#He's a firm believer in “traumatize them young”

[snootlestheangel]

Truck’s opinions on Swift, Ram, Bombshell, and Meerkat. I just know he’s got something to say about recruits and newbies being sent his way by Bombshell.

Truck's Grumpy Old Man Opinion Time! *game show lights and noises*

For Swift: He's a fine medic, I guess. Asks a lot o' questions though when I've already told him the issue. Could do without the lecturing, as well. But, a fine medic. *translation: he will always have a soft spot for medics cause it's how he met the missus*

For Ram: Someone needs to teach her some fucking manners. And that my shop isn't a social gathering.

Bombshell: *glares* He knows what he's doing and I think he's a sick bastard. For bothering me or sending those recruits to their demise, I don't know. All I know is he's a sick bastard. I'd hate him more if he wasn't damn good at his job.

For Meerkat: If that little fucker doesn't stay the fuck away from my shop, all hell is gonna break loose.

[mmmkaybye]

Why Zutara Shippers are Wrong (JK, You can ship who you want lol)

(Although, I don't care if you do actually ship Zutara, that's your prerogative, I'm just waiting for better arguments for the relationship and for people to stop negatively viewing Kataang)

First of all, I'm premising this with the fact that I don't think that ATLA should have ended with Katara and Aang kissing. I think it would have been fine to just end with a slightly more intimate-than-friends hug/cuddle. I would have personally preferred that two children who survived being literal child soldiers get the chance to be kids before they delve into a more mature relationship with one another, but they didn't exactly have adults of the modern culture there to guide them a different way, now did they?

BUT! I am a firm believer that Zuko and Katara would never have worked out romantically and that Katara and Aang's relationship 1. makes more sense and 2. is actually healthier in the scope of trauma and trauma responses.

First of all, I don't understand how the creators of ATLA managed to craft literally the MOST traumatic childhood backstory ever with incredible detail and nuance and everyone just fricking glosses over it like WTF??? Not to mention, the creators did an amazing job diversifying trauma responses to similar trauma experiences.

Let's discuss Katara's childhood trauma, which was not healed magically after a little side quest with Zuko. Katara carries immense survivor's guilt over her mother's murder. Katara understands very well how and why her mother was brutally murdered in their family home. She has been deeply aware of this since the day of her mother's murder - and she fully blames herself. Katara understands that a fire nation soldier killed her mother, but he killed her because of Katara - she said so herself. Then, Katara, who was the last person to interact with her mother, discovers her mother's body, and it is insinuated that Katara might have even witnessed her mother's brutal execution-style murder. This forever alters Katara down to her core personality traits. Katara is 'bossy' because of her trauma. I work with kids from pre-k through graduating american high school. It's pretty normal for girls to do what I call 'mothering' to their peers and to kids younger than them. It often is described as being 'bossy' and some girls are in fact bossy, but for the most part, they are roleplaying a caretaker mentality as they are most familiar with. In Katara's deep guilt of being the reason her mother was murdered, her trauma response was burden herself with the role of mother. This is further antagonized when her father leaves with the rest of the adult men to fight against the Fire Nation. He might've well as died too due to lack of communication for many years. Sokka does not allow Katara to mother him for very long, so she doesn't get to have a chance to work through her personal trauma response to her grief because she has no one to safely and consistently direct these mothering tendencies towards. The other children in the village are not orphans, their mothers are most likely very alive and very involved with them, so they would be temporary fillers at best. Sokka has stepped into the role of village man and definitely would reject Katara's mothering, which often led to tension between the siblings. Toph had the very reaction to Katara's mothering tendencies as I expect a young Sokka had to them. He lost his mother, too, he didn't want a replacement, nor did he want to lose his sister to the role of mother.

Zuko, in the same fashion as Sokka, had a mother who he loved, and lost, and was not looking to replace. Zuko's mother was also a topic that is deeply rooted in a lot of Zuko's personal trauma as well. Zuko did not get to spend much time with Katara for her mothering tendencies to be extended over him, but he definitely would have aggressively rejected them as Katara's trauma response would have negatively triggered his own. Their trauma would have deeply and negatively impacted any romantic relationship they could have developed because of how they would react to each other. Their relationship would have crashed and burned very quickly.

On top of that. Katara would have never left the South Pole indefinitely - that is her home, and she consistently returned to it throughout her life. That is an effect of her cultural upbringing. Zuko couldn't leave the Fire Nation, and as we saw in the graphic novels that followed, Zuko's personal welfare suffered greatly because his whole world was upended and now he was responsible for the one nation that didn't get peace at the end of the war. It's incredibly naive and slightly delusional for people to desperately push romantic wishes upon a sixteen-year-old boy who was burdened with the responsibility of healing an entire nation, one that fought him every step of the way in many aspects. He did not have the emotional energy to expend upon a frivolous relationship. That's why Mai and he broke up, not because they didn't love each other, but because Zuko simply could not have personal relationships until his reign and nation had stabilized - that alone would take upwards of 10 years. Plus, Zuko may have helped others work through parts of their trauma, but he had to address his trauma too, which we saw the beginnings of during the graphic novels. Simply put, by the end of ATLA and all of the graphic novels, Zuko was in no place emotionally, mentally, and even physically and politically to seek out a relationship that was meaningful and healthy. And I know that Zuko would have changed the tradition of political marriage, at the very least he deserves to have married for love at the end of everything he suffered through. Zuko is a great opportunity to normalize waiting until you're in your mid-twenties -thirties before seeking out romantic relationships. Logistically speaking, I don't think there would have been much opportunity for romantic feelings to develop between the two of them. I especially don't think Katara would have easily been able to live in the Fire Nation because the Fire Nation was directly responsible for her trauma, and that is also why I don't think she would have every pursued a relationship with a Fire Nation man, Zuko or not.

Now onto Aang. Everyone always jumps onto this idea that Katara and Aang had a very mother-son relationship - which is wrong. Aang comes from a culture that literally does not have mother and fatherhood. There are NO mothers and fathers in the Air Nomad Nation. Sure, kids had birth parents, but parenthood was not part of their culture, nor did Aang ever seek out that kind of relationship. Aang may have been kid-like, but he was the most adultified kid in the group. He was incredibly independent and confident in his ability to travel internationally by himself at 12. Katara had never thought to leave the South Pole to seek out a waterbending master in the North Pole because she didn't have that confidence or training. The Air Nomads thrived on a mentorship-based village raising of children. So, Aang never thought of Katara as his mother. He literally couldn't, because he had no scope of reference for such a relationship, same with fatherhood. He never had a parental relationship with Monk Gyasto. It was more like a fun uncle mentorship. I think that's why everyone thinks Aang was a bad father, but he was an outlier in the Air Nomad nation because there was no Air Nomad nation when he had children. The village that raised the children in his culture was gone. He was actually a fairly decent father and the two older children probably felt bitter because Tenzin was the only other air bender in existence so it obviously Aang is going to spend a lot of one on one time with Tenzin in the scope of mentoring Tenzin in the way of Air Nomad culture. Aang was not an absentee father like how many people assumed from the very one-sided and brief explanation given by the two older, jaded siblings. Was he perfect? No, he literally had no clue how to be a father. Did he and Tenzin leave to get milk and never come back? Also no. That being said, Aang was the only individual who was comfortable with Katara mothering him, he never felt threatened or overburdened by her trauma response, which allowed for Katara to genuinely work through her grief and mature out of the extreme bossy mothering we first saw in book one. If you pay attention, yes Katara does retain that 'bossy' kind of personality, but that was permanent fixture due to her childhood trauma and a little bit of cultural influence as well. I think, if Katara had never been traumatized, she would have always leaned towards a very soothing and nuturing type of personality, which we began to see in the middle of book three. Her bossiness/mothering trauma response gradually lessened the longer she 'mothered' Aang. Once again, neither of the two saw each other as Mother-son. They were simple too close in age and Aang also had the added sense of duty-boundness due to being the Avatar. Katara was always going to be a caretaker archetype personality, trauma or no, and that simply wasn't the type of person that Zuko would lean towards for a romantic relationship due to his own personal upbringing and culture. Aang is a much more gentle and playfully empathetic personality that works with Katara's firm care and sassy disposition.

In the graphic novels, I personally saw a great deal of healing and maturation in Katara in relation to her trauma. She was less mothering towards Aang, too, and I think that had a lot to do with the fact that Aang matured a lot as well and the change in their once platonic relationship to a more romantic-leaning one. Was their relationship perfect? No, they are kids who survived a horrific war and many many trauma-inducing situations. However, once Katara fully leaned away from the mothering habit, we get to see that Aang allows Katara to relax and be more playful. She genuinely was just happy with Aang. He pushed her to be a little more child-like and to have child-like fun even as they grew up into adulthood. Katara helped Aang mature and face a lot of adult burdens that were placed child.

In the end, Katara and Aang always brought out the best in each other. Katara and Zuko didn't have enough time together in ATLA to develop an individual relationship outside of the group. There simply isn't enough time outside of their little side-quest in which Katara and Zuko interact solo- which was definitely NOT Katara's best, and in fact was Katara lashing out aggressively towards people who loved and cared for her and she them. Zuko was also not his 'best' in that time either as he was also being triggered emotionally. In fact, during ATLA, there's way too much negative tension between the two of them that leads to really intense disagreements and emotional outbursts more often than not until Katara begrudgingly accepts Zuko into the group, they don't even positively interact until Ember Island which is what, two weeks? She's not exactly nice when she pretty much demands him to help her hunt down the man that murdered her mother. Zuko is all gung-ho about vengeance too. Of course, they both have a lesson learning moment, but that episode cemented in my brain that Aang is the better partner for Katara than Zuko. Aang, once again the most mature in the Gaang, fight me on this, has a deep, empathetic understanding of the world, he doesn't do a great job trying to explain to Katara, but I think that's because no one in the Gaang understands how Appa is not just an air bison, and Aang never views Appa as an air bison like how everyone else in ATLA do. To everyone else, Appa's an animal, but to Aang and Aang's culture that is deeply offensive, Appa is an individual with emotions and value outside of what he can offer the group in terms of transportation and that's never really explicitly clarified to the audience either (because despite being a kid's cartoon, the creators knew their audience well and did not treat the audience like we are stupid and can in fact infer and read between the lines). If Katara had killed that pathetic worm of a man, it would have absolutely destroyed her as a person. She would not have been able to heal from her trauma and would probably suffer even more trauma and guilt. This side-quest was a plot point to lead up to the big debate of killing Ozai, and not many, in fact I don't know if anyone has talked about that fact. I have no doubt that Zuko has probably killed people, at the very least, he's deeply desensitized to people dying as I think he probably at some point did experience or witness some form of warfare battle before he began chasing Aang down.

Once again, I don't really care if you do ship Katara and Zuko. In fact, I think that's a-okay. But, with the Netflix live action adaptation's take on the Secret Tunnel scene, I've seen a lot of people speculating and even hoping for it to become canon and there have even been some opinions of Kataang that have resurfaced that really rub me the wrong way because it feels like many individuals are just looking at the surface level of ATLA. There's so much nuance to each individual character in terms of culture, societal norms, age and gender, and most importantly, trauma and trauma responses. The creators did an amazing job world building and story telling that a lot of what I put up in my opinion in preference for Kataang over Zutara is information that I inferred from the show and graphic novels due to my personal experience and education in familial relationships and childhood trauma. My thoughts are not the end all be all to this debate, nor do I think they should be, I've seen some really solid opinions in favor of Zutara that I can understand and somewhat agree with. I think a lot of those details and moments that people look to as indicators of romance between Katara and Zuko were remnants of the creators' previous intention, but I think that the change to Aang and Katara as end game was logistically and realistically more accurate. I never thought that Katara and Zuko were meant to be, and I always struggled to put to words as to why until I had pursued my psych studies in college that focused on child development, childhood trauma, and marriage and family counselling. I think that the creators instinctually were seeing the red flags that would have occurred naturally within Zutara and changed course accordingly. There were just a lot of details and nuances that I noticed personally that I wished more people would discuss.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my TedTalk, I'd love to hear some of your opinions about this.

[lesbian-cal-kestis]

it's all downhill from here (in the outer nowhere)

Summary: Cal Kestis is reminded of his past, causing havoc while trapped in a memory he will never forget. Title from Bleed Me an Ocean by Acid Bath.

