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flowerandblood · 10 months

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Sweet kiss, sweet blood (10)

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: drinking blood, violence ]

[description: A centuries-old vampire lives in Victorian England, bored and discouraged. His old friend sends him a letter, inviting him to his new country house. Aemond arrives there to rest. Next to the property, there is a small chapel, visited by the faithful. It turns out that at night, a young lady prays in it. Slow burn, sexual tension, profanation, murder, blood drinking.]

I owe the idea for this wonderful series to: @qyburnsghost

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond sent a messenger with a letter for Ser Criston. He needed him. He needed him like never before in several hundred years of his life. He knew that he couldn't handle what his future wife was going through alone. He couldn't leave her for a moment, and he had to replenish his blood supply, which was slowly running out.

Miss Whaterfield alternately howled in pain, slept a stony sleep, and then awoke, her eyes wide open and terrified. She couldn't get used to the fact that she could smell someone, someone's blood even before she saw him in front of her.

She lunged at him, uncontrollable, her body acting automatically. Her fangs dug savagely into his neck, causing a hiss to escape his mouth.

He hugged her each time, feeling the tears streaming down her face, her silent sobs of horror as she drank his blood like a madwoman. He stroked her hair reassuringly, pressing his lips together in pain, thinking only of not letting her escape, not letting her kill anyone. He knew that she wouldn't forgive him. He kept her locked up in his bedroom, letting her drink his blood.

"Shhh. It's okay. Drink." He whispered, burying his nose in her face, now slightly cool, bright, shiny, as if it were made of porcelain. He thought that she was even more beautiful, even more delicate than before.

When she quenched her thirst, she let him go, panting heavily, trembling all over with terror. She was unable to utter a word, it seemed to her that everything was spinning around her, she was half aware of what was happening around her. She would fall asleep in his arms, exhausted, and everything would repeat itself over and over again.

Criston arrived on horseback after two days, riding as fast as he could in the full sun. Aemond appreciated his dedication.

He felt relieved when he saw his friend at his door. Criston stared at him accusingly, incredulously. Aemond knew what he was thinking.

“Alys found her while I was away. By the time I got back she was practically dead." He said, his voice trembling slightly. He thought it sounded pathetic and weak. Criston looked at him coldly.

"You should have let her die. You would show her more mercy." He said as he walked past him, stunned, embarrassed, up the stairs.

Aemond followed him into the bedroom. Criston looked at Miss Whaterfield sleeping on the bed, pale as they were, her nightgown covered in blood. He sighed softly, running his hand over his face, clearly not believing what was happening.

"Cancel her parents' visit. She'll kill them." He said, stepping closer to her, placing his hands on his hips, pacing the room restlessly. “It will be a month before she calms down. Maybe two.”

Aemond pursed his lips at his words, looking at her.

"They will be here in three days. It's too late."

Criston opened his mouth wide and laughed desperately, shaking his head, burying his face in his hands.

"How do you imagine it? And how will you explain my presence to them?" He asked, shrugging.

Aemond walked over to the bed and sat down next to her and took her soft hand in his. He noticed that despite the transformation her skin was still slightly warmer than his. As if her body wouldn't give back the remnants of humanity she had inside her.

"I don't know. She doesn't act like I did when Alys turned me. She is calmer. After she drinks blood she just falls asleep. Maybe if she had been under our control all the time she would have held out." He said helplessly, staring at her blankly.

Criston sat down on the floor by the window, thinking hard, leaning the back of his head against the wall.

"You're risking a lot." He murmured. He wanted to say more, but they both flinched when they heard her soft sound, as if she was dreaming. They both turned their gaze on her.

Her eyes opened lazily, as if she had just woken up from a very long, tiring sleep. She looked around, rising slightly. She felt her head spinning, but regained consciousness.

She looked down at her chemise, which was covered in blood, and began to breathe faster, panicking. In her mind she was seeing this woman, feeling her brutal bites and this terrible, terrifying feeling of dying.

And then, this searing, crippling pain, as if her body was on fire.

This desire, this thirst.

She was shivering all over. Aemond moved closer to her and stroked her cheek, trying to calm her down.

"What happened? What's wrong with me?” She asked, looking around uncertainly, breathing raggedly.

It terrified her to feel everything so intensely. His scent, wonderful, beautiful, making her saliva dry in her throat. She could hear his heart beating, his blood flowing through his veins. She couldn't stop thinking about the sound, couldn't focus on the words he was saying.

"Easy. Breathe.” He said softly, horrified by her condition.

Her eyes immediately shifted to Criston. She thought, smelling his scent, that he probably would have tasted different.

Not as good as Aemond.

She felt herself lick her lips involuntarily at the thought, then flinched, tears welling up in her eyes, her body starting to shake again.

"I'm scared of myself, Aemond. God, what have you done to me?" She sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

She felt him wrap his arms around her quickly, pressing her against him. She heard his chest heave uneasily. She knew that even though he tried to hold back any sounds, he was sobbing along with her. They sat like that for a while, hugging each other.

She couldn't stop thinking about the taste of his blood. About how delicious it was. Filled with his feelings for her, hot, infinite, so wonderfully satisfying her thirst. Although she tried to stop herself, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her face traveling to his neck.

He didn't stop her as she bit into him, this time more gently than before. She began to drink his blood, and he stroked her hair, kissing her shoulder once in a while. Criston stared at it without saying a word.

She pulled away from him after a moment, trying to control herself. She wiped her face and started sobbing again. It was all she had the strength to do.

Cry.

After a moment, however, she froze and fell silent, her eyes widening. She looked at Aemond, horrified.

"Tell me you canceled it. That they won't come." She said in a trembling, cracking voice.

Aemond stared at her in pain, his lip quivering slightly, his body shaking. Only now did she see how many scars from her bites, barely healed, he had on his neck.

"It was too late. They have already sent their luggage to us." He whispered helplessly.

Miss Whaterfield sobbed loudly, broken, burying her face in her hands. Aemond wanted to hug her, but she pulled away from him and lay down, curled up in a ball, covering herself with the covers and crying like that, hiding from him and the rest of the world. Aemond looked at Criston helplessly, but his friend had no words of comfort for him.

Miss Whaterfield drank his blood every day, but said nothing to him. As soon as she quenched her thirst, she climbed back under the covers, turned her back to him, and sobbed. She didn't want him to hug her or touch her. His heart broke at the sight, and he felt remorse that was unbearable.

Even if she wanted to break off her engagement to him she couldn't go anywhere alone. She was afraid of accidentally killing someone. He thought that even if she didn't let him touch her for the next fifty years, he would be there for her.

Just her presence was enough for him.

Every night before he left the bedroom he wanted to tell her that he loved her, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. He knew that now she would think that he was saying that to soften her up.

The day of her parents' arrival came. He heard her get up in the morning and take a long bath. She combed her hair and put on a dress, a beautiful, blue one, that clung wonderfully to her slender waist. As she descended the stairs, her legs were shaking all over, her lips were trembling. She was pale, but at the same time it seemed to him that she was shining. She didn't even glance at him.

She sat down next to Criston at the large table, already prepared for hospitality. Servants Aemond had hired for a few days scurried about the house. All three of them must have been very careful about what they were doing. Miss Whaterfield's hands tightened on her gown. In the morning she drank the entire cup of blood that Aemond had prepared for her, and at night she drank his blood as well.

Despite the fact that she was theoretically full, the smell of bustling people strongly stimulated some of her animal senses which awakened in her after her transformation. She found herself thinking about getting up and following these people, watching them from a distance, stalking them like a wolf on a deer. She lowered her eyes, trying to divert her thoughts from what was going on in her head.

After a while, they heard the sound of a cab approaching and voices coming from outside. They all stood up, staring at each other in horror. Aemond looked knowingly at Criston. He was not to leave Miss Whaterfield an inch and pull her out of the drawing room if he noticed any dangerous symptoms.

A servant opened the door, and her mother entered first. Mrs. Whaterfield burst into tears at the sight of her and ran to her, hugging her tightly. Miss Whaterfield froze at the intense smell of her mother, sweet, overpowering, nauseating. She felt like she was about to throw up.

Her father didn't put his arms around her, however, he immediately turned his words to Aemond, enraged.

"What's this confusion supposed to mean? Do you know, my Lord, what humiliation it is, a daughter kidnapped from a convent? How do I know that she's still untouched?" He asked, pointing at her with his top hat, as if she were a dog in a show.

"Dad…" She whispered weakly and menacingly at the same time, feeling that she could tear out his artery if he didn't close his mouth.

She felt her heart begin to pound at the thought, Criston stood closer to her, watching her warily. Aemond swallowed hard, trying to focus on the answer and not look at her.

“I know what it looks like, Mr. Whaterfield. I swear I haven't touched your daughter, and I wish from the bottom of my heart to marry her. I would really like to marry her as soon as possible, if you agree, maybe even tomorrow.” He said softly, Miss Whaterfield gave him a horrified look. Her mother covered her mouth with her hands, shocked.

"But how is it? What will people in Mantfield think? After all, it is tradition for the bride to get married in the city of her birth!” She said, terrified at the thought that anything could go differently than according to her plan.

“I would like to avoid unnecessary gossip. It would be better if we showed up in Mantfield as a married couple." He said, glancing uncertainly at his fiancée as if waiting for any kind of objection from her.

She knew that despite her rage at him she needed him. No blood tasted as delicious as his. It was the only thing that satiated her, kept her from going out of her mind, from becoming a monster. Even though that she didn't want to look at him, she couldn't leave him.

She had to be his wife.

Her parents looked at each other uneasily, apparently really considering his words. Her father cleared his throat loudly as he put down his top hat, the maid helping him take off his coat as he spoke.

"Perhaps it would be better that way. There would then be no doubt about the nature of the relationship." He spoke low, impatient, his wife swallowing loudly.

They sat down at the table in a rather heavy atmosphere, the servants gave them soup and roast to eat. Lady Mantsfield helped herself to a little soup, but as soon as she put the spoon in her mouth she thought that she was going to throw up.

She felt like she was drinking plain, thick water, with no flavor whatsoever. She wanted to cry at the thought that she would never enjoy the wonderful taste of food again. She looked at her future husband reproachfully, saw that he was looking at her with pain.

She knew perfectly well that he was suffering, that he wasn't sure if he had made the right decision by turning her. She had screamed several times over the last few days that he should have let her die, and he had taken those words with silence and humility.

His attitude annoyed her even more, she wanted to hit him and bite him constantly. Nevertheless, she always ended up sobbing in his arms, intoxicated by his wonderful scent, drinking his blood.

