#there are times when certain groups will. in fact. be targeted harder than others and its important to uplift and rally around them

[spitblaze]

What happens when you win the debate on who's the most oppressed group in the transgender community. What happens then. What could be accomplished by finding the one group that is the single most downtrodden demographic that suffers at the hands of every other community and putting them up on the 'most oppressed' throne with a 'most oppressed' trophy that could not be accomplished if we listened and paid attention to individual and group needs and worked to address them without the need to determine 'who has it worst', or worse, 'who actually belongs to the most oppressed group'.

[deepseaorchid]

Kiss Me Better - Sejanus Plinth x GN!Reader

Summary: When a certain sweet little boy offers to share his candy with you on the school yard, you find yourself with a lifelong best friend. What happens when these feelings of friendship melt into deeper feelings as you both grow older? An unfortunate event causes these two best friends to get closer than ever before, making your heart flutter.

Pairing: (Childhood bestfriends! To Lovers!)Sejanus Plinth x GN!reader, (platonic!)Clemensia Dovecote x GN!reader

Warnings: None, fluff, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: Clemensia may be OOC, I modelled Reader's interactions with her after myself and my own best friend

Accepting that you had fallen in love with sweet Sejanus Plinth, your childhood best friend was not easy. From the time you both met, Sejanus had been a constant and welcome presence in your life. One of you two always trailing after the other, hot on each other’s heels. The pair of you could often be found pouring over books in the library, comparing what you had read versus what you had not. Or, you could be found at a small cafe on the Corsus, sharing a sweet pastry or sipping tea and studying.

With the frequency of your hangouts, and the fact that you had few other friends, it was impossible for the other Academy students not to notice and gossip. You had grown accustomed to hushed whispers and jeers directed at the both of you. After all, what business does someone from the Capitol have with a District transplant who makes a display of his disdain of the very place he lives? You found that befriending Sejanus Plinth has been a lonely experience, isolating you from many, but not all of your peers. However, it only made the bond you two had stronger.

A hand slapped your shoulder, and a shrill voice called out “Tag! You’re it!” From behind you. Clemensia Dovecote sped off, her jet black hair flying out from behind her. You watched her climb up the iron monkey bars and perch at the top, flashing you a crooked smile. She had just lost her two front teeth, leaving a large gap in her smile. To you, she was the coolest girl in school. 

“You have to chase us now!” She yelled at you from her spot on the monkey bars. You hadn’t even been in this game of tag, but you took this as an invitation. Not wanting to disappoint her, you took off, running full tilt to the group of children. You picked the easiest target, Felix Ravinstill, and chased after him. You weaved in and around the play structure, dodging large beams and the occasional rogue ball. While Felix didn’t have speed on his side, he had fast reflexes and was quick at evading your every attempt at catching him.

Felix leapt onto the pavement, running straight through a game of foursquare. You dodged the wonky chalk barrier marking the borders of the pitch as the players yelled at Felix for ruining the game. Felix rounded a hard corner. You sped up, the collar of his shirt almost within reach.

“Get him!” Clemensia cheered. Your head snapped in her direction, she was beginning to climb down from the monkey bars. The momentary loss of focus resulted in your shoe colliding and hooking under a rock on the yard. You sprawl forward. You had just enough time to put your hands out and prevent your fall before you hit the pavement hard. You yelped out in pain, your knees and hands hot from the impact. You barely registered that you’re crying until Clemensia runs up to you, teacher in tow. A crowd had begun forming around you, and you found yourself crying thick, hot tears. The teacher helped you up, offering kind words of encouragement as students gathered asking if you’re okay. The tears that started didn’t seem to stop, and you sobbed a little harder looking at the state of your bloodied knees.

 And so the game of tag abruptly ended. Nobody on the schoolyard blamed you, of course, but you found yourself sitting out for the rest of recess. You sat cross-legged on the hot pavement holding a large wad of gauze to your bleeding knee and sniffling occasionally. You stared off at the play structure, watching the others go down the slides and run around. You don’t think anyone thought too much of it, but the embarrassment you still had over the situation hung thick around you.

A shadow above you blocked out the beating sun, and two little legs obscured your view of the play structure. You looked up, squinting a little.

“Hi,” said an unfamiliar voice. Your eyes focused on the shape in front of you. Sejanus Plinth, the new boy who just arrived from District 2 stood above you. He was well-fed, dark curls above his eyes and his chubby hands clutched a bag of colourful, sugary gumdrops.

“I saw you fall,” He stated. Great. Someone else who saw your tumble. You said nothing, did he come here to make fun of you?

“Want some?” He asks, shoving his bag of candy in your face. You were a little shocked at his blunt kindness. You had not spoken to Sejanus since his arrival at the Capitol a month ago. His arrival was instantly marked with hostility and distaste from other students. The others in your class rejected him entirely, opting to make him the object of their bullying, leaving Sejanus utterly friendless. You never participated in the bullying, but you never stopped it. You were simply indifferent, and maybe that made you complicit.

“Sure,” You sniffled, and wiped leftover tears from under your eyes. Sejanus moved to your left and sat beside you up against the grey concrete wall of the school. He ruffled through the bag, placing a bright blue gumdrop in your palm. You plopped it in your mouth, its sweetness enveloping your tongue. While your family wasn’t poor, the war had been rough on your family. Candy and sweets were only for birthdays and special occasions now.

“I’m Sejanus by the way,” The boy smiled, sticking out a chubby hand, waiting for you to shake it. You’d met enough of your mother’s coworkers to know what to do. You awkwardly reached out and shook his hand and returned the greeting. His hand was sticky.

“You ran really fast out there,” He said, reaching into the bag and grabbing a gumdrop for himself. 

“Thanks,” Your voice broke a little, tears still threatening to spill. Sejanus looked down at your hands, trailing his gaze to your knees, Bloody scrapes littered them, pieces of gravel still stuck to your left side. He reached forward and brushed it off for you.

“Do you wanna play hide and seek?” He asked, turning towards you.

“Can’t,” You sniffled. “M’knee hurts.”

Sejanus thought about this for a moment. A look of deep concentration washed over his soft, round features. 

“Want me to kiss it better?” He asked, his voice filled with innocence. 

“What?” You asked, a little shocked. “A kiss,” he repeated. “When I fall and get sad, my Ma kisses me better.”

Before you can say anything, he leans down, placing a feathery kiss to your knee, lips barely grazing your skin.

“There, now you’ll get better!” He smiled sweetly. It was contagious, a small grin crept up your lips in return. Sejanus rummaged in his pocket for a moment before he pulled out a packet of cards.

“Wanna play go fish?” He asked eagerly.

“I don’t know how to play,” You said quietly. Sejanus thought for a moment. “We can make a card tower if you want?” Now that, you could do.

“Sure!” You chirped. Sejanus’s joy was infectious. He spent the rest of the recess making you laugh, cheering every time you both successfully added another level to your tower. When the bell rang signaling the end of recess, you quickly knocked your 4-level tower down and helped Sejanus put the cards away. 

“Thanks for playing with me today!” You smiled, a new spring in your step, your injured knee long-forgotten about.

“Do you wanna play together tomorrow?” Sejanus asked, looking down at the ground. You knew he was used to people not wanting to play with him, let alone be near him.

“Of course!” You beamed at him and lined up behind Coriolanus Snow. Some of the other students shot you dirty looks, seething that you would associate with a District boy. You paid it no mind, however. You were just happy to have a brand new friend to play with.

It's funny how tripping on the school yard completely altered the course of your life. A familiar voice snapped you out of your thoughts. 

“If I have to write one more paper for Dr. Gaul, I think I’m going to drop out and join the Peacekeepers.” Sejanus sigh, tapping your shoulder from behind. You glance up and follow him with your eyes as he sits across from you in the dining hall. 

“Don’t,” you groan in mock annoyance. “Who else will I have to annoy and pester during class?” you say, knitting your eyebrows together in concern.

“I’ll talk to Coriolanus, I’m sure he can annoy you at least once a day,” Sejanus smirks, pulling his notebook from his satchel. You tut and roll your eyes. Sejanus rests his elbow on the white marble table, placing his head in his hands as he skims his notes. His dark curly hair falls over his forehead, largely obscuring his face. His cheeks look soft, lips pursed as he concentrates. His baby fat from childhood had now melted away and made room for a strong, muscular build that differed from the usual physique of Capitol boys. Sejanus definitely looked District, but maybe that’s why you found him so attractive now.

“Are we still going to the White Pony?” He asks, referencing one of the restaurants you both frequented. He never looked up from his notes. Good, he didn’t see you staring. Your eyes snap down towards your lap, making it look as though you are utterly engrossed with your red cloth napkin that you're playing with in your hands.

“Can’t today,” you sigh, leaning back in the hard dining hall chair. “Clemensia and I are meeting for coffee.” Your eyes drift around the cafeteria. The low light of the late afternoon cast shadows across the pristine white floors, bathing everything in a golden light. A few stragglers from the day remained in the cafeteria, chatting and reviewing notes, much like you and Sejanus were.

“That’s unfortunate,” he said, only glancing up at you momentarily. The single beam of orange light from the large arched window behind you illuminated his eyes perfectly. The caramel-coloured specks in his eyes lit up only for a moment.

“I was hoping I could show you some of the renovations they did.”

Now you feel guilty. You cursed yourself internally for making spur of the moment plans for a coffee date with Clemensia.

“I’m sorry Sej, tomorrow?” You ask, your voice softening. His eyes flick up to your face momentarily at the use of the nickname. Only you called him that. You reach your hand forward and stroke his wrist, covered by the crimson fabric of the Academy jacket you both wear. He lifts his head up, smiling at you, but visibly unhappy. You’ve known Sejanus for almost 10 years now, and you know when your best friend-turned-crush is upset.

“How can I make it up to you?” You loosen your grip on his wrist and trail your hand downwards to his fingertips, tapping yours against them gently as a comforting gesture.

“You can’t,” he groaned. “I will never forgive you for this,” He slumps forward, touching his head to your hand. His curly brown hair feels so soft tickling against your hand. “I see your loyalties lie elsewhere, I’m devastated,” he sighs, voice muffled and shaking as if he is on the verge of tears. You’d be tempted to believe it, if it were not for the fact that you can feel his lips smiling into your palm as he speaks. You choose to play along with his pretend outrage.

“Oh no! This really is terrible! I am so upset that Sejanus Plinth, my oldest and best friend, hates me!” You spoke almost too loudly. Two ginger-haired boys nearby shot you a glare, but you quickly disregarded it. “How ever will I regain his trust?” You ask, voice dripping in sarcasm and a smile creeping up your lips. Sejanus kept his head pressed in your hand, his shoulders shaking as he attempted to stifle his laughter. You continue.

“Maybe…” You hesitate for a moment. “Maybe I can bring in one of my chocolate muffins? Would he forgive me then?”

Sejanus’s head snaps up, beaming at you. “Deal.” He laughs. You giggle in return. Sejanus loves your baking, often saying it was almost as good as his Ma’s baking. That was high praise for you, always hoping you can outdo Ma Plinth but never fully succeeding.

You squeeze his hand gently before removing it. Your heart flutters at the loss of contact, wishing you could have that connection for even a moment longer.

“I have to get going,” you say, moving to get up, Sejanus stands too. You smooth out the wrinkles of your jacket and shirt. “Clemensia is going to kill me if I’m late again.”

“I don’t think you’ve been on time to anything in your whole life,” Sejanus smiles at you, teasing you. He picks up your bag as well as his own.

“You are so rude! I don’t know why I put up with you!” You gasp, laughing as you give him a playful shove, walking out the swinging white doors of the cafeteria and down the hall.

“Probably because you love me,” Sejanus laughs. You could tell it was supposed to be a joke but you feel your breath hitch in your throat. He knew? How did he know? Who told him? His words echo through the high ceilings of the hall and your mouth opens and closes like a fish. Sejanus sensed the shift in atmosphere and his laughter died out too. 

You muster a dry chuckle.

“Yeah,” you smile. “Something like that.” The tension in the air still hangs thick between you. Sejanus stares down at his shoes, shifting his weight between one foot and the other awkwardly. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Thanks for carrying my bag!” You chirp, trying to diffuse the tension. You reach and grab the brown satchel off his shoulder, pulling it close. Before he can speak, you glance at the watch on your wrist. 

“I really have to get going, I am officially dead to Clemensia,” you muster a nervous laugh. He chuckles half-heartedly in return. “Yeah. I should get home too,” he said softly. You turn and wave goodbye to him, before starting at a quick pace down the hall. Sejanus’s booming voice shouts out from behind you.

“Don’t forget the muffins!” He calls, cupping his hands over his mouth. The high intricate ceiling of the hall echoes his words.

“Muffins! Muffins! Muffins!”

You smile, not turning back to face him. “I won’t!” You yell back, before ducking into the stairwell. 

Exiting the school, you gasped in the crisp spring air. The embarrassment hit you a second time. 

“Idiot!” You curse yourself, slapping your temples as you march down the road.

…

“Oh my god, you didn’t,” Clemensia claps a hand over her mouth. “No, you’re messing with me, you didn’t,” She gasps in disbelief. You offer her a wonky smile as an answer. “Oh my god, you’re serious,” She sighs, running her hands through her raven hair, eyes wide. Clemensia had become a close friend of yours after that day on the playground - one of your only other friends aside from Sejanus. Coincidentally, she was the only person who knew of your huge crush on him.

“I’m so worried he’s going to hate me, Clemmie,” You sigh, waving your hand in dismissal, but accidentally almost knocking your rose tea over. You caught it before it fell, taking an awkward sip. “I don’t know why I froze up, I know he meant it in a friendly way.”

Clemensia picked up her latte, a look of concentration etched on her face. She pauses for a moment, the chatter in the warm cafe filling the silence.

“I don’t think you messed anything up,” she speaks slowly, lowering her cup. Her red lipstick is smudged against the dainty china. “But I do think you have to be careful. He probably won’t think too much about it, but if he reads too much into it, he’ll get suspicious.” She says pointedly. You groan and cover your eyes with your hands. For the last two years, you had successfully kept your crush on Sejanus under wraps. You already showed physical affection to one another through playful nudges, hugs and you would even occasionally hold hands. And it satisfied you for a while, content with the limited physical affection. But as time passed, Sejanus grew more into his features, and his demeanor only got sweeter, and suddenly affection between friends was insufficient. You found yourself lying awake at night dreaming about him, wondering what it would feel like to have his body pressed against yours, drifting off to sleep together. More than anything, you wanted to know if those soft pink lips felt as gentle on yours as you had imagined.

“Promise me you won’t tell a soul,” you peak up at her from your hands, glaring slightly. Clemensia laughs, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Her laughter was a sweet sound.

“I promise,” she said, kicking you gently under the table. "When have I ever told anyone? I might make you start paying me to keep a secret, though," She winks. You roll your eyes playfully. Clemensia looks to the side, gazing off at the art and floral arrangements in the elegant cafe. A devilish grin appeared across her face. “If things between you and Sejanus don’t work out, you could always try that guy over there instead,” she pointed to her right, her finger obscured by her latte cup. You know the drill, you crane your neck, pretending to stretch and follow Clemensia’s gaze and finger with your eyes. You snap back into place. “Clemensia, he’s old!” You whisper-yell at her. She snorts with laughter as the old man dressed in tweed in the corner she pointed to is none the wiser to the interaction.

…

“So I told Festus that if he so much as looks at me again, I’m going to report him to the Dean and have him sent to what’s left of District 13 myself,” Clemensia jokes as you walk around the Capitol park. She had insisted you go for an evening stroll through the park. The sun has set now, and the only light to be found in the park is that from the dim street lights. Crickets nestled in the bushes and dewy grass chirp their song into the evening. While the students’ overall opinion of you is not favourable at the Academy, you were thankful for having Clemensia by your side. It was nice having at least one friend who wasn’t complicated the same way Sejanus was.

“God, do you think Festus'll try anything again?” You giggle, cocking an eyebrow as you walk around the park together, gravel crunching under every step. “Doubt it,” she smirked. “Consider it handled.”

You round a corner, approaching some sleeping ducks, the moon shining bright over the pond, casting its reflection into the water. Further down the path, a tall figure stands, skipping stones into the water. They bounce one, two, three times before sinking with a loud plop. The dim street lamps provide no light where the figure stands, surrounding him in mystery.

“Who’s even out this late?” Clemensia said, judging the figure ahead of you. You turned to her, staring blankly into her eyes.

“Us, Clemmie. We’re also out this late.” You said flatly, Clemensia rolled her eyes. “Do you think maybe he’s a murderer, preying on unsuspecting people in the park?” She grabbed your shoulders, startling you. Your heart pounds a bit harder in your chest at her actions.

“If he is, I’m pushing you and running,” you tease her, smirking. She laughs loudly. You had been so engrossed in the conversation with her that you failed to notice the winding root of a willow tree poking out of the pathway. 

“Careful!” Clemensia yelled, trying to get your attention. It was too late, your foot had already hooked underneath the root and sent you flying forward. You lift your hands quickly to protect your face and you hit the gravel of the path below with a loud thud. You slide on impact, loose gravel flying everywhere.

“Are you okay?” Clemensia shrieks. If the figure was a murderer, he was definitely coming for you now. The sound of rapid footsteps comes pounding up to you. A familiar voice calls out your name in panic. Glancing up from your position on the floor, you saw Sejanus running up to you from a distance. So that’s who the dark figure was. You groan, partially from pain and partially from the situation you just got yourself into with him. You glance over at Clemensia as she tries grabbing your arm, attempting to help you up. You mouth the words “help me,” to her. She only stifles a laugh, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You’ll be fine, you still have your humour.” You really don't want him to see you like this, especially not after such an embarrassing fall. You groan again as she tries lifting you a little higher. The pounding of Sejanus’s footsteps stops abruptly and you feel a second arm snake around your waist. 

“I’ve got you,” Sejanus whispers softly as he lifts you. His face pressed into the side of your head as he lifts you, breathing softly against your hair. He's stronger than Clemensia, helping you to your feet with ease. You stand, but your knee buckles under you. Sejanus catches you, firmly holding your waist in place with his arm. “C’mon, over there,” You hear him say to Clemensia, he cocks his head gesturing to the bench nearby. You hobble over to the bench, both of your friends holding you up. With every step, you feel a sharp sting in your knee, shooting up your body. You wonder how bad it looks. You hadn’t even had the chance to assess the damage before your friends rushed to your aid.

Clemensia helps you lower yourself onto the wooden park bench as Sejanus sits beside you. He gently lifts your leg and pulls it onto his lap as he sits to elevate it.

“Guys, it's really not that big of a deal,” you groan. You feel your face flush darker at all the extra attention.

“Let me just look,” Sejanus mumbles, pulling something out of his bag. “Can you even see in this light?” You ask incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Mhmm,” he mumbles again. “This will sting.”

Before you even have time to process, a sharp burn hits your knee. Rubbing alcohol. You hiss through gritted teeth, throwing your head back. Sejanus has a look of absolute concentration on his face, his head lowered close to your knee. As you suspected, he couldn’t see well, but the idea of him trying to help you regardless makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I… I just remembered I have a paper for Professor Click due tomorrow.” Clemensia stutters, awkwardly taking a step back from you.

“What? No we don’t!” You exclaim, staring at her open-mouthed.

“Well, it's an extra credit paper!” Clemensia gazes down at her feet, starting off down the path.

“I want extra credit!” You call after her.

“No you don’t!” She yells back, you could barely see her wink in the dim light of the path, giving you a thumbs-up gesture. What a jerk. You'll be sure to give her a piece of your mind tomorrow. You roll your eyes and chuckle slightly as she takes off out of sight. Your focus falls back on Sejanus. You see that the red Academy pants you wear are ripped open, blood coating your knee. You gasp a little at the sight. Sejanus picks up on this, still tending to your knee.

“It looks worse than it is,” he said, attempting to reassure you. You sigh, tilting your head back. The budding tree above your head rustles, and the rushing water of the duck pond calms your nerves slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I didn’t mean to ruin your evening. I didn’t even know you’d be here.”

Sejanus chuckled softly. “You could never ruin anything. I’m just happy to see my best friend.” You swallow hard. ‘Friend.’ Yeah. Because you two are friends and little else.

“I’m happy to see you too,” you swallow. Sejanus dabs at the blood on your knee with his handkerchief, rummaging through his satchel some more. “It’s like we’re kids again,” you whisper quietly, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Hm?” Sejanus mumbles, concentrating on tending to you. “The playground, when we were eight,” you mumble. Sejanus laughs softly. “Yeah, it is actually.” Silence washes over you two again. He was so warm beside you, giving a little extra heat in the cool spring night. An owl hoots softly in the distance as Sejanus reaches into your pant leg to wrap gauze around your knee. You think back to the day you properly met him. How sweet and innocent he was, providing a childish love to you, who had never shown him the same courtesy until that moment on the pavement. The tears gather at your eyelashes, not yet spilling. He’s so attentive to you, face scrunched in concentration as he finishes dressing your knee.

“You forgot something,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. Sejanus lifted his head, giving you his full attention.

“What did I forget?” He asks, leaning his elbow against the back of the bench. You can just make out a sweet smile on his face in the moonlight. A single tear trails down your cheek, he looks perfect. Sejanus leans forward, wiping it away, rough hands caressing your face. You lean into his touch.

“You always kiss it better,” you say quietly. Sejanus lets out a low laugh. “Where does it hurt?” He asks, his voice matching your volume. You choke up and point to your knee. Sejanus chuckles, adjusting himself on the bench. He leans down, gently bending your leg at the knee and places a soft kiss to the fabric of the gauze enveloping your leg. You feel the slight pressure of his lips and sigh, content.

“Anywhere else?” He whispers playfully. You nod slightly, stretching out your lightly scraped hands and forearms.

“Here.” You say flatly. Sejanus sits up, shuffling closer to you on the bench. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls your body a little closer to him on the bench. He gently takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his pink lips. He kisses your fingertips gently, smooth lips touching the pads of your fingers. He presses one, two, three, four, five kisses to the tip of each finger, before repeating on the other hand. Your eyes flutter shut, and another tear rolls down your cheek. 

Sejanus brings the palm of your hands up to his mouth, his lips ghosting over them before pressing his mouth gently onto your palms over and over again. The contact stings slightly, but that melts away quickly, your body relaxing into his touch.

You barely register as he pulls the arms of your shirt and jacket up to reveal your slightly scraped forearms. He kisses your arms, starting at the wrists and gradually working his way up to the elbow. You feel your eyes glaze over and your breathing becomes shallow. He's perfect. His breath tickles your sensitive skin as his plush pink lips touch your skin. Sejanus lifts his head up.

“Anywhere else?” He asks under half-lidded eyes. His kind dark eyes flit down to your lips before back up at you. You swallow. It's now or never. Before you lose your nerve, you take a deep breath and lift your hand up. You gently tap your own bottom lip with your fingernail.

