#I don’t know who the hell link is or why it’s such a common name but this dude took the mail last time

[luna-lovegreat]

Anyone else notice that Sky’s the one the postman gave the mail to each time?

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts (update: part two is now out!! linked here 2 read) and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.��� you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 ;)

[devilinthebox]

"At Robb's side. Where he belonged." - About Theon and Grey Wind.

Or : RobbTheon thoughts that make me lose sleep #1 (there will be more)

In Dance, an extended metaphor ties Theon to dogs – specifically, Ramsay’s female dogs. It has been discussed some in many posts since the book's publication (we're all very old).

“A dog who turns against his master is fit for naught but skinning.” It’s stated plainly. To the Northern Lords, to all the nobility, to all the people who know of his fate, Theon is reduced to being one of Ramsay’s dogs. He is collared and chained in the kennels with the dogs Ramsay named after his female victims. Theon even comes to think that of himself: “lower than a dog”.

“Reek,” he said. “Your Reek.” “Do this little thing for me, and you can be my dog and eat meat every day,” Lord Ramsay promised. “You will be tempted and betray me. To run or fight or join our foes. No, quiet, I’ll not hear you deny it. Lie to me, and I’ll take your tongue. A man would turn against me (…) but we know what you are, don’t we?”

It is the paroxysm of the humiliation he suffers from the moment he has been taken from his home (although his brothers’ treatment of him could indicate he had been humiliated even before that) to his capture and subsequent torture and sexual abuse by Ramsay (for details read this as I wouldn’t have the courage and talent to write it – it’s remarkable). As Theon uses the Reek persona to avoid Ramsay’s wrath, as he becomes – by force – complicit in Ramsay’s crimes and subservient to the point of losing his sense of self, it makes sense to compare him to a dog who has been taught by his master not to bite and to serve him.

Yet, we know for a fact that it doesn’t last. We know that ultimately, by virtue of being in Winterfell, Theon finds himself again piece by piece, enough to save an innocent girl with no hope of survival. He was never truly Ramsay’s dog. That said, the comparison struck me as being reminiscent of Theon’s thematic tie to another wild animal: Grey Wind.

Dogs and Direwolves share common features, of course. And there can be a confusion between the two. Guess what, Robb himself, the Wolf King, is compared to a dog in Dance, to demean him.

“The Young Wolf? He was a vile dog and died like one.” (…) “A dog, aye. He brought us only grief and death. A vile dog indeed. Say on.”

Theon even draws the comparison himself between Grey Wind and Asha’s Black Wind – linking in his mind Stark and Greyjoy. Yes. It makes sense somewhat, since Theon is on his way to persuade his father to ally himself with the King in the North. He has his reasons to look for a link between Stark and Greyjoy.

“Theon did not need to be told that Black Wind was Asha’s longship (…) Odd that she would call it that, when Robb Stark had a wolf named Grey Wind. “Stark is grey and Greyjoy’s black,” he murmured, smiling, “but it seems we’re both windy.”

Strange as it may be, Theon shares common attitudes with Grey Wind during the beginning of the war (in Game, essentially).

One thing that always stood out to me is how demonstrative Theon is in his devotion to Robb’s cause (Theon Greyjoy put a hand on the hilt of his blade and said, “My lady, if it comes to that, my House owes yours a great debt.” -> What the hell? You’re a hostage?)

We know after reading Theon’s POV that it was indeed genuine, as it stemmed from a true desire to be part of House Stark. More than that, Theon, who needs to belong and feel useful more than anything else, took pride in fighting for Robb, to be at his side. Bran is jealous of both, because they get to fight at Robb’s side and be close to him (“I’d sooner be a wolf (…) I’d fight beside him like Grey Wind” // “Robb the Lord seemed to have more time for Hallis Mollen and Theon Greyjoy …”).

As he talks about his role in Robb’s war to his Ironborn family, he only ever mentions his friend, his ideals, their plan for the independence of the North and the Islands. Theon never fought for the Northern cause (why would he?), he fought for Robb, and proudly so. And he was adamant to demonstrate it in an aggressive way, almost like Grey Wind growling.

“Kneel before the king, Lannister! Theon Greyjoy shouted.”

“The wolves do not like your smell, Lannister,” Theon Greyjoy commented.”

“Kill him, Robb,” Theon Greyjoy urged. “Take his head off.”

“Lord Frey would be a fool to try and bar our way, Theon Greyjoy said with his customary easy confidence. ‘We have five times his numbers. You can take the Twins if you need to, Robb.”

Not to forget his eagerness to please, his way to show his devotion: “Ser Brynden has seen to it already, my lady,’ Theon replied with a cocky smile. ‘A few more blackbirds, and we should have enough to bake a pied. I’ll save you their feathers for a hat.” (Like a cat offering you dead birds as a gift…).

Also, Theon shared a true friendship and complicity with Robb. After Eddard is murdered in King’s Landing, Catelyn searches for Robb and finds he had been with Theon, probably to find comfort and support. He is, aside from Catelyn, his most trusted confidante.

“Robb glanced from her to Greyjoy, searching for an answer and finding none.”

We know Theon spoke of his uncle Euron with Robb, which doesn’t strike me as something he would confide to anyone else (Theon doesn’t seem to speak much of himself, all things considered, as he tries to keep a cool and detached façade). They also had “secrets” and laughed together (most notably at Roose Bolton’s expanse – karma is a bitch).

Robb sends Theon to treat with Balon Greyjoy’s against his beloved mother’s advice because he trusts him (and, in my humble opinion, wanted to show Theon he trusted him, that he was more than a hostage): “Theon’s fought bravely for us. I told you how he saved Bran from those wildlings in the wolfswood (…) he’s been a hostage half his life.’”

There is a childishness to them both. They are prone to boyish mockery. Robb acts the same, at the start of the war, with his direwolf. He seems amused to see Grey Wind scare people at first. That’s before Theon’s betrayal (I’ll get to this). And this behavior is that of Robb the boy, the 16-year-old boy, not Robb the King, who will be at odds with his direwolf and his best friend soon enough. He is most himself with Grey Wind, with Theon.

“You did well,” she told her son in the gallery that led from the rear of the hall, “though that business with the wolf was japery more befitting a boy than a king.”

Robb scratched Grey Wind behind the ear. “Did you see the look on his face, Mother?” he asked, smiling.”

“What I saw was Lord Karstark, walking out.”

“As did I.” Robb lifted off his crown with both hands and gave it to Olyvar. “Take this thing back to my bedchamber.”

Theon is tied to Robb as a person, as is his direwolf.

Before he has his own POV chapters, Theon’s appearances, like Grey Wind’s, are exclusively tied to Robb’s. In Game, they both barely exist outside of Robb’s sight which does not diminish their strong, memorable, somewhat troubling presence.

“They passed beneath the gatehouse, over the drawbridge (…) Summer and Grey Wind came loping beside them, sniffing at the wind. Close behind came Theon Greyjoy, with his longbow and a quiver of broadheads; he had a mind to take a deer, he had told them.”

“’(…) I would speak with my son alone. I know you will all forgive me, my lords.’ She gave them no choice (…) the bannermen bowed and took their leave. ‘And you, Theon’, she added when Greyjoy lingered. He smiled and left them.”

“Robb sat in the bow with Grey Wind, his hand resting on his direwolf’s head as the rowers pulled at their oars. Theon Greyjoy was with him.”

Grey Wind served in Robb’s war. He killed and would have died for him. Just as Theon did and felt such pride about, as we’ve seen. They are both considered outsiders, in a way: Grey Wind doesn’t belong a civilized world, he is regarded as a monster, a savage beast.

Theon is described in similar terms by the people of the North, as he is Ironborn. He must be “gentled”, a term you’d use for a wild animal (“Your father did what he did to gentle Theon, but I fear it was too little too late.”). His own father treats him as he were a tamed, obedient, animal (“The Stark have made your theirs”). Theon is prone to violence as a recourse (“A dead enemy is a thing of beauty”), has a wild, impulsive streak. Catelyn qualifies him as “impetuous” in her POV.

In Game, he is second after the direwolves to rescue Bran (and Robb himself!) from the wildings who threatens his life. As a terrified and emotional Robb fails to show him gratitude for his intervention (I wrote an entire piece about this scene if you’re interested), Theon feels as humiliated as his loyalty is not recognized by someone exterior could believe is his “master”. We know better, we know Robb and Theon were friends. That said, from an external point of view, Theon might have looked like a prisoner eager to please his jailer. Tyrion Lannister in the show-verse put it like this: “Your loyalty to your captors is touching.”  (And I insist, during their conversation, Theon says: “Robb is not my master.” It’s true! Yet, in the end, if everyone around him believed so, he may have started to doubt the sincerity of their bond, hence the desire to make a destiny for himself, far from Robb.)

At times, he seems as impulsive and ravenous as Grey Wind: “” Blood for blood”. For one, Greyjoy did not smile. His lean, dark face had a hungry look to it.”

“Theon Greyjoy sauntered closer. ‘Give her to the wolves’, he urged Robb.”

He can be ruthless – even cruel (I’m thinking of Beth Cassel) - in his pursuit of recognition from his “masters” (in this case, for his desperate quest for his father’s approval): “Once he had saved Bran’s life with an arrow. He hoped he would not need to take it with another, but if it came to that, he would.”)

In the same vein, Grey Wind is a formidable beast, and loyal, yet he is feared by all and loved only by Robb.

“Yet it was not the sword that made Ser Cleos Frey anxious; it was the beast.”

Contrast and compare with all those instances Theon made Catelyn or Bran uneasy with his rehearsed smile in Game; to his arc in Clash where Theon uses terror as a mean to an end, wanting love and respect and only inspiring contempt or fear (see: his last ACOK chapter, plenty of instances); to the unease he triggers as he has been turned to Ramsay’s thing in Dance.

Both belonged at Robb’s side. Theon realizes in Dance that he never should have left Robb’s side, as it was the closest to a home and true purpose he ever had in his life. As for Grey Wind, he is so important to Robb, such a part of his identity, that separating the two results in Robb’s demise. The Freys must cage Grey Wind to kill Robb.

Just as, indirectly, freeing Theon and creating a physical (and emotional) separation between them led to Robb’s death just as Grey Wind’s absence did.

“(…) And Grey Wind was at the king’s side once more. Where he belongs.”

“The wolf. The wolf is not here. Where is Grey Wind? She knew the direwolf had returned with Robb (…) he was not in the hall, not at her son’s side where he belonged.”

“Where was I? I should have been with him. I should have died with him.” The way it’s expressed reads as if Theon’s fate had been broken. As if the natural path would have been for Theon to be with Robb. If you want to see it, there is a mystical element to these bonds. Breaking them condemns Robb. Grey Wind, as all the direwolves, has magic (is magic?). Whereas Theon’s arc ties him the Gods – he has prophetic dreams, hears Bran through the Weirwood Tree in Dance, says with confidence “The gods are not done with me” and his very name derives from the Greek word for “Gods”.

After Theon’s departure and subsequent betrayal of Robb’s trust, Grey Wind is depicted as more agitated, unwilling to obey Robb’s orders. It can be explained by Robb’s torment (he becomes “somber”, depressed even, which is the trigger that leads him to Jeyne) and his growing distrust of his direwolf, who failed to warn him of Theon’s betrayal. And for a reason: Theon did not plan his change of heart; he was sincere in his devotion. Grey Wind must have sensed this, thus never expressed distrust towards Theon. The direwolves aren’t pets. They’re part of the Stark children. Robb is admonishing himself for having trusted Theon so deeply he failed to see his flaws (ambition, inconstancy, a deep-seated need to belong). It’s himself he starts to distrust.

The topic of Theon’s betrayal (which is best embodied by his supposed murder of Bran and Rickon) triggers Robb’s guilt and anger. Grey Wind becomes particularly aggressive.

“Jon would never harm a son of mine.” “No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?”Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer’s crypt, his teeth bared. Robb’s own face was cold.

As Robb becomes more irritated and has to control his temper, even with Jeyne. Here:

(I cannot help but notice the analogy between Grey Wind an “an arrow loosed from a longbow” here. Probably a coincidence – still!)

His relationship with his direwolf is strained just as his relationship with his closest friend and advisor. Robb seems suddenly ill at ease with Grey Wind’s savagery although it has served him many times in battle. He did not seem to mind before. Just as he tolerated – even appreciated maybe – Theon’s somber side.

“As they started up the steps, Catelyn asked (…) ‘Robb, here is Grey Wind?’

“In the yard, with a haunch of mutton. I told the kennelmaster to see that he was fed.” (// I’m sorry but I can’t help but be reminded of Ramsay chaining Theon in the kennels and promising him food as a reward for his good behavior – as a twisted parallel).

“You always kept him with you before.”

“A hall is no place for a wolf. He gets restless, you’ve seen. Growling and snapping. I should never have taken him into battle with me (…) Jeyne’s anxious around him and he terrifies her mother.”

And there’s the heart of it, Catelyn thought. “He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.”

“I am not a wolf, no matter what they call me.” Robb sounded cross. “Grey Wind killed a man at the Crag (…) If you had seen –“

Theon, in Clash, is haunted by the direwolves. He has dreams where Robb and the wolves come for him. He also demonstrates his intimate understanding of the direwolves, acquired at Robb’s and Grey Wind’s side as he realizes Bran and Rickon have escaped from Winterfell. Their direwolves kill some Ironborn guards in the process: Theon immediately understands how. He even mimics it, in a way:

“Urzen said : ‘If he had sounded his horn –“ I am served by fools. ‘Try and imagine it was you up there (…) it’s dark and cold. You have been walking sentry for hours (…) Then you hear a noise and move toward the gate, and suddenly you see eyes at the top of the sair, glowing green and gold in the torchlight. Two shadows come rushing toward you faster than you can believe. You catch a glimpse of teeth, start to level your spear, and they slam into you and open your belly (…) And now you’re down on your back, your guts are spilling out (…) Theon grabbed the scrawny man’s throat, tightened his fingers, and smiled. ‘Tell me, at what moment during all of this do you stop to blow your fucking horn?’ He shoved Urzen away roughly, sending him stumbling back against a merlon.”

(Underrated piece of ACOK!Theon in his glorious unstable self if you ask me.)

Theon and Grey Wind are both ultimately rejected by Robb, who feels he has no choice (not that it wasn’t deserved in Theon’s case, mind you). Yet, by doing so, Robb abandons a part of him. The most emotional part. Robb is deeply sensitive (it shows in many instances, as with his mother in Game: “Mother I need you too. I’m trying but I can’t do it all by myself’ His voice broke with sudden emotion” or “He looked at her, his eyes shining, the proud young lord melted away in an instant (…)”) and could act like it with his most trusted companions.