She shuddered at the thought, her eye involuntarily going down to his throbbing artery. Aemond saw this and glanced quickly at Criston.

"We have a small gift of apology for you." Aemond said, rising slowly from his seat. “For all the inconveniences that you had to endure because of us. Miss Whaterfield?” He motioned for her to get up and follow him.

She stood up, shivering, walking slowly up the stairs with him. He didn't resist as they entered the room, and she pressed him against the door, quickly undoing the buttons on his shirt.

She bit into his neck like a sweet fruit, and he sighed softly as if he felt pain and pleasure at the same time. She drank his blood in loud, long gulps, and he stroked her hair. There was something calm and intimate about this brutal act.

"I love you." He whispered, and she froze, slowly sliding her fangs out of him, trembling.

"I love you and I will always love you, even if you don't forgive me for the next thousand years."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu

Others: @talesofoldandnew

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na-t0 · 1 year

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𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

nsfw . male masturbation . multiple mentions of religious themes . minors please do not interact

"I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth...shit, what's next?"

Despite of what others think, Nicholas D. Wolfwood has come to the conclusion that he is indeed, the perfect example to belie the thought commonly held by people that him, and all the other children of the Lord who is high in the heavens, are made in his image and likeness. He is just a man, a mere mortal, vulnerable and weak in the face of temptation, son of original sin. Trying to atone for, and amend, the errors that life has brought within his path, and from which he cannot seem to escape.

Same life that unfortunately has also placed him in the way of your so intoxicating self. As if it were an unforgivable and cruel test to endure the strength of his already cracked spirit, a test to prove how much he is capable of resisting when the sharp claws of lust slowly scratch his back when he tries to sleep and the image of your beautiful face invades his mind. He also claims being able to feel them scratching once again when, after what seems like an eternal week of waiting, he manages to spot you sitting among the 47 people that fit in the orphanage’s chapel at the time of the religious ceremony he presents on Sundays at 10 in the morning.

Nicholas talks to himself all the time. He talks about a whole bunch of different things to stay busy and distant from the loneliness that his profession entails. He also writes, on a small black notebook that shamelessly reads Holy Bible on its cover, which he keeps in the inside pocket of his suit all day. It is possible to find random thoughts scrambled between its pages, occasional unfinished sketches of the kids who visit him frequently, prayers and attempts at poetry that, despite the ease he possesses to release a speech towards an audience made up of people full of faith in the word he preaches every weekend, the simple idea that one day you might inadvertently read what lies on those yellowish paper sheets terrifies him to the point where he can feel each and every one of his nerve endings on the surface of his skin, pulsing with the same intensity as the wings of a flying hummingbird.

He writes for you, more specifically. Even though in life, there are weaknesses that sometimes, do not allow the deepest feelings of the heart to flourish freely.

"I am just an object waiting to be ashes, and it is precisely for that reason that I would like my body to burn until it is consumed as one with yours. So at the end, dust will be the only thing that remains of our spirits, mixed together, to be later carried away by the wind of this unforgiving desert we call home."

“I have reached such a degree of insanity that, not even with the help of a thousand divine healing rites, my composure will return. I have even considered exchanging the blood of as many sinners as necessary to the Devil in order to melt into the blazing but purifying fire that surely arises with the single touch of your lips, and if you allow me, to endulge in the perfect contradiction that lies between your legs. A place both sacred and infernal, a place where good and evil converge and is powerful enough to drive even the most righteous and ruthless of religionists to an infinite madness. A place that I can only imagine feels like heaven and hell at the same time, capable to burn but also soothe the wounds in the soul of a disgraceful believer, one such as myself, your humble servant.”

“And I am not ashamed to affirm in front of the cross in which the son of God was punished because of filth like me, that, your mere presence encourages me to violate every order imposed by the invisible power of my belief, all that for what he, the same guy I mentioned earlier, sacrificed himself for in the first place. He sacrificed himself for you and especially for me, and above all, for the atrocities that come with the human race to disappear from the world. Such as the kind of things that flood my mind when my gaze manages to distinguish a little glimpse of your underwear when you put on that pretty dress of yours and you take a seat in the front row. A dress I like to imagine you only use for me.”

When Sunday comes, the ceremony starts and it's your turn at the moment of communion. It all happens in a matter of minutes every single time, a fleeting contact that is difficult to remove from his system. The host is delicately held by Wolfwood's hands as he stares at you, the abyss of his obsidian orbs capturing your attention to ask for your permission. You nod and look back at him too, subtly batting your eyelashes and slowly sticking out your tongue in an inviting way, that more than innocent, seemed diabolical, as if you knew which cards to move to obtain an absolute victory. And he feels it, he feels something struck his chest. Like a pair of magnets who can't fight the silent attraction that tries to unite them. You glance at the thick fingers infront of you for an instant, and then once again, you lift your stare towards him to take the host. His breathing stopped the moment he felt the back of his fingers get in contact with the wetness of your tongue while accommodating the wafer on it, and he almost, just almost, stutters in his words, but he doesn't, it takes all of his will not to. He blinks and his hand moves away from your lips to continue with the the other presents. You turn around and go back to your place without looking back. Luckily for him, the robe that covers his body does not allow to reveal any trace of what could give away his growing hunger for you.

Reminiscing something that he himself already wrote once in his notebook.

“It’s a disgusting sight, truly. How you take the sacramental bread from the hands of a sinful bastard, how you try to be purified by the same hands that are permanently stained with the obscene thought of consuming your body, your entire being. But you don’t have an idea of how much I love it, how much I want you to be mine.”

The lecture finished at 10:57 a.m. Nicholas remembers glancing at the watch on his wrist to regain the track of time he lost when you got close to his body. Seeing that people were starting to get up, he decided to clean his instruments to leave everything in order, and at the same time, bring some peace to his mind. He didn't have long arranging his space when Wolfwood felt a sudden and intense urge to look back, and when he did, you were the first thing that he focused on, stumbling upon the surprise of your eyes already searching for his while walking to the exit, wearing the most precious smile he’s ever seen on your face. A smile just for him.

By 11:23 a.m. the chapel was completely empty and Wolfwood walked with an unbearable weight on his feet towards the confined space of the confessional, along with a box of matches in hand that he took from an old cabinet. He closed the door, took a seat and leaned his head against the wall, which protested with a slight screech, as if it knew what was going through the troubled man's mind. Of course you appeared immediately, the images of every time you two have exchanged greetings in the streets, in the market, or even at the events to raise funds for the orphanage.

First came the color of your eyes, which seemed to dominate and illuminate the darkness of the small space he was in, then your eyebrows and the expressions that characterize your words while speaking. Thirdly, your mouth, the Eden he dreams of so much, reflected in the shine that your lips acquire when you bite and wet them with saliva. Imagining how they move to the compass of your voice, if they are rounded, if you smile or if you stay quiet. Nicholas raised his right hand and gently touched his own mouth to try to calm the urgency of joining it with yours. He closed his eyes and remembered the slight meeting he had with it an hour ago. The warmth of your breath on his knuckles and the softness he touched with the pads of his mistreated fingers. How easy would it be to draw a whimper out of you, the sweetest sound he can think of. His pants began to feel more and more uncomfortable with every passing minute, the pressure exerted by the growing erection in his groin started to become unbearable. Will he be able to obtain salvation if he confesses everything, here and now?

"God...please" And just as he often does, he began to talk. "I want her more than...a-anything in this world...can't I have her either?" The hand that previously touched your lips, traveled up to his crotch and gave a first cautious squeeze, allowing himself to be carried away by the venom of the serpent that condemned us all as sinners centuries ago, which little by little contaminated his veins and blinded his sight. Now not only did he imagine the Eden in your beauty, he was about to enter that precious place, only to break the rules. "I haven't been...a g-good man, but..." His breathing began to falter, with great gulps of air, his chest rose and fell, trying to oxygenate his racing heart. "I swear I...I can treat her right." The restraint of the stiff bottoms was starting to be painful for Nicholas, so he reached for the button, hastily undoing it to reach into his underwear. The burning heat of desire greeting him. And as he could, he pulled out his member from the base without removing his pants. The cold edge of the zipper brushed against the prominent veins of his rigid sex while his hand tried to conciliate the relief he so desperately needed. He kept traveling with his mind through your neck, your chest, your waist and your navel, the unknown nudity that he longes for unfolding before him in an imaginary scenario within the four small walls of the confessional. His breathing became more and more disturbed and growls began to sprout from the depths of his being.

"I'm sorry, God...I'm so s-sorry" He started to apologize because he knows exactly what is next. He enjoys being rough with his wicked self, he is violent. Pulling his own hair with one hand while the other strokes himself harshly. He spits on the tip, and watches how saliva slowly rolls to the base. He grunts, an animalistic type of sound that reveals the wildest part of his existence, his human predatory instinct, the part that he tries to repress with calling himself a preacher of the Lord’s word. He likes to tighten the grip in his member to the point where the veins on his forehead begin to become visible and the color of his shaft changes entirely with the accelerated flow of blood. Suffocating in his own body, a prisoner of his dark desires.

"Our Father, who...a-art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is...i-in heaven." It was in that moment when he began to pray. And the drops of fluid that came out of his slit with anticipation gave his hand more access to stroke with a quicker pace. From outside the confessional, it was possible to hear the faint slippery sound of friction from skin to skin and the murmured pleas of a man sunk in perdition.

"Give us this day our daily bread, a-and forgive us our trespasses...as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temp-temptation...but deliver us from...evil."

Would God be able to truly forgive such an act?

"A-Amen."

And it's just when he finishes his pleas that he finds himself betrayed by his own mind, letting your name slip from his lips, over and over again, like a renovated prayer, but profane and corrupted. The peculiar burning sensation in the lower part of his abdomen starts to approach. He bites the collar of his white camisole and drool escapes from the sides of his mouth in the delirium of a near orgasm. Squeezing his eyes shut he imagined your breasts swaying in front of his face as you grind on top, your angelic face contorted with the ecstasy of a fictional encounter, and your core eagerly receiving each of his thrust. The sweet aroma that your sweat must have and all the possible ways you could moan his name.

"Ni..cholas, ah...Nicholas...Nic..."

The entirety of his skin crawls to the thought. And his hips begin to move with an unbridled, involuntary frenzy, consequence of the carnal instinct that species keep hidden in their bodies.