“Here.” You whisper, voice barely audible. Sejanus gasps softly. He doesn't hesitate, tilting his head slightly. He places one of his fingers under your chin and gently tips your head up towards him. His eyes scan yours for a moment, searching for a sign of hesitation. When he doesn't find it, he closes his eyes, as do you, and his soft lips grace yours momentarily before meeting for a full kiss. Your head spins immediately and your surroundings melt away. All you can focus on is him. You wrap your arms around his strong, broad shoulders, kissing him back. Sejanus’s grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you in, your chest presses against his and you can feel his heart hammering against his shirt. You tilt your head a little, deepening the kiss. His lips are sweet like sugar, parted mouth pressing gently against your bottom lip while you capture his upper lip with your teeth, pulling gently. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, you gasp a little and arch your back. Sejanus’s tongue slips inside your now-open mouth, his tongue immediately finding yours. You push back against his slightly, still allowing him control. He sighs into your mouth and the sound lights something up inside you. You kiss him deeper, tilting your head and alternating directions. Sejanus's hands rub your back, while you grab a fistful of his hair, pulling lightly. He groans, teeth clacking against yours. You don't register the pain, too consumed by Sejanus as he grips you tighter.

You break apart for air first, panting. He rests his forehead against yours, his soft dark hair gently rubbing against your skin. His gaze falls into your lap, where he now holds your hands in his.

"Wow," he breathes, wiping saliva from the corner of his mouth. You giggle, still gasping for air.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that,” he muttered, leaning in again and pressing another chaste kiss against your lips.

“How long?” You ask smiling, your heart pounding in your chest. Sejanus thinks for a moment. He jokingly places a finger against his chin and stares up at the moon in mock consideration.

“Hmm, probably since your 15th birthday party,” he smiles back at you. You gasp, grinning. “Your mother turned out the lights and you blew out your candles, and I remember how perfect you looked in the low light.” He continues. “And I have been hopelessly in love with you ever since.” He rubs his nose against yours.

You melt against Sejanus, throwing your arms around him and burying your face into his neck. “I think I’ve been in love with you for two whole years now,” you whisper against his neck, and he squeezes you even tighter.

“Really?” He whispers the question into your hair. You nod, your hair rubbing against his face. Pulling back, you smile at him.

“Your kisses are like magic, I feel better already,” You giggle. He laughs in return, leaning closer.

“You sure? Want another one just to be safe?” He asks softly, smirking as he already knew the answer. He leans in and captures your lips in his again. 

The air in the spring night is cool, but it's impossible for you to pay it any mind with Sejanus by your side. The wind whips around you as you kiss him hard. How grateful you are to have your best friend-turned-lover by your side. You make note to thank Clemensia next time you see her. This night is filled with soft glances and kisses, hushed ‘I love yous’ and the sweetest boy you ever met, sweeter than the gumdrops he gave you ten years prior.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Came Back Wrong: Part 2

A part 2 of my writing for the 'came back wrong' trope involving Gale. Warning it does mention descriptions of possession, harm and just general stalking and isolating behaviour.

I still love our normal soft and kind version of Gale, I just thought this would be an interesting take on him.

Time passed swiftly with your eclectic group of cohorts, some days were harder than others but you had anticipated that from the start, what you had not accounted for was this new and strange persona that Gale affected, almost a complete shift from when you met him and pulled him out from the portal he found himself trapped in, as if a switch had been flipped inside of him.

Before the incident had transpired he had been a cheery scholar, ready and willing to educate some unwilling person at a moments notice, a man who relished in questions of history and magic, loving nothing more than to speak passionately to anyone who would listen to him. This Gale was different, he was no longer the Gale that was quick to smile for you and ever so willing to help his campmates, ever since you had brought him back he had a more possessive aura about him, something that you could not quite put your finger on. He would no longer mingle with the camp or make jokes and be merry, choosing now to isolate himself within the vicinity of his tent, his eyes ever watchful on you.

At first it was hard to pinpoint what was wrong, thinking it was just an adjustment period, that the brief encounter he had with death had just rattled his nerves slightly, hoping desperately that your once soft and happy wizard would return to you. Weeks had passed since the incident and his possession over you had become even worse as he tried his best to begin isolating you from the rest of camp. You wanted desperately to ignore this behaviour, convincing yourself that he had just grown a bit more attached to you, you were the one who brought him back after all, why would he not want to be around you. Though you could lie to yourself, the others at camp would not see it that way, they would speak in hushed tones to one another, discussing how Gale had changed in the last few weeks, how every time one of them wanted to talk to you Gale suddenly had an urgent issue that you need to attend to, all whilst he gave your companions a smug and sinister smirk as soon as your back was turned and you were within his grasp once again. They wanted so desperately to tell you what they had been observing in silence, but the wizard would never let you out of his sight, a gaze that was almost predatory. There was also the possibility that telling you would put you in danger, that if you started to suddenly suspect something would make him even more dangerous. For now, blissful ignorance was what they thought was best for you, hoping that his behaviour would not escalate for now, as they all tried to think of a way to intervene for you, a plan that would be difficult to concoct as they were aware of the bomb in his chest, one that they believed he would detonate if he was pushed.

As the weeks went on, Gales actions got slightly less subtle, as if he was now getting more comfortable in what he was doing, feeling that he was succeeding in isolating you away from the rest of camp, almost relishing in the fact that nobody would dare to step up against him. One thing you started to notice was that where the wizard was once a precise spellcaster, hardly missing his targets, now he was ‘accidentally’ hitting your companions in battle. The first instance you could forgive, accidents would happen, the road was tiring taking its toll on all of you at times, however it had started to become an all too regular occurrence for even you to ignore. You would glance over at him in battle, trying to watch his every move, even at the expense of your own safety at times, trying to catch him in the act so you could question him about it.

Then there was the food. Certain members of camp would get inexplicably ill the mornings after Gale had cooked, affecting those that had dared to take your attention away from or allowed you to get injured in battle. Nobody had any tangible proof that Gale was tampering with the food, it was a silent conspiracy amongst the group, however the way people were getting ill was too erratic to form a pattern so they couldn’t place the blame anywhere, Gale was far too intelligent to be caught out so easily.

Astarion was the one who bore a lot of Gale’s hatred, ‘accidental’ fireballs and coincidental knocks into an enemy’s line of fire was mostly aimed at him, trying his hardest to incapacitate the vampire in some way or drive him away from the group. Gale could not stand that you would be so friendly with Astarion, he could not understand what you could ever see in the pale elf. Gale knew in his heart that you were meant to be with him and him alone, you might not understand that just yet, but he would help you realise it in due time.

Dawn began to break over the camp, the soft light streaming through the thin material of everyone’s tents, beginning to make you all stir softly. As you began to wake you hoped that the sun would hold out for the day, the current run of bad weather had started to increase the irritability of you all, further adding fire to the tension that was growing. You began to commence your morning routine as usual, ensuring that your pack was stocked for the day, your blades were sharp and your armour was donned properly. Ducking under the covers of your tent you were surprised to find Gale sat outside of his tent, still wearing his camp clothes and nonchalantly reading a book, this was an odd development as over the last few weeks he was ready and raring to go, adamant that he would be part of the adventuring party for the day so he could remain at your side.

You walked over to him cautiously and slightly confused, asking if he was alright wondering if he was aware that he was supposed to be departing out with you and the adventuring party today. Gale lifted his gaze away from his book and looked up towards you, a soft smile on his face as he closed his book, giving you his full attention.

“My dear Tav, I’m flattered by your concern, but I feel that I have been monopolising your time as of late, I thought it would be nice for another one of our talented companions would like the chance to bask in your company for the day. I’m aware that Astarion is starting to get restless having been left behind all the time, it might be nice for him to join you for a change.” His smile seemed genuine, you were politely surprised at this sudden mood shift with him, clinging onto the hope that your Gale was finally coming back to you. You took a moment to confirm that Gale was happy to watch over camp for the day whilst the rest of you went to explore and bring back supplies, not wanting to leave him unattended and at risk of spiralling due to your absence.

“I will be perfectly fine Tav, there is no need for concern, besides, I have a litany of books that I need to catch up on to keep my brain sharp. While you have a whetstone for your weapons, these books are the whetstone for my mind” Gale seemed confident in his response to you, assuaging any fears of leaving him alone, you gave him a bright smile and went to inform Astarion that he would be joining you on the excursion for the day.

After a slight delay in suiting up for the day you were all ready to leave, as you left the camp you turned to Gale with a friendly smile and a wave, feeling lighter and happier than you had done for the past few weeks. Gale returned the smile keeping up his cheerful façade until you had turned away from him, the smile now took a more sinister turn as he watched Astarion walk away with you. The book he had closed under before you could glance over it was in informative one about the hunting habits of The Gur, a group of peoples who were known for monster hunting and fortune telling. A few days prior you had encountered one of the Gur peoples on your travels, hunting for a very familiar sounding vampire, this caused an idea to take root in Gale’s brain. It was a surprise to you that Gale was up and awake so early as normally he would be a late riser, ever the night owl staying up to pour over his various tomes and scrolls. Unbeknownst to you, Gale had not slept at all last night, spending the night tracking down the Gur you bumped into and revealing the location of his target, telling him what day he could likely cross paths with him. This was to be the best way of ridding him of the vampire menace whose company you sought often, taking the opportunity to finally have you all to himself.

As he watched your party fade off into the distance he sat there smug, hoping that his plan would come to fruition, thinking of how he could comfort you when you came back distraught before muttering under his breath.

“Safe travels my love.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

[goatsofmusashi]

Breaking Free

The Unseen Pull: How Ordinary People Become Pawns of Extremism—And How We Can Break Free

History warns us that entire nations can drift into authoritarianism, not through sudden force, but through a slow and subtle swaying of minds—a conformity so gradual that, by the time people realize what has happened, they are already trapped. The frightening truth is that most people believe they are immune to manipulation, but as history and psychology have shown, no one is.

In the 1950s, psychologist Solomon Asch conducted an experiment that revealed a simple but startling reality: humans are wired to conform. When placed in a group where everyone confidently gave an obviously wrong answer, the majority of people doubted their own eyes and followed the crowd. Even when something was false, they agreed—because standing alone felt harder than being wrong.

This silent pressure, this fear of being the outsider, has been the quiet engine behind some of history’s darkest chapters. And today, we are watching it happen again.

The Quiet Drift Toward Extremism: Who’s Most at Risk?

Nobody wakes up one morning and decides to become a pawn in a dangerous ideology. Instead, certain social and psychological pressures make some people more vulnerable than others. These individuals—disillusioned, economically strained, or isolated—become ripe for exploitation. And once caught in the tide, few realize they are drifting until it is too late.

1. Those Struggling to Stay Afloat: Economic Hardship and the Search for Stability

When people feel financially insecure, they look for explanations—and someone to blame.

In times of economic crisis, populist and nationalist rhetoric flourishes, offering the simple promise: It’s not your fault, it’s theirs.

The working class, particularly those without college degrees, are often told that outsiders—immigrants, global elites, a rival political party—have stolen their future.

This is how Germany’s struggling working class was manipulated in the 1930s, and it’s how modern extremists fuel resentment today.

2. The Lonely and the Isolated: A Need for Belonging

Humans are social creatures, and in a time when real-world communities have been replaced by online tribes, many people—especially young men—are more vulnerable than ever.

Extremist groups understand this well. They offer a sense of belonging to those who feel left behind.

From radicalized internet forums to political movements that demand absolute loyalty, these groups do not recruit with facts—they recruit with identity.

3. The Disillusioned: Those Who Feel the System Has Failed Them

The more people feel powerless, the more likely they are to seek out strong leaders who promise to burn it all down and start over.

In pre-Nazi Germany, many Germans—exhausted by political corruption and economic collapse—were drawn to authoritarian leadership, believing democracy itself had failed them.

Today, millions of Americans don’t vote, feeling that their voice no longer matters.

People who believe the system is rigged are more likely to embrace radical solutions, even if those solutions dismantle democracy itself.

4. Those Targeted by Propaganda: The Battle Over Identity

Some populations are more intentionally manipulated than others, simply because they are seen as a tipping point in elections.

Latino and Black communities are often targeted with misinformation campaigns aimed at either suppressing their votes or pushing them toward political extremism.

White working-class men, especially those without higher education, are repeatedly told they are being "replaced", fueling racial and nationalist anxieties.

5. The “Good Soldiers”: Men Who Fear Losing Their Identity

There is a reason authoritarian movements are obsessed with masculinity.

Young men, particularly those struggling to find purpose or status, are told they must “defend” their way of life from modern threats.

This fear-based rhetoric was weaponized in Nazi Germany, in fascist Italy, and now in modern extremist movements—from nationalist militias to online hate groups.

The Trap: How Good People Get Pulled Into Dangerous Ideas

We must understand something painful: most people who become part of extremist movements do not believe they are joining something evil.

They believe they are protecting their families.

They believe they are fighting for justice.

They believe they are restoring balance.

But they are not thinking freely—they are conforming under the weight of fear, isolation, and social pressure. They are victims, just as much as they are enablers.

The Nazis did not seize Germany overnight. They whispered to the desperate, the lost, and the uncertain, convincing them that the world was against them and that only radical solutions could save them.

And today, the same tactics are being used again.

Breaking Free: How We Resist the Drift Toward Authoritarianism

If we know how people fall into the trap, we can help them escape before it’s too late.

1. Be the One Who Speaks Up

Asch’s experiment showed that if even one person resists the majority, others are more likely to follow.

The first person to stand up breaks the illusion of consensus.

Even when it’s uncomfortable, speaking out against manipulation matters.

2. Reject the Urge to Dehumanize

The moment a political movement tells you another group is "less than human," walk away.

Every genocide in history began with words—before violence came slogans, before killings came slurs.

If someone tells you that an entire group of people is evil, corrupt, or irredeemable, they are lying to you for power.

3. Build Real, Human Community

Extremist groups thrive on loneliness. The best way to prevent radicalization is to make sure people do not feel alone.

Talk to neighbors.

Encourage real-world friendships.

Create space for disagreement without hostility.

4. Question the Narrative, Even When It Feels Good

Propaganda is not always scary—it often feels comforting.

If a political message makes you angry at outsiders but never at those in power, question it.

If it tells you to conform or be cast out, question it.

If it demands absolute loyalty, run.

The Choice We Face

The truth is, authoritarianism never arrives with a bang—it seeps in quietly, on the backs of ordinary people who don’t realize what they’re enabling.

It begins with fear. It spreads through conformity. And it succeeds when good people choose silence over discomfort.

But history also teaches us that resistance is possible—and that the first act of defiance is simple:

Think for yourself. Speak the truth. Refuse to conform to hate.

This is how we stop history from repeating. This is how we keep our humanity.

[wonhosmistress]

It could be the remnants of hormones from her menstrual cycle that are keeping her from thinking rationally and the added anxiety that is keeping from feeling her usual self. Maybe, it’s the fact that she has experienced first hand disappointment one too many times. Maybe, it’s her depression kicking back in full swing. Maybe, it’s the constant doubtful thoughts that keep running around in her head. Maybe, it’s the suicidal ideation she always ends up running back to to feel a sense of comfort within her loneliness. While it may be one thing or the other she can never seem to be truthful towards anyone around her whenever she starts to feel a certain type of way.

So many years alive and yet she’s always felt lonely. Even while in school she’s always felt like the so-called “outsider” even while attending schools with people from her own background. It made it even harder when she was even more anxious as a kid dealing with a health issue that no one could ever seem to understand. Let’s not forget that for some reason she was always the target when it came to bullying. One day, a group of her friends turned on her for no reason and were threatening to gang up on her that she had to be taken out of school and become homeschooled for a certain timeframe.

Not once did it cross her mind that she would’ve made it past being a teenager. She always feared of dying young and was scared for her future. One thing that she always felt so sure of was of possibly dying in one her many relapses when going back to the hospital.

The battle between wanting to be a fighter and staying alive and wanting to give up by ending it all is a rough path to walk. As of now, it seems like happiness is way further than she would like.

[pumpacti0n]

“Anarchists don’t do anything because they arent organized”

This is a lie. A damn lie. Stop saying this. Stop believing this.

This is a very tired, largely bullshit and often bad faith claim dragged out of the intellectual sewers and used to dismiss anarchist tactics without acknowledging history or engaging with any actual theory.

It’s a total distortion of anarchist philosophy, and does very little except cause unnecessary confusion, whitewash history and create greater ruptures in our attempts at solidarity with the masses.

It is not historically accurate whatsoever, and more than that, it is just really, really silly. Think about it: why would anarchists, of all people, be against any sort of organization of individuals working to achieve a common goal? why would that be strategic or desirable? why would anarchists (or any “leftists”) believe that human beings can’t or shouldn’t cooperate, as a rule?

This stereotype of anarchists being antisocial and hard to work alongside might come from the fact that many organizations operate from the top-down. It makes sense that vocal and active anarchists would be among the first to be targeted and isolated by the power structure of certain organizations given their anti-authoritarian tendencies.

Leaders that fear the possibility of having their hoarded power and privileges diffused to the formerly disempowered masses certainly have a motive to reject and attack anarchism and anarchists.

Centralizing power to elevate “leaders” who make all of the executive decisions, who are responsible for regulating the group’s power and resources, and aren’t (easily) recalled or held accountable by other members present a liability in any organization.

Let’s start by asking a really basic question: Is working with (or rather for,) a corrupt organization better than “not organizing”? How can organizations that are little more than cults of personality ever truly come to represent the will of the people?

We can easily see from history that power concentrated into the control of a few individuals often corrupts, and you don’t have to be “evil” for that to happen…you don’t have to be a “western white cishet abled capitalist” either for that matter.

Misleadership is an equal-opportunity sport.

For anarchists, it’s less about ~not wanting to organize~ with others, (which would be extremely difficult anyway,) and more about working together fairly to the greatest possible extent.

In other words, it isn’t a question of “should we should organize”, but “how”?

It’s important to stress that anarchists favor horizontalism, but not because anarchists believe everyone will magically, inexplicably get along. Rather, Anarchists prefer horizontal organization because it is one of the most practical and convenient ways to keep organizations from being manipulated internally or externally. We aren’t idealistic for believing this, it simply works better for everyone when it can be applied.

A horizontal approach empowers everyone in the group, not just putting certain members in positions of (permanent, unaccountable) authority over the rest. Does this totally eliminate the possibility of selfishness or bad actors seeking to exploit the systems we create? No. Of course not, but it makes their job harder.

This is why feds historically had a difficult time infiltrating such anarchist groups. how do you destabilize a group with a leader? attack or corrupt the leader, naturally. how do you destabilize a leaderless, autonomous group? attack or corrupt each of them one by one (if you can find them all!)

Anarchists aren’t “against organization” as a rule. What’s important to anarchists is how an organization functions, not that it exists at all or the very idea of organizing. It’s very common for folks to stretch the “anti-authoritarianism” to mean “anarchists hate organizing”.

how “organizing” came to be synonymous with “authority” is anyone’s guess.

What might help make this idea even simpler to understand is to model it, and scale it down a bit.

In a group of 5 friends, one friend is the “leader”, and the others unquestionably follow the leader’s instructions.

if the leader makes a mistake, they are responsible for the failure of the entire group. If the leader lies and manipulates the other 4 without their knowledge, the group is significantly less able to function in their overall best interest. we’d have to take it on faith that this one person can be trusted with the fate of the other 4.

this naturally leads to some important, fairly complex questions:

what systems are in place in such an organization to prevent this abuse of power?

is such an organizational structure necessary or preferable to any other, and why?

must this leadership role necessarily be permanent? on what basis would this leadership position rotate?

can the other members perform the duties of the leader? if no, then why not? can the necessary skills be taught and developed?

are there any alternatives models we can imagine for structuring the organization?

is this hierarchy (and thus the liability it entails,) justified?

it’s important to ask these question to all members, not just the leadership for what are hopefully obvious reasons.

some leaders will inevitably desire a perpetual and disproportionate amount of control over their “comrades”, and will offer resistance to these ideas, not because they’re interested in being an effective organization, but because they believe the organization is theirs, and that the other members are nothing more than blunt objects at their disposal.

This isn’t to imply that every leader (or even most) are nefarious and horrible dictators in the making. remember, leadership is not inherently bad, only it mustn’t be used as an easy way to exploit others for personal gain.

anarchists don’t want to eliminate leadership, they want to make the opportunity for all to be leaders a real possibility. anarchists want to analyze and challenge the legitimacy of centralized power for the purpose of eliminating the chances fascists have of infiltrating our groups, getting us and our friends killed.

Anarchists want to empower ourselves to make decisions for a collective rather than exclusive and private good. Anarchists want to deprive authoritarians of their chances to leech power from the people that they claim to represent and support, yet constantly underestimate, elevate themselves above and distrust in a paternalistic fashion.

to stress even further, not all corruption happens on purpose. often when organizations fail, it’s because the systems that give them life are lacking in foundation, not necessarily in willpower or ethics. we can’t place all the blame on someone for losing a rigged game with unfair rules and impossible standards.

tons of (well-meaning) people often go into organizations believing they can “change them from the inside”, yet they often get changed more significantly by the system itself. the ends and the means are inextricably linked. If we want to create a freer society, we do it by the means of practicing freedom, not by practicing domination and a total lack of accountability for our actions.

Is this a perfect and foolproof method? Can I personally foresee every instance where this principle goes wrong or becomes impractical? Hell no, but that’s not the point anyway. We’ve had several thousands of years to study how power works and its affect on human social behavior within groups. At no point has a perfect leader revealed itself to us. At no point has authoritarianism been perfected so as to eliminate the liabilities it inherently creates.

As anarchists, as radical communists, as friends and as lovers of humanity, we can do better and must do better than assuming that hierarchal realism is some inescapable truth we are too weak to challenge.

~

Links & other stuff:

Anarchist FAQ Section A.2.3: “Are Anarchists On Favor Of Organization?”

“Yes. Without association, a truly human life is impossible. Liberty cannot exist without society and organisation.”

Anarchist FAQ Section J: “What Types of Organizations Do Anarchists Build?”

“Anarchists are well aware of the importance of building organisations. Organisations allow those within them to multiply their strength and activity, becoming the means by which an individual can see their ideas, hopes and dreams realised.”

[olivyh]

Twst Species headcannons

Beastmen:

-Palms and bottoms of their feet are rougher and more padded, as well as a slightly darker shade than their normal skin tone

-Legs are built similar to the hind legs of animals (with the sharp angles and little bumps)

-Start “walking” as children on all fours because it’s more comfortable due to the way their legs are built

-Many have scars under their bottom lip due to accidentally biting it bc their fangs were longer after losing their baby teeth

-Similarly, they also have small scars across various parts of their bodies due to their claws

-They can see in the dark to an extent

-Their eyes also do the glowy thing in the dark, as well as on camera

-Beastmen have very thick and coarse hair, which makes it notoriously harder to cut

-Many lion beastmen especially do not cut their hair often, as their hair symbolizes strength within their communities

-Cutting ones hair is a sign of trust in beastmen communities, considering how guarded they are with who touches their head (Patting a beastman’s head is a quick and easy way for them to get their guard down, and it takes them off high alert) as well as their ears being within constant danger near scissors.

-Beastmen do shed, a lot, like, a lot a lot

-They have been known to growl and purr like their animal counterparts, as well as hunch their backs and snarl when threatened

-Baby beastmen will bite you, as a sign of affection. They also wrestle with their caretakers from a young age to show affection as well. Grown beastmen will let the younger beastman win, regardless of species

-They also play wrestle with mates and potential mates to show their interest and affection. Not too hard, but enough to jostle the mate around. They will be absolutely smitten if the mate does it back.

