#I found this one autho

[bestworstcase]

actually comparing the divine ultimatum in the sanctioned version of ‘the two brothers’ to what the god of light really said to ozma is interesting. the received version is:

if your kind has learned to live in harmony with one another and set aside their differences, then we shall once again live among you, and humanity will be made whole again. but if your kind is unchanged, if you demand our blessings while still fighting amongst yourselves, then man will be found irredeemable and your world will be wiped from existence.

and the sanctioned version is:

If they are worthy, we will take their forms and walk among them as equals. If not, we will take back our gifts and start over elsewhere. […] Humanity will make it plain. If they come together in unity and find a way to destroy the evil in the world and within themselves, then they are worthy. If not … we will let them burn.

there are… two interesting alterations here.

#1, "we shall once again live among you and humanity will be made whole" becomes "the gods will take human forms and walk among us as our equals." gestures at ‘the gift of the moon’ and ozpin’s commentary thereupon…

One interpretation of this story focuses on the fact that the people caused the problem in the first place. But in my view, it is only natural for us to want to bring more light into the world and “reach for the sun.” And on the brighter side, if you’ll excuse the pun, people were also part of the solution. They not only replaced the sun, a celestial gift from the all-powerful God of Light, but also improved upon it through their own ingenuity. Most importantly, they could not have accomplished this magnificent, godly feat without uniting for a common purpose in a way they never had before. The world once was divided between day and night, light and darkness, but by coming together, and overcoming their inherent jealousy and resentment, people made the darkness just a little bit brighter for all.

…wherein ozpin sidles right up to the precipice of I Stand With My Damned Wife: it’s "only natural" to "reach for the sun," used here explicitly as an allegory for the gifts or blessing of the "all-powerful god of light," whom humanity "replaced" with something better through their own "ingenuity" (even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change, and in time, man’s passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds) by uniting for a "common purpose" (when banded together, unified by a common enemy, they are a noticeable threat).

he also echoes the closing passage of ‘the shallow sea’ here in naming jealousy and resentment as the problem ("And the descendants of the Humans who turned away from our god’s great gift have always carried envy in their hearts. To this day, they resent us for reminding them of what they are not and what they never can be."), which suggests he did understand exactly what salem meant when she quoted that myth in relation to the brothers—that the brothers were jealous and resentful because humankind had risen anew without them and had no need of their old masters any longer.

he’s still talking about humankind setting aside their differences and coming together, of course, but whereas in previous commentaries ozpin frames this as a difficult ideal to strive for lest we all destroy ourselves, here his tone turns hopeful: coming together is more than possible, humanity has done it before to replace the gods’ design with something greater.

gestures at until the end. "to live free, or die, it’s all the same/the enemy was right, there’s no reclaiming/in waves of shame/we’re desperate to make amends…"

the essential problem for ozma is this: by the time he becomes headmaster ozpin of beacon academy, he’s come around to salem’s thinking on the mandate, to whit that redemption is impossible and thus the only choices are to accept death or to try, once more, to fight for humanity’s freedom. yet he still believes in the infinite divine authority of the gods—he is certain that rebellion can end only in death—and moreover he believes that what he’s done is unforgivable, that it is impossible to make amends. and he is also unwilling to just give up and submit humankind as it is now to the final judgment; his hope is gone but his conscience compels him to keep trying, because he can’t bear to condemn the whole world to death.

hence the book. on its face ‘fairytales of remnant’ is a propagandistic hit piece on salem but read from cover to cover it’s also a desolate apology and plea for forgiveness: history is important and we must listen to each other, he writes in the forward. here is the story about (the witch) the warrior in the woods, who deserved more help than she was given. here is a story about a foolish man who sacrificed his wife and children to appease the cruel, fickle sun. here is the myth you quoted to me once: i didn’t understand you then, but i do now, and there is a deeper truth in this story than i knew. here is my favorite story; it’s about a huntsman who still grieves his wife and a family that finds each other again after parting ways in acrimony.

here is a story about a foolish king who destroys himself out of fear that he will make the wrong choice, and the love that saves him. here is the nightmare i have about you, told as a cautionary tale against projecting our own evil onto the face of others we fear. and here’s a story about we humans scapegoating those who were changed, hating and fearing our own loved ones because they do not look the same. here is a story about me, and my failures, and the girl whose trust i shattered, and i will leave it to you to decide if i am worthy of forgiveness. here’s the story that tore us apart; the only good ending i can imagine anymore is the one where humanity replaces the gods. and this story is about my grief, my despair, and why i keep trying.

and here is a story about you, and the hero i was before all of this; look far enough ahead, and the hero becomes a villain, but hopefully the reverse can be true, too. here is a story about humanity coming together to replace and perfect our god-given gifts; maybe we can’t be fixed, but we could start over. i keep telling these stories because i am afraid and uncertain and i want to believe that all of it really mattered.

like beacon tower, built in the image of her prison, the book is a cry for help hidden between the lines of a hollow condemnation. in the thousands of years between then and now, he’s corrupted "the gods will return to rule over us all" into "the gods will be remade in our image," because ozma doesn’t want to save the world unless she can still be in it.

and #2, ozma says the quiet part out loud.