"Oh...God..please, please...ple-please." He calls uselessly for the only one who could redeem him, the only one who could accept a sin like this. Finally, he rapidly drags his hand a couple of last times and the orgasm begins to hit his senses. A last growl comes out of his chest before his teeth unconsciously loosen the fabric of the shirt to let out a deafened cry. With some last thrusts, his hips rise in a lost rhythm from the bench on which he is sitting as his seed spills violently into his right hand, staining some of the fabric of his black pants along the way.

The warm sensation of contact with his own release brings him back to himself, and he can only at this point, contemplate more clearly the mistake he has made.

“Divine forgiveness, what a bunch of shit.”

He drops the other hand that was tugging at his brunette locks in the heat of the momentum inside his pocket, pulls out a cigarette, places it in his mouth and proceeds to wipe the remains of cum on his right palm with a handkerchief, so he can pick up the matches he had brought with him, light the stick, and take a hit, trying to quell with smoke the latent nectar of lonely intimacy impregnated in the air. He takes a few moments to let the haze of the moment pass completely as he watches the mess in his lap and his now softened member.

The cigarette is half finished, he is a fast smoker.

He inhales and exhales once more, and then, there’s a subtle, almost silent, knock on the door, followed by what he recognizes is your voice coming from the rusty confession room's grate.

“F-Father Nicholas...?”

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bandaged-writer · 2 years

Note

hi! can I request dazai and fyodor with reader who’s outsmarted them? reader is incredibly smart and nearly reaches their iq level. thank you in advance <33

while i do love writing these kinds of things, i absolutely suck at writing smart people 🥲 i hope y'all enjoy these small snippets regardless bahaha

reader is heavily inspired by makima for dazai's part bc i'm obsessed with her

pov. you outsmarted them feat. dazai & fyodor

genre. drabble

warnings. reader being manipulative, but it's merely implied

𝘿𝘼𝙕𝘼𝙄 𝙊𝙎𝘼𝙈𝙐

The first time Dazai laid his eyes upon you was in the middle of the night, moon high above Yokohama and the sea breeze sending a shiver down his spine. The abandoned warehouse was empty save for you sitting on the ground and the infamous man-eating tiger resting his head on your lap; he was a mere boy. Judging by the way you're dressed ㅡ white blouse, black tie, a trenchcoat and a pair of slacks ㅡ one would assume you were a member of the Port Mafia, but no, Dazai knew better.

You stroked your fingers through Atsushi's hair, the young boy unconscious on your lap but there was a satisfied smile upon his lips. "So you came at last," you spoke in tender tones and exhaled softly before your eyes settled upon the brunette's figure. "I fear you're a tad bit too late, Dazai."

Dazai's eyes hardened. Never had he ever seen you before nor had he given away the sound of his name, and yet, you seemed to know the very essence his failed soul was made of. The thrill running down his spine was exhilarating as it was terrifying. "I don't recall introducing myself to a pretty lady like you. Care to enlighten me, belladonna?"

Gently, you placed Atsushi's head on the hardened pavement before two men, dressed just like you, took the boy away. Tilting your head to the side with a smile, you looked up at Dazai with distance in your eyes. "It's only polite to know the name of the man who wanted to have the tiger boy, as well. I would've expected you saw this coming, but this surprised look on your face suits you, Dazai," you humorlessly chuckle to yourself and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly.

"I'm [Name] and this boy is Atsushi, my little pet," you explained like it was the most normal thing in the world and continued after a brief pause. "A little bird told me that a man-eating tiger was on the loose and once I followed your steps to Yokohama, I knew who the tiger was. But worry not, I treat all of my pets very well."

Were those two strange men your so-called pets as well? Whatever the case was, Dazai sensed no lie in your words and although you were genuine, something in his mind told him to keep you at a safe distance. Access to governmental information, seeing through his plan to catch the tiger in this very warehouse, but being a tad bit quicker than him; if he wasn't careful, he'd end up as one of your pets, too.

Dazai chuckled, a smirk gracing his features. "It seems like we'll get along well."

𝙁𝙔𝙊𝘿𝙊𝙍 𝘿𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙔𝙀𝙑𝙎𝙆𝙔

"I already suspected it was you who was causing trouble for this lovely city, but even I was surprised when I found out that you were seeking this book. It's a simple but effective scheme." You greeted Fyodor in an abandoned chapel and closed the cursed book swiftly. Jumping from your seat on the dusty altar, you smoothed out your clothes, laughing when Fyodor's eyes went wide in excitement and an emotion you couldn't quite place. Shrouded in mystery as always, you figured.

To think that his former lover was the one leading him by the nose and luring him right into your hands, because you knew he desired nothing more than this book, even though he never told you anything about this plan. "How did you find out that I want the book?"

Briefly, your gaze wandered up to the vibrant yet painfully shattered dome of the chapel. Your sigh left behind a white cloud of smoke which disappeared into nothingness. "You always said that you would create a new world void of ability users, I remember that clearly. But murdering so many people at once without raising any suspicions is impossible, even for you. Once I learned about this book's existence, I knew you'd want this little thing and voila! Here you are, Fedya."

Fyodor had always believed you were sweet, innocent and pure unlike all those gifted people who had blood clinging to their hands like a second skin. Attentively, you used to listen to his every word with those sparkling eyes of yours and care for him whenever his anemia wore him out. But no, you had been an angel in disguise.

You were just as corrupted and vile as he was.

How exciting.

"Let me guess. You won't hand over the book so easily, will you?," Fyodor asked, his lilac eyes void of any affection he once held towards you.

"Who knows? I'm really rooting for the Agency right now, but people change. If I ever get bored of them, I will consider handing you the book, but for now, it's mine to keep." You smile and with a snap of your finger, you suddenly disappear.

Fyodor should've known you had used your illusionary ability to gain information from him instead of facing him face to face.

#asqmi #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky

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revenantghost · 9 months

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Hi, I'm so curious what you realized about Wolfwood's freaky vision when he delivers Knives to Vash and what it means in Tristamp!

Ok ok ok ok so, we're theory-spinning here, so keep in mind this isn't firm or anything, but! (For context to anyone reading this ask, I mention in the tags of deludedfantasy's lovely post that I had a major revelation about all this)

Alright, so Wolfwood suffers this horrifically gory vision in chapter five of volume seven, and you point out that Wolfwood doesn't think it's Knives giving him this vision. Which Wolfwood's been around both Vash and Knives's terrifying, horrible empathetic powers. He's been frozen in place by both of them, and both events are deeply ingrained in his psyche. He would know if it was the twins, they haven't been able to hide this plant ability from him.

But we do see a beyond horrific and brutal vision like this one other time.

And I remember this because it haunted me, the sudden gore made me nauseous: much later during a fight, Livio (I believe it was Livio from what I remember, but if it was Razlo and I'm misremembering, let me know and I'll correct myself) suffers a very vivid image of his spine being ripped from his body while he's still alive. During his fight with Elendira. Who Wolfwood is surprised to see and doesn't seem to have had much experience with (Chapel seems to be the GHG contact?) when he meets her way back then, so he wouldn't be familiar with her evil presence.

It's the only other character we see have this effect on people outside of the twins. Which makes me think... okay man, what the fuck, what if Orange isn't even reaching a little to make Elendira some sort of freaky plant creature??? (The trans rep is *sighs and places face in hands* yeah, but that's for another post) Nightow was a part of the design process, this is a change he would have had to be all for. But what if this aspect of her character design wasn't a big change--what if it wasn't a change at all?

We joke and lament about how none of the GHG's ridiculous powers are explained, but. We have context for this one power. We've seen it multiple times, in fact, and it's something only independent plants can use. And, truly, out of the late-game GHG, Elendira has the most lacking backstory, it drives me up a wall. So, I'm not saying this was the intent, but... it's actually possible tbh.

#Trigun #Trigun Meta #My Trigun Meta #deludedfantasy #Ask #SOMEONE HOLD MY HAND I'M HAVING A MOMENT #AHHHHHHHHHHH

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ptn-imagines · 2 months

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ngl i rushed to the inbox at the speed of light. could we please get a continuation of cinnabar and fem chief's romantic relationship headcanons? especially marriage related ones if you will 🥺 thank you!

Thank you for your patience! I had a lot of fun writing this request, though I did focus a lot on the proposal and wedding, so if you want more married life headcanons, well, feel free to ask!

Marriage-related headcanons with Cinnabar and F!Chief

Cinnabar and Chief dated for about five years before Cinnabar finally popped the question, and even that was only due to the egging of her comrades at Serpent Eye.

Cinnabar was so hesitant around the idea of possibly messing things up with her beloved girlfriend that it wasn't until Alyosha posed a grim scenario that she realized she had to act: “You both have a very dangerous line of work, Cinnabar. Either of you could die at any moment and you'd live with the regret of never getting to marry her the rest of your damn life.”

Though Cinnabar truly hoped she would go out before Chief, she was wise enough to know Alyosha's words rang true, so she began to plan her proposal.

Even after she'd made the decision, it still took a while for Cinnabar to get everything ready. A month or two, at least, and she made sure to casually bring up the topic of marriage, just to make sure the Chief was favorable to the idea. Cinnabar felt like she could've fainted from relief when she was.

Several members of Serpent Eye offered to help with her proposal, but Cinnabar turned them down. She didn't want a big, grand gesture, just a small, intimate moment between herself and her girlfriend.

When the day came, Cinnabar stood in front of a grave in an Eastside cemetery, dressed in a fancy suit and holding a bouquet of roses. Her nervous anticipation was at an all-time high as she waited for her girlfriend; she knew this was a bizarre place for a proposal, but Chief would understand and appreciate the sentiment… She hoped.

Indeed, when Chief arrived, she was quite confused, though she accepted the bouquet nevertheless. Cinnabar rolled out a blanket and placed a picnic basket down on it, saying that she wanted to introduce her father to her girlfriend… Understanding dawned on the Chief then.

As the picnic neared its end, Cinnabar had to fight nervous instinct to keep from constantly checking her pockets. The ring box was there, everything would be fine, she needed to stop worrying…

When she determined the moment was right, Cinnabar took a deep breath and shifted to get on one knee. Chief stared at her with wide eyes as she began, professing her endless love and adoration, as well as how happy Chief had made her, and how she wanted to stay eternally by her side…

Cinnabar pulled the small box from her pocket and opened it, revealing the simple but nevertheless beautiful ring within. “Chief, will you marry me?”

For a few moments, Chief seemed shocked still, terrifying moments in which Cinnabar held her breath. Then, the Chief beamed brighter than Cinnabar had ever seen her do so before, hugging her tightly. “Of course I will, Cinnabar,” she whispered, offering her hand for Cinnabar to slide the ring onto.