Theon has a special bond with Robb. His betrayal is personal, and it is seen that way by the Robb’s bannermen. How fitting is Benfred Tallheart’s threat, in this regard:

“Theon wiped the spittle off his cheek with the back of his hand. “Robb will gut you, Greyjoy (…) He’ll feed your turncloak’s heart to his wolf (…)”

Of course, it has to be Grey Wind. And it has to be his heart.

[rukafais]

pspspsps people who are interested in Forgotten Realms devils have you heard the good word of Brimstone Angels, an excellent series by Erin M Evans that has two tiefling protagonists that are sisters raised by their dragonborn dad who adopted them, and covers Nine Hells hierarchy stuff, what it means to be a devil, life as a tiefling during a specific time period, and ALSO features a specific dragonborn culture?

Cause here's my recommendation, you should read it, it's fucking good actually.

Farideh made herself keep smiling, as if she couldn’t hear Criella’s implication that she ought not to have the book in the first place. “From Garago,” she said, naming the wizard whose book it was. “He lends books to Havilar and me sometimes.”

“Havilar and I, dear.” Farideh bit her tongue as Criella continued. “And where is your sister?”

“Inside, probably,” Farideh said. Criella pursed her lips, and the younger tiefling quickly added, “I haven’t seen her in some hours. She’s likely with Mehen.”

“Does Mehen know you’re borrowing magic books?” Criella asked.

Farideh turned it over and opened it to show the frontispiece. “It’s just a history book.”

“The Legacy of the Skyfire Emirates in the Calim?” Criella said. “What has you so interested in there of all places?”

Far, far to the west, other tieflings sometimes joined the fiery efreets in the Calim Desert in their perpetual war against their enemies, the djinns of the air. Criella didn’t have to say another word—Farideh knew what she was implying: Why was Farideh reading a book about rogue tieflings who aided monsters and known slavers? Didn’t Farideh understand that she—just like everyone else descended from devils and fiends—had to know her place, to stay safe somewhere like Arush Vayem, to be quiet and unnoticeable?

Or did Farideh want to be the sort of tiefling who made life hard for the rest of them?

“He mentioned them,” Farideh amended. “It seems like such a silly thing, don’t you think? For so many hostilities to range around something as unchangeable as one’s nature?”

Criella’s smile vanished altogether. “Ah. Is that something else Mehen has taught you?”

Farideh flushed. “That … the djinn shall always be djinn?” she said as innocently as she could, but her pulse raced. It had been too near to admitting there was something like fear lurking in herself. That the lines of descent that linked her to some long ago and faraway fiend were more powerful than anything she could affect. “I believe that’s why they’re called elemental,” Farideh added.

“Of course,” Criella said, but already she was studying Farideh as if there might be some sign of her true nature unfolding. Farideh blushed harder. Any of the human villagers would find Criella’s scrutiny too subtle to notice. But Farideh’s eyes were like Criella’s—she knew the shifts and flickers of a tiefling’s eyes. Criella wasn’t trying to hide her disquiet.

Farideh longed to tell Criella that she knew. That she hated it. That it was worse coming from someone like Criella, who was a tiefling too. Who had gotten the same scrutiny from someone else when she was Farideh’s age. Who had cut off her horns and clubbed her tail because of those looks and run away to Arush Vayem, a community of tieflings, dragonborn, and anyone else who wanted to disappear. ----

His path crossed a balcony that overlooked the Court of the Sixth, and Lorcan paused a moment. The archduchess herself perched on the throne, carved from the ivory that had been her predecessor’s teeth, her batlike wings curved around her like an icon’s niche. Coppery skinned and dark-haired, Glasya made Rohini look common. Glasya made everything look common. If corruption had a form, it was Glasya, and not a soul looked upon her that didn’t feel the urge to throw itself headlong into that corruption. She radiated like a star and she swallowed up the light around her. To look upon Glasya, Lord of the Sixth and Princess of the Hells, was a special sort of madness.

---

“His destruction would benefit many,” Ilstan said. “It would be a boon to us all, and—”

“Is he like Shar?” Farideh asked. Ilstan frowned at her. “Dahl told me once you worship Shar when grief overtakes you. You give her a little honor so that she eases the sadness through your life. That the evil of Shar is that she’ll try to pull you down into that darkness, to make you stay. Is he like that?”

Ilstan shifted uneasily. “One might say so.”

“Have you given him worship then?”

“I’ve … You can’t ask me that.”

Perhaps, but Farideh could picture it: you pray to Asmodeus in the dark, for protection from the darker things, from the darkness inside you, for the blindness of other gods to the sins of your heart, for a silver tongue and a weight on Kelemvor’s scales, come the day. Freedom from consequence.

Asmodeus is the god of easy paths, Farideh thought. A god of happiness, as he says it.

[nena-96]

@jilymicro-oops

March- Prompt 1: Troubled

I had fun writing this and let the battle between houses begin! Courtesy of a Gryffindor/Slytherin? Also thanks @charmsandtealeaves for making the Gryffindor Common room on the discord a beautiful banner it’s absolutely gorgeous…..ooops I didn’t mean to say this, don’t want the other houses to get jealous 😉

Troubled <- link to ao3. Let me know what you think! (Original character KC)

Lily was trying her best to enjoy the delicious kidney pie that was on her plate. However, no matter how many times she gets a forkful and takes a nice bite of the warm meal. She doesn’t taste any of the flavors, not even when she lifts up her goblet and takes a generous sip of her favorite drink (besides firewhiskey of course).

No, instead of tasting the soothing flavors of pumpkin, she had an awful bitter taste in her mouth. She refused to acknowledge why her meal wasn’t as delicious as it was before, except now her patience is reaching a breaking point.

Honestly, everything was fine a few minutes ago, that was until an aggravating blonde waltzed her way and sat besides that toerag named James Fleamont Potter.

It’s pathetic, if you ask her. Truly, a shame, since when did Potter enjoy the company of a Slytherin? Much less, with a blonde who doesn’t care about the no PDA policy at Hogwarts. Then again, Potter was never one for the rules. Yet, didn’t he know there were first years also trying to enjoy their dinner? Why couldn’t he think about her-uhm think about the children.

Yes, Potter should think about the children. They shouldn’t see the way that the blonde girl sitting practically on his lap was kissing James on the cheek. Nor the way, that girl was trying to comb back James’s messy hair, while he was obviously trying to eat.

Honestly, didn’t she have a clue that James had a habit of not giving a damn about how his hair looked? Especially when it’s just going to get messier when he goes for a midnight fly around the Quidditch pitch. Not….not that she was keeping tabs on him at all, she just so happened to see him once a few nights ago.

She wasn’t jealous! Just so you know.

It was just annoying seeing that girl who doesn’t even know her own boyfriend the way that she does. Which is saying a lot because she wasn’t friends with Potter, they were only partners for a project in McGonagall’s class. Just….partners nothing more.

“Oh, James, why don’t we go somewhere else, I’m sure you can sneak me into your common room,” Lily heard the blonde say, momentarily breaking her away from her thoughts. Lily snuck a glance, not to them, mind you. See only wanted to check the hour glasses for the houses of Hogwarts.

Yes, that's it. Lily was only trying to see if any points had gotten deducted from Slytherin by the piss poor show of the way that blonde was trying to persuade a Gryffindor boy to break rules. Honestly, wasn’t there enough Slytherin boys that the blonde girl could sink her manicured nails into. Why did she have to choose her Potter?

Shit.

She didn’t mean to say her Potter, bloody hell, don’t look at me like that! Shouldn’t you be disgusted by the whole fraternizing with the enemy? It’s ridicu-

“Uh, KC I don’t know if we should…McGonagall gave us a lot of work. Besides, uh- I had Quidditch practice and I need to rest.” Lily heard James answer. Which was strange since he never has practice on Friday’s because he tends to be with his boys by the fireplace in the common room.

Huh, interesting, why wouldn’t James want to sneak his girlfriend…you know what she doesn’t bloody care. It’s not her business, as a matter of fact there wasn’t a point in staying in the Great Hall, when her meal was ruined by the unlikely couple who seem to be troubled with-

“Oi, Evans. You alright over there? You look a little troubled, what’s wrong .….not going to take away house points are you?” Sirius chuckled from across the table. That git, why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut, now Potter and his girlfriend are staring at her. Well, then again at least they weren’t grabbing at one another, or worse trying to suck each other's face off.

“Come on, Evans, remember we’re in the same house-” James had started to say with his annoyingly deep voice that obviously did not send a jolt of heat to her cheeks.

“Oh, don’t worry I won’t. Then again, I never met a Gryffindor who would drop their dignity and date a Slytherin,” Lily replied, only to quickly realize that she didn’t mean to say that out loud. She watched as they all stared at her, with their mouths open wide. The entire Great Hall goes deathly quiet, nobody spoke for a few minutes. Lily felt her face burn up, yet she raised her chin and didn’t let her gaze fall from a pair of infuriating hazel eyes.

“Excuse you! What do you mean by that, it’s not James’s fault he found a girl who actually cares about him.” Lily hears the Slytherin girl shriek besides the boy who was currently holding her gaze, she noticed the way his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Clearing her throat, Lily broke her gaze from the insufferable git and turned to the blonde. “I’m very sorry KC, but I wasn’t talking about you-”

“That’s exactly what I thought-”

“-because you would need to have dignity in order to be able to drop it. That being said, I recommend you go looking for yours. Like the Muggles call it, why don’t you go on a little scavenger hunt, hopefully it doesn’t take you too long to find your dignity.” Lily replied coolly before rising up from the bench and walking away from the Gryffindor table and soon left the Hall.

Lily didn’t care that everyone was left in shock, nor the way she felt his hazel eyes on her the entire time she was making her way out. Not even the fact that ten points were added to Gryffindor. The only thing she cared about was seeing the look of rage on KC’s face, call it chaos or even spite. Call it what you want, because sooner rather than later she’ll know what’s coming to her.

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 30 | Words: 7.3k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

“What the Hells was that?” Astarion grabbed Tar’eons sleeve as the tiefling continued to walk down the hall, seemingly in a trance. “Stop and talk to me, dammit!” He hissed.

Tar’eon turned to him and opened his lips, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say.

“How long were you there…? How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Astarion scowled. “He had quite the coronation.” His skin still felt tight from the thunder wave the man had downed him with. He hadn’t been expecting it — he felt like a fool, being caught off guard so easily, and that burned more than any wound.

“How much did you hear, Astar?” Tar’eon begged for him to speak plainly and Astarion frowned.

“…You were taking too long. I came up the stairs around the same time he was being ordained. Hells, you even gave your blessing. I didn’t hear much before he was manhandling you.” Astarion gritted his teeth. “If you were so desperate for another lover you could have asked, darling, no need for secrets.” He drawled.

“It’s not like that.” Tar’eon sighed, rubbing between his brows. His headaches were only getting worse as time went on. He hated this. He needed to kill Orin and get this Urge sorted out. “It’s— I’ll explain everything tonight, okay?”

“You always say that! You always say you’ll explain later, and then it’s like pulling teeth from a feral animal, the way you refuse to tell me everything. I tell you almost everything, I let you know it all, and it’s like you don’t care to give me the same courtesy. We’re in this together, Tar’eon. Or should I call you ‘Tir’yal’?”

“Please don’t. You…you’re pronouncing it wrong anyway.” Tar’eon grimaced.

“Apologises, but it’s not every day that you learn your lover has another name they never bothered to tell you about. I haven’t exactly had time to practice it.” He glowered, crossing his arms.

“It’s — Look, that name is my infernal name. I was given it by my- my father, I think.” Had Bhaal ever bothered to name him? Or had he been raised outside of the temple until a certain age? Who took care of him when Father couldn’t? His butler? He couldn't remember anything of his childhood outside that young man, no older than twenty, with white and black hair, burns streaking across his face, black ink consuming half his features. The face the Emperor had stolen to gain his trust.

“Not all tiefling’s have infernal names — depending on where you’re from, a lot of parents will stick with more humanoid names for their children so they fit into society better. 'Tar’eon' is how I get by easier without people turning their noses up at the introduction of a foulblood.” He explained. “If you have both an infernal and a common name, it’s typical for only fellow tieflings or fiends to use it, and only those you’re close with for that matter.”

“From what I’ve seen of him, Lord Gortash doesn't have an ounce of devil blood in him, so why can he call you that, hm?” Astarion quirked a brow, looking unimpressed.

“Because…I don’t know. He knows the language, maybe, and my past self…let him call me that.”

“Yes, you were close in the past. I figured as much.” Astarion sneered.

“Don’t. Don’t judge me for things I can’t remember. For the person I don’t know.” Tar’eon narrowed his eyes. “You think this is easy for me? Karlach hates Enver for all the right fucking reasons and I’m the one stuck here, bargaining with him to benefit this team, knowing how upset she’ll be with me."

"You even call him Enver, Gods-"

"We need his Steel Watch with us, not against us. Not if we want to go through the city freely and find Orin. We can't get on his bad side."

“Orin this, Orin that — you’re so bloody obsessed with her! Why? Because she calls you her kin?”

“Because she’s the reason I remember none of it!” He snapped, hands fisted at his sides. “She’s the reason I’m here, she’s the reason I’m floundering through life, and she mocks me every step of the way! I have never felt more justified in killing someone before for the sake of myself, and I cannot wait to sink my knife into her back like she did to me.”

Astarion stared him, expression blank.

“…I understand. Betrayal - it twists something ugly inside you and it can only be sated by revenge. I won’t deny you the pleasure of your kill. But you’re keeping secrets from me, and I know it. I only hope you come clean sooner rather than later.” Astarion walked past him and Tar’eon deflated with a sigh.

“I promise you; everything. All of it. I will tell you all of it tonight.”

“I hope you keep that promise, for both of our sake's. I don't see the point in sharing myself with someone who shares nothing back.”

Tar’eon pursed his lips. Some things were best left unsaid…but he meant it. He would tell Astarion everything about where he came from tonight. He’d tell all of them.

****

Mizora's words rang in his ears as he made his way up the stairs to the office above. He may lack a stone, but he was willing to take his chances. This wasn't his life on the line - it was Wyll's fathers. He needed to remain one step ahead of the devil.

Casting invisibility on himself and leaving his party behind so suddenly would probably only anger them more, but he did not have the energy to fight them after Mizora's promise of a visit. He wanted to make this conversation quick and return as soon as possible.

He stood outside the office, heart in his throat as he hesitantly opened the door, surprised to find it without a lock, the wood giving the faintest creak. Stepping inside, if felt like stepping into a different life. Something that didn’t quite fit his skin anymore, but still it felt strangely like the nostalgia that came with a childhood home. It wasn't the room itself that was familiar, but the air. He looked around curiously and his eyes widened when he saw Enver.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. Perhaps an array of guards in a dingy office that lacked much natural light, but there was nothing. The room was far more spacious compared to the memory of before, brighter, but still as messy from what he saw on the table, piled in books and maps and empty ink pots, discarded broken quills scattered across the wood. Tar'eon walked further into the spacious area, looking around for Enver, only to find him tucked away at a desk in the corner of a room, partially hidden by a large bookshelf. The smaller space felt a lot more like home than the open area of grandeur.