-Beastmen grow up using the same sounds their animal counterparts do, as its similar to being taught a first language that the rest of your family speaks. Most aren’t taught English (Or commonspeak since England is nonexistent in Twisted Wonderland) until later in life

-Beastmen can understand similar dialects and tones of other species, and can further understand and speak a little bit of other beastmen languages

-They cannot eat certain foods that their mother species can’t. Canine beastmen cannot eat chocolate, onions, etc, feline beastmen cannot eat onions, garlic, grapes, etc etc without having issues afterwards. (This makes them a target for pranksters on NRC’s campus. Ex: The incident of Heartslabyul’s Ace Trappola switching out all the tea for coffee during the unbirthday party and Chenya unfortunately missing the cues and drinking the whole cup)

-They are very territorial to anyone besides the clan they reside with. The only people they aren’t territorial with are young children, although they are on high alert if the child’s guardian is nearby

-Beastmen will adopt a child if they see it doesn’t have a clan to stay with, regardless of species. It’s not unheard of to see a beastchild of another species or a young human in beastman clans

-I saw a hc that said that Rook is mixed beastman/human so I’m gonna roll with that for the next one: Beastmen and human mixed babies can have the same attributes as beastmen but on a tamer scale. Their vision, hearing, sense of touch and smell could be higher than a human’s but not as high as a beastmans. The ears and tail are the more dominant gene but it’s not uncommon to see a mixed beastmen/human child with more human features

-Beastmen grow larger than most humans, with the average beastmen (under the right conditions) ranging around six ft at full height. Female hyena beastmen grow taller than their male counterparts

Mer:

-They’re hypersensitive to sunlight at first and have to wear sunglasses or something shading their eyes their first few weeks on land

-They also get dehydrated very easily even in human form, so they have to carry around water bottles

-Their skin dries out quickly, so their hands and feet especially will be very dry and potentially cracking unless they moisturize often

-They have a lot of back and leg pain because they’re not used to gravity pulling them down

-Can also see in the dark very well due to living at the bottom of the ocean

-Their hair is also very thin and silky, but separated into thick chunks, almost looking like scales from a distance. Furthermore most Mer don’t like having longer hair due to the amount of effort it takes to maintain it, with currents twisting it up and the high chances of it getting stuck between rocks and coral

-Most mer have the habit of picking up whatever’s nearby and eating it raw, due to the fact that their bodies can process it. It’s not uncommon to see a mer picking a crab off the side of their house and plopping it into their mouth.

-They have no problem with eating the fish they are associated with, and they do not consider it cannibalism since they aren’t exactly the same species. (Meaning the Tweels can eat eel and Azul can eat octopus without any problems)

-Baby mer can swim around at a very young age (from just a few days old), and mature faster than most other species in the first few weeks of their lives

-Azul has horizontal, rectangular pupils

-Aside from cecaelia, most mer do have slanted pupils that change shape depending on the danger in the area.

-Mer communicate under the water using clicks and chitters similar to echolocation, and could choose to not learn commonspeak as they don’t interact with humans as much as beastmen

-They are born with teeth and can eat smaller fish from birth (or hatching, depending on the species)

-They’re not mammals, so they don’t have nips I think

-They don’t choose to wear clothing or accessories unless it’s for a formal event or a family heirloom

-Back to the birth thing I think mer eggs are very easy to lose due to the harsh climate of the ocean. Many mer settle for only having a child or two due to how hard it is to raise a child there. Jade and Floyd also hatched from the same egg, meaning they were on the smaller side as babies

-Mer babies also bite to show affection, and will wrap their tail around their guardians when they feel scared or nervous

-Cecaelia babies are well known for sticking to their guardians for the first few weeks of their lives, and are very difficult to pry off due to the strength of their tentacles (And when they do theres little marks left across their backs, stomachs, shoulders, etc from the suction cups) (I’m sorry i cant stop picturing tired momma ashengrotto walking around w little marls on her and baby azul still stuck to her like 👁👁)

-I know this is a little far fetched and is nowhere near mentioned in the game or comic but I have a feeling the tweels have a hard time seeing out of their gray eye? Like coming from the same egg they maybe took some features from the other or they had a difficult development while in there (or maybe I just know nothing abt twins)

-Incredibly territorial, especially towards members of different species.

-Most mer have skin pigmented similar to their tail color as well as thick layers of scales (if their species permits) around their throats, their sides, their arms, and around their ear fins (It throws me off how Azul and the Tweels are the only ones with different skin tones- like you’re telling me you have two teal mer and a black and white mer but the guards at the museum had just blue tails and absolutely no other signs of being a mer??? Give us green Rielle pls and thx)

-Mer grow much larger than humans and beastmen, and don’t stop growing until their twenties.

-They also have markings on their torso, tail, and face that’s similar to others in their families. Normally you can tell which mer is from which family depending on the markings said mer has

-Similar to beastmen tails and ears, mer can be read by their fins. In extreme emotion, mer’s fins will flare out or flatten against their body when they feel threatened.

-They don’t know how to drink things when they get to the surface. I think they’d struggle with the idea since you can’t drink underwater or else the liquid will go everywhere (but then how’d Azul make those potions???)

Fae:

-Also hypersensitive to sunlight, which results in many fae being nocturnal.

-Older fae have been known to go days without any sleep with little to no repercussions. Younger fae have more difficulty with this.

-They have a stronger immunity to magic, and often potions crafted by them are well known to be more potent due to this fact

-Fae speak many languages, with many smaller species talking in little chirps and bell like noises, with bigger species talking in low growls and hissing noises. Fae on opposite sides of this cannot understand each other, but each species of small fae can understand other small fae, and larger ones can understand other large ones, even if there’s a difference in language.

-All of them can practice transformation magic without the use of a spell or potion, regardless of genetic makeup. It’s not uncommon to see large dragons or other reptiles walking the streets of the Valley pf Thorns, nor is it too uncommon to see small “floods” or floating fire balls in more secluded areas of the woods

-Fae grow the largest out of all the groups, but have control over their size due to their transformation magic. They don’t stop growing until they appear the same age as thirty (but is actually a much longer time considering their lifespans)

-Because of this fae take much longer to mature from birth/hatching (I like to think 1 normal year= 80~ years) (So An 80 y/o fae would only be equal to a one year old in any other species)

-Very reserved in their relationships with other fae and especially species. I think the cultural differences between other fae is enough to create a large gap between them, and most fae understand the difference in life span between them and other species, so they actively go out of their way to avoid forming relationships with them. (I feel like this is a part of why Sebek is so abrasive towards humans. I mean, his life span has to be different even if he’s only half, so he might be using his anger to deflect his own feelings about eventually having to lose his human father and Silver, as much as they bicker. Poor guys just in denial and trying to protect himself :(()

Human:

-Humans who grew up around magic users have more resilience to magic and potions (meaning Mc/Yuuken, who grew up in a world without magic at all, is more susceptible and will be effected longer by the side affects of potions and spells, or the spells will pack more of a punch and be potentially more dangerous)(Meaning they could take a sleeping potion meant to give the user a full nights rest and be out for a week straight)

-The chances of a human’s unique magic leaning in one direction depends on the area they live in and what resources they have available (I can’t think of anyone else’s unique magic who does this but Kalim’s oasis maker is a big example. He mentioned they had difficulty getting water on the Land of the Hot Sands so maybe that could have been a factor that altered the makeup of his magic. Like a demand and supply type deal?)

-Magical human’s pupils also change shape when they’re using their magic. I like to think that whenever it’s being used their pupils are blown wide to the point where you can hardly see their actual eye color

-Either that or their eyes glow

-Magic using humans are typically stronger, but have lower endurance than non magic users. This is due to the strain that’s put on their bodies even when magic isn’t in use. There are potions they can use to lessen these effects, and many choose to naturally boost their endurance through various activities, but they have to work harder than non magic using humans

[linguacoreana]

Something really bad is spreading within online language-learning communities, and it’s not intentional. In general, the positivity and motivation on langblr, language tumblr, or studygram, study Instagram, are really common. It’s good to motivate people to make positive changes to improve their language skills. However, jealousy is a powerful byproduct of the motivation-focused social media accounts. What can we do to overcome polyglot envy?

What is polyglot envy?

Polyglot envy is the jealousy that language learners experience when treating language acquisition as a leaderboard. It’s natural human psychology to compare yourself to people similar to you. In school, it’s classmates. At work, it’s coworkers that joined at a similar time to you. In our world controlled by social media, people that share a hobby will compare themselves just as much.

Generally, online language learners will experience some jealous feelings when comparing the language abilities of their (perceived) equals. This could be about someone’s speaking ability, frequency of studying, or the sheer number of posts someone makes about their target language. The triggers for envy are endless. This could be someone’s flag emojis in their profile. Speaking practice videos might trigger this feeling. At the heart of it, comparing your skills to another person’s skill create something that I call “polyglot envy.”

Why do some people experience this?

Online language learners are particularly motivated, which contributes to something that may turn into toxic competitiveness. If you are motivated enough to learn a language, which most people don’t even want to do in school, it’s almost guaranteed that you will feel seek out constant improvement. That’s on top of the fact that language learning is a hobby that is generally social. You will therefore always be encountering people that can share their skills. This dangerous concoction can create a situation where online language learners become obsessed with being better than the others.

Be wary of social media

A big reason that some polyglot envy can be so severe is because of how social media presents language learning. Because you are only seeing a portion of someone’s life, you cannot see the blood, sweat, and tears. Nobody posts the day that they don’t want to learn. It would be really strange to see someone post “didn’t feel like learning language today; did nothing” on Instagram.

Social media is a curated perspective of someone’s life. In regards to language learning, you only see people’s successes and not their failures. Videos are edited to include only the best takes of someone using a language. Instagram posts only go live when the poster actually accomplished something. It’s not intentional that people give an inaccurate view; it’s the nature of social media that people only post the interesting parts. That’s not to underestimate the performative posts that exaggerate people’s abilities for views.

Like any social media niche, language learners can get more views by using inflammatory titles that aren’t necessarily accurate. Titles like “POLYGLOT speaks OVER TEN languages” or “WHITE GUY surprises STOREOWNER with his PERFECT CHINESE” are bound to get more clicks, but they can create a false image that you should be doing everything you see. However, what people do not post is the effort that goes into learning a certain grammar point. There is nothing glamorous about posting a video about how you didn’t understand the difference between these two tenses then looked up 7 different resources on the topic, and you still don’t fully get it. The problem is that that is the reality. For everyone, even the most seemingly genius people online struggle.

Social media will never communicate this to you. A major step in overcoming polyglot envy is to recognize this inaccuracy to reality.

Stop comparing yourself!

I think the most important part to avoid polyglot envy is to attack the source of the envy: comparing yourself. We are all different people. It simply makes no sense to compare yourself to others; there are millions of factors that contribute to the reason we are at our current levels in our languages.

Imagine a person who is mother of two children, has to work 40 hours a week, goes shopping, laundry, childrearing, and only finds 10-15 minutes a day to improve her French. How can you compare her to the 19 year old part-time university student who doesn’t need to work and has all the time in the world to learn ten languages? With the given situation, 10-15 minutes a day is a huge accomplishment.

The flashiest online polyglots dedicate most of time to language learning, so assuming you need to be at their level will only hurt you. Even if you compare yourself to someone in your age group with a similar lifestyle to you, it is still really bad to assume their situation because the internet conceals the uncomfortable truths about language learning. You can see them post their aesthetic notes, but you did not see deeply they understood the material. The person with the ugly notes might have worked harder, but social media could have you thinking the most beautiful notes or most enthusiastic speaker has the best skills.

Although I love to post my language efforts of the day onto my Instagram, I always try to make an effort to show the real side of my thinking in the caption. “lol I don’t get it, and I think I never will” caption so many of my posts, and I put an effort to show my weaknesses. I don’t want to push the idea that everyone should have an easy time with language learning or that I am some perfect language learner.

Think relatively

It is important to remind yourself that any studying is good. The thought that “I am not studying enough” should never cross any language learners mind. Of course, there is room for motivation and pushing yourself, but we should be very vigilant that we are not setting unhealthy expectations. The average person spends no time learning languages, so spending 10 minutes a day is totally fine. The average American or European does not know any Chinese characters, so it makes no sense to beat yourself up over the fact that you do not know the same number as another language learner. Knowing 2000 is better than knowing 1000, but knowing 10 is better than knowing 1. The fact that you have studied a language at all is already a victory in and of itself.

[maxdibert]

Certainly not.

First of all, this is something I’ve said many times, and since I’m tired, I’m just going to copy and paste what I’ve written in other posts — why repeat myself?

There’s a social, economic, and blood-status context, as well as environments filled with violence, that very much justify Snape’s choices. Saying that nothing justifies joining certain groups completely disregards all the work that various sectarian groups (cults, religious extremists, far-right groups, or criminal gangs) do to manipulate and exploit young people’s lack of support and economic resources by promising them a way out of their miserable environments, making them believe they are the solution to all their problems.

It’s practically spitting on all the statistics about how crime rates skyrocket among young people at risk of social exclusion precisely because of the grooming they experience. It’s disregarding how structural conditions are crucial in shaping young people’s decisions.

Because no, not everyone has options — not when they have nothing, no place to go back to because their home is a nest of violence and poverty; not when they can’t side with the “good guys” because those good guys are their abusers.

It’s perfectly fine to criticise Snape for having a terrible personality and being morally questionable. It’s fine to portray him as a bitter, angry man with zero emotional regulation and a personality stuck in unresolved traumas. But it’s not fine to underestimate the influence that economic and social capital have on the path a person takes.

It’s very easy to choose the “right” path when you have everything; it’s much harder when all you have is your sense of survival.

Secondly, the moment Severus decides to pass on critical information during a war — information that is vital to one of the sides — he stops owing anything to anyone. In the real world, people far worse have been exonerated from prison for collaborating with the police, the government, or acting as informants during wars. The moment Severus becomes an informant, in any real-world context, he would have easily been exonerated, especially considering there’s no canon evidence that points to him being a murderer or torturer, only that he followed a cult. So…

Then there’s the Harry argument that you all keep bringing up, which makes zero sense because Harry was literally Voldemort’s main target. What was Severus supposed to do? “Dark Lord, I know you need to kill the kid or you’ll end up dead, but please don’t kill him, okay? Pretty please?” It’s absurd — Harry was already dead from the moment he became Voldemort’s main target.

What’s funny is how you bring this up but deliberately ignore the fact that Severus spent seven years doing everything possible to save Harry’s life — which was no easy task because Harry was constantly putting himself in danger. Without Snape, Harry wouldn’t have survived his first year, so I think that’s more than enough compensation.

By the way, sorry, but the people responsible for James and Lily’s deaths weren’t Severus — it was first Wormtail for betraying his friends and then Voldemort for killing them. Pinning the whole thing on Severus when he was a collateral player seems extremely biased to me.

Snaters always conveniently ignore key parts of the canon or have the character analysis skills of an amoeba when it comes to Snape. The guy was a jerk, but he wasn’t the devil. Sorry.

Many people in this fandom are just not ready to hold Snape responsible for his actions. It's always someone else responsible for Snape's own actions and bad decisions in life. But when it comes to doing something good then Snape is the saint reincarnated.

He was prejudiced against muggleborns and kept using the M word for them? He had to do that to survive in the slytherin house of course.

He used that word on Lily? It was just the heat of the moment. Lily didnt have to overreact!

He lost Lily's friendship? She should have been the bigger person and not ended their friendship on a mere word.

It was more than just that one word, it was the culmination of all his bad words and actions she had been trying to ignore or overlook for the sake of that friendship.

And even if it was just that one word she still would have been well within her right in doing so because how dare he? If my friend used that kind of slur on me, a slur people who wanted me stripped of magic, the people who wanted me dead used, literal terrorists used than I would never even want to see the face of that person in my life again.

And if she is expected to overlook that supposed slip of tongue then why isn’t Snape expected to make efforts to overcome his prejudice for the sake of their friendship? For his supposed love of life? Why isn't he expected to see the error of his ways and not become a deatheater? If you had read the story carefully enough you would know that she gave him a chance to backtrack, but as she said, he didn't even deny that he was gonna join Voldemort. So much for trying to save the friendship!

And oh obviously, he was not responsible for becoming a death eater, that was on the Marauders. If only he wasn't bullied by the evil, devil incarcerated Marauders then he would never have chosen that path. But James and Sirius bullying him is solely their own fault (it totally was their fault in that memory, they were arrogant douchebags alright. Some of us have enough sense not to defend the bad actions of even those characters that we like. That's what makes them our favourite characters, their flaws and the growth they show by overcoming these flaws).

And don't even get me started on the whole prophesy fiasco. The reason some people heroworship him is because he changed sides for Lily. Are you serious? Thats what you got from that scene? He literally condemned an infant to death by delivering that prophesy to Voldemort! Just for a moment forget about all the good and bad of Snape, James and Lily, forget them all for a moment. Focus on this, he delivered the prophesy to Voldemort fully aware that Voldemert is gonna hunt down and kill a new born child. HE DID NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT AN INFANT'S LIFE!

The only reason he changed sides was because that was Lily's kid so obviously Lily was in danger too. At least he had the realisation that she was not gonna step aside and let her child die after he made that disgusting request to Voldemort of killing the child and sparing her life, that or well Voldemort is not gonna keep his word. Whatever it was, it was not a sudden change of heart or him seeing the error of his ways, it was just one small human side in him which didn't want Lily to be murdered. Ironically he joined a group which wanted to murder her in the first place.

But yes, he would have been completely fine if Voldemort had chosed to kill Neville, what a great hero! His bit of humanity only woke up when it came to Lily's life. Her small son's life did not matter, after all it will be one less Potter in the world (2 if you count James but we are not talking about him here, I don't expect any care about his life from Snape, he at least is entitled to not give 2 cents about James's life), No matter that she would never be able to get over the grief of seeing her child get murdered in front of her eyes. So as Dumbledore rightfully said "you disgust me"

Now that Potters finally die and Harry comes back to Hogwarts after spending a miserable 10 years with Dursleys, Snape had the gall to hate him, bully him and belittle him in front of everyone every chance he got. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR GETTING THAT BOY ORPHANED YOU STUPID BITTER MANCHILD. You are responsible for getting him hunted down by the greatest dark wizard to ever live, you are responsible for starting a chain of events which made the first 17 years of his life a living hell. And you still hate him because he is James Potter's son? The man you yourself got killed by your master? You hate him for being Lily's son and hence responsible for her getting murdered by Voldemort? Even though its you responsible for getting her killed not that innocent child who did nothing wrong but being born on a specific date.

And even though it is Snape responsible for everything that's wrong in Harry's life, still Harry is supposed to make up to Snape and match his standards? You expect Harry to be the bigger person and make amends with dear professor Snape even though all he ever gets from that teacher is verbal abuse every single time they come face to face. Sorry, if I had a teacher like him who singled me out on the very first day of class and insulted me without any fault of my own just because he hated my dead father(the father who is dead because of said teacher), I would never respect that bullying git in my life. Funny how Harry is expected to show adult behaviour and not the literal adult himself because again it's Harry's fault for not taking the insults quietly and always replying back with sass. It was Harry's fault that Snape hated him because he was a trouble maker who broke school rules, even though that is what saved that whole school from Voldemort multiple times, at the cost of his own life.

Because as I said before, Snape is never responsible for his own actions, its always someone else's fault. Every thing that went wrong in his life was because of James, Sirius, Lily and Harry's doing.

But on the other hand James and Sirius are slandered to bits because of what they did to snape. Even though they grew up, stood by their friends in times of need (becoming animagi for Remus, James welcoming Sirius in his home), joined the Order of the phoenix to fight the evil forces of Voldemort (noting that they really didn't have to if you think about it. Both of them were so called pure blood wizards. They would have been completely fine and even stayed protected and alive without going if they kept quite and never went against Voldemort due to their blood status) but they fought bravely, chose to do the right thing even at the cost of their lives. But still they are the real villains of the story because they hated Snape and attacked him unprovoked in that memory (I'll say again, they were both arrogant douchebags in that scene and Lily rightfully called them bullying toerags, no justification for their behaviour), Still their whole character is assassinated based on their interactions with Snape in school but their triumphs, their bravery and growth is overlooked and glossedover to justify Snape's actions, they are not the Heroes but worse than deatheaters.

I don't know about you, but being a death eater is way worse than being a bully in my book. And your favourite character was both, a deatheater and a bully to literal children, his own students, students he is responsible for.

Do you want to know a character in whose life everything went wrong due to the action of someone else? It's Harry and the responsibility lies with Snape.

But you will still justify all of Snape's actions and wrong choices because obviously Snape is never responsible for his own actions, its always someone else.

You want Snape's good and right actions to be celebrated, yes he was very brave for being a double agent, not many could have achieved that feat. Yes may be he later on overcame his prejudice against muggleborns (I am remembering that scene from Prince's memories in which he asks the portrait not tp use the M word), but a that took years and years of growth but I would acknowledge whenever he does a right thing.

But when in the same memory he shows shock at the revelation that Harry has to die and his whole life's work of Protecting him has been for nothing you moon over his care for Harry. Even though it was still not for Harry. When Dumbledore said that he has grown to care for the boy he was disgusted by the mere notion. It was all for Lily.

As it love for Lily? I don't think so. You don't destroy the life of the person you love. Was it guilt for getting the only person he ever cared a out and who ever cared about him? Yes for sure. At least his guilt made him do the right thing.

But he was not the hero you portrait him to be. He was not evil yes but he did more bad than he ever did good. He was just a darker shade of grey. May be that's what makes his character interesting. But you all are hell bent on making him a saint and putting the blame of his actions and choices on other heroes of the story.

Who do you put the blame of James a d Sirius's wrong actions on? Can't think of anyone? Neither can can I because they themselves hold that blame.

No one else is responsible for our choices, no one but ourselves.

But Snape is always an exception to this rule isn't he?

The double standards are mind-boggling!

[oumakokichi]

What are the differences between the original and localization?

Hmm, that’s a very simple question with a pretty lengthy answer! I did answer some similar questions in the past, but that was a long time ago, much closer to when the localization was first released. There are probably a lot of people whose main experience with the game has only been with the localization, and who don’t really know or remember those differences anymore.

For that reason, I’m going to go into kind of a “masterlist” of things that were changed in the localization in this post. This will be very long, but I really want to explain the whole story behind the localization and its differences from the original to people who might only be hearing about this for the first time. I’m going to cover full spoilers for the game obviously, so be careful when reading!

Also, please feel free to share this post around, as I think it contains a lot of information that might be interesting to people who’ve only experienced the localization!

Before I really get into it though, I want to stipulate that the differences I’m covering in this post are mostly going to be things that I believe could’ve been handled or translated better, not every single line that was changed verbatim in the game. This is because a localization’s purpose is incredibly different from a literal translation.

Where a literal translation seeks to keep as much of the original authorial intent as possible and has the leeway to explain various Japanese terms and cultural specifics to the readers in footnotes or a glossary, a localization is usually much more targeted towards a specific target audience, usually one more unfamiliar with Japanese culture or terminology. As a result, some things in a localization are occasionally changed to make them more understandable to a western audience.

So, for example, I’m not going to fault the localization for changing Monosuke’s extremely heavy Kansai accent in Japanese to a New York accent in the English dub. It’s much easier for western players to immediately grasp that, “hey, this guy has a very specific regional accent that the other characters don’t,” and it works really well as a rough equivalent. Similarly, localization changes like changing a line here or there about the sport of sumo to be about the Jets and the Patriots also helps get the point across to players quickly and easily without having to explain an unfamiliar sport to western players in-depth before they can get the joke.