As they left the graveyard hand-in-hand, Cinnabar paused for a moment to look back at her father's grave… Somehow, she had a feeling that he approved of his daughter's chosen wife.

The members of the Bureau, as well as Serpent Eye, were extremely congratulatory for the pair, and offered their help as well. Cinnabar and Chief were extremely grateful for it, as their jobs were still extremely busy and left little time to plan their wedding.

Langley and Nightingale's help, in particular, was invaluable; there were several officials that protested Chief's union with a Sinner, but with their help, Chief was able to get them to concede and get all the needed paperwork processed.

The day of the wedding finally came around a year later. The chosen venue was an old chapel in Syndicate, miraculously mostly untouched by the hands of time – it did need a little fixing up, but there was no problem.

Cinnabar waited at the altar, trying not to fidget with her suit. Members of Serpent Eye were seated on one side of the venue, and members of the MBCC on the other – her family and the Chief's, respectively.

Finally, the doors opened, and her groomsmen walked down the aisle. Her Best Man, Alyosha, nodded at her as he took his place at her side. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to Cinnabar.

Now came the Chief's bridal party. She'd opted to have two Maids of Honor – Zoya and Shalom. The Paradeisian was more than happy wearing a dress, but Zoya had been allowed to wear a suit.

The ring bearer and flower girl could be none other than Hecate and Hella. Though many of the kids in the MBCC had wanted the positions, everyone kind of already figured it'd go to those two, and were happy enough being bridesmaids for the Chief.

Finally, Chief herself made her appearance. Cinnabar's breath caught in her throat as she laid eyes on her bride; as per tradition, she hadn't been allowed to see Chief the night before the wedding, so this was Cinnabar's first time seeing her in her gown; pure white, simple but flowing, with minimal lace. Very Chief-like, Cinnabar thought.

Langley had been chosen to walk Chief down the aisle and hand her off to Cinnabar. When her bride-to-be stopped in front of her and smiled, Cinnabar felt as though her heart might beat out of her chest.

Their vows were simple and sweet, yet brought many to tears – including the brides themselves. Not a single person doubted that these two were made for each other.

When Nightingale announced that she could kiss the bride, Cinnabar felt overwhelmed. She gathered Chief into her arms, hugging her close as they tenderly kissed, met by the cheers and applause of their friends and family.

Indeed, Cinnabar was sure this would be the happiest day of her life. The reception passed in a blur and mostly without incident, but Cinnabar had never felt more elated than in this moment.

(The ‘mostly without incident’ was due to Hella trying to start a food fight. Luckily, Chief reined her in fairly quickly.)

Unfortunately, due to the demands of their work lives, the two of them didn't really have time to have a honeymoon. It was a shame, because they could have used one. They did manage to snag a weekend off, though, which they spent at an Eastside hotel, doing their best to forget about work and enjoy their newlywed life.

Still, when they returned to the Bureau, not much changed. The wedding was mostly a legal formality, a status change recognized by official channels; in truth, the two had behaved like an adoring, married couple for many years prior.

In fact, the biggest change was that, by combining their marriage documents with Cinnabar's exceptional bill of behavior, Chief was able to wrangle special privileges that allowed Cinnabar to share her room with her, rather than having to return to her cell each night.

And as Cinnabar fell asleep that night, her wife in her arms, she couldn't help but think that was more than enough.

#ptn #path to nowhere #ptn cinnabar #path to nowhere cinnabar #cinnabar #ptn headcanons #path to nowhere headcanons #headcanons

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vickyvicarious · 10 months

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I love the way everything is said in June 30's episode. Everything, let's be honest. That said, here are some of my absolute favorite parts:

The chains rattling once again and the way Jonathan says "the door - would not - move." The waver in his voice on the word "despair" right afterwards

Honestly, everything about his struggles with the door. The screeching, the effort in his voice on "pulled. and pulled." and "shook it", the way he's breaking down, frantic... finally fading into resignation to the horrible reality.

And then determination not to let that stop him. Reckless, wild indeed, but he will not be stopped this time.

His BREATHING, mentioned now but I wanna emphasize it throughout all the episode! He sounds breathless, almost panting, so much of the time. It's the extreme emotion, the exertion, the complete collapse of all facades, the blood loss... it's excellent

The way he delivers the line "I went through the door in the corner and down the winding stair and along the dark passage to the old chapel." - so quick and all in a rush. It's a horrible journey that only a few days ago was absolutely terrifying, but today it's old news. He moves through quickly, confidently. An echo of the way he went from absolute terror to 'the Count went out lizard fashion again' but more driven.

The genuine horror in his voice when he describes Dracula. His voice stuttering as he says "looking a-as if his youth had been half renewed..." and that EXCELLENT music repeating again throughout, building

ALSO, creepy Jonathan moment? The way he says "the mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran over the chin... and neck." is sooooo?! He lingers a little on the red lips again but most especially the way he says the word 'neck' almost sounds hungry as well as horrified, it's like he's merging with Dracula a little, I dunno, but it's creepy and amazing

honestly the whole description sounds even creepier read aloud and it was plenty creepy before

"I shuddered as I bent over to touch him" *long steeling breath* "and every-sense in me revolted at the contact." *nearly chokes up, wrestles his voice back* "But I had to search-" GHHHHH

His tears on "or I was lost." and the way seems almost to vanish into the picture of the future he envisions

"the very thought drove me mad" - the roughness on that word gave me chills

Shovel Noise So Good

but then as Dracula sees him, oh god - the low horn, ringing noise, music getting faster

Jonathan's slight stutter on "fore-head"

"But my brain seemed on fire" being so rough and pained, god Someone Hug Him Now (no not you vampires!)

the rush of the wind

"I was again a prisoner" the EMOTION, and on "net of doom" too!

The entire bit where he narrates in present tense is SO much more intense/immediate this way. Love the little stutter on "I - I can hear the heavy feet"

and I'm just sitting here thinking about how hopeless this must feel, after all his effort, after everything - to have the wind itself turn against him, to be trapped once more, to have to just sit there and listen as the key he has risked so much to find is used and then taken away, leaving him as trapped as ever

But he REFUSES to sit and wait.

the way he scoffs so violently when comparing the vampire ladies to Mina, "nought in common"

the quiet desperate way he says "home"

The way he almost sounds hopeful to fall. I wanna cry.

And then ending on "Mina" still so rough and despairing but the love is felt in every part of the word, AUGH

The theme song is so good!

bonus mention of the bonus, as hilarious as it was in the original little clip

#dracula daily #re: dracula #catchup post #jonathan harker #edit: i meant june whoops

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gamerbearmira · 2 months

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MAMA ISA...BUT WEDDING...

ART AND A SNIPPET??? LETS GOOOO

Ok. I know I haven't posted, but I've been busy 😭😭 LUCKILY, I GOT TIME AND MOTIVATION❗❗ Decided to do a little mama Isa snippet. I want to do Dolores x Mariano mama Isa, but literally I can't find any prompts, and I can't do their wedding cause technically its a spoiler for the main story later on 😭😭

So, Isabela x Canelo <333 Idk, this just came to mind, plus I wanted to draw Isabela in a wedding dress. Cause why not 🌚

LEA GET IT

-----

Isabela nervously paced the back of the chapel. Everything was fine, everything was perfect. But that didn't make her any less nervous. She was terrified. It was different when it was Dolores and Luisa. But her? It's different now. She didn't know why but she was so jumpy.

Of course, she was ecstatic. She really couldn't imagine this day going any other way. And the family had been so helpful, they had been doing everything in their power to make sure everything went right in the planning. And even today, they made sure that only the best was happening.

And she wasn't having second thoughts. No, she loved Canelo with all her heart, and she honestly couldn't see herself with anyone else. But she was not nervous, she just didn't want anything to wrong. It...it had to be perfect. It had to be.

Isabela kicked away the cactus as she heard the door open. It was Mirabel, Dolores, and Luisa. Isabela's eyes widened as she looked at them.

"W-What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at the altar!" She said, flailing her hands, and Dolores stopped her, getting her to calm down.

"We just wanted to check on you," Dolores said, and Isabela sighed heavily. "Now, what's up?"

"I...I just...I don't want anything to wrong. I know it seems selfish, but I just want this day to be perfect," Isabela said, holding back tears.

"Mamá," Mirabel said, moving closer. "It's not selfish to want your wedding day to be perfect. And it is perfect. You have nothing to be afraid of!"

"Yeah, and Papá is waiting for you. I've never seen him look so excited," Luisa laughed, and Isabela smiled a bit at that. It was clear they were trying to lighten the mood for her.

"Look, Isabela," Dolores said, squeezing her hands. "This is you, and Canelo's day. Everything is about you, and him, no one else."

"But, what if...she...comes?" Isabela said, biting her lip, and a vine wrapped around her ankle. Mirabel kicked it away as Dolores shook her head.

"Papá and Tío Agustín are going to make sure that doesn't happen. Trust me," Dolores said. Isabela seemed to calm down a bit. Dolores readjusted her veil, while Luisa handed Isabela a bouquet; the family insisted Isabela not use her gift for the actual bouquet she was holding. They didn't want her stressing over what it looked like when she was already freaking out about the other flower arrangements.

Dolores pulled the veil over Isabela's face. "You look so beautiful."

Isabela smiled warmly. "Thank you. All of you. I don't know how I would've gotten through this day without you guys."

"Me neither," Mirabel laughed.

"We should go," Luisa reminded them. Dolores nodded, and Luisa and Mirabel left for the main hall.

"Isabela. I promise everything is going great. You look beautiful, and everything is going great. Now all you have to do is walk down the aisle and get married."

"No pressure," Isabela mumbled, a few flowers sprouting in her done-up hair, though neither she nor Dolores made any move to remove the out-of-place flowers. They both knew Canelo liked it when little flowers sprouted in her hair, so it was a nice addition to her appearance.

"You got this," Dolores said, before looking back at her and walking to the main hall, leaving her alone once more.

Isabela looked down at the bouquet for a long time before she finally heard the organ begin to play. Taking a deep breath, she walked up to the doors, which opened. Agustín was waiting near the door, and Isabela swore he looked like he was about to break down and start sobbing.

Isabela grabbed his arm and made her way down the aisle, looking at her soon-to-be husband.

Today was perfect.

-----

And then Alma walks in.

NAH I'M KISSING I'M KIDDING. But fun fact, she did try to get in Dolores' and Luisa's. Hence why Isabela was so freaked about it happened to her (and later on for the others). But it's cool, Felíx ain't let it happen, and there are a few villagers who helped too.

