be even happier.
I envy my dog for her seemingly natural propensity for joy, especially in the face of hard times. I brought her home 10 days after she lost her hind leg to a car accident, her side still scraped and scarred from the pavement. And yet the first moment we met she came bouncing over, sat in my lap and licked my face. She was sniffing flowers with her entire cone in the bushes, tail wagging like nothing bad had ever happened to her. Could I ever do the same?
In church I grew up hearing that happiness was a feeling, but joy is a choice. To a 17-year-old with severe depression, this sounded like bullshit shared to shift the blame of our pain from God to ourselves. I spent my life with a clenched fist, nails digging into my palm, enduring what the church might claim was God’s plan for my life. Expressing unhappiness was met each time with a smile and a condemnation: happiness is a feeling, joy is a choice; your feelings don’t matter, do a better job at getting rid of them. Truthfully, I still believe that this mantra was shared with the purpose of absolving the Almighty of any hand in our affliction, though I have found meaning of my own in them since.
Walk Two
My favorite time to walk with my dog is right before the sun fully sets, when the heat has started to seep out of the concrete and dissipate into the air but it hasn’t quite become dark yet. We walk along the fence of our complex, where bushes of purple flowers bloom when it rains. My sweet dog, with her flopping ears and wagging tail, has always believed in smelling every single flower for as long as necessary. I, with my allegedly important life, believe in shorter, functional walks. I believed that feeling joy and that noticing the beauty of this world and this life was something I could only achieve through time and medication and luck.
I want to be clear: medication is for many (and certainly for me) a prerequisite to study and participate in joy. But I thought medicine would be magic. I was disappointed to discover that it functions more as a life jacket than a cruise ship. I wanted joy to happen to me, and I was frustrated to find that all the mood stabilizers and anxiety meds in the world wouldn’t bestow immediate happiness upon me.
But here was this dog sniffing flowers.
Why could I make hours of time for things that made me miserable but not take these ten minutes to be present, outside, a spectator to my dog’s delight? Why was I so annoyed when our walks would take longer while she took the time to smell every fallen olive from the trees, as if each would be a brand new scent? Maybe they are to her. Maybe each sniff makes her heart feel lighter, more excited to go to the next, the way I read books when I was young and joy was easy. Maybe if I stood here with her, I could learn her secret to happiness.
Walk Three
I think Daisy knew what all dogs innately know: to experience joy we must choose to participate in it. Every walk, she knows to smell everything in reach of her nose: pink and purple flowers, a grasshopper before it leaps away, even the occasional snake. I wish I could say it only took one or even a handful of walks for my perspective to change. But it took years of walks (and of therapy, and of finding the right balance of medication) before anything clicked. Walking a dog is consistent; it requires intentionality and participation. Joy is similar.
We cannot choose the perfect set of conditions to experience joy any more than we can make flowers bloom, but we can choose to seek all those places where the conditions are right for it. And when they do bloom, soft orange petals bursting open to the light, dirt still soft from the rain, we can choose to give into it. When we are consistent in looking for where our heart finds joy, in noticing where that little pull in our chest whispers “pay attention”, we can choose to experience that joy fully.
Daisy reframed joy and happiness for me. Happiness is a feeling, yes – one of the many across the spectrum I can experience and express fully and with no shame. And joy is a choice; even when I might be covered in shit from my roll on the grass, I can choose to feel joy that I am alive, joy that there is grass to roll in, joy to not have a cone around my neck any longer. Daisy would.
On our walks now, when Daisy smells a flower, I smell one too. The yellow ones make me sneeze, and the purple ones smell a little like feet to me, but each time I breathe in the flowers with my dog I find myself smiling and marveling at what it is to be alive. Daisy rolls in the dirt, and even though a part of me wishes to pull her back to avoid trying to de-mud a 3-legged dog who hates baths, I take off my shoes and jump in puddles with her. I laugh and her tail wags and I realize that this is the way we choose joy.
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fuck it Friday
starting off since it's gonna be another busy day for me today! here's some of a new wip i started with demon!buck and angel!eddie
Throughout the years, Maddie snuck down from Heaven to see her demon brother. Buck doesn’t remember much of his time in Heaven. He remembers being Created, remembers helping Maddie and…someone else help relieve the pain of Adam and Eve when they were cast out of Eden. The clearest memory he has is when Eve first gave birth to Cain. A bloody, screaming, confusing, happy, memory. Then soon after that he Fell.
He doesn’t know why. But there must be a reason. He just can’t remember.
Anyways, despite having Fallen, Maddie never forgot him. Always came to him at first to stop his temptations. Just like it was Buck’s job to tempt, it soon became Maddie’s job to stop his temptations. However, it became clear Buck’s temptations were never malicious. So Maddie came down to pretend to stop him and catch up.
Over the years, Buck became clever enough to keep Heaven’s attention off of him, so the threat of angels became nonexistent. However, Maddie still came to visit him. Then a few centuries ago she stopped. No note, no explanation, nothing. Buck tried not to let it get to him. Maddie is an important angel, helping humans. She’s busy. She doesn’t have time for a brother who Fell. Shouldn’t have time, technically. Maddie will visit when she can.
Buck is so glad she can now.
“So tell me about the latest miracle you did,” Buck asks. He made her breakfast for dinner. Another temptation he indulged in for Bobby. A cooking partner. Luckily it’s also a temptation Buck wanted as well.
“Hmm, let’s see. Well, I’ve been masquerading as an ER nurse for the past…six years I believe it was? And the things people put up their butts, Evan! Oh my goodness!” Maddie laughs, as musical as church bells. Buck misses her laugh. Misses how it makes the room hum with warmth. “I swear, if I ever see another spray can, it’s too soon!”
Buck’s own laugh echoes his sister’s. His own is more deeper, less melodic than hers. As Maddie reaches over for her wine glass, he catches the glimpse of something on her arm. A tattoo? No, a brand. Tilting his head to get a better look, he feels his face whiten as he realizes what he’s looking at.
Maddie made a bargain.
The thorny vines criss-cross their way around her arm, a clock in the center of them. The hands don’t quite meet up at the top yet. But they’re almost there. If it was a regular clock, it’d say five minutes until midnight. On a human, this would mean roughly five weeks. Buck’s seen these bargain brands on humans plenty of times. These brands only visible to those who’ve made the bargain. The clock slowly ticks down the time until the deal is done and the human’s soul is the demon’s. Whatever reason a human would strike a deal with a bargainer demon – wealth, fame, love, revenge – it’s never worth it.
And now Maddie has one.
“What did you do?” He takes her wrist, running his fingers over the mark. As if he could magically make it disappear.
His sister snatches her hand back. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“It’s almost up.”
“Yes.”
“Maddie.” Tears well up in Buck’s eyes. “Who? Who did you strike a deal with?” He doesn’t care what it was for. What insane fantasy Maddie might have thought to herself where she would go to a bargainer for help, but whatever it is, Buck can fix it. She’s an angel. She shouldn’t be corrupted like this. She shouldn’t be stained like Buck. Shouldn’t Fall like Buck.
“I said not to worry about it,” her voice is amplified by divine anger. The kind used when she confronts humans and demons who have disobeyed the Lord and need to repent. Buck flinches at how much it hurts his ears. “It’s my cross to bear, okay?”
Buck snorts.
“Now tell me all about this beautiful apartment and how you got it!”
It’s not a great lead in for a distraction. And Buck isn’t going to forget about her deal, but Buck can forget about it tonight. Tomorrow, he’ll figure out a way to save his sister.
tagging @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @apothecarose @mammameesh @thewolvesof1998 @forthewolves @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @wikiangela @wildlife4life @daffi-990 @wandering-night19 @rmd-writes @liminalmemories21 @alrightbuckaroo @pirrusstuff @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @your-catfish-friend @eowon @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
If you're looking for some indie novels to get you into the Halloween mood, let me recommend the works of my friend Ren Montgomery. She's self-published over on Amazon, and I want to get the word out for her three books.
Horror
Haunt is a period piece set in the late 1970s. It tells the story of the Stewarts, a dysfunctional family who are looking for a fresh start in a brand new housing development, but the trauma they bring with them feeds into something sinister within the house itself. Pete is an abusive alcoholic, Mae is a lapsing fundamentalist at her wits' end, and their three young girls Kelly, Robin, and Lori are just trying to get through the new school year without slitting each others' throats.
Ren explores what it means to have faith when your views don't line up with what your Church dictates, and when those in power don't have your best interest at heart. Haunt is about the ties that bind a struggling family together, for better, or more often for worse, and the pain they face while trying to break the cycle of abuse. The presence which darkens the doorstep of the Stewarts' new haunt heightens their worst impulses and brings each and every one of them to their personal breaking point.
Haunt is both terrifying and gripping, and the 70s setting permeates every aspect of the plot; it doesn't feel like a modern story with a nostalgic 1970s coat of paint over it, it feels like something straight out of the dingy, smoke-filled, no-seatbelts-or-airbags era, an oft forgotten aspect of the decade that so many authors struggle to capture on page.
Contemporary fantasy
Monsters Are We is a story about burning bridges, both accidentally and on purpose. With some relationships, when the passion is gone, you can cut your losses and go your separate ways, but Penelope Draven doesn't have that option. Her old life with Leo the soul-sucking cheater needs to come to an end so her new life can begin.
She's danced this dance before, but this time around is going to be much more difficult for two very important reasons. First, she finally has something that makes her hesitate before throwing it all away, something she wants desperately to take with her when she goes; her teenage daughter, Clementine. Second, Leo knows what she is, what she's done, and what she's capable of, and he's not going to let either of them go so easily.
Ren explores the relationship between a mother and daughter from two very different generations, but who are more like one another than either realize. Monsters Are We is about figuring out who you are and choosing who you want to be. It's about being allowed to make irreparable mistakes so you can learn from them. The Draven girls find themselves on a road trip to hell and back which puts their lives and the lives of their closest friends into Leo's crosshairs. When they find themselves down on their luck, Penelope knows how to make her own, but it comes with a price.
Psychological thriller
Drawn to You is the story of the one that got away and one woman's twisted machinations to try and get it back. Ruby Deardon never got over her college crush, Sean Chaplin. They could have had something beautiful, Ruby tells herself, if only they had had anything at all. The timing was never right, the dominoes never fell the way she needed them to, so she lost her chance at her fairy tale happy ending.
Well, after nearly a decade of pining from a distance she decides to take matters into her own hands and insert herself back into Sean's life so they can finally have the life she's always wanted. He wants it too, she's sure of it, he just doesn't know it yet.