Enver himself…wasn’t awake. He was sleeping, back to him. He was sitting in his office chair, a leather bound chair held together with cherry red wood, his head propped up against the knuckles of his fist, eyes closed. His other hand laid on the desk, a quill between his unarmoured fingers. He hadn’t considered it before, but the design was likely purposeful so he could still write comfortably. Being a Lord, and now an Archduke, he probably wrote a lot. There was a stack of papers beside him as evidence.

Slowly, he approached, taking in the small space caved out in the large office. It smelt like dust and parchment, and the air felt like static energy about to zap him. Tar’eon wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been hyper vigilant to magical barriers. Enver had warded himself against being surprised if seemed. A good choice, considering who he was. When he said he had many enemies, he wasn’t lying.

Tar’eon pushed past the barrier, waiting for the man to react, to wake, but he did not rouse. Slowly, he came to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. He heard a click, and he was slammed into the desk before he could even react, caught off guard by the others quick reflexes. There was a clatter, a ghostly mage hand stealing his blade before he could even think to reach for it, the edge of the mahogany desk pressing uncomfortably into his back, his legs barely holding him up at the awkward angle. He grunted.

He felt something sharp against his throat and held his breath, seconds ticking by as Enver’s dark eyes pinned him down just as efficiently as his forearm against his chest. The clatter he heard had been his cane. He was gripping the golden handle, a dagger hidden within reach at all times. It wasn’t just for decoration or an old injury - it was a weapon. The perfect weapon for anyone attempting to sneak up on him. He should have been scared - but something about this scene felt strangely familiar, like deja vu.

“I tire of your games, Orin. Or are you one of her shifters?” Enver’s voice was cold, calculated, and it was far different from the warmth he had spoken to him with earlier.

“It’s me — I’m not one of her goons, I promise.”

“If it’s actually you, then I apologise.” Enver’s knee dug into his hip, grinding against bone as he pressed his elbow to his throat so he could pull up his sleeve. Tar’eon grunted, fighting against his hold, but the mage hand had a grip on his hair, keeping him in place.

A hot, sharp pain burned through his forearm as the blade sliced through flesh — it wasn’t a surface cut either. He felt it dig into muscle, and he clenched his teeth with a long, drawn out growl. Enver watched him closely for a long moment, blood spilling onto his desk alongside the ink pot Tar'eon knocked over, the cool ink staining his hair, neck and ear.

Then, he released him as quickly as he had pinned him, the mage hand disappearing. He wiped the dagger against his pant leg is a movement that reminded him of Astarion, slipping the blade back into the length of his cane, clicking it into place.

“You have no idea how many times her goons have used your likeness, Tir’yal. Thankfully, most of them cannot keep your form without much needed concentration, but I can break it to reveal beneath the mask. It can be a...bloody process, I'm afraid. So you’re either you, or Orin. Orin doesn’t react to pain the same way that you do though. She enjoys it too much — and put on the waterworks.” Enver sat back with a grunt, tired eyes on the tiefling who placed a hand over his wound to stifle the blood. "You've never been much of the tearful type when it comes to pain."

“What a friendly welcome.” Tar’eon bit out.

"Please, this is hardly the first time I've stabbed you. Wouldn't be the first time you've stabbed me either, if you're feeling daring."

"Why...did I stab you before?" Tar'eon frowned and Enver chuckled, pulling out his desk drawer and reaching into it, tossing a roll of bandages to him. Tar'eon barely caught it, grimacing at the blood he got on the white bandages.

"Plenty of reasons. You never tried to kill me though. I dare say you were the only person who didn't want to. We had a mutual respect for each others strengths."

"I'm rethinking not killing you." Tar'eon huffed and sat on the edge of the desk, wrapping his bloodied arm up with a shaky hand. It fucking hurt. Enver hadn't given him any mercy in his 'test', but Tar'eon refused to give him grief over it. "You need to work on your barriers. If I could get past it without you waking, I'm sure Orin could too."

"She can't." Enver assured.

"You didn't wake when I passed through it. Obviously, your warding needs improvement." He tightened the bandage and grimaced, tucking it into itself. He wiped his bloody hand off on his pants.

"You're the only one who can pass through." Enver looked at him like he was stupid. "I've used these wards for quite some time. My office is where I spend most days and nights. Only people with no 'ill intent' can pass through undetected. I've never had anyone but you pass that requirement. Though, it did take half a year before it stopped detecting you." He smirked.

"I..." Tar'eon frowned. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. "We...really were close, weren't we?"

Enver actually laughed.

"The closest." Enver smirked. "I knew your secrets, and you knew mine. Of course, we couldn't speak of certain things because it would be a betrayal to Bane or your Father, Bhaal, such as the temples location, but...when it came us," He gestured to himself and then Tar'eon. "We were well read books to each other."

Suddenly, his smile fell, expression impassive as he pursed his lips.

"Though, I notice you're lacking carnage, blood, and a stone. I have faith in your brutality, but not even Orin is that swift. It hasn't even been an hour from my guess." Enver did not seem pleased.

"This isn't about the stone. I..." He gritted his teeth. "I need a favour. Or, I'm making an offer. A negotiation. For the future of our alliance."

Enver sat further back in his chair, watching Tar'eon. Examining the tightness in his muscles, the stiff way he sat on the desk. He was anxious. Interesting. He slowly clinked each finger against the arm of his chair, sharp metallic nails a satisfying sound against pristine wood.

"After your fanged friend attacked me in my own home? After you barged into my office and disturbed my rest? Staining my new desk while you were at it." Tar'eon could feel how thin the man's patience was becoming. "You certainly have guts...I would think you stupid if I didn't know you were the opposite. I will allow this impertinence. But only once."

"You've been fairly honest with me, so I will be honest with you." He forced himself to meet his eyes, refusing to look away as he spoke. "I don't fear your Steel Watch. If I wanted to, I could kill Orin, and then you, and it would be no sweat off my back. I have a wizard prodigy, a githyanki warrior, a solider who served in the Hells for ten years, a rogue who can get anywhere and pick his way through any lock, a warlock apt in the blade, two clerics who don't mind a little blood, a high Harper, a fierce druid, and the child of a Goddess. I do not fear you. My agreement with you if because you're useful...and because it seems my past self cared for you quite a lot."

Enver remained quiet, but his eyes were burning with something. It wasn't anger though.

"Those are just the people who travel with me. I have even more allies all over this city. I could kill anyone who got in my way. But I don't want to kill you. That is the honest truth."

"I'm hurt, you said I'd make a pretty corpse once. That I'd be your final grand murder before the world turned to ash." Enver drawled. "I know you have no intention to kill me, not yet anyway, or you wouldn't have gotten past my wards. Get to the point before I decide to make mince meat of your camp."

"...I could killed anyone. Except Mizora." He admitted. "Her fate is linked to my companions. He was only seventeen when he made the deal, but he did it for the sake of his home. The very home you are now sworn to protect. He's a good man. Wyll Ravenguard."

Enver's eyes lit up, sitting up straighter.

"Oh. The son of Ulder Ravenguard. I see. You're making a deal on his behalf."

"I am." Tar'eon sighed. "I managed to convince Mizora to let Wyll free of his pact in six months time. She knows how much he loves his father, estranged or not. That man respects him so much, even when he sent him away from the home he protected while he was gone." He shook his head. "He was a kid, and his father made him out to be a monster, and then told him to leave the only home he'd ever known. The home he become a monster to save. I might not like him, but Wyll loves him."

Tar'eon couldn't understand how Wyll didn't resent him, but the man told him resentment was something he never wanted to hold onto as a person. It was a weight, and Wyll was not looking to be tied down to it. He grew up with Ulder, and he assured Tar'eon that being unable to tell him about the pact only made it seem like he was inviting the devil into his home. Something he couldn't allow as a Duke.

He chose being a Duke over being a father in Tar'eons eyes, but his opinion didn't matter. Wyll's did.

"I know you intend to get rid of him. He's a threat to your status. But by Gods, if you harm him, I will destroy your Watchers until it is metal scraps beneath my feet. I will turn the people against you. I will tell them everything, show them everything. Even if it means damning myself with you."

"You want me to keep a threat to my ruling around? Our ruling?" Enver barked a laugh. "You never did understand the intricacies of politics, my dearest."

"I won't ask you to free him of the tadpole's command. I know you'd never agree to that. All I ask is that you keep him in your fortress, unharmed, and far away from Mizora's hands or any prison you might think about letting him rot in."

"And what am I to get out of this deal?" Enver challenged, gesturing with one hand for Tar'eon to speak, to offer up something that would make any of it worthwhile.

"That's where we negotiate. Name your price for Ulder Ravenguard's life."

"Well, you've already agreed to get Orin's stone for me, so I'm not sure there's anything else I could want from you." Tar'eon was certain this man had been raised by devils, the way he spoke. Every word felt deliberate, yet suave, twisting it around on the desperate soul to get what they wanted.

"No enemies you want me to kill?"

"Unless you plan on going to the Hells yourself." Enver chuckled.

"I can see about it." Tar'eon offered. "We might have a couple common enemies, you and I. Name your devil, and I'll have them killed." Enver actually looked like he might be considering it, golden talons scratching along his jaw.

"...An old friend of mine. Nothing as formidable as Zariel or Mephistopheles, and not your lovely devil mistress, Mizora. His name is Raphael. If you manage to kill him, I'll consider keeping Ulder Ravenguard alive."

"You will. If I kill Raphael for you, you will keep him alive. No conditions. I kill him and he lives." Enver tutted and leaned back in his chair, watching Tar'eon closely. He beckoned him closer with two fingers, and Tar'eon hesitated before standing, stepping closer, the toe of his boot nudging Enver's. Enver reached up and grasped his either side of his jaw with one hand, tugging him down to meet his dark gaze.

"You know, I've missed you. It's almost fun, knowing you don't remember our time as partners in crime. I'd like nothing more than to show you how well he worked together." Tar'eon swallowed and Enver smirked. "Kill Raphael, and return to me with his horns in tow. I'd like to make them into paperweights. And don't forget Orin's stone, either. Once you have both of those...you will join me for dinner." Tar'eon pursed his lips.

"If you're asking me to spend the night with you, the answer is no. I have a lover. I'm not willing to ruin what I have with Astarion for a one night stand. Raphael's horns and Orin's stone, and that's it."

"And dinner." Enver smiled. "That's non-negotiable if you want Duke Ravenguard to get my utmost hospitality and sanctuary."

Tar'eon gritted his teeth, his heart skipping a beat as the hand on his jaw lowered to throat, holding it just as gently as he had in the memory. Like he was cradling his life in his hand, and enjoying it thoroughly.

"And maybe...you can play for me again." Tar'eon sucked in a sharp breath, berating his body for reacting to those words. He knew instinctive that playing for Enver was more than just music to them both.

"...Fine. Dinner, and maybe a song. Happy?"

"Very. You're quite good at this - negotiations. In future though, I think I'll take the lead." Enver smirked and released his throat. Tar'eon stood straighter, thankful for the mans human hearing compared to Astarion's vampiric hearing, or else his excitement would be far too noticeable for his liking. That cleared up one thing at least. Their previous relationship had definitely been sexual, if nothing else. His body remembered its own cues far too well. He couldn't tell if there had been any real love between them; perhaps it simply wasn't possible back then, living the lives they did. The only love they could truly have was for their Gods.

"Now go. I'm a busy man. If you return empty-handed again, consider our alliance mute." He warned and Tar'eon nodded sharply, making to leave the room as swiftly as possible, barely past the table when Enver spoke again, eyes focused on the papers in front of him, quill in hand. "Oh, and Tir'yal? If you happen upon a warlock by the name of Nubaldin in your journey...Give him a good kick for me, would you? Tell him it was under the orders of Archduke Enver Gortash."

Tar'eon raised a brow before nodding silently, making his way out of the room. When he joined his party back at the bridge to the Lower City, Astarion was gone. Jaheria looked rather unimpressed by his return, as well as Shadowheart.

"I can't believe you left like that without telling us. Where on Toril did you go?"

"I was securing Duke Ravenguard's safety. From the way Mizora spoke, I wasn't chancing wasting any time with a fight if the lot of us went back inside. It was easier to make myself invisible and try my hand alone."

"You could have gotten yourself killed." Jaheria scowled. "Do not act so rashly next time. If we are to work together, I expect some communication at the very least. A toddler could manage that."

"I'm sorry. Where's Astarion?"

"He left. Threw a fit at your disappearance and said he was going back to camp for the day." Shadowheart didn't seem to disagree with the vampires actions. She looked rather annoyed by his vanishing act too. "You managed to secure the Dukes safety, how?"

"I struck another bargain. I knew he wouldn't hand him over to us - but I managed to make him agree to leave the man unharmed in the Fortress. Away from Mizora, or any jail cell."

"And what exactly did you offer that slimeball of a politic?" Jaheria quirked a brow.

"...I told him I'd kill Raphael."

"You what?" Shadowheart's eyes widened. "You expect us to kill Raphael? He'd hardly allow it."

"The last we saw of him, he's in the brothel. Alone. It wouldn't be a hard feat if we put our muscle into it, I'm sure. He's not untouchable."

"We cannot expect to defeat a devil without leverage." Jaheria shook her head. "We must find his weakness before we decide to strike."

"She's right. If Gortash wanted him dead, and it was as easy as taking his head, he would have sent his Steel Watch to do so the moment Raphael came into the city." Shadowheart warned. Tar'eon frowned but considered her words.

"Fine...He'll keep his end of the bargain as long as I deliver the stone and Raphael's head in time. We won't strike today. Let's explore the city first, and hope we stumble upon something helpful. A weakness."

"You're out of your mind..." Shadowheart shook her head. "I'm not happy about your deal with Gortash. Not after everything he did to Karlach. But I see the benefits of it; I'll be hunted enough as it is by any Sharrans in the city. We don't need the Steel Watch drawing attention to us too."

"Sometimes you must walk amongst the filth in order to rise above it. I won't say I haven't played the long game before to my advantage. It is sometimes necessary to avoid battle until battle must be done." Jaheria crossed her arms. "Let us go. There is still plenty of daylight to guide us. We shall see to Mizora and her tricks this evening."

Tar'eon nodded sharply.

"Thank you...both of you. I know I've put you both in a position you're not comfortable with. I really am trying to do what's best for us though. We won't have to skulk around the city now; we can walk freely, and hopefully, find this Minsc you speak of and the victims."