Warning/s: Minor Character Death

Pairing: Merrin/Cal

Characters: Cal Kestis, Nightsister Merrin, Greez Dritus, BD-1, Kata Akuna (mentioned), Prauf (mentioned), Jaro Tapal (mentioned), Original Character/s

Additional tags: Cal Kestis needs a hug, he doesn't get one, canon-typical violence, angst, hurt no comfort, okay maybe there's a little comfort, post-Jedi: Survivor, Planet Jakku (Star Wars), panic attack, dismemberment (brief mention), Cal needs to understand that avoiding his problems is not a substitute for therapy, flashbacks, Order 66 (Star Wars), Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Language: English

Word count: 3.1k

Cal Kestis was by no means a lucky man. 

Three of the previous missions he embarked on had gone sour, the Empire somehow finding him at every turn; he didn’t doubt this mission would be any different. Time and time again, the people he tried to help would be killed or captured or maimed or-

“Kid, grab some seat! We’re coming in on Jakku - lots of Imperial chatter going on there…” His pilot, the vertically-challenged hairball he’d been venturing with for most of his adult life, announced over the ship's communications system. 

Cal inhaled shakily, wrapping his hands around his lightsaber and fighting the urge to sense the few echoes he had not seen. Imps were never a good sign, but the young man could only hope the force would fulfil his request for a peaceful rescue just this once. 

The hyperspace travel time was long enough for Cal to familiarise himself with the Hidden Path’s target; an Abednedo male, relatively tall with a solid build, who had an impressive collection of communication codes stored in his safehouse. The codes also contained locations of hidden refugees throughout the galaxy, all hiding from the Empire for one reason or another, and the Path was bent on assisting them no matter the cost.

Cal jogged into the Stinger Mantis’ cockpit, sitting in the co-pilot’s chair - his rightful spot, now that Cere was gone. He looked back towards the cockpit section that allowed the Mantis to track communications from external channels, eyeing Merrin in her position, her eyes firm on the console. Her hair was tied up in a style that Cal adored - A neat bun with a few stray hairs that weren’t long enough to be tied up hanging down, framing her face beautifully. He couldn’t get over how gorgeous she was. 

He then looked to his left, opposite where the Nightsister was seated, and let his gaze rest softly on Kata. It was hard for him to believe how much she had grown and matured, even with her father's absence. She may not have been force-sensitive, but she made up for her lack of abilities with “space magic” - a term that Merrin laughed at - with her capabilities in marksmanship. 

“Cal, you are staring.” Merrin pointed out, her voice sending a wave of warmth throughout Cal’s body, her soft tone putting a slight smile on his face. 

Turning back to look out through the windshields at the barren planet below, Cal noted the Star Destroyers that weren’t far off from them; far enough away not to notice them, but relatively close to their mark. The planet reminded him of Jedha, with plenty of ancient sites burrowed beneath the sand, grasping at the force for somebody to tell their story to. 

Not today, Cal thought. I have somebody to meet. 

Descending into the atmosphere of Jakku, the city of Reetskii grew as they flew across the horizon. The Mantis crew marvelled at the structures they flew past, watching the sands of time move with the winds the ship created as it sped through, eager to find the Abednedo. 

There were few landing bays in the near-forgotten city, but it made sense to have less than 10 areas for spacecraft. Reetskii roughly translated to “the leftovers” in Galactic Basic Standard, having no minerals or ores to mine, and barely enough agricultural facilities to support the settlement - the perfect place to hide away from the Empire. 

Though, not perfect enough, it seemed. 

Upon docking, Cal eyed a stormtrooper squad, their armour gleaming harshly in the Jakkuvian sunlight. It was almost blinding, and had Cal not turned around, he was sure he would have had colourful spots dancing in his eyes from the glint. The Abednedo’s hideout was visible from the landing pad the Mantis was stationed on, his purple skin only just noticeable through a gap in the door. 

“You guys see that?” Cal asked, kneeling behind the ship’s controls to remove himself from the trooper’s field of view. “Small batch of troopers right near the hideout. Do you think they found out about the codes?”

“No,” Merrin replied, squinting to get a better look at the area around their mark. “I do not think they did. The Abednedo is still alive, his body would be dumped outside the building and covered in scorch marks if they knew of the codes.”

“They might want him alive.”

“They do not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because, Kestis. They have no reason to take him alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually”

“Well if you know so karking much why don’t you just-”

Greez cleared his throat, eyes darting nervously between Cal and Merrin. The Latero knew things had been on edge for them lately, and stars knows what caused it, but they had a mission to focus on. Bickering like an old married couple was helping nobody. 

Rolling his eyes and standing from his crouched position, Cal put his arm out to the ship's console, BD-1 taking his place on his shoulder. 

The clock was ticking, and minute by minute the deadline to retrieve the codes was drawing closer. 

Exiting the Mantis to set foot on the dusty walkway of the landing bay, Cal walked with purpose towards the Abednedo’s residence, his gaze flittering around between multiple threats he took mental note of. Funny, he thought, we’ve been communicating with this guy for three cycles and we still don’t know his name. And it was true; the Abednedo was nameless thus far, merely being referred to as “the Jakku contact”. It made Cal feel uneasy, not being able to put a name to the face - it allowed his mind to wander too far, likening the Abednedo to… him. 

Pulling up the hood of his lightweight poncho, Cal continued to close the gap between him and the building the contact was located in, BD letting out a string of beeps and trills. 

There’s a lot of Imperials around here, the droid noted, Merrin might’ve been wrong. 

Oh, how Cal loved it when his little companion took his side during his and Merrin’s spats - it made him feel less lonely in the world. The boy let out a slight chuckle, more a huff of laughter than anything, and strode closer to the door that held the codes. His gait remained confident, to not give away his anxiousness about the entire situation. The force signatures that resided within Reetskii were ill at ease, almost screaming to Cal that something was wrong.

He ignored them. 

Knocking on the door of the hideout, Cal rocked gently on his feet, energy buzzing around him. A small security hatch opened, with a singular eye visible through it - the eye was waiting for a password.  

“Tanalorr welcomes you,” the redhead muttered loud enough for the individual behind the door to hear him. He picked up on the sound of a complex locking mechanism opening, the door sliding open just enough for him to squeeze through. Cal jumped as a large hand rested on his shoulder, his gaze rising to look at the being before him. 

Prauf-

“I got to give you the codes now, kid. Don’t know if you noticed, but the Imps are sniffing around like starved tooka-cats,” the purple-hued brown-skinned humanoid stated, his mahogany eyes trained on Cal, alerting him to the urgency of this task - but Cal couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move. 

Cal knew that he would struggle with this mission before the Mantis entered its two-day-long hyperspace journey to Jakku. He didn’t think he’d freeze up under the watchful eye of an Abednedo that was the spitting image of the second person in Cal’s life to sacrifice their existence so his could continue. Eyes beginning to well with tears that would forever remain unshed, the boy shook his head lightly to bring himself out of his catatonic state. 

“Yeah, yeah, the uh- the codes, right,” he stuttered, grabbing the data disk that contained the valuable information from the Abednedo’s outstretched hand (when had he outstretched his hand?), offering it to BD-1 for safekeeping. “Are you coming with us? There’s plenty of space on the Mantis -  the Hidden Path could use somebody as versatile as you,” he questioned, instilling his tone with a kind of curiosity he could not will himself to truly feel at the current point in time, his mind digging memories to the surface that he would prefer to have stayed buried. 

“That’s the plan, kid,” the contact replied, grabbing a small bag of supplies from a hook behind him. He was dressed casually, with clothing that would keep his large form cool in the desert heat. Cautiously stepping out from the hideout, the Abednedo took a wary glance around, ensuring the stormtroopers wouldn’t notice their hasty departure. 

The Abednedo signalled for Cal to follow him, so he did. Weaving through relatively small alleyways and passing by market stalls, it was evident that the red-haired human was being led a backway to the Mantis’ location. 

They couldn’t be more than twenty paces from docking bays when Cal heard it- the unmistakable shout of a stormtrooper alerting his peers to an individual running around with a lightsaber on his belt. There was no star system in which this could be good for them. 

“You! Stop right where you are, in the name of the Empire!” The trooper shouted, his blaster aimed directly at Cal’s heart. Looking back to the Abednedo, who already had his palms raised in surrender, he knew a split-second decision had to be made. 

Reaching slowly for his lightsaber, the trooper stalked closer to the unlikely pair - perhaps not all that unlikely on Jakku, but still unlikely - barking orders at Cal to not do what he was thinking of doing. Hearing the plastoid dog alerting the rest of his squad to the presence of the Jedi, he knew it was too late to stop what was happening. Blaster bolts began racing towards Cal and the contact, being easily reflected by the Jedi’s brilliant orange ‘saber, its glow matching that of the desert sunset that was encroaching on the horizon. 

The death of the reporting trooper seemed to summon two, three, ten more in front of the two men, most wielding blasters with a few baton-wielding hounds accompanying them. If he were on his own, this group would be easy to dispatch. With an ally in tow, however - not so easy. He would have to keep note of any stray blaster bolts, fired or reflected. He’d have to take note of who the baton wielders were targeting, he’d have to-

The hum of a crimson lightsaber. A scream so primal that it reawakened the abilities of the force that the padawan had lost during the purge. The unmistakable thump of a body hitting the ground.

Except this time, it wasn’t a lightsaber. It wasn’t a scream. It was a shout of surprise, and a body hitting the ground. A body hit the ground. It hit the ground, it hit the ground, it hit the-

An electrified prod woke Cal from his panic, reminding him he was still in a fight. Reminding him he wasn’t on Bracca, he wasn’t being stared down by Inquisitors as he helplessly watched his best friend be murdered in cold blood. He was on Jakku. He was on Jakku, gathering contact codes for the Hidden Path. He was on Jakku, following Prauf - no, not Prauf, an unnamed Abednedo - to the Mantis. 

An unnamed Abednedo that sat against a wall, head slumped, body motionless. An Abednedo that had thumped to the ground. An Abednedo that, like Prauf, was dead. He was dead. Because of Cal and his carelessness and his incorrect assumption that his lightsaber wouldn’t be seen. The incorrect assumption that nobody would notice him slow time, that nobody would notice him use the force. 

Cal couldn’t think. 

He couldn’t breathe.

Prauf, his body lifeless, the ever-present spark in his eyes dissipating, his force signature disappearing, the blade in his chest extinguishing. 

Lifeless. 

Dissipating. 

Extinguished. 

Dead. 

And then Cal was on the Albedo Brave, clones firing at him, his master urging him to activate the controls for the escape pods, and this time? This time, he would fight back. 

Cal spun his ‘saber in his hand, raising it above his head with determination and striking down any clone that dared to show its helmeted face to him. One, two, three, ten clones were dispatched, limbs and heads rolling across the deck of the ship, and as Cal turned around to check on his master, nothing had changed. 

His master lay lifeless on the floor of the escape pod, the rise and fall of his chest dissipating, his life extinguishing before Cal’s eyes. Dead.

One thing had changed throughout all the chaos and confusion felt by the young padawan. 

No last words were exchanged. 

And, Merrin was beside him.

She was resting a loving hand on his cheek, turning his gaze from his Master - no, it was Prauf, and then his Master again - to her. The warmth of Merrin’s touch helped slightly with grounding the boy, but nowhere near what either had hoped.

“Merrin, Merrin you need to go, the Clones are coming, and the Inquisitors, I can’t hold them off for long but you need to run,” he stammered out, breaths ragged and eyes darting around frantically, unable to shake the surroundings his brain had convinced him were real. The walls were closing in, or at least it felt they were to the Jedi. He felt small next to the Nightsister, his juvenile form from the Purge enveloping him the way a jaw plant would to smother its prey. Cal’s breathing continued to be erratic as he brought his hands to the back of his head, interlocking his fingers and rocking himself back and forth in a sorry attempt to release himself from the memories that plagued him. 

A distant voice spoke, and though Cal could not make out what it was saying, he could tell it was trying to comfort him as smoke shrouded him, followed by a flash of green and a feeling of warmth surrounding the young boy. 

He was so, so tired. 

Maybe he should sleep.