"if you demand our blessings while still fighting among yourself," the god of light tells him, "mankind will be found irredeemable."

take these words at face value, and the divine mandate doesn’t actually sound unreasonable: mankind mustn’t approach the gods with a sense of entitlement, and they should try to cooperate with each other and work through conflict peacefully. that’s within the realm of difficult, but not impossible. but…

taken into context as the divine answer to salem’s defiance and the rebellion against the gods, his true meaning is that mankind must come together in obedient submission to their creators, repudiating salem and all she stands for. it is her "selfishness and arrogance" for which all of humanity stands condemned.

ozma grasps this. i’d wager he understood it the moment salem told him of the rebellion and why the gods ended their "experiment" the first time. and so his telling of the task he’s been given is more honest: humanity must "find a way to destroy the evil in the world and in themselves" to prove worthy.

in ‘the two brothers,’ the "evil in the world" is explicitly the grimm, whom the god light disdains as unliving creatures formed from malice and hate for no purpose but "destroying all that is good in the world." the god of darkness protests that the grimm are more than that, chiding his brother to remember that they are the same. and the brothers made humans by combining their natures into one being, just as dark made grimm and light made animals by "[giving] their essence to their creations."

what then does it mean for humans to "destroy the evil in the world and in themselves"? keep in mind that the humans in the myth do not do anything even notionally wrong: the brothers go to war with each other and "wreak havoc," and terrified humans "prayed to their gods and asked if they were being punished, […] asked for forgiveness, […] begged for mercy." this is mankind’s sole participation in the divine feud, crying out to the gods in anguish why are we being punished? (COUGHS IN JOB.)

in ozma’s account of this story, there is no wrongdoing, no sin to redeem—no justification for humanity to be condemned. instead, the brothers attempt to go their separate ways and find that they can’t, having given too much of themselves to their creations to leave the world, so darkness suggests that they take back their gifts, "reclaim our power and wipe this experiment from existence." no no, says light, we should give them a chance to prove worthy first.

so it is clear—there is no ambiguity about this at all, because there is no wrongdoing—that the "evil within themselves" that humanity must find a way to destroy is darkness itself; the "essence" darkness gave them, the gifts of knowledge and destruction he blessed them with. the evil in the world is the grimm, and the evil within is the part of human nature that came from darkness.

now. ‘the two brothers’ is of course factually inaccurate, and we know (from the answer to "what is ozpin hiding?") that the omission of the whole rebellion isn’t because ozma doesn’t know about it—he does. he knows. rather, the rebellion is something he actively chose to hide.

why?

the mythical narrative deliberately elides the divine justification for condemning mankind to death in favor of emphasizing the pettiness and indifference of the brothers toward their creations—they intend to destroy humans for no other reason than to regain their former power—and also making a direct equivalence between grimm (the evil in the world) and dark’s gifts to humanity (the evil within), both of which mankind must find a way to destroy in order to appease the god of light. the absurdity of this is underscored by darkness’ explicit admiration for human resilience and resourcefulness in the face of adversity; he’s fascinated by their use of his brother’s gifts, choice and creation.

this is, again, not secret. this is a book that ozpin published and made the cornerstone of the huntsmen academies’ curriculum; ‘the two brothers’ as recounted here is a mainstream, widely-known religious story. ozma is the one who established this religion in the first place, and he’s had thousands of years to nudge the doctrine in the direction he wants it to go.

which is I Stand With My Damned Wife. lol

ozma didn’t believe salem when she "blamed the end of the world" on the gods, but once she told him about her rebellion—as she must have, for him to know about it—he agreed with her that she had done no wrong. the story he has been telling about the brothers all this time is one that casts mankind as innocent victims crying out for mercy, for forgiveness, blaming themselves for the cruelty inflicted upon them by uncaring gods. "the desperate humans prayed to their gods and asked if they were being punished."

in his heart of hearts, this is what he believes. that salem is blameless. that she didn’t deserve this. that she’s right.

he could save the world by uniting the whole world against her and calling on the brothers to condemn her, but he can’t—not only because this world just isn’t as dear to him without her but also because to do so would be a grave injustice, and he knows it.

he doesn’t believe that the final judgment can be averted, and he believes a second rebellion is as doomed to failure as her first attempt. the only salvation for remnant lies in destroying salem—who is the evil in the world (grimm) and the evil within (defiance, easily swaying the hearts of men)—but, she cannot be destroyed.

which gives him time.

ozpin doesn’t have a plan for defeating salem. that’s not the same thing as having no plan at all, necessarily, and salem believes he does have a plan.

gestures at "we shall once again live among you and humanity will be made whole" transforming into "we will take their forms and live among them as equals." and the gift of the moon. and "if you look far enough ahead, even a story with a happy ending may reveal itself as a tragedy, and heroes may turn out to be villains… hopefully, the reverse is also true."

(ozma’s character in ‘the girl in the tower’ is called The Hero. ozpin isn’t referring to her, there, but to himself.)

he’s… trying is maybe too strong a word, but ozpin wants to achieve salem’s preferred outcome (humanity replaces the gods) without a rebellion; ‘the shallow sea’ contains deep truths, he writes, and in ‘the judgment of faunus’ he remarks that faunus depict the god of animals as a "wise and noble" figure while humans portray them as an untrustworthy trickster. in the context of the theological disagreement between salem and ozma, ‘the shallow sea’ becomes an allegory for her opinion of the brothers—she rhetorically positions the people of remnant as the faunus, herself as the god of animals, and the brothers as the envious, resentful humans who refused to leave the boat.

in ‘the judgment of faunus’ a god offers to adjudicate between a group of humans and animals who cannot resolve their feud. if they can’t live in peace, they warn both sides, they will "kill one another off, and perhaps destroy the world in the process." when they agree, the god combines them into one being—the faunus.