Ley's say Alma ain't exactly welcome in the town 🌚 (I still love Alma istg)

#my asks are open #my asks #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto isabela #encanto dolores #encanto mirabel #encanto Luisa #encanto agustin #mama isa #mama isa au #mama Isabela au

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ichayalovesyou · 10 months

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Tomorrow & Tomorrow & Tomorrow

SPOILERS AHEAD

Oh man you guys! I really enjoyed this episode! I loved it way more than The Broken Circle but I did not love it as much as I loved Ad Astra Per Aspera but that episode was so a cut above the average (as in in the running for best episodes of Trek ever written caliber stuff). That it hardly seems fair to say so because this episode was an absolute JOY to watch! Lol! I love a good time travel romp!

I remembered enjoying Paul Wesley’s Kirk in A Quality of Mercy but I wasn’t sure whether I was just riding the high of the previous season or whether he could pull it off twice. But he did and I really really like his interpretation of Jim. I honestly like it a lot better than Chris Pine’s if I’m super honest with y’all.

I mean he UNDERSTOOD the assignment! He was definitely at his Kirkiest when they initially arrived in the 21st century that body language and cadence was on point despite him not looking too much like Shatner. I mean hats off to the writers too for that one. The passion for chess without being overly cocky. The all of it!

There was something about the hot dogs scene and letting La’an have the bed in the hotel that felt very Tarsus IV even tho that might not have happened in this timeline. It’s still very James Kirk of him. Not to mention the whole bit where his type is overachiever, kinda uptight but also dark and mysterious and dare I say a little out of his league folks. Whom he charms without being pushy into warming up to him and letting their guard down. Also THANK YOU to the writers and to Wesley for recognizing Kirk Drift and acknowledging our boy is a hopeless romantic and NOT a babe hound.

I called the La’an/Kirk thing way before it happened because of it. And from what was implied in the Ready Room interview with Paul Wesley it sounds as though we might get more La’an & Jim content in the future which I certainly wouldn’t object to! Although we are skirting the edge of when Jim & Carol Marcus supposedly met so that might get a lil complicated but the seasons (because they’re sorter) might not be 1:1 with years so they’ve got some wiggle room to work with.

I love seeing the cinematic parallels between Kirk & Jim’s love interest stuff in SNW that clearly draws them to each other later on. Chapel is a lot like Kirk and Spock is falling for her pretty hard. La’an is a lot like Spock by the time we meet him in TOS (not too similar to SNW baby Spock though) and they fell for each other pretty badly too! For example, both La’an & Spock are terrified of Kirk’s insane driving skills (or lack thereof lmao)! But enough about Jim & the whole K/S kitten caboodle! This episode is about LA’AN :D

Holy shit did La’an need what’s been happening with her in these past couple episodes. She got to face her generational trauma headlong, she got to see a mirror in Kirk and further realize the value of enjoying the fleeting and precious joys of life. By both convincing this alternate timeline version of Kirk that her version of the world is worth saving (also not the “Sam’s alive?” 😭 because his older brother dies unexpectedly and tragically in both timelines DONT TOUCH MEEEE, also not the potential Kirk bros content going forward also 😭). To eating the damn hot dog, and presumably letting Kirk talk her into taking the bed and just ugggggh.

And then HE DIES! They fridged Captain James T. Kirk of all people for HER character development lmao how’s THAT for a twist. Historically it’s been the other way around how’s that feel for once Jimbo? Damn!

Sera was an interesting villain, she was a good twist honestly felt like something was up with her the minute she had pics of that romukan ship. Also, I love all the self referential like, “yes we acknowledge this changed a little bit” stuff that’s happened. Like the Temporal Wars are why the Eugenics war is supposed to start around *now* and not the 90s like previously stated and Sera has been trapped trying to fulfill her mission for 30 years. Or how clearly Jim thinks everybody calls his brother George and only he gets to call him Sam when clearly that’s not the case lol. It’s nice little touches like that that really make me feel validated for having faith in the writers when nitpickers complain.

Also PELIA! She’s an art thief?! Incredible! Hilarious! Brilliant! No notes! Although it JUST occurred to me that because La’an went to Pelia before the whole “preventing the timeline from changing entirely” bit does THAT mean that La’an can at least talk to Pelia about what happened?! Because it’s implied La’an is who inspired her to become an engineer and that’s still part of our prime timeline! Maybe it’s like a Guinan and Picard situation! I think La’an should get to sob into the arms of our funky little klepto engineer grandma as a treat instead of breaking down alone in her room, please and thank you!

Anyway, baller episode! 9/10

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 3 months

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You said this : "The ice cold fakeout of giving her hope that he might spare Mal? The implication that he’s fucking terrified of the fact that her offer is. actually tempting. That he might have a weakness as terrible as feelings."

I am kind of not sure how her offer involves feelings? I personally interpreted that offer as "I would one day become strong enough to defeat/kill you and I won't do it and would instead be loyal to you if you spare Mal". Is not wanting to die the feeling here? Because i would believe it 💀 yes not wanting to die is a sign of weakness indeed 👍🏻

I always just thought he just didn't believe her which yes she is lying, she will definitely eventually kill that menace of a man regardless.

Re: this post

Ah, I read that scene very differently!

The way the scene trajectory progresses, he starts out bitter and making up for it by flexing his power over her and making her beg. He already seems really spiteful and offended that she would turn on him so quickly.

I think this is very much a power trip that comes from him already feeling like he’s not as in control as he would like to be. That he did not have his claws in her as deep as he would have liked— because otherwise how could she have run?

Then she offers a trade, her cooperation for Mal’s life. It’s objectively a pretty good deal for him. He has something to hold over her head for a very long time! And she promised complete cooperation for something that ostensibly costs him very little.

I don’t think either of them view her as of enough consequence for killing him to even be a consideration tbqh. Her main threat is that if he kills Mal she will generally make his life harder and also try to kill herself.

So it’s more a question of whether he’s going to force her cooperation or simply accept it at the cost of keeping one guy alive. I really don’t think it’s a deal that, at face value, requires much trust or vulnerability for him. Accepting or not accepting isn’t going to make him more or less likely to live, it’s just about what his dynamic with Alina will be like.

Meanwhile he, and the narrative itself, seems to assume some sort of romantic or at least sexual element to any situation where she agrees to work with him. Here, he immediately reacts to her offer by a) kissing her (creep!!!) and b) an expression described as “longing” lmao. And similarly in S&S, the second she agrees to go with him in the chapel, he immediately starts making out with her in front of everyone’s salad. It’s taken for granted.

I’ve said before that there’s a constant undercurrent of sexual violence in all of their interactions. In the same vein, her being in his control is something that is consistently sexualized. The very concept of him putting a collar and fetters on her just. has undertones.

Re: the description of “longing” You could arguably read this behavior as him just lying again, but I think that’s inconsistent with the rest of his behavior. Throughout the series it’s clear that he does desire some sort of companionship or connection and that that’s a large part of his obsession with Alina. That there could be someone as long lived as him, who might understand him. But he also, textually, explicitly, finds any sort of vulnerability completely abhorrent. (“The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak” is basically his character thesis!)

The prospect of a prisoner who will willingly submit to him vs one who will fight him every step of the way seems to be a tempting one for him. He seems to actually consider it— and again, at face value, it really wouldn’t cost him much!

So when he refuses, I think it comes from him feeling threatened by the idea that he’s tempted at all. Longing isn’t something he wants to feel! It’s a weakness! The fact that she might have something to bargain with is itself intolerable to him. And I think that ties into how cruelly he goes about All Of This.

He’s deliberately closing the door on any sort of civility between them. I joke a lot about how short sighted it is that he doesn’t try to do any sort of damage control whatsoever the moment he catches up to her while they’re hunting for the stag. That it would probably be VERY easy to convince her back to his side. But at the crux of it, I think he cannot tolerate any scenario where she is given enough space to choose or be convinced at all.

And yeah I think that all comes back to his character thesis line!

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #grisha trilogy #all the bendy punctuations #a mysterious stranger has appeared #i ramble sometimes

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farity · 10 months

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Let’s Pretend, part 6

Aemond watched her laugh with her father before she reached the altar where he stood, in the little chapel built out of rock. He took her hand from the older man’s, squeezed it because she was shaking. She wore her mother’s veil, an intricate lace confection that her father drew back before taking his seat next to Lord Stoughton, and when she said the words, he could hear her voice trembling.

The Septon bound their hands together and he leaned in. “Do not be nervous,” he whispered. She nodded at him but he could still feel her shaking when he kissed her.

After dinner, her father pulled her aside and told her that he and Lord Stoughton were hunting in the morning and would spend the night at the lodge on the edge of the estate.

Aemond waited in her bedchamber while her maid helped her change from the gown she’d worn to their wedding. There was a quiet contentment in his heart, which he was not used to, and he knew it was because this - her - was everything that was right.

* * * * *

“You look beautiful, my lady.” your maid finished brushing out your hair and let the glossy waves fall over one shoulder. She glanced at you and put down the brush. “I know we have spoken of these things before, but do you have any questions about, you know, the bedding?”

You shook your head. “No, I do not think so. I know what will happen, in general terms.”

Milla smiled gently, “there might be a little pain when you are first joined, but it will soon go away,” she said, busying herself adjusting your nightgown. “And there might be a few drops of blood but that is perfectly normal.”

She grabbed your hands, “I am very happy for you, my dear lady, the prince seems to be quite taken with you.”

“Thank you, Milla.” To be perfectly honest, you were slightly terrified. You loved Aemond and trusted him, but you hoped you wouldn’t do anything wrong. “I do not wish to disappoint him.”

“My lady, you will not. Let him lead you but trust your instincts.” She stepped back and smiled. “I apologize, I should say, my Princess,” and she curtsied.

“Oh, gods no, please don’t do that. I am already far too nervous for words.”

She turned and grabbed a cup of wine. “Then have a sip, it will ease your nerves.”

* * * * *

Aemond watched the door open and then she walked in. She smiled shyly at him, her fingers playing with the embroidery on her nightgown. He put down his cup, closed the distance between them and cradled her face in his hands, kissing her gently until she pressed herself against him and her arms went around his waist.

He could feel her nerves, feel her pulse jump when he started kissing her neck, the little shivers that went through her. He pulled back, not wanting to rush her, but then she rose on her toes to kiss him and he decided to wrap an arm around her and take her to the bed.

“You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” he whispered as he sat with her on his lap, “and the most precious thing I’ve held in my life.”