Something was wrong, Merrin could tell that much on her own. Even without force abilities as complex as Cal Kestis’, she had enough insight with the power Dathomir bestowed upon her to tell that something was wrong. She had already instructed Greez to start the engines of the ship, and to keep it idle until her return - she didn’t doubt her decision. 

Coming across a tide of amputated appendages and the smell of charred flesh, Merrin’s belief that Cal was in trouble further solidified itself in her mind. Seeing him crouched over a body, body shaking as he took harsh, jagged breaths. She had seen her Jedi like this before, when they had shared a bed at night and he tossed and turned so viciously that he unconsciously threatened to fall out of the Mantis’ sleeping cots. How could he be having a nightmare in broad daylight? Was he sleepwalking? No, he couldn’t be - he was awake when he left to gather the codes, and he slept as well as he could the previous night. Maybe it was what Cere had told her about all those moons ago, something that resembled a nightmare while the person suffering was awake. 

Merrin believed Cere had called it a ‘flashback’. She couldn’t be entirely certain, however. 

As she approached Cal, Merrin could hear him mumbling hurriedly, his sentences sporadic and nonsensical to ears unfamiliar with his past. He was sputtering about how he had failed, and how he was sorry, begging please Prauf I’m sorry, please Prauf, please wake up. The names changed from Prauf to Master too many times for Merrin to keep track. 

She had no idea how to stop this, she didn’t know if she could stop this, but Dathomir be damned if she didn’t try. 

Reaching out an ungloved hand, Merrin rested her palm gently on Cal’s cheek, softly turning his face towards her and away from the body of their contact. Cal had a far-away look to him as if he was looking through her instead of at her, as if he was standing on a planet and looking absent-mindedly to the stars. She rubbed circles on his jawbone with her thumb, willing him to wake from this nightmare, to come back to her and the gifts the future would provide.

And he did. 

Just not in the way she had hoped he would. 

The terror visible in Cal’s eyes tore apart Merrin’s heart, the tears in his eyes falling without shame. Her Jedi was being tortured by his mind, and though he was aware she was here, he did not wake. Spouting out obscenities about the Clones and the Inquisitors closing in, how they would hurt her and how he would hold them off for as long as he could, Cal rose to his feet. He ignited his lightsaber, in a stance that would allow him to block or parry any blows thrown at him, but there were no enemies nearby. There were no Clones or Inquisitors, nor were there any Stormtroopers nearby - he had already dispatched them in ways far more barbaric than Merrin had seen him use before. 

“At ease, my Jedi. You are okay, there is nobody here but you and me. Rest, allow sleep to overcome you,” she whispered tenderly into his ear, worried she might cause him to run. The magic she imbued into her words stopped his flight response, attempting to lull him into a dreamless slumber. Curling himself into the fetal position, Cal sat down and rested against the wall of a hut, interlocking his fingers behind his head. He was… scared. What had he seen that terrified him to the extent it made him regress into a child-like mindset? She could only wonder, as she knew asking Cal any questions while he was in this state would result in answers that made no sense. 

Allowing her magic to surround both of them, Merrin summoned them back to the Mantis, laying Cal down on the potolli-weave fabric of the couch cushions. Greez and Kata looked on with concern, but all she had to do was give a slight nod and they were off, making their way home to Tanalorr. 

Her Jedi could rest easy tonight.

[xxrainshadowsxx]

New Elite Chapter 9

We'll deal with the fallout from last time, and maybe we'll even get a touch of spice in here.

NOTE: This chapter does mention church. This is purely because at the time, church was a social event for the upper class. Characters' personal thoughts on what religion they personally believe, or if they're religious at all, will never be mentioned.

“Okay, darlin’, let’s get you into a bath,” Mrs. Ryan says as she leads you down a hall. She ushers you into a washroom, and a few minutes later, a young, freckled-faced girl joins you. She fills the tub and helps you out of your dress.

“Maggie, could you get a cloth and ice from the icebox?” Mrs. Ryan asks the girl, who nods and scurries out of the room. Once she’s gone, the woman lets out an enormous sigh before focusing her attention on you. “I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” she says, almost to herself.

“I’m sor–” you start but for the second time that day, you find yourself cut off before you could finish your apology.

“Honey, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” Mrs. Ryan insists. “I’m the one that told him to bring you here if things went sour with Dot, so don’t worry about being a nuisance; I was well-prepared to host you for a while. I just wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

Maggie comes back in the room then, carrying a handful of ice in a small towel. She gives it to Mrs. Ryan, who passes the bundle off to you. “Put that against your cheek. I know it hurts, but that’ll make it better, trust me,” she adds, noticing your wince when you pressed the ice against your bruise. You want to ignore her, but acknowledge that she’s probably right. Reluctantly, you hold the towel up to your cheek again, and after a few minutes, the sting does begin to die down. You hum in contentment and sink further into the water.

She lets you be at peace for a minute before speaking again. “Look, I love that boy like he’s my son,” she begins with no preamble or hesitation. “But I need to know the truth, regardless of how I feel about him. Is this going to make you resent him? He’s prepared to keep every promise he made to you. But do you regret it now that the cost has been paid?”

It was a heavy question, one that you didn’t feel fully prepared to answer just yet. But Mrs. Ryan’s gaze, which is firm and gentle at the same time, tells you that she doesn’t plan on letting the matter drop until she gets an answer. “I knew this was a possibility from the beginning, loathe though I was to accept it,” you say slowly, choosing your words carefully. “But I had a choice then to turn him away, and I did not. I shall stay by his side, regardless of what happens to us.”

Mrs. Ryan’s look changes to one of exasperation. “I know what your upbringing was like, but you don’t have to be so prim and proper here. You just went through a great ordeal. It’s fine to not be fine.”

“I know,” you sigh. “And believe me, I haven’t been fine. Right after… well… it happened, I think I traumatized Mr. Onceler. I was in hysterics, and I don’t think he was expecting it. And I’m sure I’ll become weepy again at some point, but right now, with everything that occurred, I just feel numb. It’s all too much, my mind needs to process it before it will allow me to feel again.”

Mrs. Ryan pierces you with that almost unsettling gaze for a minute longer before she sighs again. “Well, I suppose that’s fair for now,” she murmurs. “Take as much time in here as you like. Maggie will help you with whatever you need.” With that, she takes her leave, and you take the opportunity to just not think, which is a blessed, most welcome distraction.

It’s only when your skin begins to prune and the water grows tepid do you finally have Maggie scrub you down and help you out. She’s nice, but hasn’t quite mastered the way your hair works; she has an especially hard time finding all the pins and removing them. She makes your heart pang as you’re reminded of the other loss you suffered today. Nellie might be forever beyond your reach now, unless you were somehow able to write to her.

The thought of Nellie almost sends you into near hysterics again. While you’d dreaded a possible separation from your mother, you’d forgotten to take into account that Nellie would also be lost to you. That hurt almost more than your mother’s abandonment. Nellie was your dearest friend, and the thought that you might never see her again was abhorrent, not to be considered.

Thinking about Nellie made your chest hurt, so you put her out of your mind for now. You’d see her again. You simply had to.

With that resolution, you pull on a simple robe that Mrs. Ryan has left for you. It’s a bit too long, but still wearable. You towel-dry your hair as best as possible before letting it hang on your shoulders. You absentmindedly comb through it with your fingers as you step out of the washroom, trusting Maggie to lead you to whatever room you’re supposed to be staying in.

But as soon as you take a step into the hall, you hear a sharp intake of breath, causing your head to snap up. Mr. Onceler’s standing there, and you’re immediately self-conscious of how little you’re wearing. Yes, the robe covered you well enough, but there was still quite a bit of leg on display, and he’s never seen you with your hair undone before.

You should have been mortified. Even though you were engaged, a lady should never be caught in this state with a man unless he was her bona fide husband. But the day had taken such a toll on you that you couldn’t find the capacity to care at the moment. Who was going to know? And even if it somehow did come to light, this was miniscule compared to the scandal that was already over you.

So instead of dashing to another room, you take a step closer to him. You noticed that he’d taken off his jacket and his hat, leaving his hair tousled. For the first time, you could see what had caught Alice’s fancy. While he’d always been good-looking, this was the first time you could say that he was truly handsome. And even beyond handsome in this casual state… he was gorgeous.

For several moments, you just stand there, staring at each other. Finally, you blink, tearing your eyes away from his face so you’d be less distracted. “Um… I wanted to thank you for earlier,” you murmur demurely. “You stood by me and brought me somewhere safe, and for that I shall be forever grateful.”

He looks at you, completely bewildered. “You don’t need to thank me for taking care of you,” he huffs, and you note that he almost sounds offended. ��You’re my fiancée. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I’m utterly disgusted with myself that I failed you so badly in that regard.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “How could you possibly have failed me? No one else would have done so much for me.”

He sighs and steps up so that he’s right in front of you. He hesitates, then brings his hand up to your face, tracing your cheek as though it were as delicate as lace. His touch causes your stomach to lurch in a way that you’ve never experienced before. “I allowed you to get hurt,” he whispers, his voice full of regret. “This should never have happened, and it’s my fault that it did.”

“No!” you exclaim. “There was no way you could have seen it coming, and no way you could have prevented it. Listen to me.” You take the hand that isn’t on your face in both of yours without a second thought. “I would not have you blame yourself,” you insist. “It distresses me, I must confess.”

That pulls what seems to be a reluctant smile from him. “Of course, I would not wish to do anything that might distress you,” he murmurs. The hand on your face now rests so that it’s cupping your cheek. He whispers your name, your first name. It’s the first time he hasn’t called you ‘miss.’ 

And is it just you, or is his face slowly moving towards you? You’re about to ask him but… no it’s definitely moving closer. What on earth is he possibly doing…?

Oh. Your eyes flutter shut as you realize he plans to kiss you. And even more shockingly, you find yourself not only allowing it, but very much looking forward to it.

Just as you feel his breath ghosting over your face, it suddenly stops, and he pulls his hand from your skin abruptly. You open your eyes, frustrated and bewildered, just as he says, “No. I can’t do it.” You can’t tell if he meant for you to hear him, but you did, and now all you feel is humiliation. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing that you could simply evaporate on the spot.

“I’ll have Matilda show you to your room,” he announces, a bit too loud for the otherwise silent hall. He marches away and out of sight, leaving you quite befuddled as to what his actions and words meant.

He was adamant on marrying you, yet he did not want to kiss you? The rules of engagement, at least as far as you had been taught, stated that such displays of affection were to be saved until the actual marriage occurred, but he hadn’t learned such rigid rules as you did. What was more, you were alone, so no one would know, and you’d already broken all of the supposed rules. What was one more?

Embarrassed beyond belief, you can do nothing but just stand there until Mrs. Ryan reappears, looking amused. “Here,” she laughs, leading you through a door to what is clearly an unused but furnished bedroom. “I don’t know how you did this to him, but keep it up. I’ve never seen him so off his game,” she cackles until she catches sight of your face. “Oh. Not a happy interaction on your end then?” she asks.

You narrow your eyes. “How much did he tell you?” you ask suspiciously. You didn’t think he was the type to open his mouth, but Mrs. Ryan clearly knew something.

“Oh, he tells me most everything,” she shrugs, but turns serious when you start fuming. “Don’t hold it against him, or at least be understanding. He’s not trying to cause any problems. I’m just the only adult left in his life he feels he can trust. He’s not much older than you, remember. You’re both just kids to me.”

“How did you become so close to him?” You don’t realize how much curiosity has been burning you about that particular mystery until the question leaves your lips. Mrs. Ryan doesn’t seem surprised or off put but you asking it; she instead leans back and looks pensive for a moment.

“I met him within a week of him first coming to New York,” she explains. “You know he got very rich, very quickly. My husband helped him out, he put a large stock in the business, and he brought him to the first big event with the rich and snotty. The poor boy was completely lost. Well, I remembered how that was, and how vicious these people can be to anyone who dares to enter their little club. I took pity on him and decided to help him as best I could, and he’s trusted me ever since. As a kid, he didn’t have anyone he could really lean on, and he never had a positive adult figure in his life. I don’t know what he’s told you about his family…?” She trails off, clearly waiting for an answer, so you supply one.

“He hasn’t said much,” you recall. “He’s just told me that they all had to work from a young age, only his mother won’t, and that his father died young.”