That being said… there were some liberties taken with ndrv3’s translation which I don’t believe fulfill the point of a localization, and which changed certain deliveries or even perceptions about the characters in a way that I just don’t agree with.

Let me explain first how the localization team actually worked, to people who might be unfamiliar with the process. Ndrv3 had four separate translators working on the localization. When NISA first announced that the game was being localized, these four translators introduced themselves on reddit in an AMA, where they also mentioned that they were by and large dividing up the 16 main characters between themselves, with each translator specifically assigned to four characters.

Having more translators working on a game might sound like a good idea in theory, but it’s often not. The more translators assigned to a game, the harder it is to provide a consistent translation. Translation is messy work: often there are multiple ways to translate the same sentence, or even the same word between two different languages. If a translation has multiple translators, that means they need to be communicating constantly with one another and referencing each other’s work all the time in order to avoid mistranslations: it’s difficult work, but not impossible.

However… this didn’t happen with ndrv3’s translation team. It’s pretty clear they did not reference each other’s work or communicate very well, and the translation suffers for it. I’m not just guessing here, either; it’s a fact that various parts of the game have lines completely ruined by not looking at the context, or words translated two different ways almost back-to-back. I’ll provide specific examples of this later.

Many of the translators also picked which characters they wanted to translate on the basis of which were their favorites—which, again, isn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but which does raise the risk of letting character bias influence your work. No work is inherently without bias; all translators have to look at their own biases and still attempt to translate fairly regardless. But because translators were assigned four characters each, this meant that while they might be really enthusiastic about translating for one character in particular, they were less enthusiastic for others. These biases do reflect in the work, and I will provide further examples as I make my list.

This system of delegation also leaves more questions than it answers. It becomes impossible to tell who translated certain parts of the game, particularly in areas where the narrator is unclear. For example, did Saihara’s translator translate Ouma’s motive video, as Saihara is the one watching it in chapter 6? Or did Ouma’s translator do it, since it’s his motive video? Who translated the parts we see at the beginning of certain chapters, where characters from the outside world make occasional comments? It’s really unclear, and I’m not even sure if the translators divvied up these parts amongst themselves or if only one person was supposed to handle them.

To put it simply, there were quite a lot of complications and worrying factors about the way the translation was divided by the team, and the communication (or lack thereof) between said translators. It’s impossible to really discuss the main problems that ndrv3’s localization has without making it clear why those problems happened, and I hope I’ve explained it well here.

With that out of the way, I’m finally going to cover the biggest differences between the original game and the localization, and why many of these changes were such a problem.

1.)    Gonta’s Entire Character

To this day, I still feel like this is probably the most egregious change of the entire localization. Gonta does not talk like a caveman in Japanese. He does not even have a particularly limited vocabularly. He talks like a fairly normal, very polite high school boy, and the only stipulation is that he’s not very familiar with electronics or technology due to his backstory of “growing up in the woods away from humans.”

Gonta does refer to himself in the third-person in Japanese, but I need to stress this: this is a perfectly normal thing to do in Japanese. Many people do it all the time, and it has no bearing on a person’s intelligence or ability to speak. In fact, both Tenko and Angie also refer to themselves in the third-person in the Japanese version of the game, yet mysteriously use first-person pronouns in the localization.

I wouldn’t be so opposed to this change if it weren’t for the fact that Gonta’s entire character arc revolves around being so much smarter than people (even himself!) give him credit for. He constantly downplays his own abilities and contributions to the group despite being fairly knowledgeable, not only about entomology but also about nature and astronomy. He has a fairly good understanding of spatial reasoning and is one of the first people to guess how Toujou’s trick with the rope and tire worked in chapter 2.

Chapter 4 of ndrv3 is so incredibly painful because it makes it clear that while Gonta was, absolutely, manipulated by Ouma into picking up the flashback light, he nonetheless made the decision to kill Miu of his own accord. He was even willing to try and kill everyone else by misleading them in the trial, because he thought it was more merciful than letting them see the outside world for themselves. These were choices that he made, confirmed when we see Gonta’s AI at the end of the trial speak for himself and acknowledge that yes, he really did think the outside world was worth killing people over.

Gonta is supposed to be somewhat naïve and trusting, not stupid. He believes himself to be an idiot, and other characters often talk down to him or don’t take him seriously, but at the end of the day he’s a human being just like the rest of them, and far, far smarter and more capable of making his own decisions than anyone thought him capable of.

Translating all of his speech to “caveman” or “Tarzan speech” really downplays his ability to make decisions for himself, and I think it’s a big part of why I’ve seen considerably more western fans insist that he didn’t know what he was doing than Japanese fans. I love Gonta quite a lot, but I can’t get over the localization essentially changing his character to make him seem more stupid, instead of translating what was actually there in order to more accurately reflect his character.

2.)    Added Some Slurs, Removed Others

It’s time to address the elephant in the room for people who don’t know: Momota is considerably homophobic and transphobic in the original Japanese version of the game. In chapter 2, he uses the word “okama” to refer to Korekiyo in an extremely derogatory fashion. This word has a history of both homophobic and transphobic sentiment in Japan, as it’s often used against flamboyant gay men and trans women, who are sadly and unfortunately conflated as being “the same thing” most of the time. To put it simply, the word has the equivalent of the weight of the t-slur and the f-slur in English rolled into one.

This isn’t the only instance of Momota being homophobic, sadly. In the salmon mode version of the game, should you choose the “let’s undress” option in the gym while with Momota, he has yet another line where he says, “You don’t swing that way, do you!?” to Saihara, using his most terrified and disgusted-looking sprite. This suggests to me that, yes, the homophobia was a deliberate choice in the Japanese version of the game, as Momota consistently reacts this way to even the idea of another guy showing romantic interest in him.

The English version more or less kept the salmon mode comment, but removed the use of the slur in chapter 2 entirely. Which I have… mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I am an LGBT person myself. I don’t want to read slurs if I can help it. On the other hand, I really don’t think the slur was removed out of consideration to the LGBT community so much as Momota’s translator really wanted to downplay any lines that could make his character come across in a more negative light.

This is backed up by the fact that both Miu and Ouma’s translators added slurs to the game that weren’t present in the original Japanese. Where Miu only ever refers to Gonta as “baka” (idiot) or occasionally, “ahou” (a slightly ruder word that still more or less equates to “moron”), her translator decided to add multiple instances of her using the r-slur to refer to Gonta specifically, and on one occasion, even the word “Mongoloid,” a deeply offensive and outdated term. Ouma’s translator similarly took lines where he was already speaking harshly of Miu and added multiple instances of words like “bitch” or “whore.”

To me, this suggests that the translators were completely free to choose how harsh or how likable they wanted their characters to come across. Momota’s translator omitting just the slur could maybe pass for a nice gesture, so people don’t have to read it and be uncomfortable—except, that’s not the only thing that was omitted. Instances of Momota being blatantly misogynistic or rude were also toned down to the point of covering up most of his flaws entirely. His use of “memeshii” against Hoshi (a word which means “cowardly” in Japanese with specifically feminine connotations, like the word “sissy” in English) is simply changed to “weak,” and when he calls Saihara’s trauma “kudaranai” (literally “worthless” or “bullshit”), this is changed to “trivial” in the localization.

Momota’s translator even went so far as to omit a line entirely from the chapter 2 trial, which I touched on in an earlier post. In the original version of the game, Ouma asks Momota dumbfounded if he’s really stupid enough to trust Maki without any proof and if he plans on risking everyone else’s lives in the trial if he turns out to be wrong. And Momota replies saying yes, absolutely, he’s totally willing to bet everyone’s lives on nothing more than a hunch because he thinks he’s going to be right no matter what.

This is a character flaw. It’s a huge, running theme with Momota’s character, and it’s brought up again in chapter 4 deliberately when Momota really does almost kill everyone in the trial because he refuses to believe that Ouma isn’t the culprit. But the localization simply omits it, leaving Momota to seem considerably less hard-headed and reckless in the English version of the game. If anyone wants proof that this line exists, it is still very much there in the Japanese dialogue, but it has no translation whatsoever. This goes beyond “translation decisions I don’t agree with”; omitting an entire line for a character simply because you want other people to like them more is just bad translation, period.

3.)    Angie’s Religion

In the original Japanese version of the game, neither Angie’s god nor her religion have any specific names. She refers to her god simply as “god” in the general sense, and clearly changes aspects of their persona and appearance based on who she’s trying to convince to join her cult. Everything about her is pretty clearly fictionalized, from her island to the religious practices her cult does.

Kodaka’s writing with regard to Angie is already a huge mess. It feeds into a lot of harmful stereotypes about “crazy, exotic brown women” and “bloodthirsty savages,” but at the very least it never correlated with a specific religion or location in the original version of the game.

This all changed when Angie’s translator, for whatever reason, decided to make Angie be Polynesian specifically and appropriate from the real religion of real indigenous peoples native to Polynesia. That’s right: Atua is a real god that has very real significance to tons of indigenous peoples.

In my opinion, this decision was incredibly disrespectful. It spreads incredible misinformation about a god that is still very much a part of tons of real-life people’s religion, and associates it with cults? Blood rituals? Human sacrifices? It’s a terrible localization decision that wasn’t necessary whatsoever and to be quite frank, it’s racist and insensitive.

As I said, the original game never exactly had the peak of “good writing decisions” when it came to Angie; there are still harmful stereotypes with her character, and she deserved to be written so much better. But associating her with a real group of indigenous people and equating a real god to some fictional deity that’s mostly treated as either a scary cult-ish boogeyman or the punchline to a joke is just… bad.

4.)    Ouma’s Motive Video

Some of the decisions taken with Ouma’s translation are… interesting, to say the least. In many ways, he feels like a completely different character between the two versions of the game. This is due not only to the translation, but also the voice direction and casting.

A lot of his lines are tweaked or changed entirely to make his character seem much louder, less serious, and less sincere than the original version of the game. Obviously, Ouma lies, a lot. That’s sort of the whole point of is character. But what I mean is that even lines in the original version of the game, where it was clear he was being truthful via softer delivery, trailing off the end of his sentences, and seeming overall hesitant about whether to divulge certain information or not are literally changed in the localization to him pretty much yelling at the top of his lungs, complete with tons of exclamation points on lines that originally ended with a question mark or ellipses.

Tonally, he just feels very different as a character. The “sowwy” speak, lines like “oopsie poopsie, I’m such a ditz!”—all of these things are taken to such ridiculous extremes that it feels a little hard to take him seriously. Even in the post-trial for chapter 4 when Ouma starts playing the villain after Gonta’s death, a moment which should have been completely serious and intense, the mood is kind of completely killed when the line is changed from him calling everyone a bunch of idiots to him calling everyone…. “stupidheads.” These changes don’t really seem thematically appropriate to me, but overall, they’re not damning.

What is damning, however, is the fact that Ouma’s motive video is completely mistranslated and provides a very poor picture of what his motivations and ideals were like. I still remember being shocked when I played the localization for the first time and discovered that they completely omitted a line stating that Ouma and DICE have a very specific taboo against murder.

Literally, this is one of the very first lines in the entire video. The Japanese version of the game makes it explicitly clear that DICE were forbidden to kill people, and that abiding by this rule was extremely important to them. By contrast, the localization simply makes a nod about him doing “petty nonviolent crimes and pranks,” without ever once mentioning anything at all about rules or taboos.

This feels especially egregious in the localization considering Saihara later uses Ouma’s motive video as evidence in the chapter 6 trial and states there that Ouma and DICE “had a rule against killing people,” despite the game… never actually telling you that. It not only skews the perception of Ouma’s character at a crucial moment, it also just straight-up lies to localization players and expects them to make leaps in logic without actually providing the facts. So it winds up sort of feeling like Saihara is just pulling these assumptions out of his ass more than anything else.

I actually still have my original translation of Ouma’s motive video here, if anyone would like to compare. Again, translation is a tricky line of work, and obviously not all translators are going to agree with one another. But I consider omitting lines entirely to be one of the worst things you can do in a translation, particularly in a mystery game where people are expected to solve said mysteries based on the information and facts provided to them.

5.)    Inconsistencies and Lack of Context

As I mentioned earlier, there are many instances of lines being completely mistranslated, or translated two different ways by multiple translators, or addressed to the wrong character. This is, as I stated, due to the way the translation work was divided by four separate people who appear to have not communicated with each other or cross-referenced each other’s work.

One of the clearest examples of this that I can think of off the top of my head is in chapter 3, where Ouma mentions “doing a little research” on the Caged Child ritual, and Maki in the very next line repeats him by saying… “study?”

On their own, removed from any context, these would both potentially be correct translations. However, it’s very clear that the translators just didn’t care to look at the context, or communicate with each other and share their work. The fact that characters aren’t even quoting each other properly in lines that are back-to-back is a pretty big oversight, and something that should have been accounted for knowing that four separate people were going to be translating various different characters.

This lack of context causes other, even more hilarious and blatantly wrong mistranslations. At the start of the chapter 3 trial, there is a line where Momota mentions that he couldn’t perform a thorough investigation on his own “because Monokuma disrupted him.” In the original, Ouma responds and tells Momota that he’s just using Monokuma as an excuse to cover for his own flaws. However, what we actually got in the localization was… this.

I don’t even have words for how badly this line was butchered (though I could make several hilarious jokes about Monokuma “over-compensating”). Presumably, this happened because Ouma’s translator saw Ouma’s line without any of the lines before it or the context of what Momota was saying, had no clue who Ouma was actually supposed to be talking to, and just ad-libbed it however they could, even though it literally makes no sense and doesn’t even fit into the conversation.

There are other similar instances of this, too. For example, did you know that the scene after Saihara faints in chapter 2, just before he wakes up in Gonta’s lab, is actually supposed to have Ouma talking to him? The narrator is unnamed, but there are several lines just before Saihara wakes up where Ouma tells him “come on, you can’t die on me yet!” and keeps prodding him and poking him to wake up. This is never explicitly told to you from the text… but it becomes pretty obvious when you look at the context and see that a huge CG of Ouma looking over Saihara as he starts to wake up is the very next part of the scene.

In the localization, however, Saihara’s translator pretty clearly had no idea what was happening or who was supposed to be talking to him, because they translated those lines as Saihara talking to himself, even though the manner of speech and phrasing is clearly supposed to be Ouma instead.

I could go on and on listing other examples: Tsumugi makes a joke in the original about Miu being able to dish out dirty jokes but not being very good at hearing them herself, but it’s changed in the localization to Tsumugi saying “I’m not so good with that kind of stuff,” and a line where Momota protests against Maki choking Ouma because she’ll kill him if she keeps going is instead changed to him saying “you’ll get killed if you don’t stop!” In my opinion, the fact that this is a consistent problem throughout the whole game shows that the translators weren’t really communicating or working together at any point, and that it wasn’t simply a one-time mistake here or there.

6.)    Edited CGs and Plot Points

I have made an entirely separate post about this in the past, but at this point I don’t think anyone actually knows anymore: the localization actually edited in-game CGs and made some of them completely different from the Japanese version of the game. I’m not accusing them of “censorship” or anything like that, I mean quite literally that they altered and edited specific CGs to try and fix certain problems with them and only ended up making them worse in the process.

In chapter 5, Momota gets shot in the arm by Maki’s crossbow when trying to defend Ouma, and Ouma gets shot in the back shortly afterward when attempting to make a run for the Exisals. These injuries are relevant to how they died, but they’re not actually very visible in the CGs of Ouma and Momota shown later in the chapter 5 trial.

There are a whole bunch of inconsistencies with the CGs in chapter 5 in general: Momota gives Ouma his jacket to lie on under the press, but is magically still wearing it when he emerges from the Exisal himself at the end of the trial (I like to think he snuck back into the dorms Solid Snake style to get a new one from his room before joining the trial), the cap to the antidote is still on the bottle when Ouma pretends to drink it in front of Maki and Momota, etc. None of these things really deter from the plot though, and so I would say they’re fairly unimportant.

However, for some reason, NISA decided that “fixing” at least some of the CGs in the chapter 5 trial was necessary. They did this by adding bloodstains to Momota’s arm while he’s under the press, to better show his injury from the crossbow…. and in doing so, for some completely inexplicable reason, they changed the entire position of his arm. Here’s what I mean for comparison:

This is how Momota’s arm looked in the original CG from chapter 5, shown when the camcorder is provided as evidence that it’s “Ouma” under the press.

And this is how the localization edited it to look. I can understand and even sympathize with adding the bloodstains, but… changing the entire arm itself? Moving it to be sticking out from under the press? To put it nicely, this change doesn’t make any sense and actually makes it harder to understand Ouma and Momota’s plan.

The whole trick behind their plan was that nothing was supposed to stick out from under the press, other than Momota’s jacket. They waited until the instant when the press completely covered every part of Momota’s body, arms and all, and then performed the switch to mislead people. But the edited version of the CG in the localization just has Momota’s arm sticking completely out, hanging over the side, meaning it would’ve been impossible for the press to hide every part of it and the whole switch feels… well, stupid and impossibly easy to see through in the localized version.

Again, this shows a total disregard for presenting the facts as they actually appear and actually makes things more difficult for English players of the game, because they’re not being given accurate information. I really don’t understand why these changes were necessary, or why the bloodstains couldn’t have just been added without moving Momota’s entire arm.

7.)    In Conclusion

This has gotten extremely long (nearly 10 pages), so I want to wrap things up. I want to specify that my intention with this masterlist isn’t to insult or badmouth the translators who worked on this game. I’m sure they worked very hard, and I have no idea what time or budget constraints they were facing as they did so.

Being a translator is not easy, and typically translators are not very well-paid or recognized for their work. I have the utmost respect for other translators, and I know perfectly well just how difficult and taxing it can be.

I am making this list because these are simply changes which were very different from the original version of the game, and which I believe could have been handled better. Personally, I disagree with many of the choices the localization made, but that does not mean that they didn’t do a fantastic job in other places. I absolutely love whichever translator was responsible for coming up with catchphrases and nicknames throughout the game: little localization decisions like “cospox,” “flashback light,” “Insect Meet n’ Greet,” and “cosplaycat criminal” were all strokes of genius that I highly admire.

I only want to stress that the Japanese version of the game is very different. Making changes to the way a character is presented or portrayed means influencing how people are going to react to said character. Skewing the information and facts presented in trials in the game means changing people’s experience of the game, and giving them less facts to go off of. Equating fictional gods to real-life ones can cause real harm and influence perception of real indigenous peoples. These are all facts that need to be accounted for before deciding whether a certain change is necessary or not, in my opinion.

If you’ve read this far, thank you! Again, feel free to share this post around if you’d like, since this is probably the most comprehensively I’ve ever covered this topic.

[perpetualexistence]

You know, you're right in that screenshotting what your tags were would have probably helped, whoops.

But oh man I hadn't even been THINKING of the Reboot cast potential! You're so right in the potential for them messing with Julia, Chase, and Ripper.

I feel like with Chase what would probably push him from being on their radar into being a new victim category would be when the fact that he cut Emma's brakes becomes public. They're not going to suffer anyone who risks other people's lives. ...Actually you know what? I have a hot take idea that I don't know if anyone's done before, but I can kind of see it. What if Emma was an Ozzy child, or at least an Ozzy descendent depending on how much time has passed? I don't know if she'd know about Noah's whole situation (It'd be interesting in either scenario where she knows or where she has no idea), but Noah would certainly know about her. It'd make him especially invested in making Chase's life a living hell.

There's also potential with them making new friendships too!

I can see Priya reminding Alejandro so much like Courtney to the point where he can't help but become friends with her, and rekindle a new academic rivalry. (He has to nerf himself since he's already had to learn these things many times over. I think it'd be hilarious if he had to go to Heather to ask her to help him forget things to make things fair.) And when he finds out about what her parents are like? Oh he's just waiting for them to show up during an open house to rip out their hearts and force them to be better parents to her. It also means Alejandro's got even more beef with Ripper than he already did since he probably targets Priya.

Heather I can see getting along with Damien, of all people. Something that didn't really come up the first time around is that I am a firm believer in a good Heather & DJ friendship. He was probably one of the only people she didn't pick on even before her reformation because come on. It's DJ. So when she sees someone who's just as scared as DJ once was, but is just as kind and has the kind of intelligence that reminds her of Cody and Harold? Yeah, she'll throw a bone here or there to help him with his self confidence. Might even use her powers for good to throw a positive thought his way that Damien thinks is coming from a small bit of self confidence he didn't even realize he had. It also means when he starts getting a rivalry with Julia that Heather has even more reason to eviscerate Julia.

Noah meanwhile gets close with MK because come on. A sarcastic gremlin who enjoys messing with people and leaving them none the wiser? Technically speaking she probably should be at risk for being one of their victims. But he sees way too much of himself in her, so instead he tries to focus on helping her be better so that he won't be forced to eventually target her. Plus, with how she messes with others, sometimes she actually does his job for him. So he's grateful for getting to just kick back and watch the chaos every once in awhile. And he'll help a bit in giving her shortcuts if she's running from someone and having who's chasing her get a little lost without anyone else knowing.

I also think it'd be really cool if there was actually a small group of Reboot cast who either knew, or at least suspected something was up with Alejandro, Noah, and Heather aside from Alenoaheather's victims. We can say that at this point Heather's got enough memory manipulation to where humans aren't immediately suspicious of them, but she can't yet stop them if they start thinking harder about things. And she can wipe memories, but not fully so there's still imprints of what remains and ways around it. (Have to make them being found out an actual threat if I'm making this a storyline.)

I can see Millie leading this since she is the type to naturally observe people. And, more importantly, she writes stuff down. She can notice when certain things don't start adding up. And will probably bring this up with Priya and Damien, her two close friends. Which puts even more pressure on Alejandro and Heather because they don't want to ruin these friendships, but also don't want to risk these three trying to do anything rash.

Scary Girl's also a wild card that knows about The Royal Court, but has no idea who the vessels are. So she's trying to track down who the hosts are for Reasons. And because she's already done eldritch research/magic/whatever her deal is, they can't just use their powers on her. So they just steer as clear of her as possible. Though she might end up joining the Priya/Millie/Damien scooby doo gang when she finds out they're also investigating things. Making life even MORE difficult for the trio.

And as a final thought: I think it'd just be hilarious if Zee just knew what they were and was completely chill about it. I have no explanation for how he'd know, and I don't think they would either. I think it's better this way. I just love the thought of him going "Oh, sup demon dude/chick?" to one of them and then proceeding to sip his soda like that was a perfectly normal question to ask.

Actually you know what, this gives me a hilarious thought about Noah in this AU running a dnd campaign that actually has hints about what happened to them and what's going on because he just likes testing fate like that.

you guys ever hear a new song and frantically conceptualise a whole AU around it, starring your current Main Blorbo? or is that just me?

[smallestchances]

The Fourth Horseman (Thor x Reader)

synopsis:  thor has done everything in his power to be seen as an actual powerhouse and threat to the mobs of new york, but the council of the horsemen are in the way. knowing they could lose everything they’ve built, mor goes to the people she knows can make things happen, and strikes a deal with the apocalypse wives.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: Welcome to the first installment of the Apocalypse wives!! Buckle up for a ride and send in asks when you’re ready for more :)

warnings: cursing, slight smut, mentions of abuse & murder

MASTERLIST /// WIVES!MASTERLIST

--------------------------

 You were a lot of things to a lot of people. Some people knew you as a determined spitfire who was fierce, protective, and not afraid to get her hands dirty for the people she loved. They knew you were an amazing friend.