But just as she's about to zero in on Sean, she learns that Jeremy is zeroing in on her. She's was his one that got away, and while most women would be wary of his level of obsession, Ruby sees him as nothing but an obstacle standing between her and the future she's set her mind on. Jeremy is an unexpected dog in Ruby's game of cat and mouse, but cats have claws, and he has no idea what she's willing to do to make sure the mouse gets got.
#horror#contemporary fantasy#psychological thriller#novels#books#book recommendations#indie books#self publishing#halloween#halloween season#halloween books#halloween novels
28 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh god, The Leech twins railing darling in church and getting caught by Rollo is not something I thought I'd be thinking this morning-- *sweats*
Okay but now that you're giving me these Rollo thoughts (TW: religious guilt-tripping, verbal abuse, torture (starvation, whipping, burning, etc.))
yea okay now imagine that Rollo finally gets to isolate darling from the world, and now he's dead-set on "correcting their ways". He'd start with whatever is the equivalent of Bible lessons in Twisted Wonderland, having them recite those Bible passages then guilt-tripping them for their whorish (that only goes on in his head, while in reality they never did (except if u count the times they involuntarily became the twin's plaything)) behaviors.
I just know this man would be a pro in guilt-tripping, shaming darling in the most eloquent way as possible until darling themselves actually believes they're the one in the wrong. And even when they did do good, his praises only go with something along the lines of "this is still the baseline of basic decency, you'd do well not to forget it".
Disobedience could lead to punishments such as not giving darling their meals and leaving them without food or water for days (and no, even if he did give them food in the first place, they'd still sit lower than him on the table or on the floor, take your pick). He wouldn't hesitate to even use drastic measures like whipping them or even as drastic as burning them with candle wax (I'm also thinking of him branding them with the devil's insignia just to accentuate his words of darling being the devil's spawn or somethin--).
Anyway yea, I rewatched the Hunchback of Notredame recently and have been playing Hellfire on loop so seeing that ask really opens the gate that floods my thoughts sdjksdkdslsdkl-- I still am curious about the leech twin railing darling in church tho, cause I once saw an art of Religion AU with Devil Floyd and Priest Jade just railing the fuck out Nun Darling lol
-heyyy 11
Omg yes!!! OTL I once saw a fanart of priest Azul with angel Floyd and demon Jade and...yes. <3 there was also this one where the twins were incubi. But priest Jade?!??!! OOOOOHHH!!! he would be the most corrupt priest...
The idea of a nun!darling working alongside priest!Rollo, only to be slowly, methodically corrupted by two demon twins is very good. And it's even better if they mark you and Rollo finds out. >:) Poor nun!darling tries so hard to stay pure and unaffected by temptation, praying each and every night and day, visiting Rollo for blessings, going to the confessional, but nothing ever seems to work. You've even tried warding them off with holy water and other blessed objects. Yet, despite everything, they still persist.
Aaa your thoughts are so good! Rollo would be so cruel and it's all to uphold his beliefs and the idea that he's pure, not at all tempted by you, and that you're the filthy one. I also like to imagine some of his punishments are quite medieval in nature. Rollo makes you wear a scold's bridle if he suspects you've been lying to him about all of the salacious deeds you most certainly did behind his back when he was kind enough to allow you a modicum of freedom. He tells you you ought to feel lucky that they no longer burn witches at the stake, for if the time period was different you'd find yourself engulfed in flames for such sinful witchcraft. He seems so delusional when he clings to his beliefs in this manner, and you suspect he genuinely believes that this is the right course of action.
I like to imagine that if you made a pact/contract with a demon of any type he would want to carve the contract stamp from your skin, even if such a thing can't be removed by mortal hands. He definitely forces isolation upon you as a punishment. You're put in a small, cold, cramped room with hardly any light, the window is blocked with thick iron bars, and you aren't permitted freedom until he thinks you've learned your lesson. Sitting there in the dark, alone with your thoughts, is bound to fray your sanity if the punishment is given to you enough times. And you might even find yourself accepting what little 'love' Rollo has for you at the end of it, if only to stop this torturous abuse and placate him, hoping to prove to him that you're pure and cleansed.
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 4 Section 2 of Heal Me, Hold Me, Make Me, Know Me.
QAF Brian/Justin. Asexual Spectrum Representation. Series Retelling AU.
Thanks always to @winderlylandchime @maryp50 and @lostcol for supporting me! Enjoy!
~~~~~
Brian watched Justin leave with his bag in hand. He wanted to tell the young man that he cared about him, that they were still good. He needed to tell Justin that he was simply in a terrible headspace because he’d been forced to spend the day with his mother attending her extremely homophobic church. Brian knew all of these things should’ve been explained and that Justin would understand if he did, but his ego wouldn’t let him.
Instead, he was left in his loft alone but desperately wishing he wasn’t. For the first time in his life he hated that he wasn’t sharing his personal space with someone else. He wanted Justin to come back so much it hurt. He needed Justin almost as much as he needed air.
Woah. That’s a dangerous thought.
Brian rubbed his hand across his mouth and decided he would much rather be anywhere else right now, but he didn’t know where he could go at 3am. Most of his haunts were starting to close up shop. He needed a drink, but he also kind of wanted a bowl of warm, carb-filled pasta.
Without another thought he headed to his Jeep so he could drive over to Deb’s. He was sure that was where Justin might’ve gone too, but he wasn’t going to push things with the young blonde. No, right now he needed his mom — the only true mom he’d ever known.
She opened her door with a stern look on her face after his second rap. Without a word she let him in. Upon closing the door behind him she reached up and smacked the back of his head. Brian didn’t even complain because he knew he deserved it. The smack also let him know that she knew everything that had happened, which meant he wouldn’t have to explain himself.
Brian trudged into the kitchen where Vic sat at the table. He had a mug of tea in front of him while he picked at a slice of cake.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Vic looked up at Brian, “What’s your excuse, Kinney.”
Brian shrugged and sat down. “Take your pick.”
“Saint Joan or fucking with the one person who believes in your goodness beyond reason. Yeah I’d say either one is going to piss you off and make you look like a shithead.” Vic raised his mug to the younger man. “But we both know it’s all a self-deprecating front to keep yourself safe.”
Debbie walked into the room and gave a scoff. She crossed to the fridge and pulled out a Tupperware.
“Chicken Baked Ziti?” Debbie offered the Tupperware toward Brian who silently nodded.
She dished some into a bowl and threw it in the microwave. Brian knew from the silence that she was going to let him have it once she was ready. It was something he wasn’t looking forward to and he hoped she’d let him eat some pasta first.
A few minutes later, Debbie sat down next to him and slid the bowl of warm cheesy pasta in front of him. Brian immediately dug in and without having to ask, Debbie also placed a beer in front of him.
“I know seeing your mother is its own special brand of torture, but to take it out on Justin…” Debbie started once he was halfway done with his food.
“Stay out of it.” Brian turned to glare at her.
“Now you listen here you little shit.” Debbie wagged her finger at him. “You came to my home which gives me every right to protect that boy! I care about him. All you care about…”
Brian pushed the bowl away and reached for the beer. He knew she knew him better than anyone, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Getting my dick sucked. Yes, Emmett and Justin made it very clear. Can we please talk about ANYTHING else?!”
“You seem to have forgotten that you came to my house. And I don’t want to see Justin hurt.” Debbie practically yelled at him.
Brian found his mood teetering closer to annoyance than sympathy or regret for his actions.
“Well, that’s life. Better he learn it now.” Brian shrugged, putting his wall up hoping it would stop Debbie or Vic but it didn’t.
“I know you don’t actually feel that way.” Vic muttered under his breath. Barely drawing attention to himself. Brian looked toward him with a glare.
Part of him had hoped coming here would mean comfort carbs and an understanding presence. While the other part, the part he was most at war with, hoped Debbie would read him the riot act and allow him the ability to show how awful he actually felt about his actions.
“You think you’ve got everybody fooled, don’t you? Well not me, honey. I’ve known you too long and regrettably too well.” Debbie took on a softer, more motherly tone. “And no matter how hard you try to deny it, I can tell you care as much about him as he cares about you.”
Brian bit his lip and looked over to make eye contact with the woman. He fiddled with the label on the bottle before him.
“Only you ain’t got the big hairy cajones to say it.” Debbie fixed him with a knowing stare.
“Oh well maybe I can borrow yours.” Brian gave her his best sarcastic eye roll and drank from the bottle.
“Yeah well hey, whatever it takes.” She smirked and paused before continuing. “Do admit that you love him. And I know that you do. Despite all your efforts to never let another heart touch yours. That’s assuming you have one.”
Brian leaned over and hung his head. Everything she was saying was correct and he knew it. But that didn’t make hearing it any easier.
“That little persistent kid has somehow gotten in under the wire. And that’s what’s happened, huh.” Debbie reached out and smoothed her hand over Brian’s hair. It was a level of intimacy he only allowed from a select number of people.
“Admit the truth.” Brian looked at Debbie, unsure if she was really that perceptive and was going to say what he’d been trying to avoid thinking about since Justin moved in. “You love him, don’t you?”
Instead of answering, Brian leaned his head onto his hands and let out the breath he’d been holding for the last few seconds. Debbie had proved once again that she saw deeper under his walls than he would like, but appreciated it nonetheless.
“I thought so. Then tell him. Tell him what you could never tell Michael.” And with the mention of her son, Debbie motioned her eyes up to indicate Justin was upstairs.
Brian took one more swig from the bottle, sucked in his lips, and then stood up. Vic gave him a wicked grin of mischief and encouragement. It was the most unserious thing about the whole situation and was what spurred Brian on in the end. He walked out of the kitchen and skipped up the stairs.
Upon reaching the landing, Brian paused. He knew Justin was mad at him and he wouldn’t be surprised if the young man didn’t want to see him. But, he was there already, he might as well try. He knocked on Michael’s door and his heart ached at the voice that responded.
“Debbie, I know you’re worried but I’m fine.”
Brian leaned his head against the door and sighed. He quietly responded.
“I’m not Debbie, but I’d say you don’t sound fine.”
Brian’s heart clenched at the soft sniffles he could hear from the other side.
“Brian?” Justin’s voice was tinged with sadness and hope all at once. “Haven’t you done enough?”
Brian deserved that, but it didn’t make him hate it any less.
“Can I please come in so we can talk. I know I said some things I shouldn’t have.”
Brian stepped back to avoid falling forward when Justin opened the door suddenly.
“Careful, that sounds perilously close to an apology.” Justin bit his lip and gave a half smile while looking up through his lashes.