"You are our leader. You've helped me through perilous fights and being by your side has given me the chance to live my own life. If it weren't for you, I might still be stuck in that pod, without the woman I've come to care deeply for. You're always trying to do the right thing. I trust you, even if I may not like some of the decisions you make." Shadowheart gave a small smile. "Come on. Jaheria is right. We've spent enough time chatting. We have to-be-victims to find. Preferably before they're dead."

"Agreed. Let's go." Tar'eon turned to his left, almost expecting Astarion to be there, but he knew he wouldn't be. He pursed his lips. He only hoped Astarion would forgive him once he explained everything properly. There was more pressing matters at hand right now.

He would find Bhaal's cultists, his temple, and he would spill carnage in the form of his dearest blood kin.

****

It was already dark when they made it back. They had managed to find a few victims - some deceased and some alive - but no direction to Orin just yet.

"Wyll!" Tar'eon called out as he jogged up to the warlock who was chatting with Gale, Yenna beside the wizard and petting her cat Grub as she listened intently to their conversation.

"Tar'eon?" Wyll looked up in surprise and smiled. "Your lot are back rather late; dinner will need to be heated, but nothing a little magic can't manage."

"Mizora, she's-" Before he could explain, a ring of fire fell before them, Gale snatching Yenna up quickly and shielding her behind him, Yenna's head peeking her head out from behind, Grub shivering in her arms and mewling in terror. Like he knew something was deeply wrong with the creature before him.

"What in the Hells?!" Gale glared at the woman as she spoke an incantation, more fiends coming to appearing from the Hells, dressed in similar attire. Gale sidestepped a ring of fire and shooed Yenna off towards Jaheria's tent, the Harper ushering her inside as she drew her blades, waiting for a fight.

"You always have to arrive in style, don't you, Mizora?" Astarion drawled, arms crossed over his chest, Karlach beside him, burning red hot at the sight of the devils, fingers gripping tighter around her greataxe. Shadowheart's hands glowed with the faintest light, a radiant beam of magic ready to be dispelled at any given moment, Aylin and Isobel at her back. Even Halsin looked on edge, Scratch and the Owlbear cub behind his large frame, Lae'zel watching idly from beside him.

"Meet my sisters," Mizora grinned. "Be my testament, sisters!" Tar'eons stomach churned as she spoke infernal and they repeated her words in agreement. To think the Sisters of Justice would join them this evening - Mizora was hear to bargain with Wyll once more, and he knew it.

"Holy hells..." Wyll breathed.

"Please, introduce me to your sisters." Tar'eon narrowed his eyes.

"Feena, Cirrus." Mizora gestured to each sister. "Arbiters for the Hells, exemplars of justice."

"Enough games, Mizora- ugh!" Wyll held his head as Tar'eons tadpole squirmed, the images of his father in the coronation and Mizora's words to him crashing into his own mind. "Shit. Where did Gortash send my father? How do I save him?" Tar'eon pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache had grown tenfold after the connection. Enough for Mizora to speak before him.

"Sisters." Mizora gestured the sisters chanted, allowing Mizora to present the contract before them all. "Your contract, Wyll. Signed in blood, forged in fire, bound in bone - but...not unbreakable."

"Then break it already." Tar'eon glared. "Wyll doesn't need to wait six months to regain his freedom when you already swore it."

"He'll want to hear this offer though." Mizora smirked. "I'm proposing a life for a life. No contract is ended without sacrifice. The cost must be paid." Wyll sneered at the devil at the sisters flames only grew brighter, ready to hear his answer to the contract and set it in stone. Tar'eon couldn't let this happen.

"Wyll Ravenguard. A choice is before you." It was hardly a choice, and she knew it. "Option one, I show you a way to your father. I guarantee him no harm except that from you and your allies. And you pledge your soul to me and the archdevil Zariel in a pact eternal."

"Don't listen to her, Wyll." Karlach interjected. "There's no use reasoning with devils."

"Option two," Mizora glared at the barbarian. "I break your pact, and you are freed from your duty. Your father dies by his enemy's hand, and Baldur's Gate loses its greatest champion." She grinned at Wyll, knowing she had made the choice near impossible for him. "Name your sacrifice."

"Mizora, you arsehole." Wyll looked angrier than Tar'eon had ever seen him before.

"Choose."

Gale stepped forward, cautiously looking upon the warlock who struggled to make a choice. How could he? To damn his father for his own sake? To damn himself to being a dog on a leash for the rest of his days? To serve the woman who made Karlach's life hell? It was impossible. He either forfeited the life of the father he loved or forfeited his own. By Gods, he did not want to live a life of torment under Mizora's boot any longer, but what choice did he have? It was his father, the man he respected above all else.

"Wyll..." Wyll looked at Gale, the wizard looking almost as lost as he felt. He shook his head softly at Wyll. "Don't do it. Don't give up your freedom for a man who abandoned you when you needed him most. I know you love your father, but his time has passed. The future - the city - it will be passed on to you. I cannot see anyone else doing a finer a job as you would in his stead. Let the past go, and look to the future."

He offered his hand to Wyll, who's eyes burned with the desire to cry. He hadn't felt so despicable since the night he was banished from the only home he ever knew. He wanted to live, dammit. But could he live with himself if he left his father to rot under Gortash's hand?

"I..."

"Break the pact, Wyll." Tar'eon spoke up and Wyll looked at him in surprise. Tar'eons eyes burned, begging the other man to trust him. "Break it. You deserve your freedom."

Wyll looked between the two men, to the companions around him, and he knew his answer before he spoke it. It felt like a knife ripping through him, stomach to sternum, the weight of his decision unbearably heavy as he took Gale's hand and squeezed hard.

"You damned wretch. Father..." He prayed that he would forgive him. In the end, he was the monster who would end his reign over the city, just like he'd always feared. But he would make things right. He would stand in his place and lead the city to glory one day, and make it up to the man, even if he never forgave him.

"Do it. Break the pact."

"Fiat ita." The sisters chanted the same, and in a flash, the contract was burned away to nothing, the Sisters of Justice leaving the mortal plane. "Didn't think you had it in you. Seem's my boy's all grown up. And don't go fussing about your father. You made your choice, you knew the terms...You know what? I think I'll stick around. Not for the greater good, you understand. Just for the entertainment."

She vanished into flames but Tar'eon knew she would linger somewhere nearby. His stomach was hot with anger, but there was relief too. Wyll bowed his head in shame, eyes closed as Gale drew him into his shoulder. The warlock grasped at him like a lifeline. He was free. But at the cost of his father's life. The camp was quiet, a shared mourning between them all for Wyll's sake, even as some companions moved away to give him some privacy.

Tar'eon rested a hand on his shoulder and Gale looked at him with sad eyes, Wyll pulling away with a bitter twist of his lips.

"I spent seven years choked by Mizora's leash. I spent seven years hoping to break free. I never knew freedom could taste so bittersweet."

"You are your own man now, Wyll. It's better this way." Gale insisted, squeezing his shoulder. Wyll sighed.

"I have to believe that. I'm not the Hells' puppet in life, nor its warrior in death. The Blade will be guiding his own hand." He made to stand taller, but his shoulders were quick to fall again. "But freedom will be paid in my father's blood. Tomorrow, I celebrate my gain. Today...I mourn my loss." There's a moment of silence between them all, Gale's hand travelling up Wyll's back and gently squeeze the nape of his neck, a reassurance that he was not alone.

"The Ravenguard name now lives solely with me. I will make it count for something."

"You will make a great Duke. You will carry the same name, but the legacy will be even more grand once we eradicate the Absolute and the brain." Wyll spared Gale a small smile at his attempt at comfort, his horn bumping gently against the man's temple.

"Check on Yenna. She must have been frightened."

"We will speak later, okay? You're not alone."

"I know. I know that all too well." Wyll pressed a gentle kiss to the wizards cheek before Gale left his side. He sighed. "Thank you. For helping me steel my resolve. Even if the weight of my decision lays heavy on me tonight."

"You trusted my opinion on what was best for you. That in itself is a great honour, Wyll." Tar'eon fiddled with the bandage peeking out from beneath his armour, tucking it away. "But this isn't the end for your father. Mizora likes to talk of reading the fine print, but I'm afraid I was one step ahead of her this time." He smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"Your father is still at the Fortress. Under strict orders to be unharmed. I...struck a deal with En- Gortash."

"You bargained with Gortash?" Wyll's eyes widened.

"You bargained with Gortash?!" Tar'eon turned around to look at Karlach, her expression shattered by the betrayal, anger quickly morphing onto her face. "You better explain yourself, solider, or the next devil on my kill list will be you."

"Now, now, no need to get violent, Karlach." Astarion smoothly stepped between her and Tar'eon, casting a glare to the male tiefling. "He will be explaining many things tonight."

"I'm sorry, Karlach." Tar'eons heart seized at the hurt in her eyes. "But I did it for us. All of us."

"Bullshit! What could he have offered to make dealing with that slimy arsehole worth it?"

"His Steel Watch is all over the city. Unless we can find a way to shut them down, we won't get far. He's offered us a pass, free reign around the city, and the Duke's safety. I made a vow - we do no harm to him, he does no harm to us. For now, he's our ally."

"So that's it?" Karlach laughed, not with humour but with irony of it all. "I can't even fight you on it. Free reign, and Wyll's father kept alive? It'd be cruel of me to deny you your family, or our friends safety." Karlach looked at Wyll and shook her head, turning away from Tar'eon. "I'm never the priority anyway. Not unless I'm smashing skulls."

"Karlach, that's not true. You're so much more, and if I saw any other way, I would have discard the deal instantly. But we need to find Orin, get her Netherstone, and stabilise the brain, or we'll all be turned into illithids. You'll be a slave to a new master, we all will. The whole Coast."

"Promise me, the moment we don't need his 'protection' anymore...we'll kill him. He deserves to die after everything he's done to me."

"I..." Tar'eons mouth went dry. He always kept his promises, or at least, he tried. "He knows where the brain is. We won't be able to find it without him. When the dust clears, and the brain is no more...You can do as please." He bit the inside of his cheeks. Astarion was watching him, gaze scrutinising.

"How noble. Choosing your new friend over an old flame." Astarion mused and Tar'eons heart stuttered, eyes widening.

"You- what?" Karlach turned to Tar'eon in shock. "What is talking about?"

"I...Astar." Tar'eon narrowed his eyes at the vampire. "That wasn't your right to tell."

"Someone has to be spilling your secrets, or you never will." Astarion glared right back. "I think it's about time we gather around the fire and have a long talk about whatever you're hiding from us." Tar'eons tail wrapped around his ankle, his giveaway. Astarion glanced down at the action and Tar'eon cursed himself. This whole time, Astarion had known when he was omitting the truth, all because of his subconscious habit. The vampire leaned in close and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"I can smell him on you. Your blood, the lingering magic on your skin, and the ink that stains it is unlike any common brand - it all lingers under the blood of shapeshifters. I'm not stupid."

"He attacked me in his office when I made the deal for the Duke's life - he thought I was Orin." Tar'eon insisted. "He's my past, he's not present or my future, Astar. Let it go. You know how much I love you." Was Astarion really that jealous?

"You- you and Gortash knew each other?" Karlach looked like she had been punched in the solar plexus. "Why didn't you tell me? I- I trusted you when I told you about him. Everything he did to me - did you even care?"

"Of course I did! I didn't bring you to the coronation because I didn't want you to be forced into a room with him again. I understand your anger, Karlach, I do, I feel it every time I see Orin, see the woman who scrambled my brain and ruined me, betrayed her own brother, stripped me of my memories, of all the truths I deserved!" Tar'eons chest rose and fell rapidly, panting through the intensity of his emotions. His eyes burned, the confessions tumbling from his lips regardless of his previous resistance to admitting his secrets.

He didn't care if they could all hear him.

"You have no idea what I'm going through right now. You have no idea about every time I'd held myself back from splitting skulls and choking the life out of all of you! You're my friends, the people who trust me to lead you into battle and come out unscathed, and every day I had to live in disgust and contempt with myself because no matter how much I love you all, I want to bathe the camp in a river of blood!" Karlach stumbled back in shock, Wyll's own eyes wide. He heard the unsheathing of blades behind him, but he couldn't stop. Even Astarion looked shocked.

"I have denied my Urges for every step of this journey, taking the role of a leader because nobody else wanted to be. I thought I hated myself before when I was simply trying not to kill you all, but I damned all of us! Everyone in the Coast. It's all my fault. The Absolute, it's all my fault!" Tears slipped down his cheeks and he covered his eyes, his chin wobbling as he dug his teeth into his bottom lip.

"All I wanted was a family to come back to after all of this, to find a home and restart my life...but my family is Bhaal! Is Orin the Red! I am his. His spawn. There will be no reunion for me, no home, no life after this. I will continue to deny my Father, mark my words, but even I know there will be consequence in doing so. I have damned us all in a life I don't even remember. I enslaved the brain with Enver, and yes, he is the only thing of my past that doesn't invoke anger or loneliness. The only thing that feels something like home. Sue me for being unable to deny him a useful pact. He offered me the chance to rule Baldur's Gate beside him, and if I were a lesser man, I would have taken it in a heartbeat. If only to belong somewhere."

"Tar'eon-" Astarion placed a hand on his arm and Tar'eon shook him off, dropping his hand from his face with a glare.

"Are you happy? There's my secrets, laid bare before you. I let you come to me. Why couldn't you do the same?" Tar'eon closed his eyes and shook his head, shouldering past Wyll. He needed away. He needed quiet. His mind was screaming, aching, trying to turn his skull inside out.

"You- Tar'eon! Where are you going?" Karlach yelled after him.

"You can't leave after saying all that!" Gale shouted.

"Did you know, Astarion?" Shadowheart asked the vampire, and Astarion pursed his lips.

"I knew of his urges. I didn't know he was Bhaalspawn."

Tar'eon held his pounding head, the ground beneath his feet rumbling. He heard his companions shouts of surprise, all trying to steady themselves. He allowed the tremors of the earth to guide him down its slope, disappearing into the thickets of bushes and casting invisibility as he went.

"TAR'EON!" Astarion called out into the wilderness, but there was nothing but silence. He cursed and hauled a stone in his anger, fangs bared as he berated himself. He'd pushed the man over the edge, and now, he was off somewhere he couldn't find him. He didn't even know if he'd be back when the morning came. Astarion ran a hand through his hair, ruining it's perfection in his frustration. He'd been counting the hours until it would come to an end...something told him his hours were up.

Tar'eon didn't realise that this was their home. It was his. His family was here. Astarion had shoved him one last time towards the door of their fragile home, and now he had walked right out and disappeared. He looked to the others who were conversing together, expressions all troubled and worried, a few disguising it better than the others. Jaheria stood at her tent, her swords sheathed, but gaze distrustful as she stood there, arms crossed. Thinking.

Astarion didn't sleep that night. He was too busy watching, waiting, for Tar'eon to come home.