Others knew you were an even worse enemy.

They knew you as an unforgiving bitch who painted her nails with the blood of those who wronged her. You were an unbothered, spoiled witch who wouldn't know humility if it was beneath your red-bottomed heel.

Thor knew that you were all of those things on a good day.

You sat with him now, in the middle of SHIELD. It served as the hottest and the most dangerous club in the state, and therefore your meeting place. Thor's hand is fit snugly around your waist, the sheer panel of your body suit allowing you to feel a semblance of his touch.

He's happy at the moment--genuinely happy and it's something you haven't seen in a long time. You can only look at him fondly, the low light of the club highlighting his jaw and the laugh lines that appear. His eyes twinkle as he talks with Loki, their relationship finally repaired after the trickster was fatally wounded trying to save your husband’s life.

Though you're still skeptical of the mischief maker, you have yet  to remember the last time you saw Thor this happy. Knowing this is the only reason you've allowed Loki to build his way back into your lives, you let him know that you have a dagger with his name on it should his loyalties change again.

As they talk, your eyes can’t help but linger to the exclusive third floor of the club — the circular balconies that complement the hollow interior of the building. The people up there sneer at those below, and you feel your jaw tick. Escorts, wannabes, and the closest inner circles of the underground world are found up there, and you knew that's where Thor belonged.

Three years. Three years, you and Thor had to fight and claw your way to get anywhere in the mafia world, and still you weren't at the top. Thor has already gained throes of power, influence, and support. 

You just had to take him further. 

"He won't be a problem."

Thor's words snap you back to the brothers' conversation, realizing the tone has taken a turn.

"You've only experienced Odin's grace," Loki replies. "He knows how to keep the appearance of kindness. Don't forget that I know his wrath more than anyone else.”

Thor swallows heavily at the reminder of his father's sins. "Loki—“

"No need for pity brother,” Loki interrupts, a genuine smile creeping on his face. "Despite my past, I've finally found a way to win against certain demons. I've gained you, a home, a psychotic sister-in-law—”

You wink at him.

"I'm in a better place than before," Loki concludes. "However, Father sees you taking me in as a personal slight. That, coupled with your growing success—“

"We've become his targets,” Thor finishes.

Those simple words cause the bass of the club music to become white noise. Blinking rapidly, you sit up quickly, leaning forward into Thor's space. "Your father now has you both on a hit list?” The disgust can’t help but drip from your voice. Loki only nods. Your eyes fall to the floor, tracing the patterned tiles as you process the information. "What does Frigga know about this?”

Thor makes a noise at the back of his throat. "Mother was the one who warned us."

You nod, chewing on your lip. "So we take him down first.”

Both men clear their throat sharply, Loki looking around cautiously. “Odin is the oldest living patriarch of the New York’s...companies. He has the support of the Horsemen— taking him down will not be simple."

"Nor should we announce it so blatantly my love," Thor shifts, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, and his arms never leaving your sides.

"Your coward of a father wants to assassinate his sons because of the power they've gained,” is all you can grit out. “Something has to be done—”

“If we move too quickly, then we risk losing everything,” Loki interrupts. “Odin will declare us as enemies, and per his requests, he'll have the arsenal of Conquest, the men of Famine, and the tactics of Pestilence at his fingertips. Right now, we don't stand a chance.”

You bite the inside of your cheek harder, going through what you know of the Horsemen and their capabilities. You yourself have had little interaction with the infamous mobster, once before you married Thor and once to get Loki out of his clutches of abuse. He’s well known for being the first Horseman to retire instead of die, but his seat of War hasn’t been empty for long.

Frigga, his wife, was the one you knew well and respected. You knew her as a woman who did the best in every circumstance she found herself in, and fell in love with a man who changed too much before she realized what happened. Frigga had one of the largest hearts you knew, and you were certain she was the only reason the Asgardians were still standing as a viable threat.

"Without the council, we can defeat him," Thor mumbles.

Loki answers with a sarcastic laugh, downing the last shot on the table. "Turning the Council on a veteran member is impossible; especially since we don't have an insight into their ranks.” He gestures to the third floor of SHIELD. "We either lay low and build an army...or surrender while we still can."

You scoff at the two suggestions, rolling your eyes only to balk at the fact that Thor has yet to answer. "You can't seriously be considering this,"  you spit at him. At the answering silence, you slide off his lap to the far end of the couch. If we build an army, we’ll be  forced to outsource outside of New York— and that means making the horseman an even bigger enemy for after the war. Don't even get me started on what these potential ‘allies’ will want.”

"And surrendering is not an option,” is all Thor mumbles, his jaw ticking as he rubs his palms together nervously. "Do we strike a deal?”

You stand abruptly, avoiding Thor’s sorrowful stare as you barely announce that  you’re going to grab more drinks. You don’t want to hear another word of their conversation, but their words echo through your head as you descend the stairs to the first floor. Pushing past bodies, your mind barely registers that you pick up the pace when the bar is within eye-distance.

After ordering your drink of choice, you scrub a hand over your face in an attempt to clear all the thoughts in your head. You have half a mind to try to take out Odin yourself and with your bare hands, but you know everything Loki said was right.

Thor was so close to the finish line. He’d tried so hard to establish his reign separate from his father’s, trying to do better for the people and the misfits that found their way to him. Odin had started to spit on the values of being a Horseman, even towards the end of his reign. He allowed his community to fall and even hung Frigga out to deal with his coming consequences, and Thor got tired of it when it got too close to the people he loved.

Just thinking about the night everything came to a head, and how far you all have come, your eyes unconsciously float to the third floor.

There.

There, you find a glimpse of the very men Thor & Loki spoke about. Tony Stark, Conquest; Steve Rogers, Famine; & Bucky Barnes, Pestilence.To the left of them, you find another group that everyone else in the club seems to have looked over.

Stunning under the multicolored lights, their skin tones are radiant as their tailor made attire fit their body types marvelously. They seem to be keeping to themselves, talking to each other in low tones, while holding themselves differently than the escorts around them.

The Wives.

You take a thoughtful sip of your drink as a glimpse of a thought passes through your brain...and you lie in wait to prove your theory. You don’t have to wait long as a commotion brings your attention back to the Horsemen, and you find Conquest and Pestilence unusually close to each other, tempers flaring.

Pestilence gets shoved back by Famine, and just as things comes to a head, faster than lightning, the Wives are there. Sekhmet Stark’s arms have wrapped around Conquest, Hecate Barnes has the attention of Pestilence solely on her, and Kali Rogers has found Famine’s lips on hers.

And that’s the moment that you knew the solution to your problem--well Thor’s problem. You’re almost vibrating in joy as you down the rest of your drink before going back up to the stairs.

Its surprisingly easy to get up to the third floor--just until you make it to the glass doors that separate the landing from the exclusive section.

Straight ahead, on a raised dias, you see that the Wives have returned to their place, with Sekhmet in the center, Kali to her left, and Cate to her right.

Taking a deep breath, you hold your head high and push the glass doors aside--just to be stopped by a bouncer.

“No walk-ins. Exclusive VIP only.”

You simply raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Exclusive Personnel only,” he repeats.

You flash him a wicked smile and tilt your head to the side, trying to give him as much of a condescending look as you can muster. Satisfaction fills you as the bouncer deflates just slightly. You try your luck as you step forward again, but stopped again. 

“Who are you,” he asks, but the waver in his voice gives him away.

You see your window, and cross your arms while pursing your lips. “I’m going to pretend you didn't ask that and let you go this time around.”

He doesn’t move. “I cant let you in.”

“Really? Fine,” you shrug. “Explain to the Wives why you’re keeping them waiting.”

When the bouncer looks back at the women you mentioned, you know he’s exactly where you want him. “I’m going to have to loop back to you--”

You snap your name impatiently, and he mumbles it back with a nod before walking away. You wait with baited breath, knowing that with this stunt you could either end up with a bullet in your skull or the world at your feet.

Your throat tightens when you catch Sekhmet’s gaze.

When the bouncer makes his way back to you, he looks pale and motions with his head for you to follow him. “I’m so sorry (Y/N),” he says. “Right this way.”

You don’t allow yourself to breathe, even as you walk the short path to where you want to be. You feel curious eyes on you, but you don’t shy away from either of them, and instead hold your head higher as if you’re meant to be there--because you were.

Sekhmet stands when you both reach the Wives, a sharp, gleeful smile on her face as she opens her arms up in expectation. “Darling! Hello, so nice to see you again!” 

The pleasantries continue with all the wives until you’ve sat in the middle of them,  and you know it’s the most dangerous place to be.

When the bouncer walks away, the smiles drop. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Is what Sekhmet demands, her eyes focused solely on you. 

You don’t put down your guard, but you cooly reach for one of the full glasses of drinks on the table before all of you. You take your time taking a sip. “I’m someone who knows who you all are,” you say when you’re ready. 

Hecate simply hums in unamusement. “Are we supposed to be impressed?”

“As if the wives of the most powerful men in new york are a secret,” Kali giggles.

You don’t let their words phase you. You hum back in response. “See I know that you’re the very people who keep New York from burning to the ground.”

A surprised silence follow your statement, before Sekhmet picks up the next words quickly and carefully. “I don’t think I know what you mean,” she smiles. 

You roll your eyes. “Mind you, this is coming from someone who understands just what you hold within your palms.”

The next silence stands longer. Hecate leans in, her hands gripping the couch beneath, her eyes intense as they pour into you. “How do you know you’re right?”

You let a small smile slip, and take another sip before gesturing down to where you can see your husband and Loki still speaking intensely. “Thor. I love him to death,  I really do, and there’s not a heart out there that I wouldn’t rip out for him. He has power, a lot of it, and he's starting to develop quite a hold on New York.”

Kali nods. “Thor Odinson. I’ve heard of him.” She tilts her head to the side, looking out into space. “That New Jersey border deal was ingenious, I’m disappointed a Horseman didn’t execute it.”

Her words get grunts of agreement, and pride swells in your chest, 

“You & I both know that Thor didn’t have a hand in that deal until he showed up the day he needed to,” you giggled, and they stare at you openly. 

“Well shit,” Sekhmet laughs out loud, picking up her own glass.

Before you know it, you’re toasting with the most powerful women in New York, laughing with them and even exchanging high fives.

“I told  y’all a man couldn’t pull that off!” Sekhmet cackles. 

Hecate nods. “It was too good to be true.” 

“We didn’t know he had a wife,” Kali winks. 

Smiling with them, the anxiety in your chest lessens. 

“So what do you need?”

Sekhmet’s words bring back the somber mood, and you laugh nervously.  “What do you mean?

Kali speaks up seamlessly. “Thor is the eldest son of Odin. Odin, the retired horseman of War, who controls the upper parts of New York as the Asgardians. If Thor’s wife has enough pussy to show up uninvited to confront us, you can’t expect us to believe you don't want anything.”

Looking at them all, you decide to lay all your cards out on the table. “Odin is going after Thor.”

No one replies, so you continue.

“Loki & Thor have made amends and their father now sees them as a threat to his empire. He’s going to call on the Horsemen to wage War…” you trail off, cursing internally as they exchange looks. “But by the look on your faces I’m guessing he already has.”

Kali only nods.  “He approached them with a meeting this morning. The old dick had the audacity to pull rank and get me thrown out of the room when I spoke against him.” She takes a deep gulp of her drink, her jaw clenching at the memory.

The hope that allowed you to strut your way into the third floor comes back tenfold. “So you aren’t on his side?”  

“Fuck no,`” Hecate snorts.  “I’ve unfortunately seen every side of that man when he and Brock were on the council together and…” she trails off, her eyes distant. “New York has never seen a darker time. How Frigga stays with him, I’ll never understand.” 

“Even with all the power as she has, he won’t let her leave,” you mumble. The conversation comes at a standstill, but a tense once that allows all of you to look in upon your own relationships--and just how bad it could get. Clearing your throat, you go in. “Don’t support him.”

No one answers you, but you see curiosity glint within the eyes of the Wives.

“Talk to the Horsemen,” you continue, sliding to the edge of your seat. “I know you have more sway than I ever could if I talked to them. Don’t allow them to back Odin, let him hang to dry and I’ll take care of the rest with Thor & Loki.”

Kali is the one who answers you. “Unfortunately, they’re not allowed to just sit this one out. If The Horsemen stand aside when something as big as this happens we’ll look like we’re going soft.”

 “And I swear to you,” you promise lowly. “That any retaliation you face will be borne by Thor & I. On the blood of my heart, I will do anything for you if you step back for this and let us take him down.”

Your heart has crawled into your throat, pulsing so strongly you don’t know if you can breathe. They haven’t said no outright, and you could practically taste the possibilities, taste exactly what you & your husband can achieve--

“On your heart?” Hecate repeats.

You nod sternly. “On my heart.”

Hecate and Kali merely look at Sekhmet. She gives you a thoughtful look, and blinks slowly, tipping her head down slightly. “Seems we have a lot to talk about. Will you give us some space?”

The last question is directed at you, and you can’t help but nod vehemently and stand up. “Of course,” you breathe, walking away.

You bite your lip hard enough to force yourself not to look back.

------------------------------

Sekhi’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she leans back heavily onto the bathroom mirror. Gripping the edge of the counter tightly, a strangled moan rips out of her throat as her husband’s lips wrapped around her clit, sucking at just the right pressure.  Wetness drips down the junction of her thighs, and still Tony takes it all in stride, moaning vulgarly at her sounds. He lets up only slightly to grab Sekhi’s hand to shove it into his hair, and it gives her enough space to remember that she had another objective when she got him alone.

“We--” She moans when his lips reattach and tug his face away from her core. He lets her breath, only to lap at her cum on her inner thighs. “We have to drop Odin,” She finally breathes out.

He only sighs, pausing to give her a quick peck on the skin he was worshipping. “That is not the name I want on your lips right now.” 

“We cant—Tony!--we can’t endorse him for his war.”

With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly gets up and places both his hands on either side of his wife. He leans in and she automatically reciprocates, lips meeting to exchange tastes. When they finally pull away, Tony speaks. “Since you won’t let it go...why the sudden interest in Odin, and betraying him.”

His words unconsciously allow a memory to flash behind Sekhi’s eyes, and she shakes it away just as quickly as it’s come. “You don't…” She tries to find the words before restarting. “I know he welcomed you into the Horsemen and helped you build your empire...but that man who sat in as War is not the same man today. He’s  an ass, too much of a risk, volatile—”

Tony shrugs. “People say the same about me.”

“Tony, you can’t imagine the things he’s done,” is all she snaps back.  “Since he’s retired he’s—”

Her lips run dry as the memory scratches again. Warm palms cup her chin and bring her gaze to meet warm brown eyes flooded with concern. “He’s what? Baby, has he done something?”

Even though his words are soft, you hear the threat behind it. The underlying danger that follows Conquest. Sekhi reaches up and holds his hands in hers, kissing his palm softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me—”

“Tony.”

After a moment he backs down and nods solemnly. He drops his hands back to their previous position on the counter. “Okay. Say we don’t back him. You know we have to choose a side in this or we’ll look vulnerable.”

“So choose Thor’s.”

Tony stills in thought before stepping closer to his wife. “I’m listening.”

——-

“If we back Thor, Odin doesn’t stand a chance.”

Steve turns over Kali’s words in his head, rubbing her calf that’s been thrown over his lap. He ignores the bustle of the club around him, the quiet corner they’ve found the perfect setting for their conversation.

“He’d be decimated without too much of a fight,” he mumbles.

“Exactly.” Kali leans closer into him, lacing his fingers with hers at her ankles. “We support Thor, and gain his loyalty now...I’ve heard things. Things stirring in the air about him and how powerful he’s becoming. We show that he’s not a threat, that he's on our side—”

“And he immediately isn’t a threat any more. He becomes an ally.”

“Bingo,” Kali smiles brightly. “And, he’s just reconciled with Loki, meaning he’s got one of the biggest minds in the game on his team.”

Steve nods, turning his head to look her in the eyes. “So what you’re saying is we take him into one of our sectors.”

Kali shakes her head. “I’m saying more than that my love.”

——-

Bucky downs his shot before scrubbing a rough hand down his face. “You’re suggesting he becomes a Horseman.”

Hecate nods. 

Bucky can only sigh while pointing his eyes to heaven. “Doll—”

His wife only groans, wrapping her arms around his waist so that he can’t help but absorb him into her. “You’ve never said no to me before, don’t you dare start now.”

Bucky laughs nervously. “I’m not. But think about it, if we turn against Odin, we’re deliberately breaking the laws that say he’s under our constant protection after he’s left the table. If we break them now, there’s no turning back.”

“You won’t be breaking it! You’ll be bending it.” Hecate shines an innocent smile at him, trying to press her nose into his as their foreheads lie together. “The title is merely passing down onto his son--as it should have, had Odin kept his actions honourable. Thor’ll have the loyalty of  Asgard, Frigga, and the men he has now. No one will fault you.”

Bucky doesn’t answer.

 “Bucky!”

He groans. “I get it doll, I do. I’m as fond of that man as you are, but we’d have to have hard evidence that he’s broken our bylaws before we do. And even if we did, swearing in a new horseman is not a decision only I get to make…” Bucky trails off, sighing with a short laugh. “By the look on your face I’m guessing the girls are already on it.”

“Maybe.” Hecate gives her husband a quick peck on his lips, once, twice, until he melts into her. “Just tell me you’re on my side. You’re with me, aren’t you Buck?”

“Yea doll...I’m with you.”

---------------------

When the bouncer comes down to meet you on the second floor, it takes everything in you to prevent yourself from smiling. You just know. 

As he escorts the three of you onto the third floor of SHIELD, you feel the men beside you tense even as you relax. When the bouncer called you by name, Thor’s eyes haven’t left you. 

“My love,” his deep timber resonates deep within you, caution in his voice. “What’ve you done.”

You meet his gaze levelly. “What needed to be done.”

Your husband doesn’t answer you before staring straight ahead again, the hallways you all turn becoming less and less populated until you find yourself within black marble halls.

“You work quickly,” Loki chuckles lowly in your ear.

“Enough to keep the title of psychotic sister in law?”

He smirks at you. “Seems so.”

The bouncer stops abruptly in front of a heavily bolted door, and after typing in a code it swings open. You lead the way in, but then hang back to grasp onto Thor’s forearm. He allows you to, but he’s tense and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t respond immediately to your touch.

But the way he angles himself between you and the most powerful mobsters in the room, with the way his fingers flex towards his gun--you know he’s not directly angry at you. 

Sekhmet, Kali and Hecate sit on the opposite side of the room, in a similar set up to the one you infiltrated merely half an hour before. Their faces are nonchalant, but when Sekhemet winks at you, no words can describe the relief and the pure joy that passes through you.

Tony, Steve, & Bucky stand between you and the Wives, and you know you all will fit perfectly.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Tony says cordially, gesturing towards the couches in front of them. Bucky goes off to the side to pour a drink, and Thor’s eyes trail him carefully. “How do you feel about hypotheticals?” 

Loki takes it upon himself to sit first, and you follow, tugging your husband along. Only when you’re both sitting does he reply. 

“I find them fun to indulge in…” He trails off, grasping the glass that Bucky hands him, not even bothering to take a sip before he sets it down.

“Then indulge with us.” Bucky smiles, and within a blink of an eye everyone has guns pulled out on you. 

The tension in the room is palpable, and Thor stands defensively in front of both you and Loki. The latter presses a small knife into your hand, before standing beside his brother. 

“Let’s say you come in here,” Steve smiles, shrugging casually, his grip on his weapon firm. “As an invited guest of the Horsemen. You have the audacity to not drink the wonderful poison Pestilence has poured for you, so things have to get a little messier than intended.”

Tony is the one who continues. “We’re feeling creative, so we shoot you in the kneecaps, to make you helpless. We shoot your wife between the eyes to make it quick. Your brother, however, we make it slow. “ Thor’s whole body clenches tightly. “We get all the information out of him, about your home base, your arsenal, your men--”

“And then we kill him,” Bucky takes it up. “We let you go. You’re no threat, your empire belongs to us, and the most important people in your life are dead.”

“What would you do about it?” Steve finishes.

Thor stays quiet for a really long time. No one takes their eyes off of him, and he takes his time to look Tony, Steve, and Bucky straight in the eye. You wait with baited breath on just exactly he might do, ready to  fight your way out if needed--if he wanted you to.

It’s when he presses his chest directly against the barrel of Tony’s gun that your breath hitches, and you scoot slightly towards him. 

“I’d leave, and thank you for sparing my life,” Thor answers. “A year down the road, I’d have enough physical therapy to start walking again, with a cane most likely. I’d make it a nice one, lightweight but made of vibranium to give it leverage, with the names of who I lost engraved on the stem. Two years down the road, I have all of your whereabouts, your routines, your dealings, your accounts, all under the sole of my shoe.

“Year three, I let you know I’m co ming. But I make it slow. I take out the men around you, so you know I’m on my way, and when I finally get to you?” Thor steps closer, but Tony keeps his gun steady. “I incapacitate you with the head of my cane, just in the right spots of your kneecaps to make it irreversible. I shoot your girls in between the eyes to make it quick, and I kill Rhodey, Sam & Natasha slowly. For them to give me information I already know. When I’m done with them, I kill you all myself, but make sure to watch the life leave your eyes as your blood pools around my feet. The last bullet I’ll leave for myself.”

The standstill is unbearable. Thor’s confessions hang heavily within the air, and it doesn’t dissipate when Tony puts his gun away, the others following suit. 

“Gosh, you’re morbid,” he chuckles. “And three years? Seems a little tedious.”

Everyone goes back to casual stances around the room, but Thor stays clenched in the same spot. Loki looks at him warily, and you notice the way the others see that he hasn’t calmed down.

You get up from your spot on the couch, dragging your hand across the back of his waist leisurely. That simply action causes him to deflate, and he watches you walk over to the Wives, who have a drink ready for you. 

“Personally, I think their smartest plan was getting rid of me,” you declare, and laughs that resonate through the room.

“Getting rid of you? I was the one that they kept around for information,” Loki challenges.

“Mmm, maybe. But obviously they killed the biggest threat first.”

Thor looks at you fondly as everyone laughs again, watching you toast with Sekhmet, Kali & Hecate. 

“As pleasant as this exchange has been,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Is there a reason you brought me here besides to threaten my wife and my brother?”

Kali nudges you on the shoulder, and you take the sign to walk up to him slowly. He presses you into him immediately, and watches as Tony approaches him with a glass of gin. 

When Thor gives it a side glance, he merely rolls his eyes and takes a sip before handing it over. Your husband takes it gladly, but just before he’s about to take a sip, Tony’s words stop him. 

“How do you feel about becoming a Horseman?”

 -----------------

Tags: @angelmashelle​ @fuckinglittlekitten​ @youngdreamer3214​ @rose-bliss​ @amethyst09​ 

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[lochnessies]

ok here’s a dissection of a post an anon sent me the link to and bc i have the worst time management possible and i completely forgot i had it lol so sorry anon here you go ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

I am constantly thinking about how Edelgard just doesn’t seem designed to appeal to cishet men.

i hate to be the one to break this news to you op but just because a character doesn’t show skin like charlotte fire emblem doesn’t mean she isn’t designed to pander to men. she’s very much designed to pander to the (majority straight male) player base with her ‘uwu i only trust you professor omg did u see that rat? pls don’t look at my painting of you uwu’.

then there’s the whole edelgard c support in japanese where byleth makes reference to having come to her room for ‘yobi’ which is

there’s also the scene where byleth can make an unsolicited comment about edelgard’s breast size. which is… uhh… gross.

edelgard also has cipher cards that go from slightly fanserviceie to full on suggestive

and also her breast armor that my sister relentlessly mocked lol

and here’s a chart from the 3h subreddit about gender/sexually in regards to edelgard and edeleth. it’s extremely straight male. op might have just overlooked this since they probably don’t go on reddit and stay on tumblr (which unlike reddit is mostly female and has a high lgbt demographic).