“Hmmm.” She looks thoughtful for a moment about something before pressing on. “Anyway, from what he’s told me about his mother–which isn’t much, mind you–she’s an absolute witch of a woman and he’s better off without her. You think Dot can be difficult? She has nothing on his mother.”

You start to wonder whether or not you should be hearing this. He hadn’t exactly been thrilled that you knew where he had come from, and here was Mrs. Ryan telling you even more of his secrets. He wasn’t going to like this.

And yet, their relationship suddenly made sense after Mrs. Ryan’s story. She was the only mother he had ever known. Only one question remained. 

“So, why are you so fond of him?” you ask. “You said earlier you thought of him as a son. Why did your affection for him grow so much?”

“Oh, he’s just a gem once you get to know him,” she says fondly. “It’s not hard to grow an attachment to him with time. He can be a pain, I know, but I think you’re starting to learn that he’s deadly charming when he’s not being influenced by his environment.” She pats your hand. “He’s a good kid. And for what it’s worth, he’ll be good to you.” She stands up then. “I’ll have Maggie bring you your dinner in here. I expect it’ll be an early night for you.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. Almost as soon as you finish the meal that’s brought to you, you’re desperate for sleep. Maggie brings you a nightgown, but you dismiss her after that. This was the first disruption in your nighttime routine in years, and you didn’t want an intruder at the moment, no matter how benign her motives might be. This was both the beginning of your new normal, and a period of intense grief, and you just had to be alone.

For as you sit in front of a vanity brushing your hair out, you’re struck again with just how much you miss Nellie.

You’d spent every evening for the past several years with her. She was often the voice of reason when you were frazzled. She’d not only stood by your side during your courtship, but she’d helped you out at great personal risk if your mother had discovered her involvement. You knew that if it weren’t for her, you would not be engaged today. You miss her so much that you physically ache, and your eyes burn with unshed tears; you have no more to cry after the day you’ve had.

There’s a knock at the door then, and you’re tempted to ignore it by pretending you’re already asleep, but since it’s probably Mrs. Ryan, you figure you should, at the very minimum, hear her out since you’re staying on her hospitality. You clear your throat briefly before calling out, “Come in.”

To your surprise, when the door opens, it’s not Mrs. Ryan who stands there. Instead, Mr. Onceler appears in the doorway, looking sheepish. “Hi,” he begins hesitantly. “Um, I just wanted to let you know that I’m about to head home, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” you murmur. You don’t know why, but for some reason you were under the impression he would be staying here with you. Looking back on it, that assumption was absurd. He had his own house; what reason would he have to stay? “Will you be visiting frequently?” you ask, praying you sound more indifferent than you felt.

“Probably,” he decides. “I have a business to run, of course, but we also have a wedding to plan.” He looks apologetic for a moment. “I don’t know if your preference would be to have a longer engagement period, but I don’t want to intrude on Matilda’s time for longer than necessary.”

“No, I agree. That’s fine,” you assure quickly. He looks momentarily relieved, but that expression is soon replaced with one of worry.

“How are you doing? I know that was hard for you. And forgive me for saying so, but your eyes are red. Have you been crying again?” he asks so gently that a region in your abdomen gives that funny little lurch again.

You shrug, both as an answer to his question, and an attempt to shoo away the reactions your body had to seeing him. “I haven’t been crying, but I don’t really know how I am right now,” you confess. “I’m sure the grief will come in waves, but I don’t know how to feel when those waves aren’t cresting.” Your lip trembles as you will yourself not to cry, and this causes more words to keep tumbling out of your mouth. “And I just… I miss Nellie. I never even got to say goodbye to her.”

This realization finally causes a traitorous tear to fall from your eye, and you wipe it away furiously. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel obligated to comfort you again. It obviously made him uncomfortable and beside the point, you were still a bit cross and confused about what had happened between you two earlier in the hall.

He frowns at your statement however. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all you had to give up for me,” he says after a long pause. “I fear sometimes I’ve become so used to my own family dynamic that I forget others can actually get along and love can develop there.” He has a deep scowl on his face now as he recalls what is likely a painful memory. You knew how touchy of a subject this was, but you still felt the urge to pry.

“Mrs. Ryan told me your mother can be… difficult,” you say slowly, carefully gauging his reaction. He looks mildly surprised, but not angry, so you push on. “Is there truly no one in your family you get along with? Not even an aunt or uncle, or cousins perhaps?”

He just shakes his head. “I have an aunt and uncle on my mother’s side, and I don’t like either of them, and they didn’t have any children. And my father was an only child so there’s no family on that side at all.” Once again, he can’t meet your eyes when he discusses his father. There has to be more to the story there, but you feel you’ve probably pushed your luck far enough for one night.

“I’m sorry for bringing up unpleasant memories,” you murmur. No matter your slight ire, you didn’t want the evening to end on a sour note.

He’s brushing away your apology before you’re finished with it. “It’s fine. I’ve learned you’ve got an inquisitive mind, so it’s only natural you would be curious about my odd family situation. I’d do the same, were our positions switched.” His mouth twists a bit, a gesture you’ve come to understand means he’s thinking carefully about something. “I suspect that by asking questions of me, you’re trying to distract yourself from your own negative feelings?” he hesitantly guesses after a moment.

You blink at his deduction, then realize that subconsciously, that’s exactly what you had been doing. “Perhaps a bit,” you admit. “I don’t like thinking of Nellie and what might be happening to her. I’m praying with everything in me that she isn’t being punished for helping me. She could claim she knew nothing, but I fear my mother might be willing to lash out at anyone.”

He gets the same look on his face he did the last time you mentioned Nellie, like he ‘s trying to decide something. But whatever his plans, he does not share them with you. “Sleep,” he instead insists. “Things will not seem so bleak in the morning.”

You can't deny that sleep doesn't sound divine. “Get home safe,” you whisper to him just before he leaves. He turns back to you and inclines his head, a small smile adorning his face, and then he leaves, and you suddenly feel quite alone and vulnerable.

Everything will be better in the morning, you remind yourself of his advice before you turn out the lights and lay down, sleep claiming you before your head even hits the pillow.

****

You feel as though you could've slept for another several hours when you're woken in the morning by Maggie pulling the curtains back, letting the morning sunrise bleed into the room. There's a slight pounding in your head, no doubt due to the dehydration you suffered yesterday, but thankfully, there's a glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed. You grab it and gulp it down, not caring about manners for once, and it helps your head immensely. You feel ten times better already.

As you stretch and really commit to staying awake, Mrs. Ryan comes into the room, already dressed, and she holds a simple day dress in her arms. “This might be a little big on you,” she says with a furrowed brow. “I've had you in my daughter's old things, and she inherited her father's height, but it's still in style at least. Maggie, would you be able to get some things hemmed while we're out this morning?”

As Maggie agrees, you look up curiously. “Out? Where could we possibly be going?” you question. 

“It's Sunday, dear. Church,” Mrs. Ryan answers simply, making you blanch. Of course Sunday meant church, but with everything that happened yesterday, you hadn't even thought about it. While not a huge event, church was still something social, which was the primary reason most of the peerage attended. As such, the church you'd gone to your whole life was the same as everyone else's, including Mrs. Ryan and the Hunte's. It was also a feeding ground for gossip.

Mrs. Ryan must notice your terror, because she sits next to you. “I highly doubt Dot will be there,” she consoles quietly. “But it would do good for you to go. You did nothing wrong and shouldn't act like it. So you'll go in on his arm and keep your head held high, you hear?”

This statement just confuses you further. Despite being a social event, and despite people talking if you missed, you'd never seen him at church before. “He's… coming too?” you ask, just to ensure you heard her properly.

“Yes. He should be here soon, so Maggie's going to hurry and get you dressed.” At those words, Maggie springs into action, and you find yourself in the familiar busy routine of getting ready for a day as a high-born lady of New York.

It was strange though, that even though your morning, in all technicalities, began like any other, it was still starkly different. It wasn't Nellie gathering your hair into a quick but pretty updo. It wasn't your own mother chastising you for being late, not this time and likely never again.

All of it only added to the crushing psychological torment that you were now disowned. If not for your fiancé's protection, you would be forced to fend for yourself. And as history so often showed, women in that position almost never survived once they were reduced to that. You were positively blessed in that regard.

Still, even knowing you were so much more fortunate than others did not make the situation any easier for you. You already wanted to curl up in shame from the stares and whispers you knew were going to be coming your way, and you hadn't even made it out the front door yet.

Time itself seemed to be against you, hastening to the hour of judgment. In the blink of an eye, you were ready to go, and Mr. Onceler had arrived to escort you to the firing squad.

The chapel wasn't far, so the three of you opted to walk. Mr. Onceler kept your arm firmly tucked in his elbow, and good thing too; you felt as if you'd lose your balance without the extra stability. The walk was in silence for the most part, as your concentration was on trying to calm your frantically beating heart.

It wasn't until you were only a couple of blocks away and were starting to see others of society that Mrs. Ryan spoke up. “Don't worry much, dove,” she soothed. “Remember, Dot probably won't be in.” You can only nod in response, words lost to you as you reach the foot of the stairs leading to the church. Mrs. Ryan marches up, but before you can gather the courage to follow, Mr. Onceler turns to face you.

“We did nothing wrong,” he reiterates in a low voice. “Don't let them get to you. They don't matter. Chin up. I would hate to lose that fire of yours so quick into our engagement.” He takes one of your hands and squeezes it gently before he turns, and you're once again facing down the building.

His words hadn't transformed you, but they'd done enough. You give him a resolute nod, and arm-in-arm, head inside together. Ready or not, you had New York to face, but at least you could face knowing he would never leave your side. With him, you could survive this.

[watanabes-cum-dump]

Hassen x Nikola headcanons bc old men

They r so old men yaoi to me okay??? They’re fucking married

Also @entropypalefire can we be delulu abt old men together 👉👈

They share a closet Like listen, they are literally married and they live together and all they wear are suits and shit they share a wardrobe okay. I will never let this go but it look like they’re wearing each other ties. Hassen has a grey suit with a black tie, Nikola’s suit is black with a grey tie okay? How did this happen? Obviously they live together

Hassen is so pathetic for his man Is this the leader of humanity? Yes. Is he Kenough? Also yes. He’s so whipped for Nikola it’s not even funny. He’s fucking cheesy too and Nikola HATES it. Gets pouty when Nikola doesn’t give him a kiss before work

Hassen lets Nikola stand on his blind side because he trusts him :’)

They both smoke They both smoke and they’ve both tried to quit but they’re old and stressed so they just keep smoking. Somehow they’re not dead yet.

Nikola does Hassen’s tie in the mornings It’s not because Hassen can’t, it’s just become a routine for some reason. Okay maybe Hassen is a little sloppy and it takes him a few tries so Nikola does it instead. He says it’s to speed things up but he just likes the domesticity of doing up his husband’s tie. I also like to think he taught Hassen how to in the first place bc in the manga we see a picture of young adult Hassen and he’s wearing a suit with no tie so yeah lol I just think it’d be cute.

Weather tolerance Hassen can’t handle the cold but Nikola takes it like a fucking champ. Like Hassen will be all bundled up and Nikola just has an overcoat. They hold hands to keep warm

Nikola really likes Hassen’s natural hair which is very curly and soft. Probably likes to touch it whenever Hassen doesn’t have three metric tons of gel in there.

Nikola can be soft He’s a little mean even to his husband but he’s really sweet sometimes. Like he’ll go in when he knows Hassen is stressed or overworking himself and just spends time with him.

They probably hated each other at first ngl. It’s giving enemies to lovers. Political rivals if you will. Lots of weird sexual tension too.

They were probably using each other for political gain at first but got attached. Sorry not sorry you can pry this trope from my cold dead hands.

A little bit on the angsty side, but they both shoulder the guilt of doing the most heinous fucking things all in the name of saving humanity. And it’s just really hard on the both of them. Hassen especially, since in the manga it’s shown that he used to be kind of naive and idealistic but only wanted the best.

I think Nikola is just kind of used to doing shady stuff, bc in a lot of the interludes he is up to some shady stuff and I think in Chrome’s interlude he says something about being willing to do anything? Yeah, he is prepared to commit war crimes. Like he was already with Kurono, I think he’s the one who’s used to all of this shady stuff. I do think he feels a little guilty about dragging Hassen down to his level and watching him become really ruthless and cold.