in ‘the two brothers,’ the gods of light and darkness are portrayed as two halves of a sundered being, the primordial dragon, who—like the humans and animals in ‘judgment’—are "more alike than [they] realize" but "have grown to see only the worst in each other." they create humanity in an effort to resolve their feud, combining their natures into one being, but this fails to stop the conflict between them. their battle "wreaked havoc" and threatened to "tear the world apart." in the end they agree that, should humanity prove worthy, they will shed their divinity and become mortal men; otherwise, they will "let them burn" and part ways from each other forever.

in… other words, in ozma’s myth, it falls to humanity to decide the brothers’ fates: will they be changed into something new and so find peace, or will they be driven apart forever, destroying themselves and their world?

gestures at ‘the judgment of faunus.’ a god happens upon the bloody battlefield and asks why are you fighting?

gestures at ‘the two brothers.’ desperate humans cry out to the gods why are you punishing us?

gestures at ‘the shallow sea,’ which salem used allegorically to equate the brothers to envious, resentful humans who rejected the chance they were given to change and heal, and so returned to their previous unfulfilling lives. with herself implicitly positioned as the god of animals. this one, ozpin suggests, contains deep truths that everyone should take the time to consider.

looks into the camera like i’m on the office.

he includes ‘the shallow sea’ to represent salem’s theological argument against the divine mandate and offers ‘the judgment of faunus’ as a counterpoint, following the pattern of her allegory: the animals and humans represent the gods of light and darkness, and the unnamed god represents humanity (or perhaps just ozma, mirroring salem’s self-identification with the god in ‘the shallow sea’). i can end your conflict if you agree to let me choose who is right, says the god. (and is that not the intent of the mandate, in the end? for humanity to side with the god of light against his brother, for whom salem is only a proxy? to choose which brother is right?) and then the god’s answer is "neither. both. you are the same."

the primordial dragon and the division of the two brothers is made up. it’s not true. but ozpin chose that version of the story and paired it with the ending where the brothers promise to make peace by becoming human, by combining their natures within themselves and thus restoring their true nature as One Whole, light-and-dark and dark-and-light.

which is ozma’s plan.

or at least, it’s what he thinks might be the answer, even if he isn’t quite sure how to make it happen.

the god in ‘judgment’ is either wise and noble or a duplicitous trickster, not to be trusted, depending who you ask, says ozpin. the only way to unite the world to the brothers’ satisfaction is by destroying salem—removing her from it completely. salem can’t be destroyed… but.

but.

the brothers are fallible. she had lied to them, turned them against each other…

they can be deceived. tricked.

ozma is so fucking good at lying. he drove her into exile, erased her from history. what few people there are who know about her are sworn to secrecy and dedicated to keeping her at bay. if the gods had returned one year before the story began, what would they see? an elaborate performance of unprecedented global peace ruled by a powerful, benevolent cult of the light dedicated solely to slaying grimm for the good of all, with salem barred from participation in civilization, completely ostracized and forgotten.

it doesn’t matter if it’s fake. it only needs to last long enough to fool the brothers while ozma convinces them that he can settle their feud once and for all, if only they grant him the power to make it so and promise to abide by his judgment.

if he can trick them into giving up their power and becoming mortal men, then Everything Will Be Okay. it squares the circle, fulfills his god-given task without sacrificing salem to appease them or sacrificing humanity in a futile act of defiance. but it will only work if the deception is absolutely perfect and that brings him right back to square one, he needs there to be no perceptible conflict in the world when the brothers return lest they rule against humanity and he needs salem to be truly gone—not the common enemy everyone in the world stands against, but gone, so thoroughly rejected and forgotten that she has no presence in the world at all.

aaand the only way to accomplish that is by legitimately fulfilling his task, at least superficially. world peace, no salem, the leading power in every kingdom is a virtuous institution inculcating light’s values in noble warriors who protect the peace. it can collapse like the house of cards it truly is as soon as the brothers have taken the bait and shed their divinity but until then, it has to be so real that even oz himself believes it.

[girlwonder-writes]

@julybreakbingo Prompts: Hot Spring or Jacuzzi

@fandom-free-bingo July Prompt: Found Family

Work Title: Running Just to Catch Herself

Autho: Girl Wonder

Fandom: 9-1-1

Rating: Teen

Link: Chapter 9 - You Can Always Come Back

Ships: Eddie Diaz & Olivia Chambers (OC), Established Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard

Excerpt:

“River!” “Lucy!”   “Look who I found!” After swapping her yellow sundress for her sheer black cover up, Olivia leaned against the door to listen, giving herself a moment to listen to the voices she could hear on the other side. “Hey, Diaz. Good to see you again.” “I’m glad it’s under more pleasant circumstances.” Something about hearing River and Eddie interact made her feel slightly sick. But eventually, Olivia stepped out of the guest bedroom with a towel in hand, walking towards the assembled group in the hallway. “Hey, you guys!” she greeted both Lucy and Eddie, first giving her friend and teammate a hug and then giving one to Eddie as well, lingering for just a beat before stepping away. “Everyone’s in the backyard, I think you three are the only ones we were all waiting on,” River told Olivia, Eddie and Lucy as they all walked in the direction of the back door.