Like the joke is that Bleagles is the Gay House, but everything about her feels deliberately non-hetero.

i don’t like where this is going…

She’s dressed in sharp outfits covering her upper body, with proportions that don’t seem exaggerated.

so women who cover up must be lgbt because straight women are naturally more revealing? oh y i k e s

Her poise and the way she effortlessly flourishes her axe exhibits an air of coolness. While titties out =/= character of no substance, Edelgard being dressed more modestly suggests that she wasn’t designed with male-centred fanservice in mind.

“titties don’t equal no substance but here’s my post on how she has more substance because she doesn’t show titties” ok

And she still looks absolutely stunning in her more modest attire (like seriously, I haven’t felt the need to return to cosplay in years but I want to do her academy look so bad). 

yes she does. amazing design 10/10. i have a feeling this is the only part i’m going to agree with

Edelgard is intense. She does not mince her words and she is constantly evaluating you. Though she tries, she has a difficult time understanding her peers initially. Early on, she talks about how she would sacrifice herself and others in the name of some greater good. She is terrible at communicating with her peers. She has to be seen as infallible. Her heart has been hardened for years and she assumes she has to stay that way. She also assumes everyone mourns the same way she does - which is why she (kind of insensitively) insists you move on when Jeralt dies. Because to her, grief has to be channeled towards action, or else you’ll get lost in it. This attitude is demonstrated time and time again as she presses on. It can make her come off as cold and unfeeling - but look closer, and she’s anything but.

don’t really have anything to say at this part. it is pretty on the nose though i would slightly disagree with that last sentence a bit. i wouldn’t say she’s as i feeling as hubert is but all of her talks of the war boil down to how she feels and never her victims.

Her story is ultimately about her realizing that to achieve her goals, she needs to let people in and allow herself to want things like cakes and tea parties and lazy days in peace. 

????? what ????? her goals include imperialism, ethnic and religious targeting. her story is about having a set of beliefs and mowing down anybody who stands in her way. that has nothing to do with tea, friends, and lazy days. also am i supposed to be sad that she has to get up everyday and work? i do that and i didn’t start a war and only throw a pity party for myself

The game leaves the player guessing as to how involved the Flame Emperor was in each Part I event, makes you feel hurt by her betrayal, and leaves you with a choice: do you follow the orders of the woman who tried to make you a god without your consent, or a young girl with questionable morals about to throw the world into upheaval?

this isn’t an ideal situation but i think i’m going to stick with the woman who tried to make me a god since i’m not selfish and i know it’s not only my desires and life at stake here. plus the green hair slaps ngl

Choosing her of your own volition (not for completionist reasons) requires the basic ability to sympathize with a woman’s pain. It also requires the player to read beyond her unwavering will and dubious methods to get a sense of how deep that pain goes and how the theme of humanity relates to her differently in each route.

i’m not going to touch this since @nilsh13 made a post on it that i’ll link here. i agree with everything he said so to repeat it would be redundant.

The player must be able to see a young woman’s desperate resolve to change the world so it stops exploiting people and ruining lives. They must be able to accept the fact that women can make the same morally wrong and ambivalent decisions that complicated male characters get to make all the time and still be the one to root for.

literally the same reason i love rhea lol her goddess experiments are dubious at best but her reasons are the same you mentioned. i would say that i like this quality in edelgard too if her ending, while bloody, actually ended in a good outcome for fodlan.

This is not unique to LGBT+ people, but this population is likely to understand why Edelgard feels so strongly about why she has to change the system. 

i understand wanting to change a system, i really do. like edelgard, i’m an opinionated bisexual woman (who’s also physically disabled) so yeah i get it. and change can be good but it can also be terrible. even if the church was the boogeyman edelgard treats it as she still replaces it with her own shit regime. so it’s the same circus just with a new conductor.

I don’t think “Edelgard gets undue criticism because she’s a woman” captures the full picture. An important aspect of her treatment by certain parts of the fandom is that she’s a radical woman.

or maybe she does some pretty fucked up shit and it goes unacknowledged in her own route. and yeah she’s radical but in all the worst ways.

Her hatred of the Church and the Crest system resonates way harder with people who have been hurt by institutions that are deeply engrained in our society. 

and what about people who have been hurt by systems where their ‘merit’ didn’t measure up and they were left behind? what about people from nations that experienced imperialism?

Siding with her means siding against the Church - which, while different from real world religious institutions, still invokes language about “sin” and “punishment.

yeah the ‘sins’ and ‘punishments’ are used in relation to attempted murders which i think everybody can agree is a bad thing that needs to be condemned.

Choosing Edelgard will likely hit different if homophobic and transphobic Christians used that rhetoric against you.

it has literally nothing to do with ‘sins’ and ‘punishments’ in regards to being gay or trans. that’s you projecting. especially since the church has 2 canon gay characters and two coded ones.

like i can understand why having a church condemn you can be uncomfortable but i’m begging you to please look at the context of what’s happening.

I’m willing to go out on a limb and say that the reason F/F Edeleth is the more popular iteration of that ship because most people who would choose to S-support Edelgard are LGBT+ themselves. This is not a revelation. To anyone in the community, it’s fairly obvious. 

i was talking to nilish and he said

so yeah… while there is definitely sapphic femleth shippers out there, there’s still a whole lot of weird fetishizing going on from straight men about edelgard.

Crimson Flower was my first route. I went into the game knowing absolutely nothing. I played it during the last week of 2020 and hoo boy was it cathartic. 

i can tell. this wasn’t supposed to be a dig but it came out that way and i’m not taking it out.

I felt like I was living out a gay revolution power fantasy, where I could truly change systems of oppression while fighting alongside a group of troubled students I’d shaped the lives of.

so a gay revolution power fantasy (cringe) goes hand in hand with imperialism and installing a dictatorship? also the war had nothing to do with sexuality.

Through your unwavering support, Edelgard learns that she needs to be human, that she must listen to her friends, and that she’s allowed to enjoy the world she’s creating.

edelgard gets to learn how to be human all while hunting those who don’t. and she doesn’t listen fo her friends. she doesn’t even trust them. she’s willing to talk to byleth but keep the people who’s been by her side for five years in the dark about everything. and yeah she gets to enjoy her new words since she’s on top. hate to be a commoner under her rule after she burned down my village in her war.

I love this character so much.

clearly. and i honestly don’t care if somebody likes her. i do as well even if my sometimes scathing words can make it seem otherwise.

It has been six months since I first played and I am still analyzing her,

me too. please help me escape i’m losing my mind

because there’s so much depth. Yet so many people fail to see that depth and dismiss her as evil,

i mean, she does some fucked up shit that goes beyond any of the less than desirable actions of the other main characters and does an extremely poor job in trying to make herself seem innocent. i personally don’t think she’s pure evil but i completely understand where the people who say she is are coming from.

because they never had the will to understand complicated women in the first place. 

that’s big talk from somebody who implies that a gay pope is comparable to homophobic and transphobic irl religions and that leads an oppressive regime all because she uses the vague terms of sin and punishments that you have to gay power fantasy your way out of

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 1

And, here we go. Chapter 1 of this monstrosity (no pun intended) is now up and running below, on AO3, and on FF.net.

I'm going to be completely and 100% honest with everyone before you start reading, so please heed this warning! This first chapter is rough in the sense where it contains a bit of brutality and the death of a child. So far, this is the only gruesome chapter, and while the gore is NOT detailed, I still want my more sensitive readers to be wary.

This is the most action-packed fic I've ever written, and also the most expansive world I've ever built (in my humble opinion). With that being said, while the setting is a bit more on the historical side, there are plenty of modern references. For instance, not in this chapter but in future ones, a bathroom is just a bathroom. I don't mention plumbing or the lack thereof. My attention and energy was on more important things and I just didn't care about those details, lol. Additionally, a lot of slang, jokes, and references are fairly modern. Don't @ me (but also do). All-in-all, what I'm trying to say is I built my own damn world where there is no historical accuracy, so don't go looking for it, lol.

Unless otherwise stated, I plan to post each new chapter every Friday. So, yeah... I think that's all I've got to say.... have fun! Enjoy! Thank you for reading! Ily! Bon Voyage! Don't hate me!

----------

The responsibility is ours.

Kagome gasped as her feet slid in the mud, the small decline of the path she and her younger brother hurried down gradually becoming more slippery as the rain began to pour harder. Through the noise of the droplets and the sloshing of their boots, she heard a slight commotion; horses’ huffs, heavy feet, and boisterous men barking orders. Initially, she’d figured it was the village men ushering their families indoors, their livestock into barns, their carts and tools under shelter, and their firewood into a dry place as the storm reared its ugly head. The sunset sky was shadowed in gloom, thunder making it’s entrance in the far distance as it was bound to be banging on their doors and windows in no time. But, at the tug of her arm by her sibling, her attention was shifted to the actual cause of it all: Naraku’s henchmen.

“Again?” She shuddered resentfully.

“Third time this month.” Sota confirmed, clenching his jaw as he slightly tugged his sister behind his smaller frame. He was perfectly aware that he was only twelve, well in the know that he stood no taller than her shoulders, but he’d be damned if he did nothing because of it.

This time, there wasn’t a hoard of them. No, there were merely four, all of which were already off of their horses on the main path through their little village, making demands and threatening anyone who got in the way of their objective.

Throughout the last four and a half years since Naraku rose as a fearsome demon that easily brought down peaceful powers and attempted to control the world Kagome knew, she’d become more than familiar with this procedure. It wasn’t until just recently that they’d started coming more often than a monthly visit, though. And, it was no secret what, or who, they were after.

Her.

Anyone of her kind, really.

She was different. She was hunted. Those like her were supposedly powerful, but matters being what they were had caused anyone who shared a similar fate to subdue their abilities to the point of total lack of recognition of their true potential. At least, that’s how it was in most cases. Because, if they were found out, they were killed on sight. The reason for it was entirely unknown. Naraku didn’t just target them, though; he made everyone’s lives hell, especially if they stood out in a supernatural manner. So, while she figured there had to be a yet-to-be-identified reason, she felt it was safe to assume it was also just because he could. Maybe he didn’t like the threat of other, similar forces that could collide against him. Maybe he was egotistical enough to think he was the only deserving being. Whatever the case, he was cruel.

Kagome’s kind had several names through the decades - so many, she hardly knew the correct term for herself. At one point, ages ago, they were called banshees. The title didn’t make sense whatsoever, given their powers and what a banshee actually was, and the story was so old that she didn’t know where the justification even stemmed from, but it caused them to be feared, and for that, she honestly wouldn’t have totally minded if the name stuck around. They were called priestesses, but then it sounded too peaceful, too practiced, and it painted them as “good.” They were called witches, mages, sorceresses, but they committed no typical magic of that sort. Kagome didn’t know a single spell, nor did she have nearly enough time in the day to pack an array of herbs, spices, and what have you into jars that were sealed with candle wax - though she had caught wind that there were some older women of her kind with the ability to curse. Now, they were called conjurers. Their abilities were that of the spirit, aiding with protection, purifying dark forces - passively or forcefully, bringing forth light, and more she was sure.

In Kagome’s unpopular opinion, given what they could do and what they supposedly stood for, priestess was more suitable a term, but she also understood that there was nothing holy about the world they lived in.

There was no birthmark of the conjurer. There was no dead giveaway of their kind. The powers were gifted at random, as far as she knew, not passed down through lineage. The only thing Naraku and his followers seemingly had to go off of was that conjurers were born female.

Sometimes, they’d conduct their mission by way of senseless inspections. They’d rip apart the insides of homes looking for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. Truthfully, with how absurd they carried themselves, it was obvious they didn’t know the telltale signs they were looking for and were wasting their time. Which was what made it clear that for them to be so clueless, even Naraku didn’t know all there was that made up a conjurer. They were ignorant and they were blind, but they were also relentless and ruthless.

The days where they singled women out were the worst. Kagome, so far, was spared that cruelty, but that didn’t make it any better. It was usually the more mature, the elderly, that received the short end of the stick.

More often than anything, they’d line up every woman and girl in town and go down the rows one-by-one, stimulating their nerves in one way or another to see if they could get a “conjurer’s reaction.” Kagome could only guess that meant a sudden surge of purification power. It was the main trait conjurers were known for; but they were going about it wrong. Screaming in their faces, threatening everyone, or jostling them around a bit wasn’t going to get the demons purified, no matter how much she wanted to toss something their way. Of course, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell them that.

Every so often, they’d come in a pack and create havoc with violence. They said it was their way to pressure people into giving up any information they might have, but in all honesty, the smiles some of the brute demons wore said they were bored and simply wanted a little entertainment. Apparently, screaming and pleading were equivalent to a musical number in their bloodlust eyes.

Their own little group of demon slayers that resided in the village helped prevent this from happening when they could, which was why the henchmen came in numbers. The demon slayers fought for a sense of control, not to kill. They would only allow so much, but belligerent violence was not an option. It was obvious that, as of late, their village was a targeted spot, one that got a little more attention than neighboring towns, and for what reason, no one knew. They didn’t have the fighting power to win that sort of fight, though, and the leader of the group of slayers was sensible enough to understand this and explain it to the masses that questioned them. They were made up of a handful of men with rigorous combat skills they didn’t learn from home, refused to take recruits below a certain age, and could only train so many at a time. As much as they’d all love to retaliate and end things for good, intuition was telling them not to in that manner. Even Kagome felt that. Deep in her gut, she knew that even if they could, killing them would only put the people of the village in a worse position. This wasn’t something that would stop by taking out the underlings. Not at all. Far from it. Anyone who was paying attention could see that they’d need to exterminate the head honcho in order for any positive difference to be made.

Unfortunately for them this time around, their little pack of demon slayers had left on a request to take care of a troublesome demon a little ways off just that morning. And, listening to the henchmen now, seeing them in their dark leather, their cloaks, feeling their dangerous energies wafting through the streets of their little town, Kagome could tell that they were going to do whatever they wanted tonight, despite the fact that it was just the four of them. It wouldn’t be horrible, and would most likely be a lineup, but they were definitely going to take their sweet time and see who they could break.

“There’s still time. They haven’t noticed you. We can hide you.” Her younger brother said, his tone more on the convicted side as opposed to suggestive. He should have known she wouldn’t have gone for it, though. So long as every other woman and girl had to stand in front of their villainous promises and vile breath, so long as her mother had to keep a straight face, Kagome would always stand there with them. She’d made a promise to her brother, her older cousin, and especially her mom that she’d never willingly out herself for no reason, but she just couldn’t bring herself to hide when everyone else had to stand through their harassment. She swore that if the demons were ever convinced an innocent was a conjurer, that was the reason to give herself over.

Never would Kagome allow another to mistakenly go down in her stead.

No one but her family knew of her powers, and until necessary, it would stay that way. According to her cousin, the more people that knew, the increased danger she was in.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She shook her head, minding her steps through the small slope of mud as she gently pulled her arm out of Sota’s grip.

“Miroku would say the same thing if he were with us.” He argued.

“Yeah, well he’s not. In fact, he’s probably getting himself into trouble by picking a fight with one of those goons.”

“Kagome, I have a bad feeling about this. Come on, just listen for once.”

“Okay,” She stopped, turning around to challenge his look. “Say something bad is going to happen. Knowing these assholes, you really think my absence will stop that?”

“No, but -“

“Right. They’re going to do something no matter what, correct?”

“Kagome -“

“And then what?”

“And then they’re wrong, but they didn’t get you.”

“How is that fair to the person they might hurt?”

“That person isn’t my sister.”

“What if it’s mom?”

Sota’s eyes slighted to the side, a heated huff leaving his lips just before he begrudgingly sealed them. His jaw clenched minutely as his head gave a little shake, brown eyes once more meeting his sibling’s. “Miroku and I will protect her.”

Kagome gave a fed up smile, sighing, rolling her eyes, and turning back on her heel to continue toward the main path. Families came out of their homes dressed in cloaks as they prepared to, once more, be harassed until Naraku’s men exhausted themselves, husbands and male relatives holding resentful expressions as they guarded their female family members until they couldn’t any longer.

“Kagome!”

“Sota, quit it. The louder you are, the more suspicious we become.” She quietly warned. Kagome heard her brother’s aggravated grumble before he jogged forward to catch up, his demeanor holding much like every other male in the village.

No one’s feet rushed toward the excitement. The tension of the town was up so dramatically that Kagome could physically feel the crushing weight of it all, the anxiety as they made their way closer to their disgusting visitors was causing her stomach to bubble and waver, and her throat constricted nervously as she and Sota finally met up with the crowd, her brown eyes scouring over shoulders to scout out her family. Sota’s hand encircled her wrist firmly, tugging her to the right as he found them and guided her over. Miroku stood tall in front of their mother, brows noticeably creased and indigo eyes straight ahead until he’d caught their movement in his peripheral vision. Immediately, his posture squared further, as if enlarging his shoulders so that he’d be able to successfully hide both Kagome and his aunt behind his frame. Her mother held out her hand for Kagome to take as soon as they were close enough, a peaceful smile unsurprisingly gracing her lips while she pulled her in, shoulder-to-shoulder. Somehow, no matter the circumstances, she always did her best to calm Kagome’s nerves with the simplest of sweet gestures. Sota took his spot before them, influenced by Miroku’s stature as he replicated it.

Allowing herself a brief moment, Kagome bowed her head further, bracing it on her older cousin’s shoulder. She shut her eyes, inhaling slowly, deeply, attempting to release her trepidation with a long and heated exhale before composing herself and straightening out.

“- But this is too much! Why the hell are you back again!? There’s no conjurer in our village! Don’t you fucking get that by now!?” A man shouted, livid, and it was evident she and her brother had missed the beginning of the argument playing out in the center of the uneven circle created by people.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” One of Naraku’s men yelled back.

“Not until you tell us why you’re back for the third time!”

“Would you rather we made ourselves at home!?” Silence from the opposing man answered his question clearly. “That’s what I fucking thought.” He spewed, and Kagome could hear the spittle fly out as he cursed. His attention returned to the general public, his tone shifting from vicious to gruff as he made his command. “Only girls ranging from ages five to twenty, line up! Now!”

Increased unsettlement coursed through the crowd, mothers and fathers clinging to their young daughters, little girls’ fearful whimpers polluting the air as they hid their faces in their parents’ legs, and even Kagome’s own mother’s hand tightened her grip as a breathy gasp left her lips - understanding that this meant her eighteen year old daughter was being sent into the fire without her. They were narrowing down, slimming the numbers, and the small smiles on the villains’ faces made Kagome assume that something last time may have tipped them off to lessen the demographic.

“What do I do?” Kagome whispered to her cousin, failing in her attempt to hide the sudden panic striking her.

“Nothing. You do nothing.” He urged quietly, shifting his head to look into his younger relative’s eyes. “Listen, Kagome, treat this like routine -“

“This isn’t routine.”

“Treat it like it is. Keep your head down.”

“If they -“

“No.”

“But, they’ll -“

“Kagome, no. You made us a promise.” Miroku reminded firmly, knowing exactly where her mind was traveling. In the case of an incident, which there seemed to be a higher chance of this time around, she may need to intercede.

She took a deep breath, straightening her face as much as possible so Naraku’s men wouldn’t grow suspicious as they impatiently yelled again for the girls to gather before them. “If this means they suspect something -“

“It may just be a tactic they’re using. For all we know, they have nothing and could leave here with the same. So, treat it like routine. Okay?”

“Promise.” Sota insisted during Kagome’s silence. The mens’ barking got louder, more demanding, as did the crying of little girls being pulled away from their parents. With the building weight in her chest, like a liquid filling her lungs quickly, the density making it almost impossible to take full breaths of air or move without falling forward, all she could muster was a meager nod before forcing herself to walk out. Miroku and Sota both leaned to opposite sides to part their shoulders for her to move through, her mother’s soft hand still lightly holding her own until she was far enough for their fingers to slide away from each other’s.

At most, there were about twenty girls in that age range to offer, and Kagome’s brown eyes drifted over the uneven row of heads as she approached, finding her friend in the mix trying to calm the little girl beside her. Sango glanced her way, as if feeling Kagome’s eyes on her, giving an apprehensive grin and waving her over.

“Ready?” Kagome asked, though it was completely rhetorical. It was just habit for these things. It was unavoidable, unexpected, and overall, impossible to be ready for. But, when they bounced the question off of each other, it was like one final reminder to stone.

Sango knew. Sango and her family were the one exception to the familial rule. She was Kagome’s closest friend and Miroku’s significant other. She was more than trustworthy. And, more importantly, had known since Kagome accidentally found out, herself, as a kid. Because, that’s how it was being a conjurer. You weren’t born knowing. You didn’t have an outward appearance that proclaimed your status much like demons did. It was always an accidental happenstance; in her case where she put a little too much oomph into her bow and arrow lessons and purified the evil - and life - right out of a passing crow demon after missing her target.

She remembered the feeling of total surprise, then tremendous fear because she thought she’d be in a lot of trouble. Kagome had literally thrown her bow to the ground like the thing, itself, was the culprit of the power. Miroku was gawking, Sango was covering her mouth with both hands, and their dad’s shared an identical, tight-lipped expression. Her papa was motionless for an overwhelmingly-tense sixty seconds before shifting his wide, curious eyes to her.

“Did you know you could do that?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, daddy.” Kagome innocently answered, but she could feel the red, hot heat in her face from her lie. She was awful at those when it came to the people she was close to. Still was to this day. Give her a stranger and she could keep it straight, but in the face of friends and family, she cracked almost too easily. It was a guilt thing.

But then he’d laughed, ruffling his little girl’s hair before reassuring her that it was okay. He said they’d just have to go about her training a little differently from that point on to make sure accidents like that didn’t keep happening, and it was only because of him, his adventurism, his accessibility to knowledge from his travels, that she even discovered what she was in the first place.

Back then, though it wasn’t quite as dangerous to exist as a conjurer, her papa had still suggested they keep her abilities under wraps. She distinctly remembered binding that with a pinky promise after Sango’s dad had a private discussion with her own. Maybe it was because Sango’s dad was even more educated with the world, and knew the potential hardships that could come her way, being the leader of the demon slayers that he was - and still is. Honestly, the reasoning was hard to determine now because she didn’t put much thought into it when she could and should have. Being the young, spunky, loyal girl that she was, if her dad wanted her to keep a secret and held out his pinky to her, that was all the reason Kagome needed, and nothing pleased her more than making her papa proud. And, when he and her uncle were fatally wounded in a demon attack on their village, even though Naraku’s name had never once yet been muttered near her ears, he still made her do one final pinky promise to him saying, “Protect yourself for me, my little bird. Keep it in its cage. I love you so much, Kagome.”

She wasn’t even a teenager when that had happened. There was a part of her that wondered here and there if he was secretly clairvoyant, or if he merely studied the patterns throughout history of people of her kind and wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and make her life as easy as possible, given the reputation they had, their ever-changing titles, and the ignorance others had of their nature. If only he knew where she was now. Would he still ask his little bird to stay in the cage while the door was wide open?