[wisecrackingeric-2]

So as MOST of you could PROBABLY TELL- this account on December 17th in the afternoon randomly got obliterated. Like totally deleted- it didn’t exist, nobody could view it, I couldn’t log in, etcetera etcetera-

So what the hell happened????????? I don’t know!!!!!!!!

EDIT: just before finishing this tumblr came back to me with an automatic email saying, ‘It Looks as though this issue has already been resolved’. That’s it. No reasoning as to why it was deleted, no apology etcetera.

I’ve never violated any Tumblr community guidelines before, nor have I ever gotten any warnings, and I’ve never posted NSFW, Gore, or any kind of content that could get me banned, so it absolutely wasn’t that!!! My account quite literally vanished without warning- not even a single email or warning message from Staff!!!!!

Apparently it’s a PREEEEEETTTY COMMON GLITCH for peoples accounts to just,,,,,, be deleted totally randomly. With no warning. Out of the blue. And then for Tumblr to come back two-three days later like ‘Whoopsies!!! UwU we’re sowwy we dowwnt know wwhy dat happened!! ÓwÒ-“ Hell it even happened to my partner a few months ago, and if you go searching you can find accounts STILL dealing with this issue!!!!!!

The only other explanation I can think of is that my account was mass reported- by who?????? I’d have no clue!!!!!!!! Recently I was pretty vocal about general racism in the Resident Evil Community, so that’s really the only thing I could think of- but even then, I got no warnings, no emails from tumblr, etc etc, so I HIIIIIIIIIIIGHLY DOUBT IT, and besides if this WAS the case I’m not sure why I would be the only person targeted!!!! So again I don’t think that’s the case!!!

So what did I do to get my account back??? No idea!!!!!!!!

Right after my account was suspended, I sent an email to Tumblr Support on both of my emails- they sent an automatic ticket back and…… nothing. And as of writing this I STILL have gotten nothing. No explanation, no apology, no reasoning behind my account being terminated, etc etc etc

In those three days I made a temporary alt account (which I’m currently trying to figure out how to delete permanently HXNEHENEHEN @evilwisecrackingeric , but that account got Shadowbanned by staff after a day- meaning my blog wouldn’t show up on people’s dash’s, I couldn’t tag people, reply to comments, message anybody etc etc!!!! So I made a second sideblog (@ericseviltwin) on that account- BOOM SHADOWBANNED TOO!!!!!!! I made a THIRD SIDEBLOG- BOOM. SHADOWBANNED (@ericisabouttoexplode. Very fitting names I know) I was most likely shadowbanned cuz Tumblr thought I was a bot after messaging too many people at once, but it as still annoying to deal with!!!!!!

And again, as of me writing this, tumblr STILL has not come back to ANY of my emails three days later!!!!!!!!!! So until I get a response (IF I get a response) I’ll have no idea why I was terminated or why they brought me back so suddenly!!!!!!

So what now????????? Well for the time being I’m probably just gonna lay low. I still HIGHLY DOUBT IT but if this WAS some kind of cyberattack I’d rather not risk it- and besides, I don’t want to risk this account getting shadowbanned too or god forbid getting deleted AGAIN, so it’s probably best for now to keep my activity to a minimum

If there’s any lesson to learn from this PLEEEEEEEEAAAAASEEEE BACK UP YOUR BLOGS. I was DEVASTATED when this acc got deleted- I have millions of conversations with friends, my entire art journey, photos of pets that have passed away etc etc on here and to say I was upset would be an understatement. What should YOU do if this happens to you????????? I have no clue. Unfortunately I just had to. Wait. And even then I STILL haven’t gotten an email back from Tumblr. So I don’t know man!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is apparently a pretty common glitch so back up everything important!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

EDIT: just before pressing the post button tumblr JUST came back to me with this:

It linked me to their abuse/account violation page. Which…. Is very interesting

[zucchinibread777books]

ACOTAR Book Review Pt.1

For my first post in my new book blog, I'd like to discuss the book that I was so passionate about I wrote 7 pages on it just for fun. A Court of Thorns and Roses.

Disclaimers: I did not like this book much. There is a difference between good and entertaining, while I found this book a little entertaining I did not think it was particularly good. These are just my opinions, feel free to disagree. This will be long I'm going to break this up over multiple posts, this one will focus on general issues I had with choices in world-building/writing. 1.Point of View. This is something I noticed immediately that became a huge problem in her storytelling. Authors who write in 1st person pov tend to have a very specific reason for doing so, often to create an unreliable narrator so that their bias can be revealed later as impacting the plot. However, it is clear the author did not have a reason for choosing 1st person pov in this book, and a lot of the plot would fit better with 3rd person pov. The random thoughts such as the ones about paintings would have fit better if they weren’t portrayed as her thoughts in the moment, but as a narrator referencing previous themes. It also would have fit better for big reveals such as the one included, because a 3rd person narrator can comment more on how the other characters expressions and movements might hint towards information we don’t know yet. This is a common issue I find in YA. 2. The naming of the characters. Feyre is far too close of a word to Fey/fairies. I understand the pun but realistically the victims of generations of slavery would not name their child after the race of the enslavers. Also Amaranth-a. May not be general knowledge but amaranth is just a basic edible plant, if it were a poisonous plant it would at least be a nod towards her characterization. (Lucien also seems to be a play on Lucifer but I have not confirmed that) 3. The made up religion surrounding the Cauldron. She just replaced god in modern phrases with cauldron and called it a day. Biblical hell still exists in this book (pg 333“go to hell”, pg 235 “the world has gone to Hell”) and the description of the afterlife is eerily similar to Christian heaven. 4. Worldbuilding with creatures. The author created this world where faeries have to be separated from humans due to this treaty they created. Does this apply to all magical creatures, despite faeries being the slave-keepers? She continues to introduce more and more types of faeries, but they do not all follow the laws of the high fae and she doesn’t put much thought into how they work with the world overall. She then introduces this giant worm with teeth later, which is not a faerie and can be killed without the ash wood that only faeries can be killed with. Its introduction is so random and does not fit into this world she built at all. If it is not a faerie, it should also exist in the human realm, thus explaining why Feyre knew it could be killed with materials other than ash wood. Especially as Feyre compares it to normal worms upon figuring out that the mud is actually its waste. 5. The reveal of information. Quite frankly, the way she hinted towards the twist made it feel as though she decided after the main romance plot to add in an entire other plot, and then went back through the book and added a few sentences here and there to make it seem as though it was planned the whole time. Alis’s huge info dump over halfway through the book felt like a poor, unplanned way to put in the information she needed to make this plot work. If this was truly going to be the plan all along it should have happened MUCH sooner, and her getting into the mountain would have been drawn out much longer than being captured immediately. (I am linking an interview at the bottom because the author discusses the fact that she did not plan out the plot and just figured it out as she went. This was clear to me throughout the book and I looked up interviews in the first place to see if she had anything to say about it.)

TLDR: I thought the writing was a bit lazy and poorly planned (not planned at all) https://blog.mugglenet.com/2015/05/author-interview-taking-court-with-sarah-j-maas/

[dalishious]

Frequently Asked Questions

“How might I be able to find a post or previous response on the question I have, before asking?”

If it is a lore question, try checking out my meta masterlist first!

My second recommendation would be to try searching for a tagged character, quest, or topic; for example, “Merrill”, “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts”, “Qunari”, etc. I try my best to keep this blog as organized as possible.

You can then try searching outside of just the tags; for example, “divine”, “masks”, “dream”, etc.

If you are still unable to find anything, then please feel free to send a message!

“Who are your canon protagonists?”

Da'Renan Mahariel

Dalia Hawke

Amaris Lavellan

“What order should I read the Dragon Age novels and comics?”

Here is my guide.

“Can you recommend some fanfiction to me?”

I do not read a lot of Dragon Age fanfiction, so no, I’m not a very good person to ask.

“Can you recommend some more blogs to me?”

Sorry, I do not do blog recommendations. I get anxious about it.

“Do you know if there is a mod for…”

Here are some tips for finding mods on the Nexus:

Try vague and different search terms or character names

Use the website’s “Refine Results” features to browse by category

Use the website’s “Refine Results” features to search for words contained in the mod description

The Dragon Age nexus mod sites:

Dragon Age: Origins Nexus

Dragon Age: II Nexus

Dragon Age: Inquisition Nexus

“Why do you hate cishet people?” / “Why do you hate white people?”

I do not, unless someone is being a jerk about it.

“Why do you dislike Cullen?”

This question is so common I now have a master list, which you can read here.

“Why do you care so much about people preferring to whitewash Alistair and Fiona? He’s a knightly prince so of course Alistair can’t have a brown mother!!1!”

I’m a biracial person who can’t help but be a little personally insulted by the lengths people will go to trying to claim Alistair is white, and their reasons behind it. Here are a few key posts on this subject. If you ask a question about this and it’s not something I’ve already said, I am just going to send you to these posts rather than repeat it all over again for the billionth time.

Yes, Fiona is Alistair’s mother

And yes, there is reason to believe she isn’t white beyond just Alistair’s skin in DA:O

Because he sure didn’t get his skin from Maric’s side of the family

“But he’s not even that tan” (ignoring that skin colour is not even the only measure of who is white or not)

Alistair was whitewashed to hell and back from DA:O to DA:I

And no, there is no exaggeration because it isn’t necessary

And no it is not just the taint

Or because he spends more time inside

Because he wasn’t just a white guy with a tan to begin with

Or whatever reason you can think of other than holding BioWare responsible for their actions

It is BioWare choosing to change this fictional character’s skin colour from light brown to pale as fuck, because that is what BioWare does

Reasons People Don’t Like Biracial Alistair and Brown Fiona

And the kind of people I have experience with saying he’s white…

…are 99% of the time assholes

“How do you feel about white people having nonwhite OCs?”

I personally feel fine with people having OCs not of their race/ethnicity, as long as they are respectful and put work into it. But I also understand why so many people would prefer it to just not be a thing at all, with good reason, and do not want my own opinion to be used to invalidate someone else’s. You can read more in the links included in this ask.

“Why do you care so much about drama/discourse? Why can’t you just let people enjoy the series? Why does it matter?”

Because when the “discourse” is a group of bigots defending their bigotry, when people “just enjoying the series” comes at the expense of other people, “ignore it and it will go away” has a 0% success rate at changing anything.

“If you hate the games so much, why do you play them?”

I do not hate the games. I am just aware that you can enjoy something while also critiquing the parts you wish were better. It is really not that difficult a concept, you know?

[mask131]

I just have to vent a bit. So I study fairytales, alright? French fairytales of course, being French myself. To prepare a future subject I have to treat I decided to read about several books concerning the great fairytale French authors. 

I just finished reading one book called “Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion” by Jack Zipes, because there is a full chapter on Charles Perrault (the most famous French fairytale writer of the “era of fairytales”). And this is just bullshit.

I mean... clearly the person who wrote this book did not do his research thoroughly. The chapter about Perrault is wrong and misinformed and comes to really bizarre conclusions. Don’t get me wrong there are interesting points and interesting things in there... But the author clearly lacks a LOT of knowledge about the society, context and history of the time. There is a lot of misinformed or incorrect basis from which Jack Zipes just draws conclusions doomed to be wrong.

For example Jack Zipes uphold and insists that Charles Perrault wrote for children, that his fairytales were created as a way to teach children, and that he basically wrote this fairytales as a way to be a manual to raise children. This is literaly all wrong. Back then, end of the 17th century, fairytales were not for children. The old grandma’s tales of peasants and folkloric legends told by the fireplace were for children, yes - but the literary fairytales as we know today were not aimed at children. They disguised themselves under the appearance of “children’s tales”, but they were conceived by adults for adults, they were social games in upper-class salons, they were a form of entertainment for the rich, the wealthy, the noble and the elite. Hence why all the irony, all the poetic put into it, and the subtle sexual subtext, and the political jabs here and there. Yes Charles Perrault had a role in the educational system of France at the time, but his fairytales had absolutely NOTHING to do with it. 

Hell, at first he even tried to hide his participation in such “games” by having his fairytales being credited to his son rather than himself! Yes the fairytales of Perrault ended up becoming part of the children’s culture of the time, but it was not in Perrault’s original project : it just happened much after the publication. The writers of “popular books” (those cheap, simple books peddlers sold to middle-to-lower class people on the roads ; like the “Blue Library” books which were cheap popular anthologies sold everywhere) took back the tales of Perrault, cut down all the things too complicated or elaborated for a lower, more common audience, and then included them in their books (because there was no copyright infringment at the time). In fact most of the versions of Perrault’s tales that went around at the time among children and families were very different from the ones he wrote, or did not even have his name on it. 

And yet Jack Zipes is certain that his fairytales were written first for children. Which is just... arrrgh.

And that’s just ONE misconception! There are many others. For example his complete oversight of the other important fairytale writers of Perrault’s times - mostly FEMALE writers that inspired and influenced Perrault, or that Perrault in turn inspired. (I insist on FEMALE because Jack Zipes also insists on showing a “fear of women” in Perrault’s works, which again is just... ugh). In fact if he had looked in just Madame d’Aulnoy’s tales he would have noticed how she made nods and put Easter eggs in her tale linked to Perrault’s tales and maybe he would have realized that it was all just an elaborate literary game between the cultural elite of the time... 

Anyway I won’t cover everything wrong with this chapter, but I can safely say that when it comes to analyzing French fairytales and Perrault works, there are MUCH better books to look into, and Jack Zipes’ work basically does a lot of misinformation. (Though again it doesn’t seem to be willingly, as the basis and research of Jack Zipes seems to be very lacking, so in turn most of his theories and analysis, while interesting, end up being wrong).

[inbarfink]

I’ve seen a few discussions in the Deltarune fandom, especially during/right after the Spamton Sweepstakes, trying to like… determine the time period in which Deltarune take place. I think the most common assumption is that it’s a contemporary setting based on the ‘202X’ year written down in the hidden files for Ralsei’s Manual back in Chapter 1. But I’ve seen arguments that the very retro look of Noelle’s Blog as seen in the Sweepstakes links indicate that Deltarune takes place in the early 2000’s or late 90’s. Maybe ‘1997’ isn’t actually a distant year of the past, but, like, literally just last year??

But while I understand where these theories are coming from, in my opinion there’s one important thing that we’ve got to keep in mine. Deltarune does not take place in our world. It’s a universe with a wildly divergent history where Monsters take up a sizable present of the population and magic, although rare, is real. Their world exist in duality with an alternative reality made of dream and darkness and like, may or may not be part of some sort of a mad science experiment…

Why would they use the same dating system as our world? We measure years from the supposed birth of Jesus, but does Christianity even exist in this universe? The Holidays’ nickname for Kris being ‘Krismas’ (and like, actually the Holidays whole existence) implies there is a Christmas and therefore a Christ. But otherwise the Angel’s Religion seems to fill Christianity slot in this setting. And who knows how they started counting their years!