“Yeah, well I’m not totally opposed to apologies when I’m wrong.” Brian gave a shy smile. “I asked you to move in because of your attack, but that’s not why I want you to stay.”
Justin stepped away from the door letting Brian in. The brunette watched as the blonde worked through Brian’s statement in his head. It was clear that the younger man wanted to forgive him but was also wary of being made a fool by doing so.
“Okay so you want me to stay, but something has to change.” Justin turned to look Brian in the eye, “I won’t go back to feeling invisible.”
Brian couldn’t find his voice so he simply nodded until he could.
“This doesn’t mean we are suddenly married. Because I don’t do that shit.” Brian reached out to put a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “It means that I like your company and I want to be with you. I’ve gotten used to having you around that I don’t particularly mind it anymore.”
“Wow. You are really selling me on your commitment.” Justin smirked and gave a small cheeky giggle.
“Watch yourself.” Brian volleyed back.
Justin stepped closer to Brian and more into his touch. “So what does this mean for us?”
“It means I promise I won’t ever bring a trick back to the loft again.”
“Okay.” Justin nodded, his eyes serious.
“Also, if I’m out late just know that I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. And when I come home…” Brian paused, the words catching in his throat. “I’ll also be doing exactly what I want to be doing. Coming home to you.”
Justin nodded, and then he leaned in for a kiss. Once he pulled away he gave his response.
“I want some things too. You can have sex with anyone you want as long as it’s not more than once, and no names or numbers exchanged.”
Brian nodded easily, “Deal.”
“And I want you to promise that no matter what you are doing you always come home by 2.”
Brian’s gaze bore into Justin’s “By 4.”
“Three.”
Brian turned away from Justin slightly and then came back to him in resignation. “Fine, by 3.”
Justin pulled him in for another searing kiss before saying more.
“And one more thing.” Brian looked at Justin with sincerity while his brain argued that all these rules were more than he could muster.
“You don’t kiss anyone on the mouth. Except me.” Justin quirked his eyebrow as if challenging Brian’s ability to agree to all these stipulations.
Brian gave a small shake of his head, smirked, and then grabbed Justin’s face in both his hands and planted a deep kiss on his lips. Brian put all his nonstated love and emotions into that kiss. He wanted to be sure Justin understood he would follow these rules and any others if it meant keeping Justin.
After they pulled apart, Brian found himself grabbing Justin’s hand and leading him toward the bed.
“Can I stay here with you tonight?” Brian asked in a small voice.
“I’m not that kind of girl.” Justin responded, his tongue in his cheek.
Brian tucked his lips in as he smiled at Justin. He knew that in this moment he could be vulnerable and Justin wouldn’t judge him for it. So, he squeezed the hand that held Justin’s before he responded.
“I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Justin reached up to cup Brian’s cheek with his free hand. “Then come sleep with me.”
Then they exchanged a kiss, chaste but still filled with emotion. Brian leaned his forehead on Justin’s and closed his eyes. With a sigh he let go and pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his shoes and jeans.
The two got into Michael’s old twin sized bed, practically lying on top of each other, but somehow making it work. At this point, Brian’s nakedness didn’t make Justin uncomfortable. However, Brian was conscientious enough to make sure his thigh was all that made contact with Justin.
“I had to sit next to my mother today as her priest spouted off about loving your fellow man. And her interpretation of that was to tell me how sexual deviants were going to hell. She didn’t say homosexuals, but it was heavily implied.” Brian finally whispered to the dark room as the silence between them got to be too much.
“Your mom sounds a treat.” Justin muttered, his hand finding Brian’s and grabbing hold.
“That’s Saint Joan.” Brian sighed as he placed a soft kiss to the top of the young man’s head.
“I’m sorry.” Justin replied. His voice was filled with kindness and it made Brian appreciate the blonde that much more.
“That’s life. You can’t choose your parents.” Brian shrugged.
Nothing else was said between them as Brian and Justin both slipped into dreamland.
#queer as folk#brian kinney#justin taylor#fanfiction#alternate universe#asexual spectrum representation
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Final Parting:
So, was thinking about my hc on how Yura and Eleonora's fight went down and wanted to get it down on paper. Dragonhearted canon, but no spoilers for that story as far as I know. So yeah, here we go:
Eleonora twisted her blade, and her opponent’s labored breathing drowning into a murmur as he began to choke on his own blood. She planted one foot in the small of his back and kicked him to the ground, withdrawing her blade in one stroke. She looked down in disgust as he crawled forward, desperate to reclaim his bloody mace. She knew the Beast’s Claw would not bleed out from his many wounds; her blade’s enchantment of flame saw to that. Nonetheless, she had pierced his heart and the damage was done. Surely, he could not last much longer. His pathetic struggle was interrupted by a coughing fit that left the brown hood which concealed his face stained red with his own blood. Eleonora jabbed her poleblade into his foot, pinning it to the ground. Instead of a cry of pain, the man grunted and continued pulling himself forward, even as the blade seared his flesh.
Eleonora scowled. “Why continue to fight, dog? Your goddess cannot hear your cries for help. Your Golden Order has fallen. Truly, would you not find peace in the release of death?”
Magnus scoffed, and his body was wracked with another coughing fit. “You bloody heretics see naught past your own hedonistic desires. I seek not redemption, nor peace, nor the pity of some far-off deity. I wish only to guard what good is left in this world by purging you and your traitorous ilk.”
Eleonora roared a retort, her voice deepened by draconic might. “CALL ME A TRAITOR, WOULD YOU?! SHORT-SIGHTED FOOL! I WAS A KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN ORDER! I FOUGHT THEIR WARS! KILLED THEIR ENEMIES! AND WHEN WE HAD OUTLIVED OUR USEFULNESS, THE GOLDEN ORDER CAST US ASIDE! BRANDED US AS VILE APOSTATES, FIT ONLY TO BE HUNTED DOWN AND EXTERMINATED! IT WAS THE GOLDEN ORDER WHICH BETRAYED ME!”
In her rage, Eleonora pulled her blade from the ground, giving her opponent a crucial opening. Bringing the claw seal to his lips, Magnus whispered a short incantation. Stones from the floor of the church rose from the ground and flew towards the Drake Knight’s helmet. Instinctively, she brought her arm up to shield her eyes. In that moment, Magnus seized his blood-stained morningstar.
“You know not how deceived you have been. May the Erdtree have mercy on you in the next life, for I shall show none in this one.”
With that, Magnus gripped his weapon in both hands and swung for his adversary’s helm, hoping to end the fight in one final strike. Unfortunately for him, he misjudged how quickly she would recover from his diversion. Eleonora sidestepped and spun her poleblade in a wide arc, severing Magnus’ hands at the wrists. They, along with his mace, fell harmlessly to the ground, and the stoic cleric screamed. It was a horrendous sound, more akin to the dying roar of some great beast than the pained cries of a man. Eleonora betrayed no reaction to the sound, for she had seen more than her share of bloodshed in her lifetime. In any case, it wouldn’t do to draw so much attention, especially so close to Leyndell’s outer walls. She stepped forward and ended his suffering in one clean stroke that separated his head from his shoulders. Eleonora sighed.
That’s another one of Varre’s messes taken care of.
Rumor was that a certain Blue Sentinel was wreaking havoc on the whole operation. Nerijus was missing in action. Varre hadn’t heard from Konrad in more than a month. Not that a lack of communication was odd for the solitary raven, but this was too long even for him. Of course Okina checked in occasionally, but he wasn’t exactly the most cooperative sort. So, of course, the job of sorting out Varre’s issues fell to her. She knew full well who the source of the trouble was, but she wasn’t exactly keen on seeing him again. Not yet anyway. Something drew her vision to the statue at the head of the church. The marble white statue of the Golden Order’s goddess would’ve towered over any congregation. The spray from Eleonora’s most recent kill had stained the lower portions red with blood, yet it had not nearly reached to the statue’s outstretched arms.
Flaming typical. You wade through the blood of enemies and sycophants but refuse to get your own hands dirty. Easier to cast aside a tool than atone for one’s own sins, eh?
A footstep crunched on leaves at the temple’s entrance. Eleonora wheeled around, anticipating some unfortunate Lordsworn. The sight that greeted her eyes instead instantly drained all color from her face.
No. Not him. Not now. I need more time. I’m so close!
The wanderer kept his sword sheathed as he approached. His brown cloak billowed in the breeze, and an iron basket concealed his face. It was him, no doubt about it. The specter from her past, come back to haunt her. A righteous blade, come to judge her for her transgressions. Her foe. Her friend. Her curse. Her love. Her greatest regret. Her only comfort.
“Yura. Why have you come?”
He continued walking. “I have come to bring you home, Nora.”
Unbidden, tears began to stream from her eyes. How long had it been since she had heard that name? “That’s not possible. I can’t go back. You don’t know the things I’ve done. How could you ever forgive what I have become?”
Yura stopped, mere yards away from the woman he had once called his wife. “I know well the path which you have walked. I knew it from the day you left to walk it. But please, Nora, I don’t have much time left. I feel as though I am being eaten from the inside. Allow me to make this right. Let me help you cleanse the cessblood!”
Yura withdrew a red orb from within his robe. Though Eleonora knew not its nature, she recognized it as a crystal tear of the Erdtree.
Eleonora choked back her sobs, anger creeping into her voice. “And if I do? If I take this prospective cure, what then? The lives I’ve taken would have been for naught! I am still no closer to purging the dragon. Would you spare the lives of strangers, just to watch me die as a true monster? For that is what your ‘cure’ would condemn me to!”
Yura sighed. “I feared that you would answer as such. Then you leave me no choice. If you will not allow me to purge your cessblood, then I will do what I must.”
In one motion, Yura stowed the crystal tear and drew the Nagakiba from its scabbard.
Eleonora looked at him in shock. “You would draw your weapon on me, my love? Years ago I begged you to kill me, that I might be free of this burden! Yet you refused! And now, when all I need is for you to forget me, you would take my life instead?”
Yura assumed a fighting stance, his sword level over his head. “I seek not the death of you, the woman I love, but the death of the monster you have become.”
Eleonora scowled. “Well then, I shall fight for the right to survive, as I always have! Have at you.”
Yura lunged forward, his sword sweeping a downward arc towards her sword hand. Eleonora deftly dodged backwards, answering with a strike of her own. Yura kept his feet planted and parried her poleblade to the side. Rather than exploiting the opening to strike at her side, he instead retreated two steps, using his slightly greater reach as a natural guard. Roaring, Eleonora charged at him, her blade sweeping long arcs on either side of her body to guard against a counterattack. The two exchanged blow after blow, neither able to gain the upper hand over the other. The warriors had fought side by side for decades, and each knew the other’s fighting style by heart. So long as Yura maintained his distance, Eleonora knew she would be unable to end the fight. However, utilizing her greater strength to her advantage, she forced Yura to be constantly on the defense.