The Update Squad

@werewolf44 @may-i-have-loops @lavenderleahy @raethethey @bloombow

@keyweegirlie @v88sy @kitweewoos @nine-one-wanton @xofemeraldstars

@babyspacegay

[msclaritea]

Cate Blanchett named son after convicted child sex offender Roman Polanski | news.com.au — Australia’s leading news site

https://www.news.com.au/entertainment/celebrity-life/cate-blanchett-named-son-after-convicted-child-sex-offender-roman-polanski/news-story/7643a75ab10a08d35b781b1f07043c59#:~:text=Blanchett%20said%20Roman%20was%20named,famous%20American%20novelist)%20Dashiell%20Hammett.

https://ohnotheydidnt.livejournal.com/98319492.html

Blanchett said Roman was named after the disgraced director, who fled the United States in 1978 before he was due to be sentenced for having unlawful sexual intercourse with a minor.

“You run out of ideas by the time you get to number three,” she joked.

“Dashiell came from (famous American novelist) Dashiell Hammett.

“Roman, I don’t know... Polanski. But it’s also the French word for book.”

Polanski has been living in exile in France since 1978, despite multiple attempts by the United States to extradite him.

Blanchett previously came under fire in 2014 after starring in Woody Allen’s film Blue Jasmine.

Allen’s daughter Dylan Farrow wrote an open letter to Blanchett, criticising her for working with the director despite her claims of child sexual abuse.

Tough love ... Cate won an Oscar for Blue Jasmine despite being criticised for working with Woody Allen. Picture: Kevin Winter/Getty Images

Tough love ... Cate won an Oscar for Blue Jasmine despite being criticised for working with Woody Allen. Picture: Kevin Winter/Getty Images

“What if it had been your child, Cate Blanchett? Louis CK? Alec Baldwin? What if it had been you, Emma Stone? Or you, Scarlett Johansson? You knew me when I was a little girl, Diane Keaton. Have you forgotten me?” she wrote.

In response, Blanchett said it had “obviously been a long and painful situation for the family and I hope they find some resolution and peace”.

Roman Polanski

Ignatius, Captain Underpants

"According to the American Library Association, the Captain Underpants books were reported as some of the most banned and challenged books in the United States between 2000 and 2009 as well as between 2010 and 2019. The books were named one of the top ten most banned and challenged books in 2002, 2004, 2005, 2012, 2013 and 2018.

The Captain Underpants series was explicitly banned in some schools for "insensitivity, offensive language, encouraging disruptive behavior, LGBTQIA+ issues, violence, being unsuited to the age group, sexually explicit content, anti-family content, as well as encouraging children to disobey authority."

Dashiell Hammett....

Hammett devoted much of his life to left-wing activism. He was a strong antifascist throughout the 1930s, and in 1937 joined the Communist Party. On May 1, 1935, Hammett joined the League of American Writers (1935–1943), whose members included Lillian Hellman, Alexander Trachtenberg of International Publishers, Frank Folsom, Louis Untermeyer, I. F. Stone, Myra Page, Millen Brand, Clifford Odets, and Arthur Miller. (Members were largely either Communist Party members or fellow travelers. He suspended his anti-fascist activities when, as a member (and in 1941 president) of the League of American Writers, he served on its Keep America Out of War Committee in January 1940 during the period of the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact.

Especially in Red Harvest, literary scholars have seen a Marxist critique of the social system. One Hammett biographer, Richard Layman, calls such interpretations "imaginative", but he nonetheless objects to them, since, among other reasons, no "masses of politically dispossessed people" are in this novel. Herbert Ruhm found that contemporary left-wing media already viewed Hammett's writing with skepticism, "perhaps because his work suggests no solution: no mass-action... no individual salvation... no Emersonian reconciliation and transcendence".

In a letter of November 25, 1937, to his daughter Mary, Hammett referred to himself and others as "we reds". He confirmed, "in a democracy all men are supposed to have an equal say in their government", but added that "their equality need not go beyond that." He also found, "under socialism there is not necessarily... any leveling of incomes."

Hellman wrote that Hammett was "most certainly" a Marxist, though a "very critical Marxist" who was "often contemptuous of the Soviet Union" and "bitingly sharp about the American Communist Party", to which he was nevertheless loyal. 

At the beginning of 1942, he wrote the screenplay of Watch on the Rhine, based on Hellman's successful play, which received a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay). But that year the Oscar went to Casablanca. In early 1942, following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Hammett again enlisted in the United States Army. Because he was 48 years old, had tuberculosis, and was a Communist, Hammett later stated he had "a hell of a time" being inducted into the Army. However, biographer Diane Johnson suggests that confusion over Hammett's forename was the reason he was able to re-enlist. He served as an enlisted man in the Aleutian Islands and initially worked on cryptanalysis on the island of Umnak. For fear of his radical tendencies, he was transferred to the Headquarters Company where he edited an Army newspaper entitled The Adakian. In 1943, while still a member of the military, he co-authored The Battle of the Aleutians with Cpl. Robert Colodny, under the direction of an infantry intelligence officer, Major Henry W. Hall. While in the Aleutians, he developed emphysema.

After the war, Hammett returned to political activism, "but he played that role with less fervour than before". He was elected president of the Civil Rights Congress (CRC) on June 5, 1946, at a meeting held at the Hotel Diplomat in New York City, and "devoted the largest portion of his working time to CRC activities".

In 1946, a bail fund was created by the CRC "to be used at the discretion of three trustees to gain the release of defendants arrested for political reasons." The trustees were Hammett, who was chairman, Robert W. Dunn, and Frederick Vanderbilt Field.

The CRC was designated a Communist front group by the US Attorney General. Hammett endorsed Henry A. Wallace in the 1948 United States presidential election..."