And hell , there’s no reason to assume this universe’s technological development directly parallel ours. I mean, look at Undertale. That story takes place some unspecified time after the year “201X” (201X was the year Chara fell into the Underground. Since basically no one recognizes a human on-sight, and the only characters who have first-person recollection of the pre-Royal-Siblings-death era are either immortal or incredibly long-lived - we can assume it was at least a generation). And the technology is a combination of, like, fantasy-medieval, slightly-outdated-to-contemporary technology and high-tech science fiction shit. 

Sure, a some of it might be explained with a combination of magic + the fact that a lot of the Underground’s tech is reversed-engineered from Human garbage. But still… Even what little we see of the surface world in the True Pacifist credits seems to be closer to our world than, like, the year 211X or whatever. 

The Light World in Deltarune is intended to feel closer to our ‘real world’, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if a divergence in it’s technological development led to it being the kind of setting where, like, Minecraft and Webrings and TikTok are equally current and popular. Part of the point of Deltarune’s vaguely ‘contemporary’ setting is to evoke a sense of nostalgia - so it won’t surprise me if the very divergent history is used simply to create a world that consist a mish-mash of nostalgic elements for different generations.

(For the record, I do kinda abide by the ‘202X’ date used in Ralsei’s Manual, with the caveat that since it’s technically not in-game and contains some outdated information, I will throw it away if I find a more solidly-sourced date. But I just don’t think the name of the year necessarily indicate anything about the time period this world parallels)

[lowlylux]

I am a Sinner (You are a Saint)

Chapter Four | Better Safe Than Sorry

Ship: HeiKazuScara

Rating: E

Status: In Progress

Word Count: 3.6k

Description:

“You shall be cast out of the heavenly realm indefinitely.”

Kunikuzushi feels arms grab his own as he is forced to his feet. He struggles, keeping his eyes on his mother only. “Mother! Don’t let them do this!” The guards continue to drag him away, even if it is a struggle. “Mother!” He knows the gate to the human realm is growing closer to him. The more time passes, the less chance he has to escape. But the divine never back out of their decisions…never. He looks to his mother one last time, hoping that she at least looks at him. But her gaze refuses to meet his own.

When he is finally cast out, the air rushing past his entire body, he could only visualize his mother’s pained expression.

He has never felt so alone…

Ao3 Link

“Explain it better then.” Scaramouche says, staring Kazuha down.  He has attempted to get information on what exactly Kazuha is talking about, but every time he asks about it, the answers are lackluster.  “What the hell is Christmas?”

“It’s…meant to celebrate the birth of Christ.”

“Who?”

Scaramouche stares at Kazuha as if the blond had grown two heads all of a sudden.  He always hates it when people drop names as if he is supposed to know who they are talking about.  However, based on Kazuha’s facial expression, he assumes it is something he is supposed to know about…yeah, he’s still unable to recall who the man in front of him is talking about.

“Jesus?” Kazuha says hesitantly, only to be met with a shrug and a confused look from Scaramouche.  “Child of God?  He caused a whole religion…uh…he helped the sick?”

“I have no idea who you are talking about.”

Now, Scaramouche knew that Heizou was in the room.  It’s incredibly hard to ignore it when someone is staring you down after all. Initially, he chose to ignore it.  However, even he jumps when Heizou bursts out laughing.  “You mean to tell me that Jesus didn’t exist?” Heizou asks through his laugh, harshly holding onto a pillow to the point where Scaramouche expects it to pop like a balloon.

“He may have existed…but he had no connection to the heavenly realm.”

“I am definitely bringing this up to my mom next time I see her,” Heizou says, finally able to keep a straight face again.  “After all that shit she gave me for being bi, it’s the least I could do.”

Scaramouche tilts his head in confusion.  Sure, he can understand a mother who isn’t always there for you, but disliking your child’s preferences?  That just doesn’t make sense.

Kazuha seems to notice this confusion, deciding to clarify.  “Christians sometimes like to claim that you will go to hell if you are queer.”

Once again, Scaramouche is confused.  Why would humans think this?  “But…your preferences don’t impact your chances of going to the demonic realm?  Most souls go to the same afterlife.”

“Most?”

“Murderers, if the crime was severe enough, get recruited by demons and in turn become demons themselves,” Scaramouche explains as if it were common knowledge.  Well, to him it is common knowledge.  “And then there are the ones who make deals.” Scaramouche looks at both men, noticing how neither of them seem to understand his last statement.  “Sometimes, when a witch summons a demon, their wish is too great.  So, the demon who is summoned will request a deal, normally resulting in taking the summoner’s soul after their request is completed.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Kazuha asks quietly.

“Desperate people,” Scaramouche says rather glumly.  The worst part is, sometimes, those who make those deals are genuinely good people.  And, if they did it for their family, they will never see them again.  They even destroy their hopes of coming in contact with them in the afterlife, as when demons die they just cease to exist.  “I tend not to judge them too harshly.”

“Well now the whole mood has been ruined,” Heizou whines, leaning on Kazuha dramatically.  “And when we were having so much fun talking about a holiday that technically doesn’t have origins with Christianity.  Well, portions of it at least.”

Okay, now Scaramouche is intrigued about this holiday.  Heizou seems to realize just how intrigued he is, as he smiles at the small action.  

“Christmas, like many holidays, celebrates one of the four seasons.  It’s common in all religions.  However, there were some points that directly parallel three of the pagan holidays during the timeframe, and there is proof of the church assimilating portions of the Pagan holidays into Christianity to make the switch easier.  Modern day Christmas actually has a lot of ties to old elements of the Pagan holidays, like mistletoe.” Heizou finishes his little info dump with a grin as he stares at Scaramouche the entire time.  “Did I talk too fast for you?”

Scaramouche immediately shakes his head, even though he knows Heizou is being an ass. So, Heizou takes the chance to continue talking, ‘strangely’ enough.

“But yeah, Christmas is supposed to celebrate the birth of a kid with no confirmed birthday.  Most people now just use the holiday to give gifts and spend time with family.”

Scaramouche’s wings droop at that statement.  This holiday they speak of is a day away, and he hasn’t gotten anything for them.  Granted, he didn’t know about the holiday before this moment.  And not to mention, he’s only been a guest for about a week, so that’s something he should keep in mind.

“Speaking of, I need to get going,” Heizou says, standing up with a groan.  According to him earlier, the detective had been on his feet constantly the past few days.  Unfortunately, he does refuse to tell Scaramouche and Kazuha why that is the case. Now, Scaramouche understands why he wouldn’t be told the details, but Kazuha?  If what Kazuha says is correct, Heizou tells him everything, so it is a bit odd to say the least. 

Kazuha doesn’t seem too upset about it though.  Sure, throughout the week Scaramouche has known him, he sighs more and more each day when Heizou continues to hide things, but he doesn’t seem completely hurt.  “Going last minute shopping again, Heizou?  Didn’t you learn last year?”

“Hey, you liked that new phone case!”

“It’s my least favorite color…”

“It was the last one they had in stock!”

“Because you waited the day before.”

Heizou puts a hand to his chest in an offended manner, an action he does constantly it seems.  “I put things on hold.  Trust me, I got the best gifts for everyone.  Just gotta pick them up.”

Kazuha doesn’t look convinced, and honestly?  Scaramouche doesn’t blame him either.  Heizou is many things, but a convincing liar?  Not when it comes to Kazuha.

“Hey,” Heizou says, grabbing Kazuha’s shoulders, “trust me, yeah?”

Kazuha stares at him for a moment, and Scaramouche cannot help but be intrigued with the answer.  With his time on earth, he has grown to enjoy television a bit too much.  So, while he does value both of these humans, he cannot help but consider them a bit entertaining.  Kazuha sighs, shaking his head in response to his boyfriend.  “Fine, I believe you.”

Heizou grins, lightly grabbing Kazuha’s face and covering it with kisses.  The action even makes the other human laugh as he flails his arms around as if he actually wants to escape.  Even Scaramouche cannot help but smile at the display.  Heizou plants one final kiss on Kazuha’s lips, a place he was intentionally avoiding until the very last moment.  “I love you Kazuha Kaedehara.”

“And I you, Heizou Shikanoin.”

Heizou smiles warmly at that, standing up straight and beginning to make his way to the front door.  However, Scaramouche does have other plans.  He grabs Heizou’s wrist before he can go far, causing him to stare at Scaramouche in confusion.  “What’s up?”

“Can I go with you?” Scaramouche asks, letting go of Heizou almost immediately.  “I wanna go shopping.”

“You hated shopping the other day though,” Kazuha says, clearly confused.

“This is important,” Scaramouche insists, splitting his gaze between both men.  “I want to shop for gifts.”

“Why?” Heizou asks, his head tilting to the side.  “Do you even have money?”

Scaramouche immediately nods, pulling out a wad of cash he has in his pockets.  “A…friend gave some to me.  He said I would need it eventually.”  It was Childe, the friend was Childe.

Heizou visibly glances at Kazuha before sighing.  To Scaramouche’s delight, he looks like he has given up.  “Fine, I’ll take you with me.”

Scaramouche smiles at this, his wings flapping a bit in excitement.  “Seriously?  It was that easy?”

“I’m leaving right now, so if you take too long you’re not going.”

“I’m already ready,” Scaramouche says, closing his eyes and allowing for his wings to hide.  He ignores the bile that threatens to leave his throat, instead deciding to walk straight to Heizou’s car.  He really doesn’t want Heizou to come up with a single reason for him not to go.

Heizou’s car is quite a bit different compared to Kazuha’s.  While Kazuha has a small electric car, completely free of trash on the inside, Heizou is perhaps the opposite.  Based on Scaramouche’s knowledge, he knows it is some type of sports car.  He doesn’t remember the name though, but he does remember it has to do something with horses.  Inside Heizou’s car is a pile of old coffee cups, bags of chips, and a pack of cigarettes poorly stashed away in the cup holder.  

“Sorry, I would’ve cleaned it if I knew I would be taking you,” Heizou says casually, already slipping in on the driver's side.  Scaramouche pauses a minute, much to the annoyance of Heizou.  “Are you getting in or not?”

Scaramouche ended up getting in the car.

He shifts uncomfortably, not ever being used to his wings being gone.  Although, he is eerily aware of Heizou continuing to stare at him.  But, he decides to ignore it.  Heizou continues to have a big focus on the road, so Scaramouche can ignore the fear of dying in a car crash.  

“So when were you going to tell us that your wing is infected?”

Yeah, he can’t exactly just ignore that.

●•·•●

Kazuha isn’t used to his house being quiet.  Sure, it’s only been roughly a week since Scaramouche quite literally fell into both his and Heizou’s lives, but he’s gotten used to the angel roaming around.  He’s used to the television staying on, or his laptop playing some random YouTube video Scaramouche found on his endless spirals of watching hours of that content a day.  Kazuha is honestly starting to think it might be a problem.

But his house is quiet.

Maybe that’s why he loved it when someone knocked on the door.  Kazuha thinks of himself as pathetic.  Heizou and Scaramouche have been gone for maybe five minutes, and here he is feeling lonely.  

When Kazuha opens the door, he smiles almost immediately.  In front of him is a blond boy, the guy’s blue eyes staring back at him.  The smile however, doesn’t last very long at all.  When Kazuha’s eyes look downward, he feels his hand grip onto the doorknob tighter.

“Kazuha…” the man, Tomo, says, a blank look in his eyes.  “You gotta help me.”

“What did you do?” Kazuha chokes out, taking a step back.  He doesn’t want to believe his best friend since diapers are about to kill him, but the man is at his door covered in blood.

Tomo’s eyes widen as he yells out, “nothing!  I did nothing!”

“Why is there blood on you?”

“Please,” Tomo says, pleading with Kazuha at this point.  “I need you to listen to me.”

Kazuha still eyes Tomo suspiciously and is fully aware of the location of his phone (the living room), and the gun Heizou keeps upstairs.  If anything goes wrong, at least he knows where to go.  Looking outside once, even if no one normally takes this road, he beckons Tomo inside and shuts the door.

“Thank you,” Tomo says, practically in tears.  He grips onto Kazuha’s arm, causing the man to cringe.  Sure, the blood on Tomo’s hands is dry, but Kazuha can practically imagine his sweater getting stained with someone else’s blood.  “Do you have a shower?”

“No.”

Tomo stares at him in shock, his mouth open slightly.  “What?”

“You aren’t sitting down, you aren’t taking a fucking shower, and you’re not getting a change of clothes.” Kazuha says sternly.  If he let Tomo potentially incriminate either Heizou or himself, Heizou would never forgive him.  “Now who’s blood is that?”

“You remember Sayo?” Tomo asks, not able to look in Kazuha’s eyes anymore.  “She’s…gone.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Tomo insists once more, standing his ground.  “I know it looks bad, but trust me.  This wasn’t me!”

“Kazuha…It’s not what it looks like…”

Kazuha shakes his head, deciding not to dwell on the past for a bit longer.  “Tomo, what happened?” He doesn’t want to get involved.  Sure, Tomo is his best friend, but this is simply something he should not be handling at all.

“She just…snapped.”

“Your mom, she wasn’t herself.”

“She started attacking me!”

“She attacked your brother, Kazuha…I tried to stop her.”

“And I tried man!  But it was like every word I said didn’t even matter.”

“Son, believe me, I tried to reason with her.”

“I needed to defend myself.  So...I did.”

“I wanted to defend all of you.  I promise.”

“Kazuha, you have to believe me.”

“Kazuha, you have to believe me.”

“Tomo…” Kazuha mutters out, his nails digging into the skin of his palms.  He can’t handle this right now.  No, he can never handle a situation like this.  “Get out, call the police.”

Tomo stares at Kazuha for a moment in shock.  “What?”

“Get…” Kazuha mutters, refusing to look Tomo in the eyes.  “Get out, please.”

“Kazuha-“

“Get out of my house Tomo!” Kazuha yells out, wincing at his own volume.  He doesn’t usually have a hard time listening, as his ability to observe his surroundings at all times is something he prides himself with.  But, some situations have the ability to cause abnormal reactions.  “Why did you think I could help you?”

“I…Heizou needs to help me.”

“So you barge into our home?” Kazuha questions, knowing full well that he is getting to be rude.  “Tomo, you ran from a fucking crimescene!  And now you’re here, asking for a shower?  I am not getting accessory to murder because of you!  So get the fuck out!”

“Kazuha, I didn’t do this!”

“I’m sorry,” Kazuha mutters, already reaching for his phone.  However, even though his hand does reach for the device, it does not reach it.  Tomo grabs his wrist before he even can grab his phone.  “What are you doing?”

“Don’t call the police,” Tomo says, tightening his grip on Kazuha.  “Please.”

“Let me go.”