Something is off about his style. He’s being far more defensive than usual.
Eleonora taunted her opponent. “Looking to end the fight in one blow, are you? You would do well to not underestimate so, Yu.”
Yura maintained his composure, keeping his distance. “On the contrary, Nora. I do not wish to inflict unnecessary suffering. One blow is all I shall need.”
The Drake Knight roared back. “Such unwarranted arrogance! Or do your old eyes not perceive that it is you being driven back?”
Yura continued to calmly parry his opponent’s vicious flurry. “Look not to individual battles for the result of a war. If the leader is removed, will not an army collapse?”
The head then, or the heart. You’ve given yourself away, Yu.
Eleonora redoubled her assault, certain to keep a close guard over the more vital areas. While she couldn’t rule out that he may try to end the fight via decapitation, she guessed that the former Loremaster would not risk triggering a wyrm transformation. Thus, logically, he would seek to pierce her heart, killing her and her dragons in one fell swoop. Eleonora determined she was not going to let that happen. She had given up too much in the pursuit of life to simply lay down and die now. Besides, if she died, then she had no guarantee that Varre would keep his promise. She had to stay alive.
Flame of Irassax, come forth!
The dragon’s head grew from the small of her back, enveloping her own helmet. The flames burned grass and scorched brick as they poured forth, but Yura rolled underneath the worst of it. Eleonora scowled and came at Yura with a renewed fury.
“I’m giving you this one last chance, Yu. Walk away, please. Forget me and leave me to my fate.”
Even under the iron kasa, Eleonora could see the pain in his eyes. “I cannot do that, Eleonora. Your slaughter cannot continue unabated. As your comrade, your husband, your friend, I cannot allow you to continue in this way.”
Tears once more flowed down her face even as she struck to kill the one she loved most. “Then you shall die, as have all the others who have challenged me. Would that you had chosen a different course.”
Eleonora feinted towards his head, then redirected to strike towards his midsection. Yura ignored the feint. But instead of keeping his guard up, he swept his sword downwards so as to disarm her. The Drake Knight was the quicker blade, however, and the air was once again filled with a pungent odor as her blade burned through flesh, blood, and cloth alike. Yura grunted and dropped the Nagakiba, all strength gone in his arms. Eleonora instantly dropped her weapon and caught Yura underneath the arms. She removed both of their helmets, for she wished to look him in the eye one last time.
She saw that his cheeks mirrored hers, stained with tears as they were. “Why? Why must you be so obstinate? Why sacrifice so much for the life of those you would never meet? Would it not have been better had you simply killed me when I requested it?”
Yura cupped her cheek with his left hand, and she placed her right hand on top of it. He felt he could enjoy this sight for all eternity, for her skin was clear of scales and her eyes were once more a piercing blue. “I will tell you now as I told you then. I could never harm you, dragon of my heart.”
Before Eleonora could process what he meant by that, he grabbed her right hand with his left. He pulled it into the space between them, as his right hand unsheathed a concealed wakizashi from his cloak. In one motion, he severed the finger which marked her as a Pureblood Knight, otherwise known as a Bloody Finger. Eleonora looked down, too shocked to speak or even cry in pain. Of course, blood magic combined with draconic power had already closed the wound, but the ramifications of such an act went beyond personal injury.
“Yu, do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!”
Yura coughed up a mouthful of blood. Deep within his pupils, Eleonora swore she saw a glimmer of yellow. “I’ve sliced the finger off. Please, please, Eleonora, yield to the cessblood no longer. Do not stain the immaculacy of your sword, your flesh, your fire…”
#elden ring#drake knight#eleonora violet bloody finger#bloody finger hunter yura#fanfic#headcanon#yura x eleonora
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Curse Word: A BiBi Barber Drabble
Summary: Bianca drops a curse word in a public place. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, Bianca Barber
Warnings: Language, Bianca Barber, Nosey Old Ladies, Callbacks to The Andy Griffith Show, Minors DNI
A/N: An old request from @writer84 Please enjoy. Part of my Growing Pains Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.
___
You, Andy, and your two-year-old baby girl were walking around Target. Your happy place. You all had had a lovely day so far. Your husband had even cooked breakfast! Shocker.
It hadn’t been anything fancy. But you were beginning to like pesto eggs. And apparently he could also cook bacon. Slowly, but surely, you were going to get him to accept turkey bacon, but hey - change took time.
You only liked pork bacon if it was crispy and cooked in the oven.
You grew up on turkey bacon and turkey sausage, because your Dad didn’t eat pork. He claimed it gave him a headache. Whatever.
But anyway, it had to be the right brand, otherwise the products ended up tasting bland.
“Tell me, baby.” Andy mutters. “Do we really need a whole new set of towels?”
“Yes! Unless you want us to keep drying ourselves with the equivalent of steel wool!”
“Oookay…” Andy responds as he tosses an assortment of towels into the cart. “And wash cloths?”
“Yep. What else would you use?”
“My hands.” He grumbles.
“That’s not how you get clean! You just spread the filth!” You tell him.
Without thinking, you hand BiBi a package of cloths as you get ready to move on. Only for her to accidentally drop them.
“Shit.” Her little voice squeaks.
You and Andy immediately freeze in place. “Andrew?”
An old busybody gives you a look from over by the sheets and comforters section.
Not a word from you, Ms. I Still Wear A Beehive from 1975.
“Y/N, I’ve been through this before. Don’t say anything or make a big deal out of this and she’ll just move on.” He tells you.
“Alright. Alright.” You bend down to pick up the cloths and then hand them back to her with a smile. “Everything is all good. There are no tiny people cursing around here. In public. We’re all fine.”
Taking them from you, she proceeds to drop them again with a laugh.
“Shit.”
Lips puckered as if you’ve been sucking on all of the lemons in the world, you pin your husband with a glare. “This is your fault.”
Andy stares back at you incredulously. “My fault how?!”
“Because you curse like a sailor. And now our toddler has picked it up! She sounds like a flipping delinquent!”
“Oh.” He growls. “And you don’t curse? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Ha! I mean, I do. But not like you. And not in front of her and -” You realize Betty Beehive is staring at you three, with disapproval written all over her face.
Oh, hell no. Take your judgment somewhere else.
“Hey, Aunt Bee!” You call over to her. “Don’t you need to get back over to Mayberry R.F.D. before they notice you’re missing?”
The woman immediately turns and walks away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought!” You growl.
“So this is my fault?” Andy snarls.
“Yep. Already covered that. You know what? After this, we’re all going to church or something. I cannot have a potty-mouthed two-year-old!”
“I’ll work on it, Y/N.” Your man grumbles.
“Shit!” Your baby giggles again.
You look over at the Starbucks nestled in the corner of the store. “Baby, stop saying that word and Mama will buy you a chocolate crossaint, okay?”
She chews on her fingers and mumbles something about “chocky chips”.
END
#Chris Evans#andy barber#chris evans x black!reader#andy barber black!reader#chris evans woc!reader#andy barber woc!reader#chris evans imagines#andy barber imagines#chris evans fanfic#andy barber fanfic#Bianca Barber#cevansbrat0007 asks#Cevansbrat0007 fic#cevansbrat0007growing pains series
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
🥀 Subayui fanfic 🥀
Pairing: Subaru🗡️ and Yui 🌸
Author: Admin Ava
Genre: Funny, Sweet themes, Happy ending
Chapter: 3
Admin's note: ⚠️ This Chapter includes violence themes, Choking, humiliate ⚠️
“Ok, class, I need to step out for a minute. Finish chapter 8 on your own. I’ll be back” As the door closed the students started to chat amongst themselves. Mainly about mundane topics, but the main thing on everyone’s minds was the dance on Friday. It was anyone could talk about. From girls talking about what they’ll wear to the guys discussing who they‘ll as out. Amid all these conversations, one thing on Yui's mind was,” Should I ask someone?’’
All day she has been hearing about the dance from all the second years, they told her how fun the dance is. Everybody dressed in the most exquisite ensembles from designer brands that cost more than the house she lived in. Some people talked about how heavenly the food was. Prepared by the most renowned chefs in the world. Drinks are brewed from the highest quality fruits and alcohol. For the adults of course. Then the music would be played by talented musicians from all over Japan. It sounded like a dream.
Yui only got more and more excited as she heard amazing things about the dance. She was apprehensive before but now, she couldn’t wait for Friday. Be that as it may, there was one thing she wasn’t so sure of yet. She had been hearing from some of the girls about who they were going to ask to go with them. That was something she hadn’t thought about.
“We need to ask someone to go with us? I wonder if anyone would ask me. Probably not, especially with all these beautiful girls here. Who’d ask me? Besides, I’ll be going with the brothers anyway. I bet it would be awkward if I had someone going with me. Although…it would be nice.’’ She had never been asked out before, therefore her father being her partner at a church event didn’t count.
After the bell rang for lunch she decided to head to the library to eat. Even after being at this school for a year now, she still wasn’t used to all those children who were raised so differently from her. She didn’t mind, however, in fact, she did enjoy the time for the small amount of time she got. Gave her time to relax and study without interruptions.
Once she reached the library and found a quiet place to sit. She was finally in her element. Putting her nose in a book, blocking out the world, herself the only one around for miles. It was calming, peaceful, and well worth the bullying she received every time she went home.
That as it may be, the illusion was shattered once Kou decide that she could lose a couple of seconds of what she most desperately needed. “Hey, M-Neko-Chan~ What's up?” “Oh hello, Kou-kun. Not much, just trying to get some quiet.” “Yeah, yeah, that’s nice and all. Anyway, I said something I wanted to ask you.” Yui raised a confused eyebrow at the idol. Did he want to ask her something? Her conscience told her to be weary of his question, while her more optimistic side encourage her to at least consider his request. In the end her optimism over her rationality. Only by a margin though.
“Uh, sure. What is it.” Kou's smile was very big and very unsettling. “ Well, I’m pretty sure your ears have been ringing with everyone talking about the dance on Friday I just wanted to ask..” Kou walked towards her, his face a little close for comfort. “Has anyone asked you to the dance yet or have you asked anyone?” Huh? That’s all? Yui was a bit taken aback by Kou's question. She had thought it would’ve been more….eerie “Uh, no. No one has asked me or I haven’t asked anyone.” Kou's face twisted into an annoyance for a second. Then, into mischievous. ‘’Oh is that so~ Well then I don’t suppose you fancy going with……me!”