Listen during Last Spark Nikola says Hassen is even worse than him (I have my receipts somewhere okay) and I think he says it like almost sadly while Hassen just fucking brushes it of and I- bro. ;-; Do you think Nikola watched Hassen fall from grace and become this cunning, ruthless politician? Much to think about.

They’ve just both sacrificed so much for their cause, like Nikola used to be with Kurono and we know what they’re like. Hassen used to be a soldier, he’s missing his eye like c’mon he’s obviously got some PTSD from that shit.

On Nikola and Kurono, I am a firm believer in the “Kurono traumatizes everyone who were affiliated with it” agenda. He has seen some things. Hassen probably helped him leave, bc no way that is a healthy work environment. Especially because of how Nikola acts around Collins. Dare I say it, Nikola is scared of Collins and understandably so I’m pretty sure Collins is a psychopath.

Do you get the vibes that Nikola is from a dysfunctional but rich family? Bc I do

An orphan and a man with a shitty family. Meant for each other fr. They complete each other.

Hassen who doesn’t want to be alone x Nikola who keeps hurting the people around him.

They’ve probably gone through hell and back together like it cannot be easy being politicians in this hellscape where there’s literally a war that’s been going on for like sixty - seventy years now.

Anyways Kuro can we get a continuation of the manga? Pretty please? Can we see young Nikola? PLEASE??? ANYTHING??? The lore we would get.

But alas, we can’t have shit when it comes to lore over here :’) our timeline isn’t even consistent.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- Bits of violence, ptsd, traumatic flashbacks throughout the chapters

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n

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Ch-10~New idols~

Anaya walked silently on the grassy path as she admired the moon shining towards her left. The past few days had been less tormenting and she'd finally been getting an ample amount of sleep. 

She brainstormed for new ideas consulting her writing. This was the hour she thoroughly enjoyed and found suitable to write something down, apart from rainy days. She sensed the presence of another human near her. She silently summoned a small sharp icicle and kept it hidden in her palm. Spending much of her teenage years at Ketterdam had made her cautious enough so as to heighten her senses, even though the palace grounds were quite secure.

She hastily spun around as she felt the fabric of another kefta brush over hers. She pressed the small yet deadly blade to the throat of the mysterious figure. 

The person was much taller than she'd anticipated yet, she held a firm grip on the blade. 

"Not the most suitable time for a visit I believe?" The person spoke. It took her a moment to place the familiarity of the voice, then she noticed the unusual Kefta that confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh my, I apologize, General. You're the last person I expected to be here at this hour"  She dropped her hand in a haste as the weapon vanished from her palm.

"No need to apologize, it's very essential for one to be cautious at all times". "So, Anaya, I see you have been training well" He spoke, as he gestured her to walk along with him.  Anaya hesitated for a moment before joining him

"Yes I have, improved a little. Or 'finally stopped lazing around' as Baghra says" She responded, struggling to figure out what to do with her hands. Damned Keftas, why do they not have any pockets?

"There's been sightings of a herd of special deers and we believe at least few of them to be amplifiers. I'm sending a group of young grisha in hopes of them acquiring their amplifiers". "I am wondering if you'd wish to accompany them?"

Anaya stilled. She'd been wishing to get an amplifier since she'd heard about them, but she'd been stripped off the opportunity to actually acquire one and then she hadn't gotten much training so she no longer believed she had the needed amount of training to achieve one. 

"Of course, I have no intentions on passing on the opportunity" She spoke, trying her best to not sound too thrilled

....................................

Anaya returned to the little palace after about a month. She had left with a group of Etherealnik in hopes of getting her amplifier. Their journey had been successful and disappointing, depending on whom you asked. But it had been quite a boastful one for Anaya.

Now, she walked down the halls with a proud expression washing over her face, and a small round antler fused on the caramel skin of her left wrist. 

A few of the grisha looked at her with astounded expressions and some asked her the details as of how she'd acquired it.

During the afternoon, she was accompanied by Nadia to Lunch who informed her of a supply run across the fold that the Darkling had went on. And as usual, Zoya was one of the members on the crew and she'd been incredibly boastful about it.

Anaya had been reading quietly near her window when she'd heard of their arrival. She'd heard that they've brought some "special girl" with them, and the said girl had some unique ability and had killed several volcra. Though she believed none of that.

.................................................................

The next morning, when she'd gotten out of her room she was informed that all of the grisha had been asked to go to the Grand Palace. A Corporalnik, Sergei, had said that it had been for the "demonstration of the girl's powers".

Anaya still wondered as to why the girl was so special and believed it to be a waste of her time.

What, has the General found some skilled acrobat?, She'd said.

Almost all the Grisha continued to argue amongst each other about what order the girl should go along. The Grisha began to murmur amongst each other about the girl, she was apparently supposed to be a  "Sun Summoner" and had killed several volcra.

Anaya saw Genya lead a girl in a first army uniform towards the hallway. So she's managed to win over Genya aswell? That's why she was nowhere to be found yesterday She thought to herself.

Everyone fell silent as they entered the hallway . Anaya finally managed to get a closer look of the girl. She was about her age and looked frail. She had dull brown hair and eyes that indicated that she might have been Shu, but Anaya wasn't completely sure.

Sergei was the first to step forward and introduce himself.  He took the girl by her elbow and stated that she should walk with her. As he led her towards the Corporalnik, Marie stepped forward and insisted that she should go with them. "She's a summoner, Sergei, she walks with us" She spoke with a bold expression, and the other Etherealnik murmured in agreement as Anaya remained idle at looked at the situation with utter disinterest.

"Marie, you can't be possibly suggesting that she enter the hall as a lower-order Grisha" Sergei spoke as a forced smile played on his lips. Hearing Sergei call the Etherealki a "lower order" infuriated Anaya, yet she choose to steer away from useless arguments.

Marie's expression began to change rapidly and several other summoners shared her reaction "Need I remind you that the Darkling is himself a Summoner?" she spoke in a much harsher tone.

"So you're ranking yourself with the Darkling now?" Sergei responded in a similar tone

As Marie struggled to find words, the girl who has been the sole cause of the whole dispute, spoke up. "Why don't I just go with Genya" she said, attempting to calm the heated situation. It was the first Anaya heard her speak, she spoke with a hesitant demeanor with her voice lacking confidence.

A few people gave low snickers at her words.

"With the Tailor?" Sergei asked with an astounded expression

Genya took no offense of his words and simply smiled and shook her head.

"She belongs with us" Marie spoke yet again, and a highly anticipated argument broke out among everyone.

Anaya rolled her eyes as the loud voices of the Grisha filled her ears, she wished to be anywhere but here at the moment.

Everyone went silent as she heard a familiar voice from behind her. "She'll walk with me" She saw the Darkling standing in the archway

[ccastellanos]

❛❛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 , of an empire. you smile and lick it off . that'll be what makes them fear you . –––––––––––––

FULL NAME. Castor Emery Castellanos

NICKNAMES. Cas, Athos (his professional alias)

BIRTHDAY. September 18, 1986 ( 38 )

OCCUPATION. Tracker & Mercenary

RESIDENCE. Downtown

GENDER / PRONOUNS.  Cismale ∘  He/Him

HOMETOWN. Nottingham, England

PINTEREST ╱ CONNECTIONS

personality .

zodiac chart: -- sun, -- moon, -- rising

mbti personality: intj

moral alignment: neutral evil

ennegram: 5 x 2 (maybe 5 x 6 as well)

hobbies / interests: chess, hacking, technology, hunting

positive traits: perceptive, bold, adaptive, skillful, quick learner

negative traits: diabolical, doesn't show concern for others, isolated, closed off

family .

parents: angelina castellanos ( mom ), ivan castellanos ( dad )

siblings: younger sister named iris ( wc )

children: none

other: tba

breakdown .

tw: disappearance, murder, guns, trauma

Castor was born to nomadic parents who settled in the farmlands of Nottingham, England. Later, they welcomed his baby sister into the world and their family of four had finally become complete.

For most of his adolescence, the Castellanos were known around their small town as the mythical "swamp people" because they didn't believe in conformity and resisted modern technology and civilization. They were firm believers that in living off the same land their ancestors sprang from, they remained the purest versions of themselves.

This often meant that Castor and his sister were pretty much seen as social pariahs in their community and were often targeted by local teens who would make the trek out to where they lived to taunt them for "fun."

Meanwhile, all they wanted to do was be normal. To go to school, to make friends, to essentially live like modern day citizens. Unfortunately for them, that wasn't in the cards. At least not yet.

One night while Castor and little sister Iris were playing, they stumbled along the dirt road of their nearby town and witnessed a grizzly murder. Horrified, Iris screamed behind the bushes they hid behind, attracting the attention of the sleek, mesmerizing assassins. Shortly after they made their way toward them (to silence them), Castor urged his sister to run while he bought her some time.

He returned home later that night soaking wet and exhausted to parents who berated him for putting himself and his younger sister Iris in danger.

For a short while, it seemed like the dust had settled after that night. Until one of the gun slinging, assassins stumbled upon their home in his search of a phone or way out. When Castor's father Ivan, refused to offer him refuge or help, he got angry and killed Ivan's wife right in front of him and his two children.

Following that fatal night, something in Castor snapped and he had never been the same since. Taking a life, especially in front of that young of an age had lasting, traumatic effects. Just to cope, he would sometimes disassociate and imagine he was somebody else. It helped to combat the nightmares that flared up, until eventually they all went away. Or were replaced by a growing list of new ones.

As their family got older, Castor developed insane hunting skills thrust upon him by their father. He no longer longed for a life he would never get to have. His father taught him how to survive, how to enhance his tracking abilities to an almost borderline supernatural degree.

Unlike Castor, Iris however, distanced herself from her brother and their father. She still craved a modest, civilized life. Which is why at age 17, she disappeared from their family without a trace. She stayed hidden for a good while until Castor caught up with her following their father's death in 2018.

They stayed together long enough to catch up on their time apart and to lay their father's body to rest. But after a year, she was gone again. And this time, she made sure not a trace of her would be found.

In her absence, Castor decided it was time to put his skills to good use by developing his own personal business. One that operates by his own set of rules and not that of anyone else's.

He now uses his skill set to find missing persons all across the country to make up for not being able to locate his own remaining flesh and blood.

This has led him to becoming a tracker and occasional mercenary for hire. Not only do the gigs pay well (being that most of the rewards typically start at 10 grand and upward) but, it's a way for him to satiate the inner monster he's indelibly become. The same monster that he won't acknowledge, his father had made him into.

headcanons .

character inspirations. colter shaw (tracker), silver sable (marvel universe)

[fluffypotatey]

Connected to my last ask but I wanted to separate bc it's a whole new issue

But, like you mentioned Arthur being a captain by 15, and the Druid raid we all know went so wrong, that he still blames himself for (yet the writers didn't follow through, AGAIN) and that had me wonder if he actually was to blame.

Like, he said he lost control of his men, but....I don't think that would happen. These would have been trained knights, probably all older than him, more experienced....and more loyal to Uther. They would know better than to disobey their Prince, bc that risks being punished by the King.

Unless they knew they wouldn't be in trouble.

I think that raid was a test, Uther seeing just how obedient his son was, if he was too "soft" on what he decided was the enemy. And if he was, he told the knights they were to finish the job themselves against Arthur's command, bc the only order that trumps Arthur's, is Uther's.

MHM MHM MHM BECAUSE YEAH

-----

arthur was still a teenageer, he was at the age where most are still considered squires (at least...i think so?) but obviously he went up the ranks faster because he's the prince. he was still finding his footing with his role as prince and heir to the throne. he was probably still holding on to this naivete about kingship that uther wanted to squash out of him.

arthur probably hasn't seen much of the purge other than trials and executions of alleged guilty sorcerers (which he probably believed to be fair trials). he has not yet seen the true disregard of empathy his father and the kingdom has towards magic users.

i am a firm believer that that raid arthur led was a test. and a test he almost passed because he told his men to "spare the women and children" but it is highly likely that uther had a contingency plan if arthur's raid didn't eradicate all of the druids from that settlement.

now, look at the episode's transcript (s4 ep10), arthur is immediately disturbed when he realizes where they are and when merlin explains the shrine to the knights as something built "to appease restless spirits" in an area.