'Blanchett and Stewart joined fellow Cannes jury members, Ava DuVernay, Khadja Nin, and Léa Seydoux, in the South of France for the start of this year's festival earlier this week. Not only did we see both Blanchett and Stewart donning spring-inspired pantsuits we now need in our lives, but we were, more importantly, blessed with photos of Stewart staring tenderly at Blanchett. What a time to be alive."

[tshemea]

Hi can you please gimme the names/pictures of an example of each of these three things -

A fish

A car

A bird

(They do not have to be special to you just an example (they can be tho of course))

Thank you 🐟

Oh, okay!! Here's a pink angelfish I've found not so long ago. It's pretty and cute :D

(couldn't find the authoe of this photo. There were too many websited without any info) Now the car one.. I don't really know much about cars, but hte first one that came to mind is the iconic Bumblebee Camaro from Transformers

(Wiki says that the author of this photo is chevrolet camaro)

And now, the bird!!

Kauaʻi ʻōʻō (Moho braccatus)  I chose this one because of the video I saw (the song of the last one of this kind of birds). It's really sad that these little guys are already extinct..

(the author of this picture - John Gerrard Keulemans)

[how-i-saw-the-world]

Day 9 — A song that makes me happy

In my scarecrow dreams

When they smash my heart into smithereens

Be a bright red rose come bursting the concrete

Be a cartoon heart

Light a fire, a fire, a spark

Light a fire, a flame in my heart

Charlie Brown is one of my favourite Coldplay songs. It has great lyrics and an upbeat tempo. The melody is easy to remember and when I'm feeling good I keep on humming it. I eventually fell in love with it when it was played live during the Mylo Xyloto tour (2011-2012) and A Head Full Of Dreams tour (2016-2017). During the song small wristbands equipped with a LED everyone gets prior to the concert light up in different colors. I always found this to be very very beautiful and inspiring. This song is all about passion, energy, color and being vibrant for life.

The wristbands in action:

[astralartefact]

I can hear the echoes of my Voice (of Cards) Divine Yudil Analysis Post

<<Prev: Divine Yurie Voice of Cards: Forsaken Maiden Spoilers!

"[...] if these costumes are actually based on VoC then it should be obvious with the next one. With only the blue and red spirits still missing the usage of those colors should be noticeable, especially since this outfit line hasn’t been particularly colorful yet."

- Past Me in my Divine Yurie Post (I was wrong)

I restructured my board a little bit, mostly to highlight the important parts more. I should point out that "Glowing Weapons = Divine" is obv not a Voice of Cards specific thing, I just left Lanca's weapon there to have some sort of anchor point because it seems that we have two Divine Weapon "Archetypes" so to speak - on one hand pink flower weapons and on the other pure white glow weapons.

Regarding the "It should be obvious with the next one" bit from last time:

It's still not obvious with the next one. All of these costumes could really just be a NieR-ian takes on "Divinity" that kind of accidentally mimic the VoC:FM gods or it could be costumes purposefully referencing them in vague ways (to reiterate why this would be huge if true: It would basically confirm that the spirits from VoC:FM are the Watchers) - but I still think Akeha's was just simply too close to Lac for me to just outright dismiss it.

Also it's just far too much fun to do this so I'm probably not going to stop until somebody makes me.

My findings on Yudil's costume can be found on the board. I kind of assumed Yudil would get a Kraken/Blue Spirit motif just because it would have been easy to handwave away since boats are kind of a character motif for him... but I certainly won't complain about more Ivory Spirit-based costumes. And they would have had to repeat/move on from the spirits eventually anyways since there are only 5 of them (6 if you count the superboss) so this isn't that big of a deal.

Aside from that I don't have particularly much to say though. I mean the costume is veeery pretty. And I just noticed it's kind of shaped like a dragon, it has two wings and a tail made up of scales (you can kind of see it in my screenshot of Yudil's backside to the right of the artwork) Hmm. I wonder if that was intentional.

And while I'm talking about Yudil - did you know that you can canonically interpret* Yudil as a bisexual non-binary person? *when it comes to pronouns somebody is bound to complain about localization meddling so take overly specific wording :PPP bc I can interpret all I want and you can't stop me

His first four hidden stories (as always shoutout to nierrein.guide) tell the story of how Yudil learned to be a thief - he learns it from a kidnapped prince while he helps him return to his homeland - and in hidden story 3 the prince tells Yudil about a story he was read as a child in which basically the exact thing happens to a thief and a princess, except when they arrive at their goal they end up marrying. And when the prince points out these similarities Yudil narrates this:

We certainly qualify as thieves, yes, but he's hardly committed any grave crimes. The similarities were superficial at best. Besides, it's hard to imagine myself playing the part of the beautiful woman. Then again, I do remember him taking my hand and running. "I'm not that pretty," I say. "But you have such a beautiful face," he says with an earnest look. I can't find the will to argue. I simply let sleep take me. In my dream, I become something so shameful that I can never tell another soul about it.

And then, if that wasn't queer enough for you, in the fourth story the only time somebody refers to Yudil with pronouns after that the prince uses they/them pronouns. So take that as you will.

Note: Most of the game uses He/Him pronouns for Yudil btw (which is why I still do so too for the most part, I personally see it as a He/They sort of thing) - but for those really scared I dare to misinterpret the intended reading of the author by saying Yudil is non-binary: It's also fully in line with Yudil's Event Story where he just cross-dresses without any sort of hang-ups about it so if it comes up again then some degree of Non-Binary Yudil is very much intended. And I trust Yuki Wada to know about queer people, he wrote Priyet and L'via Voice of Cards.