What! HIM!? Yui was so taken aback by his statement that she fell out of her chair. Kou roar with laughter as Yui rubbed her bruise backside as she watched Kou lose himself in a loud cackle. She hastily picked herself off the floor while brushing the dirt off her skirt. Looks like her quiet time was completely ruined. Not wanting to waste her time being the butt of Kou's joke, she swiftly grabbed her things and stuff them in her bag. Yui let out a huff as she walked past Kou to the exit of the library. Nonetheless, Kou wouldn’t let her just leave. Instantly he was in front of her. Due to their height difference, there wasn’t any room for escape. “Hey now M-Neko-Chan, I wasn’t done talking to you yet.’’ The once smiley vampire aura turns cold and distant. Yet, possessive.
“You haven’t given me an answer yet. Don’t you think that is kind of rude? Not to mention the fact that you’re trying to leave without even saying a word, I’m disappointed. Honestly who the hell do you think you are huh!?” Despite Kou’s abrasive behavior. Yui stood her ground, albeit anxiously.
“ Kou-kun you were the one who abruptly asked me the question in the first place, so forgive me for being shocked. Also instead of at least helping me off the ground, you just laughed at me the entire time. I thought you were here just to make fun of me, if you have nothing better to do than laugh at me I’ll decide to leave. I’m sorry but my answer is n-“
In a fit of frustration Kou grabbed Yui by the throat and slammed her back to the door with a loud thud. The shock was so great that it knocked the wind out of her. Kou grasped her throat so tightly that air barely was able to enter. Tears floated down her face as she struggled to breathe. With her eyes glazed over with tears, she could hardly see Kou. His face which was normally so handsome and charming was contorted into a violent scowl. His bright were clouded with hatred, those idol-worthy, perfect white teeth gritted against each other in an unbearable ear-piercing screech. The muscles in his hand cracked and popped as his fist squeezed so tingly that blood started to trickle onto the floor.
“ Do you know how hard is to be nice to an oblivious twit like you? You’re so fucking stupid that it’s pain to even talk to you. Millions of girls would love to even get the chance to even breathe the same air as I do. Yet here you are being ungrateful for the gift you’ve been giving. The opportunity to be seen with a start like me, but all you can think about is leaving?! Are you sick in the hand or are you naturally born with no common sense? You’re so lucky right now….but, YOUR DUMBASS CAN’T EVEN SEE IT!!!
Kou squeezed tighter on Yui's neck as he continued to snarl insult after insult at her face without even thinking. Yui struggled to remove his hand from his hands from her neck but was unable to do so. With air becoming more and more scarce, and dark splotches blinding her vision. She has to think fast.
So, with the last bit of strength, she could muster. Yui opened her mouth which was covered in drool from struggling to break free, and bit down on Kou's hand as hard as she could! He howled in pain as blood spurted from his hand! Yui fell to the ground while coughing up a storm as air slowly enter its way back into her lungs. Kou grasped his hand as he glared at Yui with a look of murder in his eyes. “ YOU BITCH! LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE! YOU BIT MY HAND!!” Kou walked towards the blonde ready to intact vengeance for causing him pain. But she was ready. Before Kou could lay a hand on her, Yui grabbed a fountain pen from her pocket and as Kou was nearer, she stabbed the point of the pen in Kou’s wounded hand!
Kou fell back in pain, clutching his hand, giving Yui time to get up and run out of the library. She ran faster than she has ever before! Her body needed time to rest from being near seconds away from deatmh but the adrenaline kept her going. Her only objective was to get away from the vampire that would surely main her if he caught her.
As Yui turned the corner, almost falling in the process, she spotted a tuft of white hair in the distance.
“SUBARU!”
chapter 3 ended.
To be continued…
#yui komori#komori yui#subaru sakamaki#sakamaki subaru#subaru x yui#yui x subaru#subayui#subayui fanfic#diabolik lovers#dialovers#diabolik lovers fanfic#diabolik lovers fanfiction#diabolik lovers fandom
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
hello hello! I've finished chapter two of my secret society/life in the abbey fic and settled on a title. thank you to everyone who encouraged me to keep writing.
Let the Poison Spill
summary: A strange nun makes you an offer.
tags: x fem reader, Papa Emeritus III x fem reader, Cardinal Copia x fem reader, occult secret society, scheming Sister Imperator, 18+, NSFW, eventual mature content, blood
Chapter Two (Chapter One)
Chapter Two - Temptation
The nun’s card hung heavy in your pocket while you tried desperately to distract yourself. Make the bed. Fold the laundry. Tidy the bathroom. Go through that junk drawer that has never once held anything useful to search for untold treasures. It was the same old shit. Things you didn’t need. Things you would never need. Dead batteries. Old packets of salt. The occasional soda can tab for no good reason. Under the flotsam was a lighter left behind by a former lover, long since forgotten, but still good for something it seemed.
After two hours of mindless tasking, you collapsed on the sagging sofa and pulled your knees to your chest. Your hands itched to touch the card again, mind racing through the possibilities it held. Somehow the nun had managed to say next to nothing and hypnotize you all the same. No matter how you shifted, you couldn’t get comfortable. The corners of Sister Imperator’s business card stabbed at you from every angle, demanding your full attention.
The mysteries of the world had always had a special hold on you. Myths, legends, gods, demons, magic, all of it had a special place in your heart. It had become a slight obsession in your formative years, anything from ancient relics to modern puzzles. There was a thrill in the unknown, in things unseen for centuries or unprovable by scientific methods. And now turning that smart black card over and over in your hand, you were presented with the fact that something largely believed to be bullshit could actually exist. And there was no telling what a secret Satanic church operating for hundreds of years could have amassed.
Tempted wasn’t the right word for how Sister Imperator left you feeling. Terminally fucking curious fit slightly better, as there was no guarantee you would come out of this alive. It angered you how well she read you and dangled knowledge in front of your face like a carrot but fuck if she wasn’t right about you. Within a few hours an old nun had completely turned your life upside down, because you, silly as it may sound, could not resist the allure of the unknown. She was far more cunning than you’d initially thought, knowing exactly how to leave you questioning the encounter. You began to wonder if His followers had such silver tongues, how anyone could be expected to turn down the Devil.
You were finally starting to understand that whole thing with the apple.
The building gave a heavy groan, pipes creaking and clanging as steam began to rise through them. The radiators let out a high pitched squeal that pulled you back to the present. You held up the card, finally giving it a closer inspection. The matte black paper was thick and embossed in a tasteful glossy black font was Sister Imperator’s name and number. Tilting the card this way and that revealed a barely there Levithan cross that flashed in the light. How ridiculously on brand.
Unfolding your body from the sofa, you dug out your laptop and propped it on the coffee table. A quick search yields few results for The Order of Asmodeus, but you’re hardly surprised. They weren’t supposed to exist at all, why would they have an internet presence? The few articles that did come up dealt mostly with the conspiracy of it all, stories you’ve heard a thousand times before. Old. Secret. Satanic. Blah, blah, blah. Other cursory searches only told you Asmodeus represented lust. Imperator meant commander, which seemed to suit the nun’s energy and apparent love for authority perfectly. Commander of what exactly, the internet couldn’t tell you.
It was clear you weren’t going to find any answers on your own. Maybe that needed to be enough.
Sister Imperator had left you with two options, neither of which were all that great. Could you really go back to living a normal life knowing the Order was real? How were you supposed to buy groceries and pay bills knowing that an ancient secret society was out there with answers to questions you didn’t even know to ask yet? And if you chose to say yes, what would that do to your life? Was it worth it to join? To find out exactly what they had hidden in their vaults? What would it cost you?
You had to hand it to the nun. The seed she planted only took about mere hours to fully bloom before you found yourself dialing that number. The line rang out, a dull repetitive sound that didn’t fit the severity of the situation. Your heart began to pound, lungs aching with every breath. Dizziness swam in your head as your palms began to itch again. A thin sheen of cold sweat was forming on every inch of your skin, and you were fighting the urge to dry heave all over your living room. But you didn’t hang up, not even when the other end clicked.
You stopped breathing, eyes growing wide with a mixture of terror and anticipation.
“You’ve made your decision then?” was all Sister Imperator said. There was no greeting or chitchat, only the expectant tone of her voice and her quiet breathing as she waited.
“Yes,” you replied, your mouth going dry as the word left you.
“And?” You could practically hear her eyebrow raise with her inflection.
“I—I’m in,” you croaked. Your heart hammered against your ribs so wildly you could hear it in your ears. That wasn’t what you’d meant to say, was it? Did you really just agree to this?
“We’ll send for you tomorrow. Nine AM.”
“Wait what?”
There was no answer, only the tell-tale sign of a receiver being hung up before the line disconnected. The nun still had a landline.
Nausea swirled around the dizziness, bringing you to your knees on the floor as your phone fell from your hands. What have you done? What the fuck have you done? It wasn’t the first time you’d done something violently impulsive, but this time you really had no idea what you had just agreed to. Or why you couldn’t resist the pull of it.
You scrambled to your feet, racing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. Tears streamed down your face with the effort, leaving hot trails down your cold skin. The anxiety and paranoia got the better of you there in that tiny room. Everything began to spin and tilt and blur as your chest tightened with that familiar panic, but before it could get bad it shifted. The weight seemed to shift, and a strange euphoric feeling spread through your limbs, carried by the excited butterflies that formed in your stomach. Maybe knowledge was the right choice even if you didn’t know the cost.
Whatever the Order was doing, they were good enough to be doing it for hundreds of years.
The positivity you felt the night before quickly evaporated as three sharp knocks echoed loudly through your apartment, waking you from a deep sleep. It felt far too early for someone to be at your door, but the display on your phone read exactly nine AM. You grabbed the first available pair of jeans in your room, stumbling as you crossed the apartment while trying to pull them over your legs and shouting to the visitor that you’d be right there. With one hand wiping the sleep from your eyes, you tried to wrench open the front door, but the old, swollen wood sealed you off from the rest of the world like it always did when the building got too humid. When it finally swung free, a cold wind rushed up the stairs and caught the heavy door sending it into the wall with a solid thud.
But that wasn’t what made you jump.
The hallway was occupied by a man, barely visible in the shadows. The little light filtering up the stairwell caught the metallic mask that obscured his face. Its blank, expressionless face was vaguely humanoid, but there was no mouth, only a blank space that smoothed into a pointed chin. A small set of horns peeked out from the molded hairline, coming to sharp points at their tips. The man tilted his head, studying you quietly like an animal observing potential prey.