[Arthur seems slightly disturbed as he looks at a red flag picking up in the breeze.]

and even later he seems so out of it

[Arthur stares into space has he absentmindedly unbuckles his bracers.]

it's like he, himself, is haunted by the memory. a memory he probably made himself forget because of how horrible it was. he's had this old memory locked away so tight but now that its back, now that arthur remembers, he can't help but go through the what ifs, and berate himself for not being experienced enough to stop his men.

gaius calls uther's raids "relentless", not even considering arthur himself in that description. this could be either because gaius is too used to uther's persecution that he assumes any magical persecution is uther or gaius knew (or had some semblance to know) that uther was the true one at fault for arthur's raid.

but back to arthur

KING ARTHUR (begins to cry) I am responsible for what happened to you. And for all the violence that happened here. When I led the attack on your camp, I was young and inexperienced. I was desperate to prove myself to my men, to my...father. KING ARTHUR (still crying) I told the men to spare the women and children, but I know that some of them ignored the order. And there was so much happening. I wanted to stop it...I froze. I didn't know what to do. KING ARTHUR (completely breaking down) I can still hear the screams. I cannot right this wrong. Nothing I can ever do will change the horrors that happened that day. But I can promise that, now that I am king, I will do everything that I can to prevent anything like this ever happening again. From this day forth, the Druid people will be treated with the respect they deserve. I give you my word.

uther how fucking dare you traumatize my boy like this

arthur can still hear the fucking screams....like shit.....that sound is burned into his memory, the blood, the smell of rot and possibly fire, everything about that day how he thought himself ready but froze when things began to go wrong.

did he think himself a coward when the day came to night after the raid? did he struggle to even put on the pendragon cape? did older knights creep behind him and try to remind him that this was his father's mission? did they speak to him with false sympathy as they told him that this was all for the good and safety of camelot?

so yeah that raid was something uther placed into the hands of an inexperienced child (reminder that he only turned 20/21 in s1 so he definitely led the raid in his teens) as a way to see if arthur would do what it took to prove himself worthy for his father.

[feydrautha]

Do you think Larys didn’t get married to anyone out of choice or is Westeros just that ableist?

I'd say it's both that he doesn't care for it and also because Westerosi society is just that fucked, with a very healthy dash of "If he weren't disabled, he would've already been married" influencing the former — but if Larys weren't disabled, he'd be a wholly different character than the one we know so far.

Yes, Westeros is downright horrible towards people with disabilities, be it people born with a disability (Tyrion, Larys), those who became disabled at a young age (Bran, Varys) or as adults (Jaime, Willas Tyrell, Doran Martell), and it's that first category who endured abuse and dehumanisation from the people around them their entire lives - hell, the Karstarks believe that Bran should have committed suicide instead of spending the rest of his life without being able to use his legs, and we saw how Tyrion was treated by most of his family. Especially with men we see how closely disability is tied to their masculinity, and masculinity in Westeros is focused on a man's ability to fight, with the highest goal being knighthood (also an elevation of status for low-born men but that's another topic). Specifically with regard to sexuality and marriage, while Tyrion as a direct result of his extremely traumatic experience as a youth becomes very hypersexual as an adult, we have Ned lamenting that Bran is never going to be able to father children among other things that define a man in Westeros — which is something I can see Lyonel do, as well-meaning as he would consider having pity for his son and thus not seeing him as a man in the first place.

Harwin embodies just about the ideal of masculinity in Westeros, in stark contrast to his brother, who (like all of the disabled male characters mentioned) is virtually denied manhood, and has done so since birth. I'm a firm believer that Harwin loved his baby brother and might have been one of the very few people who didn't treat Larys like a half-man, and Lyonel is no Tywin, but despite that he still was in a way their "beloved embarrassment", and besides, so what if your family loves you but the rest of the world looks down on you?

So Larys is aware how people see him - as male, but not as a man, because he can't fight, go to war, charge at his enemies and run them through with his sword, etc. And because he is not a 'man', he also can't do the other thing that 'men' typically do, which is fucking and siring heirs. He of course knows he could do that, but everyone else who looks at him and only sees an introverted cripple surely doesn't, women don't show interest in him because of this and if they do it's out of politeness (he does know when they talk behind his back so it's not like he is making it up), so it's not honesty and thus irrelevant.

Of course, he developed a certain superiority complex to protect himself from the harsh world out there. The entire nihilistic speech in S1E6 is all but proof of that, "everyone who has children is just creating his own downfall, I am smarter than that and simply don't do that". There is no one who is worth his companionship because they're all vapid creatures anyway, and none of them is truly special. Marriage is something for 'men', who are also vapid.

In the books, Larys does get betrothed to Floris Baratheon for diplomacy's sake, so I highly doubt this would've been on the table in any shape or form otherwise.

[swingjazzbear]

Adonis is constantly aware of everything and has way more life experience than everyone else in the main cast.

Only it appears less so because, unlike most people in ES, he is severely less dramatic. He does not speak what he sees out loud, but he is one of the very rare character who shows and not tell. Time and time again, Adonis always reacted appropriately to a situation while making sure everyone is comfortable. He is observant, and easily identifies people's feelings.

He is the son of a high ranking diplomat. He has been shown since a young age the ins and outs of such profession. There is thin line between being a politician and being an idol, he is doing both his dear parents' profession at the same time. And so, given his healthy relationship with them and the different paths his sisters took, without the pressure of needing to: Adonis loves what his parents did with their life and aspire to do so out of his own volition.

The main cast is very young and is only recently entering the "adult world", while Adonis was forced to face it since a very young age. However, his power level is severely downsized due to, mostly, racism and imposter syndrome. There is a very thin line where Adonis is self-conscious of many things, such as his imposing appearance, and his bias is inherently is that he is scary when in actuality he is not, people are just racists and assume he is most likely a brute.

It feeds on Adonis' desire to find a supportive environment, to be supportive, to want to help out, and thus he always try to adjust to not be a problem... when he is not one, sometimes people are just unfair asshole. However, where Adonis differs from more immature characters, I do firmly believes he is aware of this discrepancy, but is so kindhearted since what he wants most, and, in a tragic way, way more than his own self worth being shown, is for peace and everyone to get along.

Adonis is so mature emotionally he is able to handle stress in a very healthy way, having processed his traumatic childhood and channelling it through devoting himself to his loved ones and his aspirations. He is one of the only character to be very mentally healthy with little to no treated scars despite having had the most severe trauma. He deserves such a huge spotlight, but keeps sidelining himself due to not wanting to cause a scene by being a minority and letting his friends have it first. I'd usually be so upset at this, but in terms of him, Adonis, his own character, his own person, it is just so tragically beautiful.

I am a firm believer that Adonis can quickly assess others' issues whenever he meets them, only he is such a healthy person that he understands boundaries and, unlike other characters, will not meddle in others' private matters. And he knows how to not personally be affected by others having such troubling matters. He is also so healthy he knows when to clearly state he is unavailable to be emotional support, understands his own emotions, his own limits, and how to react to them. He also understands when others are not ready to change, and he accepts this, appreciates the person for where they are at, and continue on living his best life. HE'S THE BEST MAN. (cause Ogami is best boy)

[yjhzies]

“Interrupt.” — Moon Junhui

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff · crack · self-indulgent

⋆ pairings : jun x f!reader ⋆ warning : not proof-read, seungkwan and dino are dramatic. (let me know if they more ^^) ⋆ wc : 0.8k

[✉��] ··· preparing a meal for your bf's friends together to bribe them to keep your relationship a secret when they caught you both together. It couldn't go wrong, right?

⋆ - note : I have a love-hate relationship with whatever i wrote 🥰🤌 BUT. I'm very proud to have started this today and finishing it today aswell!! I hope you like this, my first Jun fic btw <3

"We should've been more careful," you said, referring to how you almost got caught kissing.

Jun washed his hands in the sink and dried them with a towel.

"We really should've," Jun sighed as he approached you from behind and peered over your shoulder to see how you were doing.

With a gentle smile, you leaned into his touch as his hands encircled your waist.

"Is this okay?" You asked, gesturing to the freshly prepared fishcake. He smiled and nodded, reaching over to give you a cheek kiss.

"Ah, you, Moon Junhu-" The door swung open, revealing Seungkwan, and you both flinched at the sudden shouting. When you turned to face the unexpected sound, Seungkwan was standing there with his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"Hey, can't you guys hurry u-"

Arriving in the kitchen as well, Dino dropped his phone to the ground in shock. You simply grinned sheepishly.

What else can you do?

"Oh. My. God." Both of them managed to choke out the words in unison. You couldn't make out if they were shocked, traumatized, or both. Seungkwan dramatically covered Dino's eyes before covering his own.

"You're too young for this, Dino."

Sighing, Jun swiftly withdrew his hands from you and moved away. "Come on, guys, it's not a big deal..."

Seungkwan screamed, causing you to flinch again. "Oh god, I don't know what I might have done so devilish to see this sight unfold before my eyes," Seungkwan exaggerated, folding his hands together to emphasize his statement.

"Hey, Seungkwan, calm down," you say, setting the fishcake aside.

Dino slowly picked up his phone, still staring at you both as if he had just seen a ghost. "I just wanted some food..." He muttered innocently, holding his phone firm against his chest.

They both were just being dramatic. Maybe they still weren't able to digest the fact that Jun was dating someone, who happened to be you. It was a big shock, afterall. It was also the second time they caught you in a lighthearted, lovey-dovey act, whereas the first was much more chaotic.

Of course, it was Seungkwan who first barged in and caught you two about to kiss, which was cut short by his screaming. Dino soon followed into the room, and you knew that there was no turning back now.

They agreed to keep it a secret from the other members, but only if you and Jun prepared them a delicious meal for them. This is how you ended up spending your lovely afternoon in the kitchen together.

Dino slowly tip-toed his way towards you, side eyeing Jun while Seungkwan just stood where he was, flabbergasted.

"Hey, what's with that look?" With a frown, Jun moved to face him, but Dino simply moved away.

"You guys can continue," Dino said, looking over to the fishcakes and then at you with a sly smile. "We're just here for a taste."

Hearing this, Seungkwan dashed towards Dino, grabbing his arm and tugging on it. "No, let's just go, I'm scared." Glancing between you and Jun, he said.

"But-"

"Let's go!"

After giving you both a wink, Seungkwan dragged Dino—who was furiously protesting—out of the kitchen. "Moon Junhui!" Seungkwan called out, startling you both. "I thought I was your favourite person, you wound my heart!" He let out a dramatic cry, but then grinned slyly before gesturing with his hands and mouthing, 'Continue, continue.' and left the kitchen, closing the door.

You noticed the way Jun's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink at that, and you couldn't hold back your laugh. "Can you believe him? He is so silly,"

Jun simply hummed in response and moved closer to you, resting his hands on your hip. And it was enough to tell you that he was getting shy.

He gave you a soft peck on the forehead before removing his hands and walking over to the counter.

"Let's get this over with," he said, placing the pan on the stove. "Then we can go out for a walk." He continued, speaking softer toward the end. Walking over to stand next to him, you smile.

"Wait," Jun turned to you. "We didn't finish what we were supposed to do,"

You raise your eyebrow in confusion, "What were we supposed to do?"

With his eyes darting to your lips, he leaned closer to your face.

"This."

Your lips curved into a smile at the realisation. you give a nod. "Go on." You say, earning a grin from him.

He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching yours, but then the sound of music drifting in from the guest room interrupted. Seungkwan and Dino's singing soon followed, indicating that they were performing karaoke.

You turned your head toward the sound, which was muffled by the door, before returning your gaze to Jun.

"I thought they barged in again," you say, widening your eyes and laughing softly.

"Me too," Jun chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you closer and softly placed his lips onto yours before slightly pulling away.

"But I won't let it interrupt us." With a sly smile, he said, your laughter soon following.

[readingforsanity]

The Good Lie | A.R. Torre | Published 2021 | *SPOILERS*

Six teenagers dead. Finally, the killer behind bars. But are the games just beginning?