Anyways. Now that I made you read all that, here are the stories:

Divine Yudil Character Story

I can't stop. I can't turn back now. For there is only sand that will swallow you whole. ────────────────────────────── If only I could see her again. If only I could see her smile. Trivial, immutable wishes that sink silently to the bottom of the sea.

The Mausoleum Key Weapon Story

I amassed a collection of beautiful treasures from all across the world. He stole all of them away with exquisite skill. And so I bought more treasures. But this time, I spent an equal amount on security measures. And yet, like a breeze or a flickering shadow, he managed to slip through my security and steal the treasures again. I amassed a collection of beautiful treasures from all across the world. And beholding his exquisite skills in thievery made it all worthwhile.

[pinnacle-pixel]

NIGHT WALK

Gilbert X Emma

GENRE - Fluff and Smut

I couldn't sleep for some reason, how much I tossed and turned I just couldn't, I got tired of my attempt and hopped out my bed, I saw outside it was lit with moonlight and I instantly decided to walk around for a bit. I tied my hair with a clip and put my cardigan on and went out.

It was pleasantly chilly and windy, The imperial palace garden had a very comforting silence and I hoped I wouldn't run with Sariel or Rio or else I am going to hear an earful. I remember that near the lake there was a swing, I immediately walked towards that swing. I once saw that swing when the foreign princes arrived but didn't get the chance to swing on it with childlike happiness in my heart I was practically hopping towards and that swing.

I found that swing which was facing towards the lake, the scene was very serene, I came in front of that swing and realised something "Oh" I was quite short to get on the swing, I tried jumping to get on but couldn't, "Trying to practice being a bunny Miss little bunny?" someone said this while a cool temperature enveloped me I instantly knew who this person was, "Prince Gilbert" without thinking I leaned towards his chest. "Why is your highness awake at this hour?" I turned my head and met my lover's pretty red eye, "That would be my question too, why are you awake?", I lightly shrugged and said "Simply couldn't sleep, your turn why are YOU awake my prince?", he rested his chin lightly on my shoulder and replied with a smile " I missed you and saw you through the window hence I followed you simply". I put my hand over his hand which was coiled around my waist "You should have said something I almost screamed" "Your reactions are always worth it" while he said that he nuzzled his face on neck. I found it very cute when he does it " Hey, help me to get on the swing please" he raised his head and whispered directly into my ear "Well I want something in exchange then" and lightly bit my ear I instantly knew what he wanted I sighed "AFTER you put me on the swing" he immediately picked me up with no problem and settled me on the swing "Happy?" I giggled "Very much so" he suddenly got close and said in deep voice "I need my payment" I pouted "Now? Here?" he replied with a grin "Now and here", I wrapped my arm around his cold body and pressed my lips to him "HMPH!?", he grabbed my head from back and deepened the kiss and our tongues immediately met and I tightened my arm around while his freed arm rolled my skirt up, I broke the kissed and whined "We are in open....someone might walked in" I was still breathing in a ragged manner, he buried his face in my neck and murmured "Don't worry if someone might come I would know however I don't mind telling the world you are mine" his eyes were full of desire and I couldn't deny him, I just nodded. He loosened my gown button so he would access my breast and his fingers touched my sensitive bud "Look at you so wet" his smile was dangerous for me, "without Warning he thrust his finger in me and his mouth was on my breast, I was trying my best to hold my voice. He looked up and said " Let me help with that" He kissed me relentlessly and his one hand was satisfying my breast while the other inside me, I couldn't think straight and wrapped my hands around his neck.

By the time we were done Prince Gilbert said it was 2 am and I instantly knew I am going to be sleepy in Sariel's lesson.

Autho's note

It's been a while since I wrote a fanfiction, I lost my touch and comment how it was please. I plan to do Licht next if I come up with an idea until then bye bye

[witchofthescions]

"'Tis good to see you again, Lenar," Lalah greeted him as he arrived in Idyllshire.

"My apologies for being away so long," Lenar said. "My other obligations kept me busy for quite a while."

"It's alright, I understand," Lalah said. "It's given me some time to consider what I've learned in your absence, at least. In the interest of catching you up to speed, after you left I had a chance to speak to the apothecary some more. If you recall, she recognized two of them—the ones known as Mahaud and Ancel."

"Ah, yes, I do recall that."

"According to her, they were her adopted children. She raised them from a young age, and though they were not related by blood, they were as real a family as any. One day, however, Mahaud fell ill with a rare illness: Aetherspurn."

Lenar's eyes widened. "Aetherspurn? I... think I recall hearing about that somewhere."

"I've read about it as well. 'Tis a rare disease wherein the body becomes unable to draw aether from food."

He grimaced. "Yes, that's the one. It's a truly dreadful disease. Due to its nature, it's damn near impossible to cure, and even palliative care is difficult. Fury's..." he caught himself before he said something truly vulgar, "spear, that's awful."

"Indeed. And it only gets worse from there. Ancel was seriously injured protecting Mahaud from a wandering beast, and was likely to be permanently bedridden for the rest of his days."

Lenar fell silent for a moment, but the look on his face apparently betrayed his thoughts.

"It is a truly cruel fate to befall a small, struggling family, I agree." Lalah took a deep breath and continued. "It was in that desperate state that a kindly traveler found her. A healer by the name of Guildivain, apparently from Sharlayan. He offered to help her children, without payment, but he would need to take them back to Sharlayan to treat them properly. Their conditions required special care and facilities, after all."

Lenar grimaced again as a knot formed in his stomach. "...I feel like there is a crucial piece yet missing, but I already mislike the implications."