Tomo doesn’t let go.  In fact, the guy just continues to plead with Kazuha.  His grip is becoming almost too hard as Kazuha winces at the pressure.  Tomo is a pretty strong guy, maybe not the strongest one around, but he certainly is stronger than Kazuha.  That fact actually makes Kazuha regret not working out, but that isn’t important at this very moment.

“Tomo,” Kazuha says hesitantly, not really knowing how to get out of this situation, “you and I both know that this will just make you look guilty.”

“I look guilty already!” Tomo yells back, his grip not loosening.  But, it doesn’t tighten either so Kazuha is glad.  “Not even my best friend believes me.”

“You barged into-“

“You invited me in!”

“After you appeared on my doorstep, covered in your girlfriend’s blood!”

“But it’s not my fault!”

“That is exactly what my dad said, you know.” Kazuha doesn’t like bringing up his dad…at all.  After years of testifying, counseling, and night terrors, Kazuha rarely likes talking about any of it.  

But Tomo looks shocked, his grip finally loosened so that Kazuha’s wrist is free.  “Don’t compare me to that…”

“Well…”

“No,” Tomo says sternly, walking away from Kazuha at once.  “Don’t compare me to-“ flashing lights interrupt him, causing the boy to pause.  “You called the police?”

Kazuha just shrugs, forever grateful for the emergency switch on the doorframe.  Heizou claimed that they needed it, and Kazuha laughed in his face.  Yeah, he is actually quite thankful now.  But, he sighs, trying to be a bit more composed.  “Look, this is just for precautions, alright?”

Tomo still looks at Kazuha with a look of betrayal, causing Kazuha to regret his actions ever so slightly.

●•·•●

Heizou’s eyes scan the shelves in front of him.  Truthfully, he has never been amazing at knowing what exactly someone needs when injured.  Half the time, Heizou will just take pain medication if he has an injury.   No need to buy all the unnecessary disinfectants when his wounds rarely get infected in the first place.  However, he can’t exactly allow the angel to keep walking around with an infected wing, so disinfectants are required.

He really doesn’t look at the brands he grabs, merely making sure he has everything that Kazuha usually gets whenever he catches Heizou with an injury.  Although, he does grab an extra roll of bandages simply due to the fact that Scaramouche’s wing is far larger than anything Heizou has had to bandage before.

He thanks the cashier, a young girl who smiles brightly at him.  Although, truthfully, he could honestly care less.  Hands full of random medical supplies, Heizou makes his way to the car.  Scaramouche, always seeming to get attention on himself in odd ways, is sitting on the roof of Heizou’s car.

“You can hurt the top if you do that.”

Scaramouche jumps at the sudden noise, attempting to hide a wince after doing so.  Although, what Heizou said doesn’t seem to click immediately, but when it does, Heizou cannot help but smile.  The angel is scrambling off the car, not apologizing of course, but looking as if he had killed a puppy somehow.

“You shouldn’t move around so much,” Heizou says, eyeing the wings of Scaramouche.  “You’ll hurt yourself even more.”  If they were in the city, Heizou would be scolding Scaramouche for even showing off his wings at all, however he specifically went to the store he did because it is in the outskirts.  Avoiding people while patching up the angel is probably the best way to go about this.

Scaramouche scoffs at such a statement from Heizou though.  “I’m fine.”

“If you were,” Heizou starts, dropping the supplies he just bought on the driver’s seat of his car, “I wouldn’t have noticed you were hurt.”

“It’s your job to notice things.”

“Yet Kazuha asked me to check on you.”

Scaramouche’s eyes widen at Heizou’s words, his body slightly tensing at even the mention of Kazuha.  It makes Heizou narrow his eyes in an attempt to read the angel better, but he can’t focus on the reaction too much at the moment.  “Kazuha noticed?”

Heizou just smiles for a moment before simply saying, “no, but you just admitted you are hurt.”

“I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

“You can try, Angel,” Heizou says, pulling Scaramouche closer to him.  He lightly grabs one of Scaramouche’s wings, causing a wince from the man.  At least Heizou knows where the injury is now.  “But you have to be able to walk without wincing first.  Now hand me the saline.”

“What's wrong with a bandage?”

“I need to wash the wound to prevent further infection,” Heizou says as if Scaramouche is the most clueless being on the planet.  Actually, occasionally, Heizou does think that, but that is for another day.  Scaramouche grumbles, but hands Heizou the bottle of saline anyway.  

As Heizou starts working on the wound, he cannot help but pause at the sight before him.  Obviously, Scaramouche has cleaned the feathers that were visible, but venturing further into the wings, he cannot help but notice the pure coated in gold that practically sparkles in the sunlight.   He continues to search, and clear as day, the wound is there, surrounded in the golden liquid.  “Angel?”

“Hm?”

“Do you bleed gold?”

Scaramouche gives him a look as if Heizou himself is the idiot, which is honestly refreshing if Heizou is being honest with himself.  The angel sighs, shifting uncomfortably in the grasp of Heizou.  “I suppose that’s the best way to describe how we bleed, yes.  Personally I haven’t seen it much.”

“Are angels that peaceful?”

“No,” Scaramouche says while laughing to himself.  By observing him, Heizou notices the way the angel’s eyes glaze over for a moment, as if he were being reminded of something before he’s back to his annoying self.  “But the healing rate for angels is much faster than most can even comprehend.”

“Why haven’t you healed then?” Heizou questions, satisfied with the wound now being cleaned and reaching for a bandage.

“Infection is rare in angels,” Scaramouche says hesitantly, shifting once more as if he can avoid Heizou.  Unfortunately for him, he still has nowhere to run.  

Heizou hits Scaramouche’s head, cursing to himself at the entire situation.  “Do you mean to tell me that you could’ve been fine literally the day we found you if you would’ve treated the infection?”

“…”

Heizou stares at the angel in shock for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief.  “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I didn’t want to worry Kazuha.”

Heizou opens his mouth to retort but stops immediately.  He and Scaramouche just stare at each other, reading the other as if their lives depend on it.  Truthfully, Heizou can relate to that sentiment all too well, as he avoids telling Kazuha anything that could potentially trigger him.  So, even if he thinks the ange, should’ve told them immediately, he can understand why he did it.

So, he just decides to drop it, quietly moving the materials to the backseat of his car, throwing them everywhere.  He’ll clean it up later so it doesn’t even matter.  Scaramouche is moving his wings, seemingly already getting better.  Although, Heizou cannot really tell if it is the angel putting on a more convincing farce, or the enhanced healing is working properly.

What he does notice is his phone ringing.  Absent-mindedly, Heizou answers, not even checking the caller ID.  “Hello?”

“Heizou…”

Heizou’s heart drops at the voice’s tone.  He knows it’s Beidou, just because of how much he has interacted with her.  But truthfully, he has never really heard her sound panicked.  “Beidou, what’s wrong?”

“Kazuha needs you home, now.”

Heizou has never been one to ignore Kazuha’s requests, and he is not going to start now.

03<< >>05

Master list

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

Submas Song Sunday #5

Hello and welcome to Submas Song Sunday, where I take a song from my playlist and kinda just talk about how I think it fits the subway bros (or just one of em!)

I might include references to fanfic, or explain an animatic I can think up to the song, or just talk about it!

DISCLAIMER: Nothing on this playlist is intended to portray anything aside from familial relationships. I am NOT looking at backstories of songs, who they were written for, or songwriter’s intent. I go STRICTLY off lyrics and how I interpret them!

You may find a link to the playlist in my pinned post! If you have a song you want me to talk about, send it in :)

Song: Fresh Static Snow by Porter Robinson

Now maybe I’m cheating by picking a song with so few lyrics, but I’ve been working on cosplay all day. It’s con crunch time, cut me some slack!

Of course, this is totally an Ingo song. He’s out there in the highlands, probably thinking about his missing memories in his spare time at least sometimes, wondering exactly what he is missing. Flames.... A man who looks like him... That is all he can go on. But...

You fit perfectly to me in the loneliness, melt this curse away Though I'll never know your name I'll cry for you the same

He feels emotions that seemingly come from nowhere; he no longer can access the memory of the event that caused him to feel them.

He knows he wasn’t lonely in his past life. He gets a feeling of... companionship, when he thinks about the man in white and what must be his pokemon partner. But the curse that is his amnesia gets in the way and he... He IS lonely out there on the mountain.

He loves Lady Sneasler and the sneaslets, but... He genuinely does enjoy the companionship of people, and very few people here truly trust him. Few people here want to get to know him on more than the acquaintance level. Irida would, she’s really sweet and he is so grateful for her giving him this opportunity, and for being the first in the clan to trust him. He’d like to be friends with her but she is busy running the entire Pearl Clan.

(Until the PLA protag drops in, because of COURSE I love uncle/big brother Ingo HELL yeah).

Sometimes, though... Sometimes Ingo cries, and he does not even know why. Sometimes the thought of the man in white does not bring peace, but tears and an emptiness in his chest. He doesn’t even know his name. And yet.

And yet.

Don't move so lightly, static snow, that is your memory Although I know we'll never meet you're in every part of me You fit perfectly to me in the loneliness, melt this curse away Though I'll never know your name I'll cry for you the same

There is a lot of snow, up there on Mount Coronet. Not always; in the summer months, there is none, but... It’s cold. Blizzards are common in the winter. It’s all white.

The flurries remind Ingo of something that he cannot recall. There are no TVs in Hisui, so how could he know what static is?

(I do love the whole memory loss-static imagery, it’s very evocative. Just... nothing, where there should be something.)

Ingo knows that meeting the person in his memories is impossible. It’s so far beyond his powers to get home... AND YET. He cannot let those flickers go.

No matter the degree of memory loss, it is impossible to completely erase a person who has been beside you your entire life.

[daimonclub]

Daimon directory project

Daimon directory project Daimon directory project is an international world wide great brand marketing idea powered by Carl William Brown and the Daimon Club Organization to support, foster and spread the original spirit of the Daimon creative meaning.  Daimon is an inner force, an inner passion, a mixture of desires and aspirations. Our daimon is the genius that lives with us, good and evil at the same time. As Blake would say, it's the marriage between heaven and hell. It's death in life and life in death. It's a kind of enthusiasm that guides us towards the search for knowledge, without believing in any superior entity. It's an olistic approach to life that struggles against any form of vanity, of stupid power and false authority. It's a form of magic, of ecstatic feeling, it's the art of living for freedom without having to submit our inner thoughts to the banalities of our society. It's a dream that gives hope to our intellect, it's a mistery without solution. it's the absurdity of our life, it's a nonsensical joke. That's why I thought to link the surrealistic poetics with the spirit of my creation, and that's why the Daimon Club was born. Carl William Brown One of the first examples of surrealistic writer and daimon guided author was Laurence Sterne. He was born in Ireland in 1713 end died in 1768. As a clergyman, Sterne was rather unusual. Besides being involved in frequent amorous escapades, together with some friends he formed a group called "The Demoniacks" which used to meet at Skelton Castle, a curious house on the border of the Cleveland Moors, (belonging to a friend of Sterne's, who called it "Crazy Castle", where they indulged in moderate revelry. When I found the Daimon Club I didn't know about Sterne's association, but now what I intend to point out is that unfortunately we don't have a castle, and it's always more difficult to find people who like to be open minded, not only from a sexual point of view, but also from an artistic and intellectual one. Carl William Brown When towards the end of 1997 Carl William Brown registered the first few pages of the Daimon Club website in the main search engines the term Daimon did not appear becuase as a matter of fact it was unknown. Therefore, digitally speaking, it was our association that has had the privilege of inaugurating what would soon have become a real phenomenon. Try to type today on the most famous Internet spider the word Daimon, or Daimon Club and you will immediately realize the real development of the trend. Carl William Brown The concept of Daimon is also strongly connected with the meaning of Aristotle's Eudaimonia, that is to find your inner passion and develop it in a good manner without any excess to live in a virtuous happy way. Carl William Brown Each life is formed by its unique image, an image that is the essence of that life and calls it to a destiny. As the force of fate, this image acts as a personal daimon, an accompanying guide who remembers your calling. James Hillman

International Daimon Directory The daimon motivates. It protects. It invents and persists with stubborn fidelity. It resists compromising reasonableness and often forces deviance and oddity upon its keeper, especially when neglected or opposed. It offers comfort and can pull you into its shell, but it cannot abide innocence. It can make the body ill. It is out of step with time, finding all sorts of faults, gaps, and knots in the flow of life - and it prefers them. It has affinities with myth, since it is itself a mythical being and thinks in mythical patterns. James Hillman Daimon meaning The Greek daimon means 'divine power', 'fate', or 'god'. To the Greeks daimons were intermediary spirits between human beings and the gods, acting as spiritual advisors. See Genii, Jinn, Djin and Genius. Daimon is also a common persons name, so we have several websites that tells us something about different Daimon. Daimon is also a semi God of past religions, so we have many sites that explain the original meaning of the word. For more information and if you want to join our great DAIMON international branding marketing project, you can write us using our Ko-fi.com page, where you can also offer us a small donation to support this initiative. Thank you so much and don't hesitate to keep in touch, we are waiting for you! www.daimon.org The Daimon Club official website, it is the international domain of our club. The Daimon Club is a virtual cultural association founded in Brescia, Italy in 1997 by Carl William Brown. Its purpose is to develop a new cultural and communicative methodology. The website offers a variety of sections including thousands of original aphorisms, quotes, jokes, and proverbs in English, as well as free e-books, humorous texts, and links to cultural resources. There are also sections dedicated to visual communication, business, finance, and web marketing. The Daimon Club does not have any advertisements or use cookies. It also offers fast research through its Daimon Spiders and can be found on various social media platforms. www.daimonclub.it  It was The Daimon Club Italian mirror website. Now it is the official links tree of Carl William Brown and it redirects to AllMyLinks. Inside it there is the International Daimon Directory Project, it will include all websites that have something to do with the concept of Daimon Creativity and its origins. www.daimonclub.ro  Daimon Social Club – Insula verde din Bucuresti. In the heart of the Capital, in the middle of a lush vegetation, is Daimon Club: your oasis of relaxation and energy. The story of Daimon Club was born to provide people an imposing location, with complete services, where you can celebrate the most important events in your life, but also to spend quality time in the company of your loved ones.