Psychiatrist Dr. Gwen Moore is an expert on killers. She's spent a decade treating California's most depraved predators and unlocking thier motives - predators much like the notorious Bloody Heart serial killer, whose latest teenage victim escaped and then identified local high school teacher Randall Thompson as his captor. The case against Thompson as the BH Killer is damning - and closed, as far as Gwen and the media are concerned. If not for one new development...

Defense attorney Robert Kavin is a still-traumatized father whose own son fell prey to the BH Killer. Convinced of Thompson's innocence, he steps in to represent him. Now Robert wants Gwen to interview the accused, create a psych profile of the killer and his victims, and help clear his client's name.

As Gwen and Robert grow closer and she dives deeper into the investigation, grave questions arise. So does Gwen's suspicions that Robert is hiding something - and that he might not be the only one with a secret.

Gwen is a psychiatrist who specializes in the especially depraved clients. Dealing mostly with individuals with violent tendencies, she sees a variety of clients ranging from a pharmacist who has violent tendencies toward his wife, whom he suspects of cheating, to a housewife who is hellbent on violence toward her sister-in-law for reasons unknown.

When John, the pharmarcist and his wife, Brooke, are found dead in an apparent heart attack (Brooke) and suicide (John), Gwen believes it is only a matter of time before the police are knocking on her door, wanting to subponea her records detailing her sessions with John that occurred over the last year. Simultaneously, a young boy named Scott has escaped from LA's most notorious serial killer in a decade, known as the Bloody Heart Killer.

The BH Killer has already claimed six victims, all kidnapped from public places, held for 6-8 weeks at a time, before they are murdered, their genitals cut off and a heart carved into their chests, all several digits including the pinky fingers always missing. These victims are all good-looking, rich, 17-year-old males with their lives fully ahead of them.

Scott positively identifies a teacher at his school, Beverly High, as the BH Killer: Randall Thompson. Thompson is arrested immediately and Scott goes into full celebrity status, claiming that he was able to escape by keeping a fork given to him with dinner, and using it to remove the handcuffs that kept him bound, allowing him to leave his captive home and return to his home.

Scott's mother knows that something is off and that her son is lying, though she can't figure out why. She watches his every move, and eventually, Scott comes out and tells the police that he was lying, that he didn't escape but was actually let go, though his mother knows that this was also a lie, and can't figure out what Scott is hiding.

Gwen begins working with a defense attorney named Robert Kavin. Robert has opted to represent Randall Thompson in hopes of proving his innocence, stating that he knows that Mr. Thompson is innocent and just needs to prove it, doing so pro bono through his law firm. Gwen and Robert shared one passionate night together, and when Robert was caught snooping inside her home office, where the file she had on John was left open, she thinks that any sort of relationship with him is over.

But instead, he hires her to a psychological profile on the BH Killer in hopes of either proving that Randall Thompson IS or ISN'T the killer in question. Gwen begins working fervently on her profile, and in the end, determines that Mr. Thompson does not fit the profile that she has put together. While yes, Mr. Thompson is a sexual predator, it isn't toward males as he despies any sort of homosexuality. Instead, his focus is on young teenage girls, having been accused of sexual misconduct with several of his students, though according to records, those findings were not founded.

While giving a house tour for John and Brooke Abbott's home, the potential sellers find quite the find in the attic of the home, a particular thing that the buyer was interested in seeing as a home inspector. Inside, they find the mattress, covered in blood, along with the pinky fingers of the six victims.

The news is released to the public, and Gwen is shocked. She cannot believe that John and Brooke were the BH Killers. She returns home quickly, opening up her files on John and the profile she created and realizes that they fit perfectly, although John never showed any of these tendencies while in the office with her. His only concern was that Brooke was potentially cheating on him, and that he thought he would be violent toward her.

While putting together a timeline, she understands now that the men he was fearful were sleeping with his wife were actually the victims, more notably, that of Gabe Kavin, Robert Kavin's 17-year-old son. During this revelation, Robert enters her home office and begins threatening Gwen, believing that she knew of John's involvement as the BH Killer the entirety of their relationship.

Gwen reassures him that she never got the vibes from John, and that she truly believed that everything he discussed during their sessions was because of Brooke. Robert believes her, and after a discussion with the detective on the case of John and Brooke's suspicious deaths, leaves and disappears.

A month goes by, and Randall Thompson is let out of jail, though Scott Harden wants to end his life. He was devastated to learn that Brooke was dead at the hands of her husband after planning to meet with him a few months after his release, of which she was responsible for. The two of them had fallen in love, though this was the case with the other male victims, but she really fell for Scott during his time in captivity, even caring for the wounds that John would give him.

But, despite his violent tendencies toward the wronged individual, his mother, along with the other mothers of the victims of the BH Killer put together a foundation in order to help the true victims of Randall Thompson.

Gwen continues her practice, having become more popular after it got out that she had been one of the BH Killer's psychiatrists, and in the end, Robert reaches out to her and the two of them begin a sort of relationship with each other despite his initial misgivings to her, even going so far as to apologize to her for misunderstanding her role in John's life.

[donnabroadway]

Mature for your age

I hate to break it to you but that man doesn't think you're mature for your age, he thinks you have a nice body, could pass for older, and likes that you don't have the true maturity that comes with experience to realize he's full of it and he's going to take you on a ride to nowhere. There is a reason why his interest in you starts at the moment you start to develop and ends at age 30, no matter how old he is. There is a reason why the women R.Kelly, Diddy, Marques Houston, and a few others stay the same age while the men get older. These men aren't emotionally stunted, they just don't want to do any of the true work it takes to have a healthy relationship and truly be leaders, so they date young, naive, traumatized girls. The thing about teenagers, is they think they know it all, they're hard headed, they think they're special, and trying to warn them is like talking to a brick wall but because of their age and inexperience, you're going to be expected to pick up the pieces of their poor decisions. Kind of like politicians.

The irony is in the Twitter thread, that inspired this post, many of the same men who believed that a girl with "teen" in her age could be mature but also believed women shouldn't hold leadership positions because they're too emotional. So that same woman is mature as a teenager but once she becomes a woman, who has qualifications, and the ability to hold a leadership position she's not emotionally equipped but if she was a 19 year old, she would be emotionally mature enough to be a wife and a mother? Got it.

Those guys don't care about you as a person. They don't even like you as a person, don't care you as a person, what you're into, your interests or future plans. What they care about your small waist, big breasts, firm behind, youthful beauty, curiosity, malleability, and desire, even desperation, to be loved. They want someone who is impressed by the little they have, can stroke their ego, or won't talk back. They listen to you talk about your home life to see if they have a chance or if anyone, like a father or father figure, or even a mother is going to challenge them and even then, they're not too worried. Too many mothers have shared beds with their daughters men and depending on how you read into the statement, the blame could shift from the mother to the boyfriend real quick but these predators know what they're doing and who to target. They're quick to lock you down or get you pregnant because they want you to be stuck because once they leave you, where are you going to go? They're done with you but they don't want anyone else to be with you or they don't want you to become what they not so secretly hate, so they make sure you're emotionally stuck on them and they're able to spin the block whenever they want or by the time you hit the wall, you're so emotionally damaged and emotionally and mentally manipulated that you couldn't have a healthy relationship if God came down and personally handed it to you with an instruction manual.

[carolap53]

STAND FIRM AND STAND TOGETHER But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. 1 Corinthians 12:24b-25

As members of the same family we have the responsibility to come to the aid of another member who is suffering. The body of Christ is strong when each part is closely knit together. When one part suffers, all the other members suffer (1 Corinthians 12:20–27).

Members of the persecuted church who have been helped by others around the world have made comments like those of young Salamat Masih in Pakistan. He was charged with writing blasphemies against the Prophet Mohammed—even though he was illiterate. He was on death row until finally exonerated. After receiving cards from all over the world assuring him of prayers, Salamat said: “I never realized that I had so many brothers and sisters around the world.”

A pastor who was attacked and hurt in Indonesia was so traumatized that he and the family left the area and the ministry. Before we judge him, perhaps we should ask if this pastor ever received enough encouragement and help from other churches and believers. Could it be that he felt so alone because there were not enough other people who cared for him?

Another believer from Hindu background in eastern Indonesia was led to the Lord by a doctor who prayed for him regarding his incurable disease and God healed him. He lost no time in joining a local church.

He said, “At that time, a lot of people accepted Jesus in my village, but they were afraid of the threats from their families. When they convert, village officials come to interrogate them. I, myself, have been interrogated many times after my conversion, and warned me not to convert others. But I was not afraid. I chose to keep my faith in Him no matter what happened.” He experienced severe opposition and persecution from everyone he knew but he held fast to his faith. Open Doors then connected him with a group of other believers from Hindu background.

In November 2010, he and his family met a different kind of opposition that tested their faith. Mount Bromo erupted, covering hundreds of hectares of farmlands and plantations with volcanic ash. “Our livestock died, and we could not work on the farm…People around me ask why I can still smile and be happy. I just tell them that although I am poor and I face a lot of difficulties, I have Jesus. He gives me joy in my heart…Being with other believers reminds me that I am not alone. I am encouraged all the more to share the gospel with my people.”

RESPONSE: Today I will remember that I am part of a large body…a family that deeply cares for me.

PRAYER: Pray for isolated believers that God will show them the reality of standing strong together.

Open Doors Ministry

[americancowgirl19]

Stumbling Along the Edge

Summary: You lose something close to you and it pushes you over the edge, but you have two people who care about you and pull you back in.

Warnings: depression, this shit gets dark, doing vigilante activities drunk, some fluff

Reader: Gender Neutral 

Pairings: Frank Castle x Gender Neutral Reader x Matt Murdock

Word Count: 2906

A/n:

Masterlist

It was all too much. There were too many emotions swirling in your chest and too many thoughts crowding your mind. You felt as if everything was overloading. It was simply - yet so complicatedly - too much.

It first started with the constant fighting between you and your lovers, Matthew Murdock and Frank Castle. If you were being honest with yourself, you had no idea why the three of you thought this relationship would even work. It started out as casual sex, mind-blowing sex but still just sex - and then somewhere in the pillow talk the three of you thought that being something more than just each other's release would work.

How could the three of you be so naive? Matt is a devout Catholic with a firm no killing rule that Frank gave zero shits about. Not only did Frank refuse to hold back his violent slaughters he had the emotional baggage of someone who lost their entire family. He had days where he would let you and Matt close and others where the guilt of moving on would cause him to push you both away.

The two of them alone had a lot of shit to work out but the relationship wasn't just them; it was all three of you. You were no saint either and carried your own baggage. You had no problem putting a bullet in someone's head. Sometimes the situation called for it. You weren't gung-ho like Frank but when push came to shove you pulled the trigger.

You were also a private person. It was hard to be open and let them into your personal life. Only when your relationship miraculously lasted three months did you begin to tell them about your family. By then you practically knew everything about Matt and Frank. As brash as Frank is, when it comes to you and Matt, he’s an open book. He’ll grumble about a lot of things, but he’ll tell both of you anything you want to know. Matt doesn’t always wait for either of you to ask about his life, he likes to share. He doesn’t always share the more... traumatic details openly but he’s certainly more open than you are.

The killings, you keeping your life private, and all of your other differences were starting to put a strain on the relationship. Lately it felt as if you were arguing more often than not. The sex was always rough and angry. You were always down for some rough sex but the lack of gentle touches and whispers of sweet nothings afterword’s were taking it’s tole on you.

On top of your relationship problems were your work problems. Your job had started out swimmingly. You loved it and looked forward to every day. That is until new managers were promoted, you being constantly looked over, and the assholes they hired to take the place of those that were promoted instead of you. Now the job you loved is now the one you loathed. Every morning you debated on whether you wanted to stay in bed and say fuck you to the world or man up and go to work.

But what pushed you over the edge was the news you got today. Your mother had called and told you your grandma passed. Your grandma was hands down the sweetest woman to walk the Earth. She was sweet and innocent. She had lived through so much shit; the depression, the second world war and every war to follow, but she swears the worst thing she lived through is the death of her husband. Your grandpa has been dead for years and you can see the pain in her eyes every time she would talk about him. She missed him dearly.

The only silver lining in this situation is your hope that she made it into the Heaven she believed so much in and is not enjoying a hot cup of coffee in a rocking chair right beside your grandpa. You hope they’re both young and with family that passed before them waiting patiently for the rest to join.