“Can I help you?” you asked slowly, infusing your voice with a well-practiced faux bravery. Looking the man up and down, you noticed he was dressed remarkably well. Each piece of his all black outfit was tailored with such precision that it must have been made just for him. Probably the mask too.
Well-dressed or not, he did not answer your question. He stared at you for a moment longer, his head tilting again, eerily slowly this time. It was unnerving the way he silently watched you and you had no interest in whatever he was offering.
“Ok then. No thanks,” you said quietly, shifting your stance to reach for the door.
Before you could complete the movement, the man closed the space between you. He moved with an unnatural speed, locking an arm firmly around your waist. You shouted and struggled against his hold, but the man was so much stronger than his thin frame suggested. Staring deep into your eyes, he raised two fingers and pressed them hard against your forehead. The touch somehow made you overwhelmingly drowsy, eyes threatening to close immediately. His grip tightened as your body began to go limp. It felt like the floor was disappearing from under your feet and your body no longer responded to your brain’s commands. Your vision clouded before going black and in the arms of that strange masked man, the world fell away from you.
It was impossible to tell how long you had been out. The edge of a seatbelt was digging into your back and from the ache, it had been that way for a while. Your head throbbed, pain pulsing behind your eyes as they adjusted to the light again. You sat up and blinked hard. The dark leather interior of a large SUV came into focus, the cab rocking gently as the tires crunched over gravel. The man, still masked, sat silently in the driver’s seat as he brought the car to a stop. You weren’t even sure he realized you were awake. It was probably better if he didn’t.
A tint covered the windows, so dark it was probably next to impossible to see inside the vehicle. If anyone else was even around. You slid across the seat, quiet as a mouse as you slowly inched your fingers toward the door. How fast could you run? Which direction should you go? All those tips you’d found on the internet on sleepless nights escaped you. With your fingers wrapped around the handle, you took a deep breath. Either way you had to do something.
You pulled.
Nothing happened.
The doors were locked and no amount of force you could generate was going to change that. You tried the controls for the windows, but nothing moved. Fuck.
The Masked Man let out a low growl of warning, his black eyes following your movements in the rearview mirror. Slowly, he lifted his right hand, pointing long clawed fingers at something out the window. Creating another small noise in his throat, he tapped at the glass, indicating he wanted you to look.
You swallowed hard and slid back across the seat to press your face against the opposite window. An enormous stone structure stretched out before you, its gothic architecture jutting and curving up and meeting the many spires that scratched at the pale sky. It was full of impossible detail, difficult to see in the dull light, but you were able to tell the crosses that topped the spires were all upside-down.
The front door opened with a creak loud enough to shake the car. Three silhouettes emerged, dwarfed by the sheer size of the door. Backlit by the warm light inside, their faces remained obscured until they began to descend the many steps outside. Sister Imperator came into view, the long skirt of her habit bunched one hand as she moved, the other wrapped around the arm of the masked man guiding her. She came to rest at the bottom of the stairs, flanked by the masked men.
With a nod from her, the masked man in the car leapt from the driver’s seat and yanked you from the car. An iron grip held your arm as he forced you across the gravel and dumped you unceremoniously at the nun’s feet. Dots formed in your vision as whatever the man had done to get you in that car began to fully wear off. Dizziness pressed against your brain as you tried to look up at the nun.
“What the fuck, lady?” you grinded out as tiny rocks dug into your hands and knees. “You can’t just kidnap people.”
“I believe this is what you wanted?” she replied, shooting a wry smile down at you.
“Not this—”
Instead entertaining your argument, Sister Imperator turned on her heel and started up the steps. Halfway up, she paused and called over her shoulder, “bring her inside.”
Imperator’s men advanced toward you with hungry grins, flashing sharp white teeth. Their masks were differed from the driver’s—still humanoid with horns—but notched at the bottom to partially reveal their faces. The exposed skin of their jaws and hands varied in tones of ash gray, highlighted by the all-black uniforms hugging their frames just like the driver’s.
With a hand under each arm, they hauled you to your feet and began to carry you up the steps.
“I’ll walk,” you grumbled as you broke free, holding your hands up in surrender.
You traced Sister Imperator’s path up the old stone steps, acutely aware of how closely the two masked men were following. You weren’t entirely sure, but you swore one of them had leaned forward and sniffed at you. It was odd, yes, but not more or less strange than anything else that had happened to you today. You focused instead on taking in your surroundings, but there was so much.
The main hall’s vaulted ceilings reached high, its beautiful lines meeting in geometric patterns above and dotted by chandeliers washing the room in a warm light. The floor was tiled in expensive stone, arranged in intricate patterns of blue, white, and gold. Along the walls, massive oil portraits of men in ceremonial robes were prominently displayed. Oddly, their faces were painted like skulls, though each was slightly different. The eerie eyes of the portraits seemed to follow you along, daring you to notice that all the men bore one white eye. Gilded frames and golden nameplates reflected the candlelight, each engraved with a different title. Nihil. Primo. Secondo. Terzo.
The nun turned, darting under an arch, and disappearing through a doorway. The masked men quickly ushered you after her.
The difference in the spaces was jarring enough to make this room feel small, though the ceilings must have towered to twelve feet. Warm, dark wood surrounded the room as thought the space itself had been hollowed out. At one end, a fire crackled away within the carved housing of a large marble fireplace. Sister Imperator moved through the room with ease, taking her seat behind an unnecessarily large desk. She gestured for you to sit as the men arranged themselves by the door, standing at the ready like soldiers guarding the room.
Two wingback chairs faced Imperator’s desk, each upholstered in a plush velvet the color of absinthe. The chair swallowed you up as you settled in, but it did little to dull the thrumming pain still brewing behind your eyes. Whatever the masked man had done to knock you out left you feeling hungover and slightly dazed.
“Ok, where the fuck am I and what did you do?” you grumbled, pressing your fingers against your temples.
The nun simply smiled and pushed a green depression glass bowl full of hard candies toward you. “Peppermint will help will the headache. It’s a nasty little side effect of that kind of contact with the Ghouls, but it really is the best way. Much safer than what we used to do,” she noted a little too fondly.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You’re with the Order,” she said flatly. “I’m afraid you’re not going to get much more information than that.”
“But you said—"
“Did you really think I would just let you walk in and have unrestricted access to everything we are after meeting you once? Please tell me you’re smarter than that.”
A clock ticked loudly somewhere in the room as you bit your tongue. It was clear that you were not nearly as smart as you thought you were 24 hours ago, but you weren’t about to give the nun the satisfaction of your doubt. Sister Imperator reveled in your silence, another smile growing on her face as she leaned forward to speak.
“The most important thing we do here is keep the secret. No one can know where you are, what you’re doing. In return for keeping the secret, if you behave, we’ll begin the initiation. And all those pretty little promises I made you will come true. But I will only ask you once, so I need you to be sure of your answer,” she said with a strange seriousness. The tone she took even seemed to make the masked men uncomfortable, shoes clicking against the wood floor as they shifted behind you.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You were facing that same problem you had the night before. You know what you chose then, but you still didn’t know the cost. Did you want to know the cost of backing out now? The things you’d seen, these two rooms and the strange paintings probably didn’t even scratch the surface of this place. Could you really take two steps back now?
Sister Imperator’s expression turned slightly smug as she watched you relax in the giant chair. She placed her hand palm up on the desk and motioned for you to place your hand in hers. Your heart jumped to 150 bpm as her soft, warm fingers held yours. She raised her other hand expectantly. One of the men moved forward and placed a dagger in her hand.
Fuck.
You braced yourself for the worst as she raised an eyebrow at you.
“Are you ready to swear? Right here, right now?” she asked.
“I—” you started and looked around the room. The masked men were crowding around your chair, hovering ominously as they awaited your answer.
“Say the words,” Sister Imperator coaxed gently, a flash of fire reflecting in her eyes.
“I swear.”
In one swift motion she brought the dagger down. You flinched hard, trying not to rip your hand from hers as she leaned in closer…
…and pricked your finger.
The sigh of relief that left you would have been embarrassing if it could have been heard over the sound of the two masked men growling. Sister Imperator tossed the dagger toward them and like children licking a mixing spoon, the two men ran their tongues over those few drops of blood. You could only blink in total confusion.
“Words are well and good, but the Olde One requires something a little more binding,” she offered as if it explained anything. “This particular ritual only requires a drop.”
“Uh huh. And that?” you asked, pointing your bleeding finger at the two men still licking wildly at the dagger and each other.
“Oh, that’s just Ghouls,” she answered dismissively, waving her hand. “They love a little blood. Greedy little things, but sweet. Extraordinarily helpful.”
“Ghouls,” you repeated flatly.
Sister Imperator dragged her candy dish back across her desk and noisily unwrapped a golden butterscotch before popping it in her mouth. “Our abbey is home to many Nameless Ghouls. Nameless is a bit of a misnomer, as most have adopted some sort of moniker to tell them apart, though it’s nearly impossible to remember them all. They come to us from a very specific plane of existence below. I should note there are many, many things in our abbey that are not of the natural world. I suggest you adjust quickly, otherwise you might never stop being surprised.”
“Ghouls,” you said again slowly.
“Yes, dear, Ghouls,” she sighed and waved one of the Ghouls over. “It’s ok. Please, show her.”
The Ghoul shrugged and gingerly slipped the silver mask from his head, flashing you a shy smile. Underneath he didn’t look all that different. He still had very human features—eyes, nose, and mouth all arranged the way you’d expected, but the horns that extended from his hairline weren’t just a part of the mask’s aesthetic. His eyes seemed to glow as they caught the light, like a cat hiding in the dark. If you were honest, he was quite beautiful, but he seemed more comfortable as he slid the mask back in place.
“Thank you, Ghoul. Would you please escort our new novitiate to the library? I’ve assigned Mary as her mentor, but it seems they’ve forgotten our meeting,” Sister Imperator requested.
“Yes Sister,” the Ghoul replied softly, much to your surprise. He moved around Sister Imperator’s desk and motioned for you to follow.
Don't worry. Everyone will start to show up in the next chapter. Thank you for your time, love!
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
“You”
Pairing: IreNor
warnings: some mentions of religion,
notes: IreNor my beloved ε>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No Sigurd paced the room, he played with a ring. Slipping it on and off his fingers though it really was too small to fit on any except his pinky.
Molly had taken Ida and gone off citing going mushroom hunting. That had been early in the morning and now the noon sun shone above, they would be back soon he was sure.