Lalah fell unusually quiet for a moment. Before he had a chance to ask her what was wrong, she continued. "Onto our mission, I would like to review the situation as it stands."

"Go ahead."

Lalah began pacing back and forth as she spoke. Sapphire watched her tail twitch as she moved, momentarily distracted by the motion until Lenar urged the carbuncle to focus. "We have been laboring under the assumption that Loifa and his companions had come to Eorzea to further enhance themselves in pursuit of forbidden power. To that end did they seek to procure muscmaloi, which they would use in conjunction with the stolen soul crystal. But it wasn't the muscmaloi that they wanted. No, what they wanted was the man who wanted it—Master Faldrinet."

"So, in hopes of encountering the man as he attempted to gather the herb, they attempted to find him at the arboretum. But they either failed to find him entirely or else our arrival interrupted their search and allowed him to escape, and so they tried another tactic."

"Which is how we encountered them at Lost Hope. Or such is my theory at this point in time. What do you make of all this?"

Lenar folded his arms over his chest with a sigh. "...I do not think Loifa and his companions are criminals. I strongly suspect that they are victims in all this."

"So you think so too," Lalah remarked. She took a deep breath and sighed. "There is something else, Lenar." "Hm?"

"The rumors I mentioned, of a Sharlayan healer who conducted heinous procedures on live subjects... After sharing recent developments with command, they reopened the investigation..." She paused again, taking another deep breath. "And have, to our considerable shock and surprise, confirmed that there appears to be some truth to them after all."

"Of course there is," Lenar muttered darkly.

"The villain went to great lengths to conceal his operation—"

"Of course he did."

"—and thus did he manage to elude the authorities for years. The man's identity is yet to be conclusively ascertained, but we have a suspect: a sage who disappeared from Sharlayan shortly before our fugitives first appeared. A sage by the name of Guildivain."

Lenar's eyes widened. "Guildivain?"

"Yes. The same Guildivain who took Mahaud and Ancel into his care, I expect. If they were victims of his experiments, then they would have every reason to follow him to the ends of the world."

Lenar grimaced again. "If he did take them and subject them to such horrific experiments... then it would seem I was right to have misgivings about his intentions in taking two critically ill and injured individuals into his care." He wrapped his arms around himself tightly. "...Had he encountered my parents back when I was young, and if they were the type to seek a way to 'cure' my blindness, I wonder if I may well have suffered a similar fate."

"Ah... there's a thought that had... honestly never even occurred to me."

"It is a story I have seen play out far too often. Someone masquerading as a kindly benefactor, offering aid and succor to those who are desperate, only to turn around and commit some sort of heinous act once they've secured the target's trust. Whether that is committing some sort of physical harm upon the ones they claimed they would help, or else simply leveraging a person's desperation to bilk them for everything they have."

Lalah fell silent for a moment. According to Sapphire, she fixed her gaze onto Lenar.

"I cannot begin to imagine what sort of life you've led that such things are commonplace to you."

Lenar let out a soft sigh. "...The world is a harsh place for those without means. While I myself have been able to live with a certain level of comfort, I have nevertheless been acquainted with people from many different walks of life. And yet, even those with means can fall prey to malign influences. A desperate parent is a desperate parent, regardless of whether they have the means to pay for expensive treatments or not."

"...I see." Lalah sighed and shook her head. "My theory is still conjecture of course, but it does go far towards explaining that which we know."

"If we proceed on the assumption that they seek the man responsible for their misfortune, then it seems likely that Faldrinet and Guildivain are one and the same."

"Indeed. Regardless, of course, since Faldrinet is very clearly the object of their search given the way they have reacted to him in the past, it seems logical to track him down and have the truth from him."

"Do you have a means of finding him?"

"I have a possible idea. The apothecary said 'twas a merchant in Aleport who introduced them. If we find this merchant..."

"Then we are like to find Faldrinet. To Aleport, then."

[saltwukong]

@dappercat123 moving this response to a new post for length.

Ironwood not fixing the wall and leaving mantle in such a terrible state was what nearly let Salem win Heck if he’d just upgraded mantles cybersecurity a lot of problems would’ve been avoided, He doesn’t have to tell everyone everything about the amity project, but there’s a massive difference between caution and paranoia If he’d tried to work with Robyn in some capacity early on, feel things out to decide if she’s trustworthy and eventually involved her in the project after he’d come to trust her more instead if stonewalling every attempt to makes to reach out to him she wouldn’t have been an enemy Or if he’d just delayed the amity project long enough to fix mantles wall, Also notice how atlas strangely never found itself lacking in resources or defense, and didn’t have surveillance drones everywhere, almost like he treated one city a lot better then he treated the other Ironwood wasn’t a full on villain yet but his obvious flaws of stubbornness, paranoia, value of atlas over mantle, and an obsession with military might where always apparent And he didn’t kill sleet “just” for annoying him, he did to to quickly and efficiently curtail any resistance to his plan, it’s supposed to threaten any other leadership out of trying to oppose him, there was a logic to it, it served a purpose in his “master plan”

The thing about Robyn and filling people in is that Ironwood knows there may be someone on Salem's side sneaking around, but he doesn't know who it is. For all he knows, it's the same person who's ambushing his supply runs.

The people Ironwood did let in on the secret--which already stuns Qrow--are Penny and Winter, people Ironwood has known for years and are assured of. Comparatively, Robyn Hill is a politician he doesn't even know. Also, I think you're casting a bit of a wide net in assuming Robyn made any attempts to reach out to Ironwood before resorting to vigilantism. If she tried, we definitely didn't hear about it.