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed, and then began unlacing her nightgown, the silk ribbons giving way as the front fell open. Aemond’s gaze landed on the circle of ruined flesh below her collarbone, where the arrow had pierced her and he brushed his lips over the spot. “I will never forget that I almost lost you.”

She cupped his cheek, raising his face to hers. “You did not lose me, Aemond. You never will.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth, her hands holding his face with such tenderness that for a moment he felt tears begin to pool behind his eyes. He decided to put the sentiment aside and focus on his wife, and he deepened the kiss, her little sighs and the way she innocently sank against him making him want all of her now.

He bared one shoulder, still kissing her, felt her shrug the other side off so she was now naked to the waist, and then her fingers began undoing the laces on his tunic. That she loved him was a miracle, that she wanted him was beyond anything he had imagined. Again, he pushed the thought aside and let her continue. When she pulled away he saw how she bit down on her lip and slipped her hands under his tunic. He reached back and pulled it over his head, and she was staring at him, her eyes darting over his chest and shoulders, and then her hands were following.

He very much wanted to do the same to her, but he let her discover and explore and when she looked back up at him, he wanted to capture the look in her eyes and save it for a century’s worth of memories. “Am I adequate?” he couldn’t help but ask, and she laughed. “Aemond, really. You must know what you look like.”

“I only care about what you think.”

“I think my husband is truly beautiful.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well, I do,” she added, running her hand down the muscles on his arm. “And I am very glad my plan failed miserably,” she laughed again.

He’d never imagined a future for himself where there was laughter, and love, and here she was, the purest thing he’d ever seen, giving him both. He pulled her to him, kissed her until she was breathless, and lowered her to the bed.

When he began pulling on her nightgown to slip it off completely, she started working on the ties on his breeches, her fingers shaking against his stomach. She’d never get them undone, he thought, and helped her until he could push them down and kick them off.

There would be pain the first time for her, he knew, but she spread her legs willingly for him, let him settle his weight between her thighs and looked up at him with wide eyes. He didn’t know what to tell her, he wanted to reassure her that it would not always be like this but could not find the words.

“You look so very serious, Aemond,” she said, and smiled at him.

He was probably making her even more nervous. “I take my duties as a husband very seriously”, he replied, smirking, and she laughed softly. “I mean to leave no doubt that you are mine,” he added, nuzzling her cheek, and began pushing inside her.

She was tight and small and felt like glory itself around him, and he could feel her fingertips making the tiniest of brushes on his arms, over and over. He could not wait any longer and drove his hips until he was seated fully inside her. Her fingers tightened on his arms, the sting of her fingernails and her sharp inhale the first he had ever felt.

He pulled back slowly, felt her kiss his jaw as the tension started to leave her. He took her mouth, the sweet warmth of it so freely given to him and only him. Selfishly, he reveled in the knowledge she had never been anyone else’s, that he was the only one who would ever know her this way. He began moving, delighted when her arms went around his neck.

"You feel so good,” he murmured, sliding his hand along her thigh, “I did not know you were this soft all over.”

There was a familiar sharp heat beginning to build at the base of his spine, and Aemond reached between her legs, biting down on a moan when she clenched around him at his touch.

“Oh,” she breathed, and her eyelashes fluttered. He did it again, now determined to watch her lose herself, and when she whimpered, he shoved aside his own need to concentrate on hers. “Aemond.”

His fingers swirled, feeding the fire inside her, and she pressed her cheek against his, her thighs tensing. She moaned, clinging to him, her hips rocking as she reached and reached. “So beautiful,” he said, “so perfect.”

He wasn’t going to last much longer, and when she cried out, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around him, he drove his hips to the hilt and let his own release overtake him.

* * * * *

You had definitely not expected this. You had hoped for a feeling of closeness, Aemond being tender with you, but not this feeling of complete wanton abandon. He had not seemed displeased with you at any moment, so you hoped you hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You are far too quiet,” he said against her temple, and then suddenly rose up on his elbow. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “there was but a moment of discomfort.” You couldn’t help but asking, “was it acceptable for you?”

He looked down at you. “It was more than I ever expected.”

“Aemond, I would appreciate truthfulness in this. It was my first time and I probably blundered-”

He stopped your words with his mouth, and then pulled back to look at you. “I speak the truth, doubting wife. I may have lain with more experienced women before, but believe me, that was all about the physical aspect of it.” He told you about the time Aegon took him to the Street of Silk, how he’d paid a fortune to have Aemond instructed in the ways of sex, how Aemond had hated every moment and had therefore sought a bedmate so very few times after that.

“I am sorry. I do promise you I will never make you do anything you do not wish to do.”

He smiled broadly, his face lighting up in a way you knew hardly anyone ever saw. “I shall take much comfort in your promise.” He held you close and you wrapped yourself around him, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your cheek.

* * * * *

Aemond awoke to find her curled up, her back against his chest, and himself wrapped around her, one arm across her waist, one leg over both of hers. She was sleeping soundly, but he couldn’t help inhaling the familiar scent of her hair. In her sleep, she sighed, wriggling her ass against him and he immediately hardened.

He moved her heavy hair to bare a shoulder and began placing soft kisses on her skin as he palmed her thigh and hip, pulling up her nightgown. She stirred, placing a hand on top of his, and began turning toward him.

“Stay like this,” he murmured against her shoulder, and slipped his leg between hers, opening her up so he could touch her, and she arched against him. “Give me your fingers,” he added, and when she did, he placed them on the knot of nerves between her legs. She gasped as he began moving her fingers, circling and gliding over and over until she was breathing hard. “Keep doing that.”

He slipped his fingers deep inside her and she whimpered. “Aemond.”

“Do not stop.”

She gasped when he curled his fingertips, began moving her fingers faster as he continued reaching inside her. Her hips had begun to rock in time with her fingers, and she was making little sounds that went straight to his already hard cock. She was so close, and he bit down on her shoulder, fingertips curling. She cried out, clenching around him as the orgasm claimed her.

He couldn’t wait any longer, turned her onto her belly and pulled her hips back before entering her as slowly as he could manage. She was still contracting, and he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. She was resting her forehead on her fists, whimpering as he began to snap his hips. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he rasped out, barely holding on.

It wasn’t going to take long, despite his best intentions. She was soft and pliant and soon he was spiraling into the sweet bliss of release. He collapsed next to her, pulled her against him.

Once he could breathe normally, he kissed her shoulder again. “Good morning, wife.” He felt her smile as she reached back and caressed his face.

“Good morning, indeed.”

* * * * *

“It will be fine, she will know you are under my protection.”

You looked at him with apprehension. “I will trust you, Aemond, but know that this is most terrifying.”

They turned the corner and in front of them, in the great field, was Vhagar. “Let me carry you,” he said, “it will be another way of letting her know that you are mine.”

You did not protest, because faced with Vhagar, you didn’t really care what it took for the great dragon to understand you were not to be its next meal. He lifted you easily, and you heard her move her head back and forth as she took in her rider approaching.

“Vhagar, lykiri,” Aemond began crooning, his voice soothing. To you, anyway. When the dragon fixed her eyes on you, you felt like the slightest wrong move could end in your demise. Aemond kept talking, and you swore you would learn High Valyrian in order to understand what he was saying. “I am telling her you are my wife, that you belong to me.”

The dragon bared her teeth and you buried your face in Aemond’s neck.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered, and you immediately raised your lips to his. His hands tightened on you as he deepened the kiss, tugging on your lower lip before he let go of you, placing you on your feet.

“Here.” He took your hand, placed it on one of the massive scales on Vhagar’s side.

“She is so warm,” you murmured. “She is a wonder, Aemond.”

When you turned back to him, he was smiling proudly. You caressed his cheek, and then he guided you to the rope steps hanging down her side. “I will go after you. Once you get up there, sit on the saddle and I will sit behind you.”

Just getting up to where the saddle was high on Vhagar’s back, gave you such a magnificent view of the area surrounding you. Aemond had explained what would happen - he would do a couple of turns low over your home to get you used to flying, but then you’d soar high in the sky in order to get to King’s Landing.

You quickly sat, scooting forward so Aemond could sit behind you. It was actually comfortable enough, and he began to expertly secure every strap. With your riding clothes, it was easy for him to not only secure your waist to the saddle, but also to secure the straps going across each of your thighs. “Here, slip this between your legs and the straps, it will provide some cushioning.” He secured himself while you did as he indicated, and then he kissed the side of your neck. “I never thought I would bring my wife home on Vhagar.” You smiled and turned to face him.

“I never imagined I would get to be on a dragon, let alone the most magnificent of all.”

“Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

You inhaled sharply as Vhagar rose, her steps shaking you in your bones before she leapt and the world began racing by you, so smoothly it was like a dream. You felt Aemond wrap an arm around your waist. “All good?”

Smiling widely, you turned, “this is wonderful!”

He kissed your neck again. “Like I said. Fearless and brave.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “I know I am in the care of the most brilliant of warriors and dragon riders.”

You leaned back, secure in your husband’s embrace as he deftly guided Vhagar to King’s Landing.

* * * * *

“Well, well, you did find her after all.”

“Aegon, she is now my wife,” Aemond said, a warning note to his voice.

Aegon’s jaw dropped. “I thought it was all theater!” He turned as the new princess walked in and made an exaggerated bow. “dearest sister, I welcome you to the family, now that you have been wedded and bedded.”

“Aegon!” Aemond said sharply.

“I did not pay good money for you to be such a prude, brother. Has he told you all about his, uh, extensive instruction?”

She glared at Aegon, wishing she could slap that silly smirk off his face. “Of course he has. Is there anything you need here, dearest brother?” she had a pleasant smile on her lovely features, but Aemond saw how it did not reach her eyes.

Aegon, having expected more of a reaction from her, pursed his lips and shook his head, taking his sweet time to walk out the door.

She went to one of the trunks that had been placed in Aemond’s bedchamber - their bedchamber now - and began digging around.

“I shall speak with him.”

“Aemond,” she said, not turning, “do not worry about it, he wants the attention. If you make a thing of it he will just keep needling you.”

“I thought he was needling you.”

At this she turned, smiling. “Why would he be needling me, he barely knows me.” She went up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist. “What time do we need to be ready for dinner? I do not wish to be late.”

He grabbed her and kissed her. “Unfortunately, soon, although I would much rather keep you in my bed until tomorrow.”

“That sounds delightful,” she said, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him back.