The ring was tucked away in pocket, he needed something to do to distract him. Though Sigurd had spent almost an hour circling their small corner of the village already, and hadn’t been able to find anything else that needed to be done. He considered going to meet with some of the leaders, they always had work for him. He could even offer to see if the neighbors needed help with anything. Both those took him away from the house though, and he wanted to be here when Molly and Ida returned.
Going out to look for them himself was an option, he had been trying to keep Molly closer to the house anyway. He still remembered the boats returning, the men speaking of a new island. Larger than Ireland even, he got what he could, and went home that night excited to tell Molly about the discovery.
He had been talking about details, including maybe joining a trip the next summer to go out there; if she was okay with him leaving for that long. Molly had never been one to stop Sigurd from going out with his people, or she had never voiced it bothering her at least.
Her telling him she didn’t think he would want to go is what caught his attention. He had looked up from what he was doing, confused on what she meant. She had news that related to this new discovery as well.
That was nearing six months ago, Molly had said herself she should be due any time now. It hadn’t stopped her from carrying on as usual though, and it worried him more and more as the days went on… maybe he should go out and look for her.
He pulled the ring back out looking at it, he was brand new. He would have given Molly some of his mothers jewelry, he had gotten a third of it when his mother passed away. Molly however had insisted any of it be saved for when Ida grew older. That had left Sigurd digging up things from his summers of raiding, taking it to the smith and having some new things made. A ring to give her when he asked her to marry him, and a few other things, still hidden, for her to wear at the wedding.
If only he could stop fretting about her answer and ask, he was almost sure she would marry him. But a small voice said she wouldn’t, mostly having fun pointing out what he had heard before. She is Catholic, and you’re pagan, who would marry you anyway? Sigurd had decided he didn’t care how their marriage was viewed, most assumed they were married already or simply didn’t care. But Molly might care about her church not recognizing it. Why go to the trouble? Just stay as we are.
As fate would have it while worrying about how to ask, he heard footsteps outside. Ida was laughing, clearly running from her mother who couldn’t keep up in her current condition. He opened the door and stepped outside, Molly noticed him immediately but gestured for him to be quiet.
“Mama!” The small girl complained, backing away from her mother, upset that she was no longer being chased “come get me”
Molly was out of breath as it was, but exaggerated it even more; “I don’t think I can pet, I told you your sibling has decided to steal my breath”
Ida pouted, “tell him to give it back”
She laughed, “I wish it worked that way”
Molly raised her brows at Sigurd, who had slowly been making his way up to their daughter unseen, while she was distracted.
“So you can’t play anymore?”
“Not right now,” she smiled, “but I think your father can”
Just as Molly said it a confused look crossed the girl's face, then she let out a yelp as Sigurd picked her up; “papa!”
“Ja?” He moved holding her upside down, earning a look from Molly as the girl's braids dragged on the ground. Washing Ida’s hair was always such an ordeal.
“Put me down!” She swung her arms a bit, trying to get out of his grasp.
He simply held her higher, taking away her option to put her hands on the ground. “I thought you wanted to be caught?”
“Not by you!”
Molly leaned down as best she could to be at eye level with Ida, “then would you rather be let down?”
“Yes!” She swung her arms again, this time causing Sigurd to stumble a bit.
She laughed, “you heard her Mo Mhuirnin” and winked at Sigurd, who sighed heavily.
“I suppose” he let her go for just a moment, grabbing her again before she came close to hitting the ground.
“Not like that” she held on tight to Sigurd’s neck once she was right side up again.
“Ah” he set her down on her feet, “Like that?”
Ida didn’t respond, instead sticking her tongue out at her father. Before noticing some other children run by playing, a look to her parents is all it took before she ran off as well joining them.
Sigurd helped Molly back up, taking her arm in his. She scoffed lightly at the action, “I’m not that weak”
“Yet you were struggling to get up,” he held her a little tighter, “and you’re still out of breath”
“And who’s doing is that?” He rolled his eyes, even as she held his arm tighter as well, her free hand resting on her stomach.
“Did you find anything?”
“No, we got distracted before even looking” a silence settled over the pair as they went into the house. Sitting down on one of the beds, Molly's head leaned against his shoulder.
They had been joking about needing to enjoy these moments before the house was filled with the sounds of the new baby. If he was anything like Ida they wouldn’t have peace again for years.
The sun came in, yet a breeze kept everything cool inside the house. Sigurd thought of the ring in his pocket, of how he was sure he wanted to spend as many days as possible at Molly’s side. Right now could be perfect, yet the words to say still didn’t want to come to him.
I love you, please marry me, I want to be with you. Nothing would fit in the scenario in his head, nothing seemed enough to explain how he felt. She noticed though, she always seemed to notice;
“Is there something on your mind?” Molly asked him quietly, as if trying to not disturb their silence.
He thought about what to say, how to ask her to marry him right then.
Instead he kissed her head and said, “You”
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
I should probably make a scavenging tag to keep tab of this buuuut it kind of goes under the home hacks and multipurpose crafting i've been doing ever since that first 2008 doll streaks with gold embroidery floss rooted using a toothbrush handle with the needle inserted by melting over a candle.
Guess this is kind of my brand. ¯\_(◡‿◡)_/¯
On Friday, I walked Lily briefly and found a big bin bag that was someone's chest of drawers emptied so I sorted it into clothes, recyclable and rubbish put it all in the correct bins and left the clothes and accessories for others to go through after picking out a few gorgeous scarves, a brand-new djellaba in bronze cotton, a lovely stained cream jumper (sweater) that i'm going to dye: it had a snagged loose knit - crochet looking but done by machine - back that just needed re-knotting/rethreading (what ever the word is for when you use tweezers to weave the yarn back through its original pattern and knot it down), a machine knitted snood to frog/unravel, some glitter body lotion and a notebook.
*I found the glue at another bin next to a bunch of tools (including a stainless ratchet wrench 😍 with accessories I couldn't carry 😥) thought I'd grab the glue in case there was a chance you could get some out by using a pin through the top as I'm currently waiting for superglue in the mail. Score: It's not jammed at all.
Loctite powerflex is pricey (€7 for 3g when you can get 20 x 3g liquid superglue for €4) and takes about double the time to set (hold tight and count to at least sixty not thirty) but it is magical stuff: not only does it go where you direct it to, you have a window to wipe off any excess without it leaving damage and it holds really well without cracking on flexible surfaces like vinyl, shoe soles, headphone wires. It's got superglue in it but also some kind of rubber base solution. It's one of those fancy glues you want around for the special stuff while having a backup of bog-standard superglue for basic repairs.
*I keep sleep and symptom notebooks to keep track of any circadian rhythm disruptions, migraines, gastrointestinal issues so I can circle back to a particular food or activity. I'd been using these cute panda shaped accounting notepads and stocked up but as with all things good, they got discontinued. I tried other notepads but it wasn't quite right: it needs to be lightweight, easily replaceable if I drop water on it, as unobtrusive as possible. This merch pocket book with the 5mm squares is just right when unbound into 6.
/// I learned this trick as a kid, someone showed me how different books were bound and how to salvage thrown out school exercise books, remelt crayons, use carbon copy, properly wash brushes... that kind of stuff. I think it was a free summer art class where you turn up and there are all sorts of different people and even if you end up just drawing ye olde square house, you absorb a bunch of history or techniques and get to watch other people: how they sketch, how they observe, I think that was the first time i'd seen cross-hatching and then couldn't unsee it in illustrations. I'm so glad my parents dropped me off at the various council, museum and church free events as a kid: some are really rigid and you get in trouble if you don't assemble the pompom bird exactly as instructed, others are an occasion to bond with some grandpa who'll show you how to whittle or learn and learn. ///
Why not go digital? because you don't want your phone on: you'll forget what you were supposed to do and go down a rabbit hole. Besides, half those things come with weird reward systems that make me feel obligated or guilty, or worse: diet propaganda. So that lil find has me set for the next year, I transcribed my current messy too big notepad into two pages and voilà! (well i still have a couple of symptoms to add now that i look it over)
*After working with yarn for a while, you start to get a sense for the type that doesn't pull apart when brushed or tugged and it's rarer than you'd expect so I took the snood despite not liking the green tinge to the mustardy colour: it doesn't make clawdeen's skin tone pop for example. So it's the right fibre with a light enough base for some dye experiments.
*it has taken forever and it's just a start (50+ more) but I have listed 12 more dolls on ebay!! there are reroots from before I got injured and deglued dolls i'm really proud of. If you're interested, I'd much prefer to sell in bulk to the EU, will happily sell at cost instead of those higher ebay prices and have a ton of doll heads and partially finished projects if you repaint or reroot.
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
do you mind if i ask about all of them???? (not top gun au tho, cuz i don't want spoilers since i didn't read it yet)
hi!! okay, I'm absolutely down to give you snippets from as many as possible, because I'm honestly pumped about most of these ideas and could talk about them for hours, really.
teen wolf movie fix-it (scalira + thiam)
Hale Auto Shop is– objectively– not a terrible place to work.
Sure, Theo would prefer somewhere that isn’t located right in the hell-hole that is Beacon Hills, but there’s only so many places that’ll hire you without a formal address, or well, any personal records, so beggars can’t really be choosers.
And Derek isn’t a bad boss. Not usually anyway. He pays well, offers lengthy holidays and reimburses for any travel required. His kid is an absolute nuisance though. Which, in retrospect, is pretty on brand for most members of Scott’s pack. Theo really shouldn’t expect any different. But having to call the Sheriff’s department at the bare minimum of once a week to let them know that Eli has successfully managed to run off with the piece-of-shit jeep– again– gets old fast.
Theo is a hale (thiam)
It wasn’t his sister's funeral– no, that would come later. When Theo was a little older and not that much wiser; when he was sick of the itch under his skin and the empty cavern his mother had left in his chest after she broke the news to him, her gentle voice caressing every fibre of his coiling muscles as she whispered ‘they’re all gone’ into the darkness of the night.
Well, Theo supposed, it was a sister’s funeral. Many sisters, actually. The sisters of the kid sitting up the very front of the church. Sharp jaw clenched. His brown eyes swollen and brimmed with unshed tears.
superhero au - before and after (thiam + scalia)
Grand Mountain.
The be-all-to-end-all. A registered Variant’s wet dream. The United Nations’ Official Variant Registry’s (or the OVR’s) very own private academy. Built to harbour the most powerful of beings. And churn out soldiers worthy of taking down whatever inter-galactic threat decides to show its face within Earth’s atmosphere.