You imagine that all the family in Heaven is together enjoying a big BBQ. You know they’re bullshitting, drinking their poison and smoking their fat stogies. When both of your grandparents were alive, they had BBQs regularly. Now, you were lucky if your family came together for Christmas.

The news of your grandma’s death was a harsh blow to your shitty month. It was the icing on you shit cake.

With how estranged your nearly ten-month relationship is becoming you didn’t know if you were welcome with Frank and Matt. You didn’t want to add another problem to the list. They knew of your closeness with your grandma, it was one of the few things you had chosen to disclose to them. You didn’t want to tell them about what had happened and risk them turning you away. 

The three of you haven’t talked in a couple of days. You feared that it was simply over, just like that. Even though the three of you seemed to argue like cats and dogs you cared for both of them deeply. You wanted to find comfort in them. You wanted them to hold you and put the rest of the world on pause. But you were afraid to reach out. You were afraid the relationship was just too broken.

Everything was too much. There was so much anger and sorrow, so much anxiety and pain. You felt as if you were suffocating. So, with as much strength as you could muster, you shoved everything down. You became numb.

For the first time since the beginning of your relationship you go back to your apartment. The three of you normally gravitate to Matt’s place. His apartment just had a feeling of home to it. Even when the three of you were so angry at each other and refused to talk, you found yourself sleeping under the same roof. During those times you hardly shared a bed, but you were always in the same vicinity. 

Tonight, however, you couldn’t handle it. You needed to be alone just as much as you needed them to wrap you in their arms and never let go. You didn’t know what you needed and trying to figure it out just brought on another level of anxiety.

Without realizing it, you finish your bottle of Vodka and move onto the Tequila. At some point you begin to wonder if you’re feeling too numb. You become overwhelmed with the need to feeling something... anything. Allowing your emotions to resurface was too scary for you to face. That left one option.

You take a few more swigs of your Whiskey and finish slipping into your nightly outfit. You fumble with buckling your thigh holsters before stumbling to the window. You pull on your mask and slip into the night. 

Within seconds you’re soaked in the pouring rain, but you don’t bother to even notice. Your mind is hazy, and your steps are uncertain. You walk along the rooftop and when you almost slip off you just laugh.

Commotion in the ally below catches your attention. There’s a mugging happening. Instinct tells you to go help and you try. You kick into gear and try to gracefully enter the situation.

When you’re sober your as quiet as your lovers. Nobody hears you coming unless you want them too. You move through the shadow’s unseen until the proper moment. Your aim is deadly, and your fighting skills are new level of violent.

You’re not sober. Tonight, you’re three sheets to the wind and anything but graceful and deadly. Instead of scaling down the fire escape you fall. The mugging pauses at the commotion and they all watch your body fall flight after flight until you hit the ground.

Your almost positive you’ve broken something, and it nearly sobers you. You were believed to be dead until you let out a long groan and try to push yourself upward. One of the muggers leaves the poor victim to their partner to see what you’re doing.

“Leave ‘er ‘lone,” You slur, swaying on your feet. The mugger laughs at you.

“What the hell are you gonna do, pal? Vomit on me?” He asks, shaking his head.

“Well, now that you mention it...” You mumble bringing your first to your mouth. He instantly steps back to avoid you if you do vomit. There’s a tense moment before you let out a sigh. “We’re good,” You assure him. “But Imma need you to get your buddy and leave,” you tell him, your finger gesturing to the other guy.

“Oh, we’ll leave,” He nods pointing a knife at you. “After he’s doing getting her money and I’m gone getting yours,” You look at the knife wondering how he has three hands.

“Money?” You mumble as his words click in your mind. “Well, shiiiit...” You laugh patting yourself down. “I’ll help you look... I’m broke as fuck,” You mumble checking yourself out. “Oh, what’s this?” You ask quietly. In a flash you try to pull your gun out, but it gets caught in the holster. “This was cooler in my head,” You say out loud.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, lowering the knife in utter confusion.

“Ah!” You shout, successfully pulling the gun out. You instantly point it at him. “Get your buddy and leave,” You threaten.

“You’re not even aiming at me, bro,” The man in front of you says.

“I’m aiming at someone,” You mutter. “Wanna find out which one of you it is?” You ask before pulling the trigger. The bullet whizzes past the man in front of you and somehow hits his partner.

“Ah! Son of a bitch!” He shouts.

“Ha! Told you I was aiming at someone!” You shout, smirking proudly.

“You’re dead,” The man snarls stepping towards you. He doesn’t get two steps before a thick looking stick flies out of the shadows and into his head.

“Ah shit, you’re fucked now ma dude,” You laugh as Daredevil, and Punisher emerge from the shadows.

“I’ve got them, go make sure that lady is alright,” The Devil mutters to the Punisher. They both walk in separate directions. You watch Frank drag the man Matt knocked out away from you two.

“Anyone ever tell you that you look very sexy in red leather?” You ask flirtatiously.

“You do all the time, sweetheart,” he says, giving you a cautious smile. “Why don’t you put the gun away?” He suggests softly. You hum and look down.

“Oh, yeah,” You whisper holstering the weapon. Once it’s away Matt moves even closer to you. He raises his hand and lights brushes his fingers against your cheek.

“What’re you doing out here, baby?” Matt asks, his other hand slipping around your waist. You let him pull you close using him to keep yourself steady. Matt sighs smelling your salty tears, tears you don’t remember shedding, and the overwhelming scent of alcohol.

“They alright?” Frank asks Matt knowing you were too out of it to answer yourself. Even he could smell the alcohol. Matt takes a moment to listen to you.

“They have severe bruising on their side and back, a couple of fracture ribs but nothing is broken,” Matt tells him.

“Alright, honey, time to go home,” Frank swoops you off of your feet. You whine feeling the bruises Matt was talking about. Frank kisses your head in a silent apology.

You weren’t far from Matt’s place, so the journey didn’t take long. By the time you returned you were shivering in Frank’s arms and completely exhausted. Together, Matt and Frank undress you. Frank helps you into the shower while Matt works on getting some food prepared for you.

“What the hell were you doing out there tonight?” Frank asks. There’s obviously anger in his voice, but he keeps his tone quiet. “You could have gotten yourself killed... or someone else,”

“Killing doesn’t bother you,” You whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. Frank breathes in deeply and holds you close.

“No, but if you had hurt someone innocent or killed someone it would have bothered you in the morning... I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” He whispers, gently petting your head. “I... care about you. You’re important... important to me and Red... Why were you out there like this? Why didn’t you come home?”

“I did go home,” You whisper. Frank shakes his head.

“This is home, honey... Right here, in my arms. That’s home. Home’s with me and Frank,”

“Still?” You mumble.

“Always,” He responds, kissing the top of your head. “I know thing haven’t been easy and maybe they never will be but that’s just who we are. We’re all too strong headed and we all need a challenge. That’s why we work because we push each other... And yeah, it’s been a little rougher these last few weeks but Red and I, we ain’t goin nowhere,” He promises you.

Your hands claw at his back becoming desperate to keep him as close as possible. Frank was hardly ever this open, it was usually Matt pulling the three of you back together. Somehow, with it being Frank, made his words seem more real and true.

One second, you’re desperately holding onto Frank and the next you’re releasing heart wrenching sobs. All the emotions you’ve been feeling come crashing to the surface.

“That’s it, baby,” Frank whispers. “I’ve got you,” He promises. 

Soon, Matt is slipping into the shower and pressing himself against your back. He’s gentle, not wanting to aggravate your bruising, but firm enough for you to use him to ground yourself. 

One of Frank’s hands is petting your head while the other is rubbing your shoulder. Matt’s hands gently glide up and down your hips and upper thighs. He leans his head above Frank’s arm and lightly kisses your neck. He whispers in one ear, Frank whispering in the other.

By the time the three of you step out of the shower you’re all pruney and your skin is slightly irritated from the heat of the shower. Matt pats your body down with a soft towel while Frank grabs some comfortable clothes for all of you. When he comes back into the bathroom, he has a t-shirt and grey sweatpants on. He hands Matt his own pjs before focusing on you.

He guides your legs into the holes of your underwear and guides them up. He does the same with a pair of his black sweatpants before standing back onto his feet. He pulls the drawstring to help keep the pants on your hips before lifting your arms. He slips Matt’s sweatshirt on your upper body.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get some food in you,” Matt whispers, leading you into the kitchen. Frank sits at one of the chairs first before pulling you onto his lap. The actions brings the first smile of the night to your lips. The sight helps Frank relax and he kisses your cheek.

Matt sets a light snack in front of you. You don’t bother rejecting it knowing he would feed you himself if he had too. 

Once you had some food and water in your system your boys took you to the bed. They kept a small nightlight on in the corner knowing it helped to not be consumed by the darkness during nights like these.

You laid between the two of them. You were on your back with your head resting on Frank’s outstretched bicep. Matt was cuddled into your side low enough to where you could thread your fingers through his hair. The action helped soothe both of you.

When you didn’t come home both of them had gotten worried. Were you finally done with them? Were things just too difficult? Yeah, things have been intense the past month, they both could admit to that, but they didn’t mean to drive you so far away. They could see, especially after tonight, that even though being open with each other could be hard it was necessary.

They almost lost you. Something had happened to push you over the edge and the tenseness between all of them was so great you didn’t feel comfortable enough to confide in them. This couldn’t happen again. You terrified them tonight. When Matt heard the gunshot go off a couple of blocks down, they knew it had to be you. When they realized you were not only shooting but drunk as well? Something was terribly wrong.

They got lucky tonight. They were able to reach you before something irreversible happened. Now you were safe. You were in bed with them. You were with them, and you were safe. They felt like they had to keep reminding themselves that you were there with them.

In the morning you would explain to them what happened tonight. You would tell them about your grandma and just how much you loathed your job. You would spill everything to them because they deserved the truth. They needed to know everything about you. You wanted them to know.

For tonight, you just wanted to be with them. You wanted to listen to Frank’s quiet snores and feel Matt’s soft hair. You just wanted to be in the present with two of the most important people to you. Tomorrow you could face the music but tonight you just wanted them.

[ntnttalksnothing]

My brain that is in dire need of young!Sangcheng (and Wangxian) but also the Juniors tells me that what I need is the Juniors time travelling back to when Wangxian-Sangcheng were teens. So I can have them both.

And as a firm believer that between the Gusu Lan Study Abroad Program and the Wen Sect Boot Camp, Wangxian-Sangcheng went around travelling a bit and solving night hunt related cases, that’s where the Juniors end up.

So what we have then are:

- The Juniors fumbling around to hide things that mark their sects and making up names for themselves. As I’m hopeless in coming up with names, so if it were up to me I’ll just steal the names my best friend provided me. Thanks, best friend. - Thankfully this is before Jc and Jzx bonding at the Turtle Cave Field Trip (and the subsequent Rescue Mission), so he doesn’t recognize Jl’s sword.

- Nhs is happy to have more people to work for him shield him from Scary Things.

- Jl had been wondering back in his present times if his jiujiu and Nhs was a thing. It has now been confirmed in the worst way because there is so much flirting going on. - And Jl did not need to see Nhs plomping himself down on his younger jiujiu’s lap. Jl is traumatized. - But Jc is hopeless when it comes to romance (gods Jl hopes his present day jiujiu is better) so he doesn’t know whether to stay away from it all or to intervene. - Jl slipping up a couple times and almost calling Jc “jiujiu” but he catches himself before he does so he ends up going “Jiu...iiiaaaaannggg” and Jc doesn’t know why this guy keeps saying his name like that.

-The Juniors realizing that this is before Wwx’s demonic cultivation and having Many Emotions. - Ljy going, “the cHIEF CULTIVATOR WAS A TWINK” - Ozz is happy to have more best friends.

- Lwj is used to having disciples look up to him. But he doesn’t understand the blind faith these strangers have in him and why they act like over-enthusiastic puppies around him.

- If we’re to add some Serious Things, it’ll probably include Jl’s parents stuff and Lsz’s family stuff. But you know, we can just have the Juniors saving everyone and everything and changing the future for happy times and not worry about time paradoxes and dangers of changing the futures. Let’s just have happy futures. Because why not.