* * * * *

Tagging:

@arryn-nyx @girlwith-thepearlearring @greenowlfactif @hydrationqueensworld @megzdoodle @melsunshine @queenofshinigamis @throughgoeshamilton @travelingmypassion @watercolorskyy @zillahvathek

@hb8301 @kaemond-zafiro @arcielee

Tagging for this fic:

@shros3b @malfoytargaryen @fedeffy @randomdragonfires @issshhh @opheliaas-stuff @brianochka @devils-blackrose @wolflinkpaws @fangirlninja67 @dahlias-and-marigolds @fedeffy @smailaway @wasntpriscilla

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aziraphales-library · 1 year

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Hi! I’m trying to find a fic where Crowley writes an online blog or something anonymously, and then Aziraphale figures it out over time? Or any fics like that. Thank you for having this blog loll

Hello. Here are some fics which feature Crowley being online and Aziraphale finding out...

Janthony by SatanSpawnedNougat (G)

Where Aziraphale learns about Crowley’s secret review blog. Just as he also discovers where the ‘J’ in his name really stands for.

Songs in my Heart by Lea_Amell (M)

Crowley has loved Aziraphle for 6000 years, and Aziraphale finds out wehen he stumbles upon crowley's blog.

When is a Blog not a Blog? by Iocane (G)

Crowley had often talked to God but he had never actually prayed.

If he did, it would be that Aziraphale never discovers Crowley's blog.

(i'd rather be) in the palm of your hand by seashadows (E)

It was…intriguing, Aziraphale had to admit. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he told himself sternly. But then, satisfaction brought it back – wasn’t that the rest of the saying? However it went, he could already tell that he would be fretting the night away if he didn’t give in to temptation.

(Aziraphale discovers that Crowley satisfied his loneliness in the previous decade by posting intimate videos of himself online - videos that Aziraphale himself was never meant to see.)

To Fools and Stars by NebulaEyes (T)

After a visit from Adam ends with an upgraded computer and a blogging profile, Aziraphale is soon talking with someone who seems to be in the same predicament his own heart is in. What will happen when he realizes just how much this person relates to his situation? What will be said? Will it all work out?

Veni Vino Vegas (I Came, I Got Drunk, I Got Married) by A_N_D (T)

After a whirlwind drunken evening, author Az Fell came home from Rom-Con without his heirloom pinkie ring – but with a wedding license from a 24-hour Las Vegas chapel. Elsewhere, book fan Tony Crowley woke up with a hangover, vague memories, and a brand new ring he’s only seen in author photos.

Mutually attracted, mutually terrified the other one thinks it was all a regrettable mistake, they turn to their dear but anonymous online friend to vent and ask for advice.

…Maybe they should tell each other their screennames someday.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #blogger crowley #secret identity #mod d

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deludedfantasy · 8 months

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Trimax Vol 11 Ch 4-6

Half of this is just me having emotions about Livio. For a character who showed up so late in the game, he's very quickly wormed his way into my heart.

Ch 4

Return of the wicked? So Legato rejoins the game.

Oooh, Zazie butterfly! You know, it was really funny reading Trimax after watching Tristamp which was chock full of worm lore and realizing there’s just…none of that here. All you know is there are worms, Zazie is one of them (perhaps the leader?), and they’re sorta kinda on Knives’s side. Except not anymore if Knives apparently throws them off the Ark.

BABY KNIVES!!!! I am not immune to baby Knives.

It’s interesting that Zazie says that because Independent Plants can produce matter, they’re better candidates for coexistence. I assume the problem with humans is they only cause destruction. But while Knives is certainly capable of creation, that’s very much not what he’s using his powers for at the moment. On paper, he looks great! In practice, not so much.

Well, I should’ve kept reading because Zazie very much so doesn’t mean that. Apparently, they’re using worm poison to incapacitate everyone on the ship and go after Knives. Zazie does see how much of a danger is to their planet, and seeing as its their own, they won’t stand idly by anymore.

BLEGH I FORGOT ABOUT THE CROTCH WORM.

The concept of a control worm is so interesting. Is that how Zazie is “possessing” the body they use to appear human? But also, the idea of her using that to control Knives is so insidious but so fascinating. I actually want to know what they would do with him and whether they’d be able to wield his powers like that.

I never understood this bit with Legato’s wires. Because he never seemed to need wires to do his body control trick before. Or maybe it just wasn’t explained that that’s how he was doing it until now. He’s yet another puppet master character, except what’s terrifying is he’s somehow using the strings to control his own body. I’m taking back my snarky comments about Vash finding Legato scary earlier. This is terrifying. Imagine the willpower it takes to do this, to endlessly carve metal wires out of the coffin you’re in and use them to remake and control your own body.

All of Elendira’s teasing and joking takes on new meaning too. She was doing that partially because she thought Legato was pathetic and couldn’t do anything to her. How horrifying is it to realize he was just holding back? He was biding his time until he was needed and he could’ve snapped her neck whenever he wanted.

So that massive explosion was Knives expelling Zazie’s poison by gathering it into a gate. This is another one of those times that we’re reminded just how capable of destruction Plants are and just how much power they hold.

Vash watches this explosion calmly and then goes back to making his own special Plant-powered bullets. The way the panels focus on his hair and we realize that it’s gotten even blacker. He’s very purposefully using up his power to make these and that just…that hurts to see.

Because for a moment, in the last volume, he really wanted to live. And now he’s actively pushing himself closer and closer to death. He’s back in that terrible place he’s lived in for so long where his life doesn’t matter, only his final mission, only defeating Knives. It’s an incredibly painful manifestation of his grief and it’s even more pronounced for how Nightow just shows it to us without any commentary.

Chapel…when Vash refers to Wolfwood’s coin he calls him Chapel. Because the man who held that coin wasn’t his friend. He wasn’t even real. He won’t call it Wolfwood’s because it isn’t, because Wolfwood ultimately wasn’t a Gung Ho Gun or a killer. He was his friend.

Ch 5

It’s so exciting to see the Earth Fleet and see how much advanced tech they have. Not only that, but how much knowledge they have about Plants. Most excitingly, the existence of other Independents, like Chronica!

This opening scene reveals a lot too, about the relationship between Independents and humanity in Earth society. Chronica is obviously a respected member of this crew if this man is asking her opinion. It’s unclear how much power she has in making decisions and such at this moment, but it doesn’t look like she’s hated or anything. Then there’s the fact that apparently, they’ve had enough problems with Independents fusing with dependent Plants that whenever new Independents are born they have their neural pathways rewired so they can’t do that. Apparently, Knives isn’t the only Independent who decided to use their powers to wreak havoc on humanity.

Meanwhile, Vash and Livio are being idiots together. I love the relationship between them and how much of a goofball Livio is now that he’s coming out of his shell a little.

You know, if some guy coughed up a worm in front of me, I’d have that reaction too. This is a big mood.

I love that Vash just presses the button on the case. Doesn’t even go, “Huh, I wonder if this is an explosive or if it’ll trigger something bad.” Guess he trusts Meryl and Milly’s assessment that it’s safe.

Legato giving his evil villain speech:

Vash: Can’t believe I have to listen to this bullshit.

Vash, rude!!! Don’t call Elendira a bitch!!!

Hey!! Look at that, Vash asked someone for help! Not in so many words, but he admits that he can’t take on Legato and Elendira at once. He needs Livio’s help to get past her and get to his brother.

And that means so much to Livio, being entrusted with this duty! He can do something good, he can do something to protect rather than harm, and he’ll do it with the body and powers the Eye of Michael gave him. He’s taking the evil that was done to him and using it for good.

The way he says, “She’s a monster too, right?” it makes me so sad. Because you know he means, “like me.” Only a monster can fight another monster, so he’s the perfect man for the job. I like how even though Livio is finding ways to be a better person, part of him is still stuck in his old way of thinking. It’s so real! He’s making progress, but he’s not quite there yet.

I know everyone has talked about this page but man…it hits hard. They weren’t even directly talking about him, but the idea of being a protector, of taking the horrible things done to you and turning them around to use them for good is a very Wolfwood idea. Both Vash and Livio are taking strength from it. His presence is so powerful they don’t need to say anything to invoke his memory, he’s that meaningful to them. This is a moment of Vash and Livio bonding over that shared memory, and I see it as the first step for Vash in forgiving Livio. He believed that Livio was a good guy, but now he’s seeing it. After all, faith can only take you so far. And he sees how much Wolfwood’s sacrifice means to Livio too.

Also, I just realized Vash hurt himself trying to punch Livio in the stomach. That man has abs of steel.

I think this is the first time Vash explicitly talks about how he can hear the Plants’ thoughts. This is a very revealing moment for him, showcasing his inhumanity, and it’s a big deal. But he’s using it to try to do something good, which is very much becoming a theme of this chapter.

“Is it possible for something created by humanity to break completely free of their creators?” Something something we create our own gods (literally in this case) and then they develop a will of their own. Quite often, that’s what happens with human inventions. The minute you put an idea out in the world, tangible or intangible, it’s no longer yours to control. Plants have always had some will of their own, but until now they hadn’t exercised it. Knives is forcing them to make a choice about whether to save humanity or doom it. But they’re so alien and unknowable to humanity that it’s hard for anyone to imagine how this will go or how they can convince them that human life should be spared.

Vash asks more people for help!!! I’m so proud of him.

Also love that he calls the Plants “the girls inside.” He really sees them as his sisters, as individual people, with wants of their own, and talking like that in front of others might one day help change their minds about how they view Plants too.

Awww, no, his goodbye with Meryl and Milly :(

The girls have lost him so many times and they’re watching him walk away again, straight into danger. Vash teases them over it, because this man is incapable of accepting that people actually care what happens to him, but it’s getting to him too. Maybe it’s reminding him that he has something to come back to. Their little goodbye fist bump means everything to me.

You tell him Milly! Let Meryl feel her emotions!

Love that none of those guys even realized they were talking to Vash the Stampede. They just went, “Yeah, we’ll take advice from some random dude with weird hair. Seems legit.”

I don’t understand why Chronica would want to turn off her limiter program if that’s what’s keeping her from fusing with other Plants. I’d think keeping Knives away from her and all the information in her head would be a top priority.

Ch 6

Livio centric chapter!!! I’m really falling in love with Livio’s character on this reread. I think the first time, the hangover from volume 10 was so strong, I couldn’t appreciate it.

That moment when he saved Jasmine defined who he wanted to be, even if later what he did to her dog overshadowed it. But it’s telling that when he faces Elendira, this is what he’s thinking about: how he wants to be a protector.

Oh Elendira. She really knows how to twist the knife. She’s so mean. But it’s so fun to watch. She’s the best kind of villain because her taunts are so truthful, so accurate, that it instills the tiniest seeds of doubt. Oh, she’s good.