A home away from home, for people like Liam.
secret relationship except their famous and married (thiam)
Liam scowls. “Not all of us can get scouted by Marvel, Raeken.”
Theo kisses him again. “I know.”
“I still have some artistic integrity,” Liam grumbles, chasing his mouth when Theo decides to pull back. “Unlike you.”
thiam proposal
Theo grins. “You’re the only person I need, baby.”
“God help me.”
“What?” Theo gasps and has the gall to remove his arm from around Liam’s shoulders to gesture in-between them pointedly, eyes sparked with mirth. “You don’t think this is forever?”
Liam has a feeling he knows where this is going, even if most of his brain is fogged up and focused on the way Theo’s hair is framing his face. “If you propose to me at this wedding, I’m going to say no.”
Theo wrinkles his nose. A loose strand bounces against his forehead. “You always say no when I propose.”
Liam looks away from him and nods. “Maybe you should take the hint.”
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wonder, sometimes, with certain thoughts if they're actually uncontrollable, or if some repulsive part of my brain actually wants them to stay?
In this case, I'm referring to a specific brand of thought I get only rarely, thank God, but which is entirely morally repugnant and I shouldn't like it at all to be fulfilled, anyway. Which doesn't stop my mind from going round and round in circles on it sometimes - like today, in the middle of church. I tried distracting myself, knitted extra fast (finished the thing I was knitting!), consciously followed the exhortation, and still... kept coming back and back and back to that thought. Squashed it by the emblems, thankfully, but it's been bothering me ever since that such a thought could take up such residence in my brain for long, let alone being something I apparently want. And it does show up every so often, has since I was younger.
But it's the kind of thing that, even apart from the fact that it repels and disgusts me, doesn't feel like it should be uncontrollable. The fact that it exists must mean I want it to, surely, and I just have to try harder to shut it out.
Anyway, this leads to my favourite feeling (/s), that I despise myself.
#catkin rambles#personal#aaaaaaaa#it's such a disgusting type of thought that i will not elaborate because it honestly does make me a horrible person#and i do not wish to lose all my friends
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bring Me The Horizon - Kool-Aid Review
Let's get something out of the way.
Yes, I'm aware Jordan is gone, and yes, I know he worked on this songs early stages and yet does not appear on the credits on Kool Aid.
But am I going to talk about “Post Jordan BMTH” throughout this review? FUCK NO.
I have questions, thoughts, and concerns, that I will NOT let take over the discourse of this song, I'll make a retrospective and rant article on it later (but hopefully not too much later). It's not that deep people (and if it turns out it is then I'll actually be worried)
So! Kool-Aid! Which as a brand can't be done with mixed caps like eVeRYthInG ElsE. But we got badass zombie Kool Aid man, so you win some and lose some.
Now we need to get something else out of the way immediately. It's heavy. Like potentially the heaviest shit they've done since Sempiternal or There is a Hell. We need to talk about it because that is also tainting the discourse around the song because the “Amo Bad, Sempiternal & Count Your Blessings Good” camp gets riled up when Bring Me gets heavy nowadays. We gotta combat that shit people. It's heavy, and I wanna say immediately that's not, in any way, a direct reason for why Im about to say that…
This is, HANDS DOWN, tying with Ludens for the best fuckin Post Human single, and is one of their absolute best showings upon first listen ever. And it has almost jack shit to do with it's heavy elements genre or BMTH era comparisons.
My fucking GOD, it's the first new, released in 2024 song I've heard and it probably could remain as my favorite song of 2024 through to the end of the year and beyond that. I do have one concern I'll mention here and expand on in that aforementioned later article I'm writing, but we'll get to that later.
Firstly, I'd like to say that my personal description of the theme of Nex Gen sonically, much like Survival Horror was “Sempiternal but Evolved” is very much “That's the Spirit (especially including Don't Look Down) but Evolved”. Kool-Aid takes that concept and not only runs with it, but also decides to throw the entire BMTH playbook in like they're adding pinches of other Kool-Aid (BMTH album era) flavors in to augment the red Kool Aids classic (That's the Spirit) flavor. Anybody who compares this mainly to anything other than That's The Spirit or maybe Survival Horror is wrong or lying, I'm not taking that back, I don't make the rules I follow them.
The star of this song is honestly that it was able to take the loose thread of the Church of Genxsis cult plot and the whole “Dark Side of Kool -Aid” that's kind of became a thing and wove it into every part of the lyrical content of this song without any of it coming off as cringy or juvenile. The song sound like both corruption and salvation, desperation & hopelessness, manipulation & rebellion. The entire chorus, the verses, every single line of this song is PERFECT. And yes I'm including ‘you should of known” in there. I think that grammatical error interpreted as a Sheffield-ism like examples of the same thing in earlier albums lyrics makes it better than the correct “should’ve” (or should have), it's a creative choice not an error, and you'll probably grow to like it too in time.
That’s what makes the song so powerful in general, but the focal point of the song is obviously the hook and overall chorus. My favorite choruses of Post Human, and BMTH overall, were dethroned the second I finished hearing that chorus in full. That chorus goes so fucking hard, Oli giving what may be simply his best clean singing to date, with a dark and desperate melody that hits the exact emotional beats it's going for. Then let's talk about the verses, which are more surprising in their switchups and flicker between styles even more effortlessly than Kingslayer did, I'd say it does so on par with 1x1 in fact.
Now of course it's heavy second verse, breakdown, and post-chorus near the end are breathtaking, but it's because of their unique and aesthetically interesting and well textured guitar work and the tones the guitar lines are played with, the surprise of hearing them, and just the overall groove and improvement in their quality that didn't exist in their idolized older material. It's that they work equally well with all four vocal tones Oli employs on this track, and work cohesively with the melodic elements to create the intended effect of the song.
Some have questioned whether Oli’s vocals were mixed down on the track, I disagree, and would put forth the theory that in fact the guitars were mixed up, to the levels they would have been at circa Sempiternal/That's The Spirit, so both guitars and vocals exist equally as much instead of vocals at the forefront
As for production: I really like Zakk Cervini’s production in general, he’s credited on multiple of my favorite rock and core genres across the past decade. Given his work with BMTH to date I figure hes probably a best case scenario for production that isn't Jordan, alongside Dan Lancaster. Aside from that personnel wise theres a few things to look at. Firstly theres a writing credit to someone listed as DAIDAI. I looked up their name on genius and came out with a handful of songs they have been credited on (could be relatively new to the industry, however its also worth noting they are credited on AmEN! and DArkSide), I will listen to is credited songs real quick then come back….
Woosh, Im back
So turns out DAIDAI is a member of Japanese metalcore band Paledusk. And as for his credits its the aforementioned last three Nex Gen singles, four Paledusk songs, a Lil Uzi Vert song, and a Shinigami song. I listened through them in the hopes of figuring out exactly what DAIDAI contributed, and… honestly I’m not sure. He at absolute least occasionally has produced the bands songs, and is their guitarist. Listening to the aforementioned tracks I figure he could be responsible for just about any of it. However my money would be that his influence is somewhere in the breakdown or verses, but then again Paledusk has some pretty kickass chorus melodies and hooks, so I genuinely can't say I know where his influence is in the recent BMTH singles.
Lucy Landry is Zakk Cervini’s partner, I found 3 credits on genius, turns out she's done backing vocals on the last 3 Waterparks albums, a couple tracks on Good Charlotte's album Generation Rx, and a Fever 333 song.
Phil Gornell was assistant engineer, his credited discography includes All Time Low, Noah Finnce, Hot Milk, While She Sleeps, a punk goes pop cover by Boston Manor, the Youngblood era live album 5 Seconds of Summer Released, and from BMTH, hes credited as drum engineer on Sempiternal, and assistant engineer on both versions of Ludens.
Julian Gargiulo was credited alongside Cervini as a mixing engineer, hes credited as Assistant Mixing Engineer and Primary Mixing Engineer on Architects most recent single Seeing Red, and DArkSide respectively. His two other two credits of note are as Producer and engineer across 5 different EP’s by a band called Chronologist, and contribution of some Guitar work and Engineering on the As It Is record The Great Depression.
As for what all of this means? Ive heard most of the material that Ive listed alongside those names, and it looks like they've been building this production team up throughout the Post Human era, and I would say its a considerably strong one after hearing Kool-Aid.
Lets give my last thoughts to the outro and another thing people have said was an "omission", I agree with everyone elses assessments on it, its part behind the scenes voice note, part outro & part transition into ToP 10 STatUeS THAT CRiED BLooD. I like that its there and hope it does remain there on the album. As for the apparent "omission" of "Oh Yeah?" I think that the songs more serious, lass meme take on using the Kool-Aid references is actually a GREAT thing, and secondly I think I'd only have wanted it were this a faster paced, Let's Get This Party Started style song.
I give the song a 100, It easily earns it. Okay, I think that's everything …..
👀.
Oh yeah, the thing I'm concerned about that's going to be the third BMTH article I have planned for this month.
Its heaviness is my concern, let me explain.
My concern is this, on one hand you could assume this just means they are trying to make the individual parts of Post Human more cohesive than initially planned. But has anybody else heard the alleged information leaks coming from someone claiming to have an inside source says its 15 tracks long, and all the material that we haven't heard yet was created in the liminal space between Jordan leaving the tour and the official band departure announcement? Combine that with the fact that the heavier songs were originally supposed to be meant for later eps, and that leads to this conundrum: Its an album, it looks like RCA is planning on registering it as such rather than as an EP after all (likely for charting and awards purposes that I personally believe are why Survival Horror was snubbed by the Grammy’s/Recording Academy), its an album that due to its physical release having to be 6 months delayed after its official release in the early summer, won't be followed up by another release until 2025 in all likelihood. Ludens was released in 2019, Post Human could technically be said to celebrate its 5th anniversary as an era by the approximate time of the Nex Gen physical copy release date. Its an album thats now 4 years post its predecessor, in a series of four thats complete release finish line seems to jump farther down the road every time progress is made. I’m worried they are planning to kill off Post Human after Nex Gen drops to skip over it and start just releasing singles like they had planned to at the whole “4 EP’s, 1 year” stage of this era. And I have a whole fucking article in the works about why I think that hopefully wont happen.
But yeah, the song slaps go stream it to make it chart higher cos the band deserves it okay bye
Tyler108x
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cadence-talle
sophie foster transmasc swag
rot-me
t-r-a-g-e-d-y
frank-olivier
Frank Olivier Schwellinger
gorefox
My Gore page UwU
usman
Stumbles of many Thoughts