“Ready. You?” Sango returned, standing straight and allowing the little girl to cling to her leg.

“Ready.” Kagome breathed.

Those not lined up hesitantly backed away, creating space and growing agonizingly silent as they seemingly held their breaths for those that were chosen. Kagome hated when they did that. It was like she could physically feel the onlookers’ anxiety, and it was the last thing she needed on top of that of those actually subjected and her own.

The four men walked back and forth, up and down the two rows of girls, criminal eyes taunting them with silent threats and menacing grins. It was creepy, but no longer was it fear-inducing. Kagome had a bad habit of not shying away anymore. Sure, she was nervous beyond belief, but the last thing she was afraid of were their snarls, scarred and dirty flesh, and crooked teeth. That, of all things, was the least intimidating factor for those who were calloused to the routine.

But, when an abrupt instruction was given by the leader, her already-loose expectations of “routine” fell apart completely.

“Hold out your left hands, palms up!”

Confusion soared through every individual, and Kagome met Sango’s brief side glance, minutely comforted by the fact that she wasn’t the only one without a clue as to what was going on. Questions weren’t allowed though, and even the little ones were well aware of that, so as the small group of men demanded everyone shut up and do it, all outward bafflement dissipated.

Slowly, Kagome raised her left palm, her arm outstretched, swallowing as she willed the slight trembling to cease. Brown eyes searched quickly as she waited for whatever to begin, weeding through the crowd and finding Miroku already pinning her with a stare. It was wary, but hard, his jaw visibly tense.

The sound of an unsheathing blade was unmistakable, and immediately Kagome’s attention bounced to her left where the leader danced the grip of a knife in his fingers, his lips curved downward into a permanent frown. The first girl in line couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, noticeably shaking as her anxious stare bounced from the man to the blade.

A man in the crowd began shouting, stirring, pushing forward through the heap of villagers to reach the forefront, “Hey! No! What are you going to do!? That’s my daughter; what are you going to do!? Don’t you dare touch -“ Abruptly silenced by a defensive elbow to the diaphragm, gifted by an all-too-fast demon.

The young teenager shuddered, not sure what to worry about first as the leader gave her no moment to react, grabbed her hand, extended it further, and gave a small slice with the tip of his knife to the center of her palm. She winced, a whimper easily escaping her mouth from the sharp pain, tears leaking from her eyes quicker than the blood that seeped from her laceration. And then he grabbed her hand in his, sealing their palms together as he stared her in the eyes for a moment. She was utterly terrified, wanting to pull away while knowing she shouldn’t, but as nothing else happened, the man released her, murmuring to stay in line as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his blade, his hand, then moved onto the next.

Kagome’s attention snapped back to Miroku as it dawned on her, his eyes holding the same idea as he gave a steady but stern shake of his head in retort. They were looking for the untrained conjurers. The conjurers who weren’t skilled in holding back. Everyone was already scared, and the wound inflicted a heightened sense of fight-or-flight. Then their hands gripping the victims’ - their demon hands against the victims’… they were working to spark a purification reaction, and they were going about it right this time. It wouldn’t be strong enough to kill them, nothing that small or unsuspecting would be, but it would hurt - much like the notorious fairytale of a vampire taking a quick step into the sunlight before swiftly turning around and heading back inside. And, that was all they needed.

Unbeknownst to everyone but Sango and Miroku, Kagome wasn’t completely helpless. Not only was she well-versed in subduing her powers, but alternatively speaking, she could knock a guy completely on his ass. She’d practiced. She’d practiced for hours at a time for several years now to see what she could do, what sort of strength she possessed, all on the far outskirts of the village, hiding near caves with only her friend and cousin who'd agreed, despite promises and secrets, that they all should try to be prepared for anything. By no means was she an expert, but she could handle her own for the most part and a situation like this was something she’d been well-conditioned for, for quite some time now.

Especially since she’d first received that message in a dream.

The responsibility is ours.

Whatever it meant, no matter how bleak it felt, it was a no-brainer that Kagome couldn’t go on without some sort of knowledge of her own potential.

She took a shallow breath, diverting her gaze to the goon before her as he happily took out his own blade, the other two following suit as they set out to narrow the time this was going to take. He stepped forward, grasping the wrist of the frightened and resistant girl beside Sango, who Sango had to hush into calming, telling her it would be done quickly. When nothing gratifying came from the occurrence, the man moved on to Sango, pinning her with a glare that she challenged right back. She hardly flinched at the slice of her skin, brown eyes never leaving the demonic ones of her assailant. When she shrugged a brow as he clasped their hands together, Kagome could practically see the heat rising in the man’s body language, quickly fuming from how audacious Sango was acting - which Kagome couldn’t help but respect, not knowing if the chuckle she forcefully swallowed was one of matched humor or nervousness.

The man threw Sango’s hand to the side, merely wiping her blood from his palm and blade on his pants before vehemently grabbing Kagome’s and extending her arm completely, bringing an inadvertent gasp to escape her throat. As the tip of his knife pierced her palm, dragging slowly to create a burning gash - one larger than Sango’s, so she suspected her nonchalant pass of amusement wasn’t as admissible as she’d thought - Kagome couldn’t stop the hiss that slid off her tongue, her brows creasing and jaw dropping as crimson dripped from her hand to the mud. With a clap, he pressed his palm to hers, fingers squeezing her small hand with unmitigated pressure. She felt a flurry in her abdomen, her diaphragm, her chest, warmth that drove her power, and that was her cue to hold her breath, to pretend everything was fine, to tell herself she was safe and trick her mind when she really wasn’t. She pretended she was holding Sota’s hand - the first person that came to mind, and the least intimidating one that she knew. Sota as an adult whose hand was finally bigger than hers. She couldn’t help but feel this was a huge insult to her younger brother, so she subconsciously apologized as she continued her visualization. It was like a lump built in her throat, the kind that grew too difficult to swallow, but she also felt completely in control, returning the man’s stare before he dropped her hand and moved onto the girl beside her.

“Shh,” Sango gently hushed the small child. “Everything’s fine now, but you have to stay quiet. Give me your hand.”

Kagome slowly let out her captive breath, the air she sucked in to replace it cold and not the least bit comforting despite the danger she’d evaded. She kept her palm face up but closer to her heart, cradling it for a moment as she tried to ignore the searing pain, diverting her attention to Sango and the kid. Her best friend was already looking up at her, using the long sleeve of her shirt to clean the blood from the girl’s hand and apply pressure so it’d stop bleeding, never minding the bleeding of her own palm. Thankfully, it only looked to be a little knick, and Kagome wondered if the creep of a demon that had handled them secretly had a soft spot for children.

“You okay?” Sango silently mouthed to Kagome. She nodded in reply, picking up the bottom hem of her own shirt and pressing it to her wound.

A sudden, deep, and broken yell punched through the air as one of the demons stumbled away, his hand yanked back, fingers furled in offense, and face twisted in rage. A little girl shrieked as he lunged forward, grabbing her by the collar of her cloak and pulling her out of the line, her feet stumbling to keep up as she cried apology after apology.

No. Conjurers weren’t common; now more than ever. How could there be two in one village? Especially one as small as theirs? How could there be more than one not even miles apart? How did Kagome not know? Didn’t conjurers have the ability to sense one another? She’d only assumed that was the case because of the seemingly-prophetic dreams she’d been having; because of the woman that had been coming to her in those very dreams. It was a weak hypothesis to go off of, but it was the only answer that made sense to Kagome. But, now there was a child being dragged into the center of where the town congregated, begging and pleading for her life while her mother screamed from the sidelines where she was being held at bay, and Kagome was none the wiser to her existence.

She wanted to yell that they were wrong, but how could they have been? It was a physical test. The accidental reaction of her powers was a dead giveaway. They couldn’t even lie their way out of this, or pretend the allegation was false. She was a conjurer. And they were about to kill her.

Kagome’s heart twisted and bunched painfully, that hard lump once more building in her throat, a murmured, “no,” barely leaving her parted lips, and her brown eyes caught a pleased grin on the approaching leader’s face that, just moments ago, seemed stuck in a scowl. He twirled his dagger in his fingers before kneeling down in front of the weeping girl.

“Found you.” He snickered, plunging the blade into her abdomen.

“No!” Kagome gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth in shock. The village was alight with terror, screams, cries, the rumble of defeat, the wailing of a grieving mother striking over all other sounds. Still, she was withheld from her little girl, reaching for her over the shoulder of the unforgiving demon who kept her away.

The knife was yanked free of the girl’s gut and she fell to her knees, her hands braced before her stomach as crimson crawled out, staining the front of her rain-soaked dress. Small hands weakly pressed into her abdomen, the wide look of horror, of pain, of fear etched into every inch of her expression as she gasped tremblingly. All too easily, the leader stood and walked away, not an ounce of remorse displayed.

“She was… she was just a kid.” A sympathetic village man stated morosely. “She wasn’t even ten yet.”

“She wasn’t dangerous!” Another testified.

“Would you like to be next?” A demon threatened, thinking his raised voice would retain order.

Kagome could hardly breathe, tears burning and brimming at her lower lid. All she could think to do was try to stop the bleeding, try to save the child, her feet moving on their own accord as she rushed out of line. Beyond the anger building in the crowd, the yelling growing louder, and the intense disturbance increasing rapidly and overwhelmingly, Kagome heard her name called multiple times. But, she couldn’t bring herself to listen, to stop, as she skidded to her knees in the mud, her arms catching the little girl as she fell forward. Her mother was finally freed, racing over and falling to the ground at her child’s side, helping through her weeping to lay her on her back.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.” She soothed as best as she could, hovering over her daughter's face so the rain wouldn’t hit it, shaking fingers pushing sopping hair from her cheeks.

Kagome grabbed the length from the girl’s cloak that stuck out on her side, bunching it and pressing firmly into the wound. The choked gasp that came from the kid was agonizing, and Kagome apologized profusely, blinking away her own tears as she whipped her head around to take in the rousing group of people, fury evident in their tones, in their bodies, as they returned threats with the offending demons.

“Where’s the doctor!?” Kagome asked as loudly as she could, her soaked, dark hair whipping her in the face as she spun her head around to try and find their town's self-proclaimed physician. “Help! We need help!”

“He isn’t here; he left for herbs yesterday.” Sango informed as she dropped down beside Kagome.

“And he still isn’t back!?”

“The storm must have delayed him.” Sango shook her head in response, her brows creased together as she glanced over her shoulder to quickly mind the budding commotion before turning her worried expression back toward the crying child. “What can I do? How can I help?”

“I don’t - I don’t know.” Kagome stammered, her breathing growing heavier as she panicked, noticing the blood was barely halting, the stain in the girl’s dress expanding and absorbing through the cloth she pressed against the wound.

“Apply pressure!” Miroku instructed when he slid to his knees in the mud on their opposite side, careful of the girl’s mother.

“I am!” Kagome cried.

“Stay with me, baby! Stay with me! I’m right here, look at me!” The woman coo’d, sniffling and gasping with her tremors while the comforting smile never left her lips.

“Hey! Leave her! Let her die, or we’ll kill you too!” One of the vile men demanded, though his shouts went ignored, easily drowned out by the encroaching, enraged men who finally appeared fueled enough to physically challenge them. Kagome could only hope they’d hold the demons back so they’d have the chance to save her.

“Here, let me see!” Miroku pushed Kagome’s shaking hands away, pulling aside the cloth of the cloak to take a peek at the wound in her stomach. Kagome had to look away then, the sight of the thick blood seeping through too much to handle. Instead, she focused her attention on the little girl, crawling up to hold her cold, bleeding hand.

Scared, pained, blue eyes focused on Kagome as she took shuddering breaths, her chest convulsing slightly as her small voice broke with her cries. Little fingers softly gripped her hand in return, and the tiniest of smiles curved her lips upward, light beginning to dim from her irises.

“Miroku!” Kagome urged. She glanced back at him and noticed the hopeless expression on his face. One that claimed there was nothing anyone could do. Her heart dropped, a nauseating weight filling her stomach. Quickly, she turned back to the little girl, leaning an inch closer. “Kikyo and the other conjurers, they’re gonna win, okay? We’re gonna win. I promise.”

“Who’s…”

“You! What did you just say!?” Heavy steps sloshed in the mud toward them, his voice low, growling, dangerous.

Kagome had spoken up to be sure the girl had heard her over the yelling, but she hadn’t realized that it could have been heard by anyone else. She didn’t think about the ramifications. She didn’t think. She’d just wanted to fill the child with some form of final hope. What was wrong with that? Was it the fact that she’d said Naraku would fall?

She’d hardly had enough time to turn and react before she was grabbed by the hair and lifted to her feet, yelping as she was dragged back and away.

“You mentioned Kikyo!” He exclaimed, giving a forceful yank as Kagome loudly gasped from her constant stumbling, the pain on her scalp, the fear racing through her. In the thick of it, she’d forgotten Kikyo wasn’t a person who was widely known. She’d forgotten Kikyo was a secret beacon of hope to the surviving conjurers, who appeared in dreams and spoke in riddles.

“No!” Was all she could manage to reply, screamed brokenly, heard clearly throughout the number of villagers around as the action died down and all attention was on them.

“How do you know her!?”

She yelped again, forcefully pulled backward and released to only trip and fall over some tools.

“Tell me, wench!” He demanded, picking Kagome up by her throat and slamming her back against the wall of a home.

“I don’t!” She adamantly swore, still able to speak. His grip was there, but not choking.

“Liar!” He said, slapping her hard across the face. “How do you know Kikyo!?”

“I heard of her in passing!” Kagome cried, wincing from the sting before she was forced to look at him again.

“I find that hard to believe.” He growled, inching closer to her face. His hold on her throat tightened, cutting off air, thick fingers pinching painfully into the sides of her neck. “Where is she?”

“I - I don’t know.” She sputtered, wheezed, her tears hot as they glided down her face. The rain was nothing but a drizzle now, though the distant sound of thunder roared angrily. She was both cold and hot, her lungs begging for air as his hand pushed further against her windpipe.

“Stop it! Let her go!” Miroku barked, and his presence was just enough to distract Naraku’s henchman and cause him to release some tension from her throat. Kagome greedily sucked in as much air as she could, though he still constricted his fingers against her. It was like breathing through a straw.

Her cousin stood there, dark hair sticking to his temples, bloodied hands braced before him as if to reason. “She doesn’t know anything; she just told you!”

“Oh, another tough guy?” A demon behind him chuckled. “A little scrawny for that, don’t you think?”

“You have me wrong, I don’t want to fight. Release my cousin, and we’ll back away peacefully. She meant no harm.”

“The harm was done when she stepped out of place to save the girl!”

“She was a child!”

“She’s a conjurer! She has no place in this world!”

“She did! She did have a place in this world, and we all know it!”

“You best shut the fuck up, boy.” The leader said from the sidelines. “Word may carry that you’re on their side. Now, you wouldn’t want that. Would you?”

“Tell him to let go of her.” Miroku sternly ordered.

“Back off.”

“Let her go!”

“Suit yourself. Have some fun.” Their leader flicked a finger at the two other demons, allowing them to do as they pleased.

Miroku hissed a low, “Fuck,” before dodging a hit from one of the two demons enclosing in on him. He was able to throw one of his own, nailing an ugly bastard in the face before he was grabbed from behind, bulky arms wrapping under and over his shoulders to hold him in place. The other demon was eager while he arrogantly approached in front of him, smiling as he punched Miroku in the stomach.

“Stop! Miroku!” Kagome squirmed against her own offender’s grasp, her instincts beginning to kick in as she felt a wild sensation build in her veins. Something righteous whispered the power she held in her ear, told her to use her abilities to save her cousin, further fueling the heat that made her forget about the nip in the air.

“Kagome, don’t!” Miroku coughed, pinning her with his indigo gaze before his eyes pinched shut from a swift hit to his diaphragm, blood dribbling over his bottom lip and down his chin.

Control sucked Kagome back to the present, the earnest crackle of Miroku’s voice ringing in her ears and overpowering the one that told her to fight. The grip against her throat tightened again, closing off her air passage as red eyes turned back to her, the lines of his frown deep.

“Don’t, what?”

Kagome wasn’t sure if he actually expected an answer or not, but he’d made it physically impossible. She clawed her nails along the thick skin of his large hand, trying to pry him away so she could breathe. It was dire that she didn’t use her powers; she understood this. But, as the adrenaline raced violently through her body, it was growing increasingly harder to keep it subdued. She’d be killed in a heartbeat; she’d already witnessed their unforgiving lack of hesitation. Her mother and younger brother would have to watch. Her cousin, too. She’d promised everyone she would protect herself, and she'd promised herself that she would protect them. Above all that, a different, deeper, more rational voice spoke to her, drowning out the one that told her to take action just a moment ago, telling her that her fight was meant for somewhere else. Something bigger. She could practically feel the breath hitting her ear, urging her of the importance. It told her to swallow it, hold it at bay, keep it buried no matter how badly it burned for release at the underside of her flesh. Keep it in its cage.

Finally, the demon released his tight hold on her neck, opting to firmly grip the front of her shirt. His upper lip twitched in disdain while Kagome sputtered, and coughed, and gasped for air to fill her lungs.

“Don’t, what?” Naraku’s henchman repeated, this time a little lighter, and it was impossible to miss that he was visibly analyzing for any sort of body language that could tip him off.

“Fight.” Kagome attempted to say, though her voice came out incredibly raspy and broken.

“Like I’d be worried about what a girl as small as you could possibly do to me. Unless,” He cocked a brow. “I’d have a reason to worry. Unless, you’re a conjurer.”

She shook her head, scared to look away from him, hyperaware of any movement she made in that moment. She was absolutely terrified of letting him know she was lying, but what if her stiffness was what told him the truth? What if the vehemence behind her objection was exactly what he needed to convict her? Where was the happy medium? Was there one? Kagome’s bottom lip quivered, resisting the impulse to glance Miroku’s way when he continuously coughed, the sound slightly gurgled, scared the shift in her eyes would be mistaken for something else.

“How else would you know who Kikyo is?”

“I - I h-heard of her in p-passing.” Kagome said, still unable to use her voice, and she wondered if the strangulation was enough to damage her vocal cords or if her anxiety was the cause of it. “I-In a nearby town. By - by the r-river.”

The demon yanked her forward and slammed her back against the wall, the back of her head smacking the wood painfully. “Are you a fucking conjurer, wench!?”

“No!” Kagome wheezed, releasing her own hold on his fist to emphatically present the blunt cut on her palm to him before she repeatedly smacked it against his forearm, smearing hers and the little girl’s blood, showing him the exact reaction - or lack thereof - they were looking for in coming today in the first place.

“Let - let her go.” Miroku was on his knees, breathing impaired, holding his side with one hand while the other braced his weight in the mud. “She’s not a conjurer. She’s not. She can hardly even hunt. I have to take her everywhere. There’s no way anyone that knows her would believe she’s one of them.”

“Being a conjurer doesn’t have anything to do with hunting, boy!” One of them spit.

“Well, how the hell would anyone know!?” Sango shouted from the side, still seated on her knees beside the child. Her cheeks were flushed furiously, and her hands were held out inches from her chest, palms up, covered in blood that she was afraid would never wash off. Their attempts were in vain and the mother wept, clinging to her little girl, her face buried in her daughter’s still chest. “Conjurers are practically going extinct; you’re all winning! We don’t know what they can do! They probably don’t know what they can do! Conjurers either have to hide to save their lives, or they don’t even know they are one yet!”

For a brief second, Kagome allowed herself to glance beyond Sango’s head, finding her family. Her mother’s hands were cupped in front of her mouth, trembling as she never removed her eyes from her daughter. Her brow was creased deeply, concern etched so thick you’d think an artist may have been too heavy with their pen. Kagome couldn’t tell if her mom was breathing slowly, or if she was holding her breath. She couldn’t tell if her mom was saying a silent prayer, or if words could barely form in her mind as she had no choice but to watch the scene unfold. Her mother had to witness a daughter torn away from another; a daughter who held the same, supernatural fate as her own. Kagome could only imagine the stress that currently laced her mom’s system.

Before her stood both her brother and Sango’s, Sota bearing a wide expression, neck tense and lips parted uncertainly, and Kohaku wearing a more cautious grimace, watching apprehensively. Knowing her onlookers were nervous, worried, should have been the very thing to cause Kagome to proceed carefully, but instead it served as the switch that flicked on in her head. She was tired of living like this, done with the dreadful thought that this was their normal. This wasn’t going to continue.

She’d been waiting for a sign, waiting for her cue. Bags were packed and weapons were stored in a hiding place where they’d been training outside of the village. Miroku, Sango, and she had discussed a while ago that they were going to eventually leave together and find the called-upon conjurers, and join Kikyo to fight against Naraku. It was their - the conjurers’ - responsibility. As much as she wanted to know why, pleaded with the apparition of this seemingly all-powerful conjurer time and time again for an answer, at this point it was no longer deemed necessary. Not anymore. Kagome figured she’d hear this magical invitation telling her when and where - which was farfetched but a fair assumption given she barely had anything to go off of. She even thought she might have to wait a while longer until she was stronger, more trained in her capabilities, before Kikyo gave her some form of clear signal instead of these ominous, detail-lacking prophecies in her subconscience that she was currently getting every other night. But now a tick in her core, an itch in her chest, a steady deepening in her resolve told her the time was now. Screw waiting, screw messages, screw rolling over, screw self-pity, and screw Naraku. If he wanted a fight, if this was his initiation all along, his declaration of war, then he was finally going to get one.

“If that’s the case, bitch, then what were you telling the girl?” The demon holding her collar jerked her slightly to demand her attention, receiving it with vexation.

“I,” Kagome took as stable a breath as she could, her throat aching and voice pathetically weak, clearly evident now that it was due to the ruthless strangling she’d received. “I told her Kikyo would kill Naraku.”

“And, why the fuck would you say that?” He asked, almost surprised at her bold statement.

“I wanted her to go with hope, not fear.”

He guffawed, his chest pumping. “You don’t actually believe that!”

Without hesitation, as straight as she could manage while she halted his laughter, Kagome replied, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His smile faded quickly, humor replaced with anger as his fists bunched tighter and he heatedly pulled Kagome away from the wall and threw her to the floor. Kagome landed on her front, quickly pressing herself to her hands and knees just before he pushed her belly down, her wrists sliding and giving out so the side of her face planted in the mud.

“Kagome -“ Her cousin called, stumblingly crawling her way before another demon kicked him in the side he’d been clutching, a tiny crunch being heard just as Miroku choked in pain.

“Miroku, stop! I’m fine!” She attempted to say clearly, a foot braced on her back.

“Enough.” The leader stated. “Everyone back in line. We haven’t finished yet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” A man asked disbelievingly. “You don’t think you’ve done enough damage already!? Get the fuck out!”

“Yeah, get out of here!” Other villagers began to call out, joining in. “You aren’t welcome here! You’re only taking advantage because our demon slayers are gone!”