But evil. EVIL. THAT IS SO EVIL.

Like I said, she’s good. She knows exactly how to bait Livio. Though I really do wonder how she knows all of this. Not about Wolfwood being dead but about how much he matters to Livio and the way Livio is trying to turn his life around.

Right, this is the part of the story where Livio just becomes a human pincushion. Truly, no one else could survive Elendira. I’m not sure Vash could. Livio’s regeneration abilities are the only thing that make him stand a chance against her.

Also, I don’t understand Elendira’s gun or her powers. Sometimes, I swear the nails can’t be coming from her gun and she’s just creating them out of thin air like in Tristamp. This is one of those things I’m just trying not to think about too hard.

Elendira, you mysterious woman, why are you so focused on the destruction of the world? Who hurt you? More questions I will never get answers to.

Unlike Legato, I don’t think she’s doing this out of any sort of devotion to Knives himself. She seems to just want the world to go to pieces and Knives is a means to that end. Because I really can imagine that if Knives told Legato right now that he’s changed his mind about destroying humanity, Legato would get with the program. But Elendira would blow the bomb anyway.

Oh no, those poor kids! They just saw some guy get impaled! And then cough up blood and pull out all those nails?! That’s horrible!

Awww, Livio’s reaction to them though! He’s trying to keep them calm and make sure they’re safe. He’s never cared about kids before, but now they’re the reminder he needs of what he’s protecting (and what Wolfwood died to protect).

This last scene with Jasmine and the kids, where they give him their clothes as a thank you is so so important that I’m having a hard time putting it into words.

Jasmine obviously doesn’t recognize him, but Livio left the orphanage because of how scared she was of him. She was someone he was supposed to protect and instead he hurt her. He couldn’t live with that. Unknowingly, he’s now protected the children she’s in charge of. He’s made it up to her. He’s proven to himself that he can make amends and do good. And it gives him something to fight for that’s more than the nebulous wants of a dead man. These people are living and they’re his to protect, so they can continue to live in the world. This is the only way Livio knows how to love and it’s bittersweet to see him put in action. Protection isn’t the only way to show love, but it’s how he understands it and at least he has that, when for so long he had nothing.

#trigunbookclub #trigun

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animehouse-moe · 8 months

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Undead Girl Murder Farce Episode 8: The Banquet

God. Let me say that one more time. God. This episode isn't focused on mystery, or even so much action, but rather story. Exposing the inner workings, piecing together this very unique world and its circumstances, and it does that with the absolute maximum amount of visual creativity possible. I could talk about it all day, so let's just get to it.

Just to clear the air a little bit, our two little insurance agents end up in the chapel alongside Tsugaru, Lupin, and even Erik. We quickly desert them though for Shizuku vs Carmilla, which is amazing.

Not so much in the combat (though it is great), but how they approach the fight. They leave the writing on the wall, wherever possible they point out the fact that Shizuku has Carmilla's blood on her hand.

A subtle yet incredibly great detail to set the stage for Carmilla's venom to set in. And the visual for that? It's incredible. Carmilla's history and recognition as a sapphic vampire is perfectly conveyed as the art style shifts through this sequence and those strands/tendrils that originate from her lips wrap around a helpless Shizuku.

The moment certainly hits the nail on the head with its air of eroticism, but also tries quite hard to assert the control that Carmilla exhibits through it all.

And then there's Aleister vs Holmes and Watson. Clearly, it's far more fun and playful until it nears the end of the fight, as we get scenes like Watson knocking Aleister's tophat off and it landing atop a statue in the background.

In terms of more interesting things though, we get to see Holmes Baritsu (if only for a little bit). However, it's quickly cut short by the appearance of Moriarty, which gave rise to this incredible sequence. I love every bit of it: the camera angle, the loop/repeat, how they replaced specifically the white tiles because of the color matching, and how it perfectly represents Holmes' shock in realizing that Moriarty is still alive.

And then there's this sequence, the long awaited arrival of Jack The Ripper. They absolutely nailed it. The tension, the weight, the feeling of drowning in the weight of his presence, it's incredibly well depicted. And the soundtrack just adds to that in spades. What a reveal.

I just wish they could get away with more. Jack completely decimates Fatima, and while the carnage can't be displayed, the approach is equally terrifying. How he simply caresses Fatima with his hand yet tears her completely to shreds.

Also, really really love the effort placed into continually giving viewers the upper hand/ability in solving the mystery. We get this scene here of Jack holding the diamond up to the light, which becomes important later on in the episode.

More than that though is this incredible piece. Forget a two in one, it seems like it's actually a three in one. It's not just Jack looking at the diamond, it's the viewers looking through the diamond to see Tsguaru grabbing Fatima's heart, and it's showing viewers that Jack is still keeping his gaze trained on Tsugaru behind him. Truly incredible stuff, the storyboards for this series has been out of this world.

Following this we get a very tense fight scene between Tsgugaru and Jack, and I'll just say it's worth every moment. The choreography and planning in regards to the combat is just stellar. The use of environment and space remains such a core tenet to how they approach fights in this series, and I really can't get enough of it.

Anyways, here's a cool visual used as Moriarty explains his motives and purpose.

Also also, super cool parallel between Aya and Tsugaru. Both have been caged by the hands of Moriarty.

Continuing the comparisons and fusion of Aya and Tsugaru's experiences, when Jack questions why Tsugaru's all the way out here, it's in the puddle of his blood that he discovers his reason: Aya. Whether romantic or not, the relationship is undeniably there between the two of them, and is a large step forward for Tsugaru's character. I also feel like with the boarding and direction, it elicits the idea of his motivation existing in the present, whereas the reasons that Jack list are all done via flashbacks which is more associated with the past.

Now, Moriarty's Banquet has left the building with the diamond "in hand", the safe is missing, and all seems lost for the defenders of this night. But before we go any further, this funny moment with Tsugaru and Shizuku.

They're so sibling like it's hilarious. Shizuku is in tatters and has a bit of skin showing, and without a word Tsugaru antagonizes her into being self-conscious about it. A really fun little piece to bring the humor back into focus.

And now, to the most fun part: Tsugaru's reveal. I wouldn't say I was fully confident in it, but I'd also not say I didn't believe. Tsugaru is all about show, sleight of hand, misdirection. Everything he does is an act, a farce. This was reinforced by his earlier fight against Lupin, and you can totally see how it plays into this one. One the backpedal once more, Tsguaru finds a way to exploit his opponent and take advantage of it in a way that has them believe they won. As for how I guessed it? Jack doesn't take out the diamond after that first instance, and it made me feel like something was off.

Finally, at the end of today's episode, we have our new direction: the forest of fangs. The group uncovers the whereabouts of the elusive werewolves, and is now stuck in a race to get there before the Banquet does.

Definitely not what I was expecting, but it 100% did more than just meet my expectations. Each of these episodes goes above and beyond in every facet, and you can truly feel it with each cut and scene. Now, rather than chasing the ghost of a mystery, our detective duo + one is engaged in a race against Moriarty, the death defying man himself, and will most likely be forced to struggle with that monster hating insurance agency. This show always keeps me on my toes, and at this point I expect nothing less than greatness out of these last few episodes. It's really gunning for the top mystery spot in my list of favorites. Though only time will tell if it makes it there.

#undead girl murder farce #アンデッドガール・マーダーファルス #mystery anime #supernatural anime #anime recommendation #anime review #anime and manga #anime

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raddocwrites · 5 months

Text

SNW drabbles

angst is a friend I know well

La’an looked up from her tricorder, her eyes wide. “Lt kirk! Back away from there. NOW!” she yelled.

Sam kirks head reared up and he jerked back. But it was too late. A small, mewling call started emanating from the bushes. La’an didn’t know much about animals. But even she could recognize a terrified baby calling for its mother.

Everyone froze. There was an awful silence. And then a crash. A deafening roar split the air as the furious mother tore out of the undergrowth. Straight for Una.

La’an didn’t think. She just shoved una out of the way as the creature leapt. She tried to stay loose as it slammed into her chest, tilting her body away and drawing her phaser in the same motion. They crashed into the hard dirt and rolled once. La’an ended flat on her back, a snarling monster on top of her.

The giant cat-like creatures claws tore into la’ans chest with a howl. La’an had just enough time to thrust her arm up in front of her throat before massive jaws clamped down. She bit back a scream and her legs kicked spasmodically. She couldn’t breathe through the fire in her chest. Either the claws were tearing into her or the weight of the beast prevented her from drawing breath. Or both.

La’an dimly thought she heard someone shouting for emergency beam out as she gritted her teeth and forced her phaser up. She thrust it into the side of the animals head as it gnawed, trying to get to its prize-la’ans throat. She fired. Repeatedly. Shouts and phaser fire from the rest of the away team finally forced the creature to wail, before launching itself away. And off la’an.

La’an lay stunned, trying to breathe. She coughed and wetness covered her face. She tried to move. She had to help- but then una was there, leaning over her. Her friends face was so filled with concern that for a moment, la’an worried the animal might have mauled una too. But that didn’t make any sense.

Then una was kneeling beside her, pressing into la’ans chest. La’an arched with a groan and tried to bat una away. But it was impossible. Instead, she looked up into unas anxious face.

“Youre okay la’an,” una reassured her quickly, leaning even harder onto la’ans chest.

La’an tried to nod, but couldn’t seem to manage it. She was amazed by how blue unas eyes appeared when she was worried. And her hair, which was up in an elaborate pony tail due to the away mission, fell over one of unas shoulders. It looked so soft, la’an wanted to reach up and touch it.

La’an shifted a hand, trying and failing to lift it towards una. Her alarmed friend leaned further into la’ans field of vision and those blue eyes captured her again. “Just hold on, la’an!” unas command voice ordered her.

La’an couldn’t decide if she wanted to smile or shiver. That voice. Instead, she opened her mouth and breathed out what really mattered. “Hey, ch-chie-“

La’an blinked, trying to focus. But for some reason, nothing was working. She coughed and more warmth spread across her lips. She needed to…to-

Una felt painic strike her heart as la’ans eyes rolled back in her head. She pushed even more desperately onto la’ans chest where the blood was running out of her like a sieve. She needed to stop the bleeding. She needed la’an to be able to finish saying her name. She needed-

Una materialized in sick bay, la’an already in the surgical bay. She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as doctor Mbenga and nurse chapel strode forward. Mbenga was already scanning la’an with a look of focused determination. He didn’t seem phased by all the blood or unas barely contained panic.

#star trek strange new worlds #una chin riley #number one #la'an noonien singh #drabbles

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