Daimon Directory project www.daimonproduction.com  Daimon Production is an independent production company founded in 2009 by the freelance video reporter Emiliano Pappacena. Daimon Production has swiftly become a real teamwork of young professionals who pool their know-how in the audiovisual industry. Our mission is to produce TV reports, documentaries and new TV formats paying particular attention to social issues, immigration, environmental sustainability and technological innovation. Our video reports have been aired on Rai Due, Rai Tre, Rai Storia and on the satellite television Rai Edu. www.eudaimon.it  It's an Italian firm specialised in physical and psychological counseling, time-saving services and day care services. www.daimonbarber.com/ Peerless male grooming products by Daimon Barber. Innovative formulation, unrivalled quality and beautiful design. Made in the UK. www.daimon-italy.com  DAIMON is a brand owned by GRE EUROPE SAGL, a company based in Switzerland with multiple activities in Europe and Asia. Daimon collections are produced by Zoko Italy srl, a company that counts more than twenty years of experience in the production of yarns, fabrics and garments and that makes quality, production control and timing some of its strengths . www.daimoninstitute.com The Daimon Institute for the Highly Gifted conducts research, offers research-based and best-practice presentations, and provides educational consulting to support the overall development of Exceptionally and Profoundly Gifted (EPG) people. www.fondazionedaimon.com Padre Monti Saronno graphics schools. OUR HISTORY. Born from the philosophy and values of Father Monti, the Daimon Foundation passes down a precious heritage of ideas and activities in the educational, training and technical fields. Innovation, professionalism and the valorization of our students' successes characterize us and accompany us continuously. www.thedaimonbarber.com  Classic hair pomades by The Daimon Barber. Innovative formulation, unrivalled quality and beautiful design. Made in London. www.daimon.nl  This is the portfolio of photographer and filmmaker Daimon Xanthopoulos. Here you can see full screen selection of his photography and documentary work. daimon.agency  We are a Brand Experience Studio born digital and grown looking for the unexplored among all channels. We have the courage to give shape to creativity that performs and experiences that can tell a story. For us this is being bold. This is our boldness. www.daimonart.it  It is a Website Art Gallery, a Graphic, Advertising and Marketing Agency specialized in Internet services. (La Daimon Art Gallery è uno spazio dedicato agli artisti, quotati e non, che vogliono esporre i propri lavori, e far circolare le proprie idee, per un pubblico non necessariamente di collezionisti o esperti del settore.

Daimon directory daimoneventi.it An Italian company. Daimon Eventi intertwines creativity, imagination and competence, offering companies qualified work in the supply of personnel and services for various events. Daimon Eventi can offer suggestions and exclusive atmospheres thanks to a staff of actors, musicians, dancers, painters, sculptors, magicians, jugglers, DJs, male and female models, hostesses and stewards... but also set designers, screenwriters, graphic designers, video operators, photographers , catering, tour operators…and so on. www.daimongames.com  Daimon Games offers (mostly) free (as in free beer) tabletop Role Playing Games and adventures. www.daimon.qc.ca  Centre de production Daïmõn photo-vidéo-nouveaux médias. Le Centre de production DAÏMÕN is an artist-run centre that supports research, creation and production of works in photography, media arts, multimedia, new media and their interfaces. DAÏMÕN also initiates events and screenings of works produced in these artistic practices. DAÏMÕN is a non-profit organisation that is supported by its members, the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Service des arts, de la culture et des lettres de la Ville de Gatineau. www.daimon.ch  Daimon Publishers Online bookstore devoted to books on Jungian Psychology, Relationships, Personal Development and Growth of Consciousness www.progettodaimon.it  by Walter Alamanni; it's a cultural group interested in Counseling, Development of human potentialities, shamanism, educational training and so on. Nello sciamanesimo il termine Medicina significa forza vitale, energia intrinseca nella natura. La medicina di una persona è la sua potenza, la sua conoscenza, la sua espressione di energia vitale. Le Ruote di Medicina sono ruote di coscienza, conoscenza e comprensione ed essendo ruote di coscienza ci insegnano l’equilibrio e il rapporto fra tutte le cose. Fin dall’antichità l’uomo ha usato Ruote di Medicina per l’insegnamento riguardo al cosmo, in tutto il mondo... www.daimon-italy.com  A fashion company, guided by a very famous Italian woman stylist, that has chosen the word Daimon as an Ancient Greek term that defines the soul and inner strength to its purest forms but can then also turn to a more transgressive meaning. The Daimon Luxury Collections came from the idea to make a special and inimitable shape, as the woman who is wearing it. Cutting edge cuts, sharp and precise, transgressive combinations of precious yarns and fabrics, craftsmanship in all details, strong and inimitable identity. www.daimonfilm.com DAIMON FILM SRL is a company that produces, sells, and promotes film, television, and multimedia products. They also provide artistic consulting and organize events and concerts. Daimon Film covers the world of entertainment at 360 degrees by producing and creating videoclips, television programs, commercials, films and docufilms, up to the creation of major events and concerts.  The production is handled by Raffaella Tommasi, a project manager with twenty years of experience in large international projects. They have organized the IMAGinACTION Festival and Tour, as well as the Comacchio Beach Festival, featuring popular Italian artists. daimonrestaurant.com  Daimon Japanese Restaurant - Sunset Beach / Huntington Harbor. With over 30 years of history, Daimon invites you to enjoy an evening of excellent food, fine drinks, and great fun. Our caring and committed staff will ensure you have a fantastic experience with us. www.daimonsoft.com  Daimon Soft is committed to providing our customers with superior software, website, and web hosting solutions that will improve the efficiency and appearance of your company, leading to a more successful business or personal venture.Daimon Soft L.L.C. North Prairie, WI dancingfrog.net  Echu-Daimon Kite Festival. As we traveled around Japan to various kite festivals it seemed like every third person was from Daimon kite club in Toyama Prefecture. Echu is the old name of Daimon. With this harbinger of things to come, we headed off to the train station in Osaka where we met the other members of the Osaka Kite club.

Synthetic principles of applied Daimonology www.instagram.com/daimon_tattoo  Daimon Tattoo Studio A very high specialized tattoo and piercing studio based in Tuscany, Italy. Address viale Diaz 20, 53034 Colle Val D'Elsa, Toscana, Italy. You can discover a lot about it visiting its Facebook page. www.daimon.org.br Centro de Estudos do Relacionamento O Daimon é uma instituição que contribui para o estudo da psicoterapia, da psicoterapia de grupo e do psicodrama no Brasil. Você encontrará informações sobre grupos de estudos e grupos de supervisão. Terá acesso à programação das sessões abertas de psicoterapia, aos eventos e aos artigos publicados pelos profissionais que aqui trabalham. Você poderá ainda adquirir os livros publicados pela nossa editora. www.daimon7007.co.jp  Daimon Manufactures a variety of flexible tubes and colored pipes for applications such as microphones and optical scopes. Company Name Daimon Manufacturing Inc. Founded May, 1968 President Yoshishige Miyazawa Head Office, Factory 7007 Sakaki, Sakaki-machi, Nagano, Japan 389-0601 En.wikipedia.org  Daimon is a town in Toyama prefecture, Japan. Toyama prefecture (???; Toyama-ken) is located in the Chubu region on Honshu island, Japan. The capital is city of Toyama. Toyama is leading industrial prefecture on the Japan-sea coast , and has industrial advantage "cheap electricity". The Itai-itai disease occurred in Toyama around 1950. www.mulino.it/daimon.htm The birth of Daimon is explained first and foremost with a simple reality, but full of consequences: the transformation of Italy into a multicultural and multi-religious country. Following a path common to all Western Europe, the map of religious affiliations and, even more, the common feeling towards religious phenomena is rapidly changing in Italy. This transformation has highlighted the superficiality of knowledge of religions and the almost total ignorance of their regulations: the first and most immediate objective of Daimon is therefore to provide a tool for understanding the rights of religions, in order to reconstruct and understand the new reality that is taking shape in Italy and Europe. daimon.us  DAIMON Logistics USA was founded in 2011 and giving reliable, trusted logistics services for more than 10 years. We think that our customers are also our partners and have to find best and fast solutions for their all logistics needs. www.daimonlogisticsbd.com  Daimon Logistics , a Bangladeshi freight forwarding and Logistics company was founded in 2012. Daimon carries out air and sea forwarding, consolidation services, project forwarding and sea- air, air-sea, CHB and Trucking connected transportations in import and export fields. We have our own office both Dhaka and Chittagong to serve our customers. www.searchdaimon.com  Searchdaimon is an open source search engine for corporate data and websites. It is as simple to use as your favorite Internet search engine, yet it has the added power of delivering results from numerous systems with standardised attribute navigation. Searchdaimon is easy to install, open and scalable. For those wishing to learn more about the topic, I suggest the following articles: Introduction to Daimonology Daimonology synthetic principles Great philosophy quotes Daimon Club organization Carl William Brown The teachings of Plato Plato complete works Essays with quotes Quotes by authors Quotes Read the full article

[sky-neverending]

No Light Without Darkness, No Darkness Without Light

so for therapy we were making these clay sculptures representing the good and the bad thoughts in out head, and i gave mine a backstory that was HELLA therapeutic to write. and i wanted to share them! this is Vex (left, they/them) and Naomi (right, she/her) (picrew link) they are very important to me because... well. theyre part of me, just given life and names and a backstory. oh, and theyre in love.

heres a little thing i wrote about them (i might write more, so show me some love maybe?) ((long so its under the cut)):

In the back of the mind, past the storm clouds and sunny days, over the ripples and under the shaded memories, there are two little figures shrouded by shadows. They sit opposite each other, each surrounded by a glow so bright it could change someone’s mood completely. 

The first of the two is Vex. Red seeps from them, coloring everything they touch and leaving nothing left unaffected by their hatred. Their hair falls messily over one eye, hiding the auburn slits like that of a snake from view. They walk a scattered path, each step another word that melts joy like acid to skin, drip, drip, dripping until all that is there is the shell of someone once happy. 

The other of the two is Naomi. She lets off a yellow hue, akin to the sun shining through the rain on even the darkest of days. Her smile could brighten hell, and the stars in her hair were placed there by the sky itself, a gift for the girl who changes the course of the tide. Flowers bloom where she walks, and each press of her foot against the ground reverses all that is wrong in the world. 

The only thing Vex and Naomi have in common is one thing, and that thing is perhaps why they are so enchanted by one another. That thing is stubbornness, a pride they both seek every waking moment. The urge to be the best, the want, no, the need to be in the forefront while the other wastes away in the background. They fight for the spotlight, singing their songs of grief and joy, of sorrow and of triumph. A constant war is between them, light and darkness battling for attention. Yet without one another, they wouldn’t survive. 

Vex looks for the bad in everything they see. They pull from the insecurities that litter their surroundings, taking and taking and taking. The only thing they ever give back to those they inflict upon is a pit of never ending depression and doubt.

Naomi pulls the inflicted out of this pit. She reaches out a hand, grasping at those who need her the most. And together they rise, ascending as she whispers all that is good into the brokens’ ears.

The two of them do this dance daily, stepping around one another. Occasionally, they entangle, and the conflict they cause is never without consequence. 

“Let me win,” Vex yells, the warmth of Naomi’s embrace all too welcome. It’s a different warmth from the one they hold; a sense of comfort where theirs makes you squirm. “Let them know they don’t deserve anything you bring! The world is too dark for a light as bright as yours.”

Naomi only pulls Vex closer, whispering the following into their ear time and time again. 

“My light is the reason your darkness is still burning. There is good in them, my fallen angel. Don’t let them descend from grace as you did.”

And Vex never has an answer. They only cry. Because what Naomi says is true.

There is no grief, no mourning, without having loved first. And there is no stronger love than the one you earn from undergoing said grief. So they lay together, and they cry. 

When they pull away, Vex wipes their own tears and looks at the ground with disdain. “I don’t need you,” they lie. “I never have, and I never will.”

Naomi only smiles a smile so soft and so warm it could melt the coldest of hearts. “I’ll see you soon, my love,” she whispers, and then she walks away.

When Vex sits in their spot again, they think. And they only have one thought before the cycle of hatred starts again.

There is no darkness without light.

[getawayheaven]

I follow you enough to know that you don’t think they’re still together.. i think so too.. if they were together louis wouldn’t have done few things what he has done from around may last year… he wouldn’t have blocked HLD.. one would think it couldn’t have been the case or it’s some other reason, but louis kind of a person who wants to make statements, he knew it would’ve given ppl reason to believe that.. also the not so good part about this though he has been denying larry since 2012 online is that he was very bitter about it this time and i can only imagine that their breakup has been hurtful atleast to louis to an extent where he made very sure to let that show on his face.. with louis it has always been his words but his expressions are always very fond when it cane to H during interviews, just check last years how different it was.. he denied larry in that audio call as well last yr I believe not sure why ppl are reacting too much over this.. imagine you loved someone soo much for so long and brokeup, but you cannot say anything or ppl will tag you as a liar or rude or drag you for trying to protect a kid(his or not)

One thing that ppl say that f is not his kid, couldn’t have been we don’t know.. but he was so young and everyone agreed that it was a way to closet him and been fighting for it.. what would happen in couple of years harry will have a kid?? Am sure he will have one.. what then?? Did anyone think that he would get whole ass tattoo of olivia?? Ppl just brushed it off saying that’s how industry works.. so the person who talks about wasted time, would do that?? Entire name, at such intimate place?? Their relationship screamed PR but he gotten himself a tattoo based off it, so imagine that kind of decisions he is capable of.. i mean common on, even if louis wouldn’t have said what he said, and ended up doing PR like harry, fandom would’ve lot of things to say.. i guess success matters at thr end of the day, ppl only stayback and support if you’re extremely successful..

I think the real problem lies in signaling and coding. Break up is something that we can never know about, so it's useless to form opinion about it. But I think it's not particularly Larry/ break up that makes him mad, it's the fact that people are here for his relationship (that nobody knows is real at this point or not) and not for him or his music. Any artist would be pissed off by that. Plus I think he freely wants to signal about his sexuality without people directly linking it to Larry. I think both Harry and Louis are on thin ice here, where they can't signal/ code about their sexuality without people thinking that they both are very much still together. IF they already broke up then it must be frustrating as hell to see people linking EVERYHTING to his ex. Especially those things that were meant to be linked to his sexuality and his identity. I know how fucking irritating it must be.

And regarding Larries cancelling Louis.... I really think it's just a disbelief that Larries particularly target Louis for every minute thing. I have seen people hating harry the same when he pull such stunts, I have seen people unstanning harry for such things too (I am one of those people) I have seen so many larries just entirely feeling detached from Harry when he sat down for an official RS interview with Olivia and even more when he got her name tattooed on his balls thighs. He got dragged so much from every side of fandom for RS interview for queerbaiting that it made him tear up on stage the next day. So I don't think it's just with Louis people are bitter with. It's just that Harry has a hell lot of more solo fans. Larries are a very small part of his fanbase, so it goes unnoticed when some of the larries unstan him. It hardly matters cos he will still sell the same amount of tickets. But with Louis it's different. Larries are still a big part of his fanbase. They still affects his shows and online activities. And that's why people think that Louis is targeted the most by larries but in reality harry is targeted too, but it just doesn't make any difference. I have seen larries defending Louis no matter what happens and I have seen larries dragging harry and unfollowing him.

There is no way to know if they are still together or not. But people really need to lay off of their relationship. It's not 2015 anymore and they don't need anyone fighting for their relationship (if there is still one).