“You think that matters?” The leader chuckled. “Go ahead. Revolt. Fight back. Make us leave. See how quickly your entire village will be wasted the next time around. You see four of us and think you stand a chance. You see a large group of us and think you’re safe because you’ve got a little pack of demon slayers protecting you. Funny, that’s never stopped our inspections before, so I don’t see why you think that’d stop us now. Either way, not a single one of you would be left alive if we brought a fraction of the wild demons under Naraku’s control, and he wouldn’t bat an eye if we borrowed them to kill you all. In fact, that’s already in the plan if we don’t check in. You kill us all, congratulations, but you’ll be worse off. Compared to him, we’re the most compassionate monsters you’ll ever meet, and I suggest you learn to appreciate that. Now, get your girls back in line.”

“It’s okay, papa.” An older girl spoke. Kagome couldn’t see from where she lay, but she recognized the seventeen year-old’s voice. Ayumi. She was soft-spoken normally, but also fairly brave and kind. The only child of a widowed father, and a girl, like the rest of them, forced to grow up too soon.

Ayumi walked forward, having backed away from the rowdiness with the majority of the girls who hadn’t run back to the safety of their parents. Notching her chin upward, she raised her left palm, “Let them finish. They won’t seem so big forever.”

“Bold girl.” The demon complimented.

“Yeah. The more I find myself hoping the conjurers win, the bolder I feel.”

“Careful, now. You’ll wind up getting yourself killed.”

“Looks like being female might just get me killed, anyway. So, I might as well go down confident that Naraku is the true evil here, and evil never wins.”

“What a disgusting cliche.” He groaned. “Grow a brain and come up with something original before you spew that sort of shit. It’s embarrassing. Look, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but as the chick over there stated, we already are. We’re winning. Now, I won’t argue that we’re the bad guys here, but at this point in time, that doesn’t really matter.”

Ayumi swallowed thickly, eyes faltering downward for the smallest moment before she rose them to meet the red eyes of Naraku’s henchman. As sickeningly as that notion sat in her esophagus, Ayumi felt it would be worse if she’d sunken her shoulders at the validity of their power. By no means was she strong, and by no means was she actually all that courageous. Ayumi, true to heart, was a daydreamer, was a fantasy-enthusiast, was a soft, sweet, and hopeful wisher, was tired, was passive. So, while she could admit her stare wasn’t striking, her irises would never be vivid with the passionate heroism she dreamed about, her lips would never curve with a compelling and threatening snarl, she could also admit that just the act of matching his gaze was all she needed to do to defy defeat. With chapped lips parting, not a waver traveling over her tongue, she spoke. “Yes, it does.”

“Yes, it does.” Another girl agreed, approaching to stand beside Ayumi.

“The world hasn’t always been this way. Naraku only grew large less than five years ago.” A woman said, a mother, holding her fearful daughter in her arms. Several more girls got back in line, their shoulders a little more broadened than before. “I find it appalling how arrogant you all have gotten in such a short time. I assure you, conjurer, demon, human, or anything in between, I’d give them my trust sooner than I’d yield to the idea of life staying like this. Good and evil, the difference will always matter. So, yes. Yes, it does.”

“Inspirational.” One of Naraku’s demons remarked sarcastically, cringing.

“Hey, whatever blows your skirt up, lady.” The leader shrugged. “You can believe whatever you want. No sweat off my back. Funny enough, I’d put down all the money in my pockets right now to bet not a single one of them would return that trust, nor would they risk their lives to save you. I mean, not to play devil’s advocate or anything, but look at the twisted circumstances. What the fuck have you done to help them? Human’s are selfish; only looking out for themselves. You hate us showing up because you don’t want us to hurt you. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with us hunting down conjurers, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with that little girl on the ground over there. If it did, you would have never watched it happen. If it did and it was just the ‘shock factor’ holding you back, you still would have done a little more than yell at us about how unfair it was. Oh, cry me a fucking river.” He grinned, stepping over to the first girl in the newly-formed line. There were less than half left that hadn’t been tested, and he got straight to work, unforgivingly slashing at the pre-teen’s palm and slapping his own to hers as he continued his heartless speech. “Even better, there’s two of your own on the floor, both of them getting quite the beating, and not a single fucking one of you did a damn thing to help. I understand the lad; that’s his - er - sister? Cousin? And, I mean, at least the chick tried to help the conjurer survive. I’ll give them kudos, but I think I speak for all of us non-humans when I say fuck the rest of you egotistical pricks. Oh no, my child might have a scar on her hand. Oh no, more trauma.” The leader mocked, his tone high and whiney. “Yeah, well, at least they’re not dead in the mud like little Suzie over there.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience at the harsh and morbid insensitivity. Still, no one challenged him. Someone should have, and no one said a thing.

Kagome tasted bile on the back of her tongue from the disgusting sentiments plaguing the thick, electric air. How cruel. She wanted to open her mouth and beg him to stop and just finish his job already, force her broken voice out to demolish his train of thought and hope he doesn’t mention the death for the remainder of his stay. The only thing stopping her was Miroku’s steady stare on her. It held more power than an order from his mouth to stay quiet ever could. With a foot on her back as a warning for more damage, the impending threat that he would easily be hurt again, and the fact that she’d said enough as it was, no matter how bold she felt in the face of this evil, she knew she was meant to face the source. She could only do that alive. So, begrudgingly, she obliged to his logical demand.

If they wanted them to finish, they needed to stop fighting. They needed to shut up. A double-edged sword. Like bowing their heads to the abuse. Enabling it. Allowing it so it ends quicker.

Kagome could feel her palms burning in the mud, a sense of humiliating defeat flooding her chest, making her feel sick to her stomach. She kept her eyes on Miroku, he kept his eyes on her. She tried to raise the volume of her thoughts, no matter how negative they were, to tune out the gasps and muffled cries of the young girls as they received the cut to their palms for testing.

How could she hold any form of power, yet still feel so powerless? How could she have the privilege of a voice, but feel so irrevocably silenced? She wanted to believe she could save everyone there if she just untied the knots concealing her abilities, but it physically pained her to understand that it was the wrong thing to do. It would be counterintuitive. It would wind up getting them all killed later. She could fight, but she also couldn’t.

“And, there you have it.” The leader finished by wiping his knife clean and slipping it back into the little holster on his hip, the hint of pride and sarcasm on his tongue. “Thank you so much for your cooperation and understanding. We’ll be seeing you.”

The demon holding Kagome down applied a small kick of pressure as he lifted off of her, chuckling as his dirty boots stuck in the mud with each step away.

There was an eerie silence, one that grew more deafening as the henchmen took their horses and disappeared from the village. It was heavy, thick, like sludge. Weighted with failure and death. Even the cries from the mother were muted. For a moment, Kagome thought that instead of drowning out the pained noises with her own thoughts, her brain had responded late to her distress by completely disabling her sense of hearing instead. But, she could hear the stickiness of the mud as she peeled herself from the ground to sit on her knees. She could hear feet slowly walking - most likely children rejoining their families. She could hear the thunder threatening them of the next onslaught of rain to come. The silence that captivated them was one that couldn’t be lifted with a simple, “Thank god that’s over.” No one could make it dissipate by asking if everyone was okay. Because, it didn’t matter.

And, that was something everyone, even the young, could recognize.

The small talk that would eventually come when everyone was back in their homes, the whispers, the crying, and maybe even tiny chuckles from people trying to find the little joys to get them through this, they would all be irrelevant. Because, outside there would be a blanket of despair thicker than the friction-inducing clouds hanging over them at this very moment, and it promised them there that it would stick around as long as it needed to.

“Hey,” A soft voice spoke in Kagome’s ear, a gentle, cold hand brushing her arm, and it was only when she gasped and jerked upright that she realized she’d been hanging her head, sights stuck on her hands on her thighs. “Sh, sh. It’s just me.” Her mother reassured, kneeling beside her and using her sleeve to try and wipe her face clean of some clumpy mud. “Are you alright, honey?”

Out of sheer reaction, she gave a meager nod.

“Look at me, Kagome. Look at me. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Kagome said as convincingly as possible. When Miroku groaned, catching her mother’s attention and even her own, she was happy to have the focus off of her. Kohaku and Sango were beside him, trying to sit him up, freezing as he struggled.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you home.” A couple, larger village men came over, better suited to help. One of them firmly clasped his hand in Miroku’s, quickly pulling him up to his feet so the pain wouldn’t be dragged out. Her cousin hissed at the shock, clenching his throat to try and swallow his grumble, and the two men supported him by pulling his arms over their shoulders.

“Can you stand?” Kagome’s mother asked.

“Yeah.” She whispered, not wanting to irritate her throat further and finding no real need to speak up right now. “I’m fine, mama. Don’t worry about me. Miroku needs your attention more.”

“Even if that were true, he’s kind of surrounded. I don’t think I’m needed there, love.” She replied, grabbing her by her elbow to support her as they stood together. “Sota, take her other side, please. Just in case.”

“Wait.” A broken voice called to them, trembling but by no means weak.

They all stopped just two steps in, looking over to the mother on the ground. Her daughter’s body, from head to toe, was covered by a long cloak belonging to one of the villagers beside her now, attempting to give comfort.

“Kikyo? Is that what you’d said? Kikyo?” She asked Kagome.

As clearly as she could, with a little nod of her head as she processed the question, Kagome said, “Yes.”

“Who is that?”

Kagome could feel the tension in her brow falter as the sympathetic, concerned curve in them wilted away to change more into dubiousness. “You - you don’t…” She didn’t know who Kikyo was. Even her own mother knew who Kikyo was. Her mom was the first to hear about her dreams before she started discussing them with the rest of her family. Had her daughter not had the same messages coming to her? Or, was she so confused, so distraught from them all, that she chose secrecy over being seen as insane?

“She’s a conjurer.” Kagome answered.

“Is she - is she a strong conjurer?”

“I think so.”

“I’m sorry, did your daughter never mention anything about Kikyo?” Sango carefully asked.

“N-no. Why would she?”

“We were just under the impression that she may have been sending survivors telepathic signals of sorts.” She said.

“That’s preposterous.” A man scoffed.

“Maybe. We heard it in passing. From an old man, no less.” Miroku said, discomfort laced in his tone.

“What - what could she possibly have had to say to a little girl?” The mother asked, her bottom lip quivering while her hand rested on her daughter’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew.” The words were painful to speak. Not from her throat, but from the fact that she had to lie to a woman who’d had her everything stolen from her. A woman who, more than anyone, deserved the truth.

When she’d said what she’d said about Kikyo before, the little girl had muttered something in return before the demon tore Kagome away. It seemed like she was about to ask who Kikyo was. Kagome was sure now that the kid didn’t know. She hadn’t had the dreams, the premonitions, the one-sided conversations, nothing. She hadn’t had any communication with Kikyo, whatsoever. Maybe Kikyo was kind to exclude the young, and only spoke to the older, potentially more conditioned conjurers.

Or, maybe there was a possibility that Kagome was the only one.

And, it terrified her.

“Will she win? Kikyo? Will she defeat Naraku?” The crying mother asked.

Kagome was finding it hard to reply, to communicate. Her throat was tightening up as she watched the woman’s body begin to crumble once more toward her little girl’s; like she needed to be connected with her to prevent her from going cold. She could feel her eyes stinging, tears brimming, her fingers quaking and legs growing weak. Her cheeks felt hot and her chest wouldn’t allow a full breath of air - only unsteady, unmatched, quick puffs that burned. A hot hand slid into her right, her brother’s fingers tightening their grip, but she couldn’t control her body enough to grab it back.

“I refuse to believe otherwise.” Sango answered confidently.

The mother now sobbed, nodding in acknowledgment as she weeped over the covered body of her daughter. “Thank you.”

Kagome wanted to apologize profusely. For failing to protect her. For failing to try to protect her. For her loss. For the chance she was never given to learn to defend herself. For the silence she had to keep. The guilt was so heavy on her shoulders, she was ready to give in in front of them all, but the hand in hers pulled her back, made her move.

More villagers were moving toward the mother and child to help comfort while they removed the body, and that was the prime opportunity to get Kagome out of there. Sota could tell from the moment it started that she was going to break down, maybe even panic. He knew his sister, he knew the signs, he understood the stress she was under, and he wanted nothing more than to get her away and help her as best as he could. So, he disregarded everyone else and began pulling Kagome ahead. Miroku would have to move at a slower pace, Sango and Kohaku would stick by him and the men that helped, and he figured their mom would respect that they needed a moment of peace where they weren’t under more eyes than necessary.

Sota ignored the broken utterances of his name that came from his sister, he ignored the threatening weather, and he ignored anything that could potentially get in his way. He directed Kagome around their house, to the back, and toward the tree line of the woods. Three trees in past the shrubbery bush, on the opposite side of the trunk, Sota found the rope ladder to the treehouse their dad had built them hanging. Holding it steady, he released Kagome’s hand.

“Come on. Climb.”

-> | next chapter |

[ducknotinarow]

📒- For a secret journal/diary they keep (Bonus: Share an entry from it!) ( Also Striker wants to knooowww - for Stolas )

|Force My Muse to Spill Their Secrets

Stolas twirled his dip pen between his talons a moment as he gazed down to the blank pages of his journal. Speaking could be so hard sometimes, the words he needed were never quite there when he tried to express his thoughts. Often caught in his throat even so he had taken to writing things out when the thought in his min became far too knotted up for him to deal with. Pen dripped into his well of ink as he began the glide the tip across the pages as he started to write it out. Thinking only he would see this little did he know this very same page would have another pair of eyes looking over it.

"I'm used to having demon paint targets on my back, such is the cruse of being a prince even more so when you are of the Ares Goetia, Being Crown price paints an even larger one. Granted I was not quite expecting this current hitman to be so well good at his job. Most of the demons who try to attack me are so low on the food chain that they are more of a group of pests at best than anything even remotely close to resembling a threat." Stolas thought a playful smark on his bill as he thought of all those little demons who seemed to think they could end his life, "it's a little funny I must admit though, entertaining the idea has gotten to be a bit of a bad habit but it's why they think they even have chance to hurt me so I play along for my own enjoyment. I guess it's true about how royal demons grow bored so easily. But it just shows the lack of intelligence of thier part so easily turned into decor for my garden. Until a certain imp seemed to pick the job up."

The tip of his pen rested on his beak as he took a second before returning to his writing this is where his thought was the most complicated. "Striker, at first they seem like just any imp. Good with thier hands and skilled in war. Making sense considering the sort of work many imps have been hired to do in the past compared to now where more work either under demons like myself. This one is different. Deadly different, where others' only reason for my death was money it seemed Striker was looking for more than some cash. I'm sure if it were just money paying them off would be simple." a slightly blush hit his face as he thought of that imps face now.

"I'll admit they are also devilishly good-looking and quite commanding." the faint hit of red against his white face grew more and heated up, his cheeks felt like they were burning red. Recalling how easily they had him pinned to a bed gripping at his feather from under his clothing. Feather fluffed up at the idea alone. "Is it wrong the night we spent together? the enjoyment I got out of it?" Stolas wrote out of course the pages and ink wouldn't answer this for him. Of course, it likely was wrong, and yet. "What was it he told me seeing the grey?" did that justify things though?

"I think my heart is so easily swayed or I fear it can be have, I never been one to be cautious considering my previous misdeeds and how open it was made know I feel that is easy to say. This though? if I pursued it further..could be treading somewhere far more dangerous. Even if we did cross some lines that time how long till the whole he was meant to kill me comes back? If money isn't what he seeks out of that what do I have to offer to in the least secure my safety." But that wasn't even the thought that weighed on him heavest was it?

"What may be more dangerous than a possible meeting with my end is the fact I find myself wondering..no hoping to see them again. I am starting to wonder if something isn't seriously wrong with me for such a thought to cross my mind. But I can't help it I keep thinking about that imp. His smirk, those eyes, the smooth feeling of his skin brushing against my feathers." and that blush on his face was even harder to ignore anymore. "I just long to see him speak with him even a little. I think I'm falling to quite a dangerous situation and it's not because Striker is a hired hitman for my head."

[starry-sky-stuff]

Sorting the Six of Crows Duology

Brief overview of @sortinghatchats system, there are Primaries, the why, and Secondaries, the how.

Spoiler warning for the Six of Crows Duology.

Cut for length.

Kaz Brekker is a complicated sorting. He’s constantly putting on a performance and projecting a certain version of himself to others, that he sometimes seems to fall for this himself. Even though he’s the planner of the group, I think he’s actually a Snake Secondary. He likes dressing up and pretending to be someone else too much and his plans usually involve him manipulating someone. In the beginning of Crooked Kingdom, we see him so easily put on a different persona that Cornelius Smeet doesn’t realise this is the exact same man who dealt him cards only a few hours earlier. There is definitely a very efficient Bird Secondary Model. Kaz makes plans, he has back-ups and tools hidden away. The uniforms he uses that are actually theatre costumes, and even Wylan himself is an ace up Kaz’s sleeve. But ultimately, he’s a Snake Secondary who has no problem adjusting his plan when it fails, where a Bird Secondary would struggle more. Kaz spends most of his time in his neutral state, which he almost uses as a weapon. He maybe even has a neutral state model on top of his Snake Secondary. Kaz is constantly acting like he doesn’t care because that’s what he wants everyone to believe.

Part of Kaz’s secondary bleeds into his primary in that he wants you to believe he’s a completely burned Snake Primary. He wants to believe he’s a completely burned Snake Primary that cares for no one but himself. He’s definitely a Loyalist. He treats Inej’s idealism with too much cynicism to be an Idealist. Over the series he unburns as he begins to admit he cares for the other crows. The question is this a Snake Primary opening up his circle or a Badger Primary getting attached to a group. I’m leaning towards Snake Primary. He isn’t affected enough by the dissolution of the crew at the end of the series to be a Badger. And so many of his ploys are reliant on people being attached to others and love that I think he’s a Snake Primary who expects other people to have attachments. His genuine surprise at Jan van Eck’s treatment of Wylan, and his using Pekka Rollins son to threaten him all point to a Snake Primary mindset. So he’s a Burned Snake Primary who also puts on a performance of a Burned Snake Primary.

Jesper Fahey, who never makes a plan and loves when bullets start flying because in danger is when he works best, is definitely an improvisational secondary. Charming and quick-witted, he has a Snake Secondary Model, maybe even only performance because it really falls down when compared to Kaz’s actual Snake Secondary. Jesper’s someone who just wants to shoot his way out of everything. He could not be more Lion Secondary. He also has a complicated relationship with his Snake Secondary Model, which I think he developed because of his father pressuring him to hide his Grisha abilities. So, for most of the story his Lion Secondary, which wants to be himself, is in conflict with his Snake Secondary Model.

Jesper’s primary is harder for me to decipher. If he’s an Idealist, he isn’t one who ever expresses a moral quandary with what the crows do over the series, unlike some of the other characters. But if he’s a Loyalist, he didn’t feel bad about lying to his father and pretending to be studying at university. Although he did feel guilty about his betrayal leading to Inej almost getting killed, not to the degree I would expect of a Snake Primary. I would have to say I think he’s an immature Lion Primary, who doesn’t really care about anything but his own needs at the start and then grows into being more mature.

Inej Ghafa’s been through absolute hell and still kept her faith both in religion and in humanity. She didn’t hang onto it through human connections or communities, and she doesn’t seem to have any strong attachments to individuals or to the group of the Crows. That makes her an Idealist. I’m inclined to say she’s a Bird Primary. Her morality just seems very chosen to me. Inej chooses to keep hold of her faith and to believe in things bigger than herself. Her flashbacks often include teachings she adopted from her past that she’s adapted to her current circumstances. Killing for example. She needs to rationalise it out and justify it in a way I don’t think a Lion Primary would find as necessary.

Inej is the Wraith. She’s the spy, the one who gathers information. If this were Kaz’s role, he’d probably dress up and pretend to be someone else to get close to his target. But Inej waits in the shadows, using the skills she learnt from her childhood. This could be a Badger Secondary relying on hard work, but her knives strike me as a Bird’s tools.

Wylan van Eck, the merchling rejected by his father and forced to fend for himself in the Barrel, is not a Loyalist. A Snake or Badger Primary would have been harder hit by his father casting him out from the only life he’s ever known. That would’ve been a betrayal they would’ve have struggled to get over. Wylan does struggle, but he’s far more willing to stand on his own. He doesn’t try to find a people or a community, and gets pulled into the crows not on his own accord. With nothing to indicate a system, I’m going to go with Lion Secondary, one that progresses over the series. Wylan starts off with very strong morals and ideas of what’s right and wrong, which changes as he faces the reality of the Barrel and he becomes less idealistic. Yet, he never restructures his beliefs in the way a Bird Primary would. He’s got a particularly strong Lion Primary too, strong enough to stand up to Kaz multiple times, and one I think Jesper admires.

For his secondary, I’m torn between Bird or Snake Secondary. He’s the demo man and his main role in the plot is using his previous knowledge and skills. That would probably indicate Bird Secondary. He’s also a little bit more concerned with having a plan than some of the other characters who are better at rolling with the punches. The main reason I leant towards Snake Secondary is because I think Wylan’s a mirror for Kaz and certainly someone Kaz sees himself in. He uses Snake Secondary in Crooked Kingdom. Pretending to be Kuwei doesn’t weigh on him as much as it would weigh on a Lion Secondary, and part of his role at the end is to put on a performance. I like to think he’s developing his Snake Secondary Model under Kaz, and probably isn’t thrilled about it.

Matthias Helvar’s journey is the classic character arc of a Badger Primary who expands their definition of ‘human’. When he starts the series he has completely dehumanised Grisha under the teachings of the drüskelle. Nina points out the hypocrisy of him valuing human life and being part of an organisation that hunts Grisha and his response is that Grisha are not humans. Once he meets Nina he starts to change his opinion, and over the series he begins to realise that Grisha are also human. Matthias is usually the one who’s thinking about the greater good. When he and Nina agree to kill Bo Yul-Bayur it’s because of the danger he poses to the wider world. And it’s Matthias who ultimately decides not to kill Kuwei. Why? Because he’s one of “us”. Matthias was vulnerable to Jarl Brum and the drüskelle teaching because he desired a group and a community, and he finds this in the crows. There’s an argument for a Bird Primary that learns his previous system is wrong and adopts a new system, but I think Badger makes more sense. Noble Matthias whose main role is as the muscle is a straightforward Lion Secondary.

Nina Helnik is the quintessential Snake Secondary. Her main role in the plot is to be the decoy or the charmer. Before that she was a spy in the army, and that’s the role that fits her best. She switches from persona to persona, playing different characters with ease. Unlike Kaz, Nina rarely uses her neutral state, and delights in her playful, charismatic Snake Secondary.

Nina’s primary is less immediately clear. The fact that she stayed in Ketterdam after Mathias’ arrest and didn’t return to Ravka would probably indicate she’s a Loyalist. An Idealist would at least feel some guilt for not returning to their country and their cause, but Nina puts Mathias above Ravka. Unlike Matthias, Nina doesn’t necessarily dehumanise the drüskelle and doesn’t need a group. If she were a Badger Primary she would probably have more of a community in Ketterdam, but she seemed to have bonded with the crows as individuals. That would mean Snake Primary. Interestingly enough, Nina has the same sorting as Kaz. I think this is the reason that whilst Nina doesn’t necessarily like Kaz she respects him and he her. They both know how the other works and understands how each thinks.

In summary:

Kaz: Snake Primary/Snake Secondary, Bird Secondary Model, Snake Primary Performance

Jesper: Lion Primary/Lion Secondary, Snake Secondary Model

Inej: Bird Primary/Bird Secondary

Wylan: Lion Primary/Bird or Snake Secondary

Matthias: Badger Primary/Lion Secondary

Nina: Snake Primary/Snake Secondary