Or if he’d just delayed the amity project long enough to fix mantles wall,

That is what he does in Episode 10, before that got thrown out in Episode 11. That's why I'm upset. Even then, Ironwood supplied Mantle with a defender (Penny Polendina) who was extremely capable and reported directly to him--he didn't leave them totally defenseless.

Also notice how atlas strangely never found itself lacking in resources or defense, and didn’t have surveillance drones everywhere, almost like he treated one city a lot better then he treated the other

Atlas very much does have cameras everywhere, and yes, there is a classism gap between the elites in Atlas and the plebeians in Mantle, no one's denying that. But Ironwood is also not a singular authority responsible for these problems, which predate him and have to do with more factors than just him (such as the Council and Schnee, both of which have large sway over how the kingdom is run). Atlas is also implied to be much less populous than Mantle is and as such doesn't spread thin so easily.

And he didn’t kill sleet “just” for annoying him, he did to to quickly and efficiently curtail any resistance to his plan, it’s supposed to threaten any other leadership out of trying to oppose him, there was a logic to it, it served a purpose in his “master plan”

That sounds like what Rooster Teeth would try to tell me is the reason, but I probably wouldn't believe them. Just like there's a difference between caution and paranoia, there's as much of a difference between paranoia and...whatever this is. Ironwood leaping straight from fear and rage against Salem, straight to shooting kids and Councilmen is...a very extreme leap.

There is an attempt at bridging the gap between Heroic Ironwood and Lunatic Ironwood, namely V7E11, but it's not nearly enough. Ironwood through the first three acts of Volume 7 wasn't being played as a brash man running roughshod over the lower class, he was portrayed as a man in a position of authority with limited power trying to win a war against an insurmountable force he barely knew anything about. That's where the dramatic irony comes in when he's at Jacques' dinner table--the audience knows these measures are unfortunately necessary, but to someone out of the loop, they just look authoritarian and shady.

I don't believe V7 Ironwood was written with V8 Ironwood in mind, because it comes across as such a hard swerve. I think V8 Ironwood was the original intention and no one bothered to course-correct when V7 proved to be a better idea.

[estatedekho26]

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[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Rally of Swastika Club Flops at Kitchener," Toronto Globe. August 15, 1933. Page 1. ---- Barrage of Queries And Hint By Police Send Crowd Home --- W. H. McKay of Toronto Is Chairman, But Bert Ganter Is Absent - People. in Hall Grow Restless, Then Noisy - Reds Asks Questions --- NEW NAME CHOSEN BY CLUB IN CITY ---- (Canadian Press Despatch.) KITCHENER, Aug. 14. - Organization of a so-called Swastika Club here tonight fell with a dull thud as Chief Constable William Hodgson quietly suggested the meeting be closed after C. E. Becker, sponsor of the movement, had been interrupted a number of times when attempting to outline the aims and objects of the proposed club.

Meeting Tomorrow. Becker announced as the crowd started to file out that another meeting would be held Wednesday night, when he hoped "more orderly people would be present."

W. H. McKay, Toronto, one of the organizers of the much-publicized Toronto East End club, acted as Chairman, but Bert Ganter, also prominent in the Toronto club, was not present. Differences of opinion in the ranks of the Toronto organization were revealed after McKay had announced "owing to unforeseen difficulties" Ganter could not be present.

Pressed for information, McKay denied any split had occurred between them personally. "We still remain as friends. When Mr. Ganter organized the group I resigned in order to go along with plans, and I am right in sympathy with the movement we have here," he said.

Applies for Deportation. Becker, who today admitted his application for deportation to Germany had been granted, tonight drew a crowd of about 250 man and women to the meeting. The crowd was a mixed one. Among them were many well-known German arrivals in recent years, whose response during Becker's remarks was not enthusiastic. In the audience also were many alleged members of the Communist Party. At times they challenged the speaker on his statements with respect to what had been done in Germany by Adolph Hitler. Becker said the Jews "were among the active leaders in Communist and Bolshevick ranks," and called on the Christian peoples "to unite if they wanted to end the depression."

Becker, whose English is somewhat broken, asked McKay to read clipping after clipping from newspapers referring to Hitlerism, Fascism, Communism and similar questions. The crowd became restless, and as the meeting progressed, booing became so noisy that Chief Hodgson. who with several other police officers had been r watching the proceedings, asked McKay and Becker each in turn behind the screen to close the meeting.

Workers Appealed To. W. J. Pepe, taking up the request of MacKay, to speak instead of nterrupting Becker, urged workers to organize at the meeting in opposition to what he termed the "newest Fascist" move in Canada. He saw in the Swastika movement "only a race hatred," not justified from what he knew of the Jews he was acquainted with, he said.

At the opening of the meeting, Becker told the audience he had been given information Communists would be present. "If they are here, I warn hem." he remarked.

A request was issued by him to Jews who may have been present to leave the meeting, but as far as is known, no one left. Becker said there was a representative of a newspaper of the organization for defense of Jewish rights in the audience.

Council Opposes. A strong opposition was expressed by City Council here tonight to the Swastika movement started here in resolution condemning any organization with aims directed against any creed or race. The resolution called on the general public to discourage and prevent as far as possible any organization from fostering such objects.

Swastika Emblem. Welland, Aug. 14. - This morning when a truck driver for a Jewish-owned grocery firm in Welland went to the garage, he found a "swastika""emblem pasted on the side of the machine. The peculiar shaped cross was apparently drawn in India ink on white paper. The emblem was turned over to the city police, and the authorities believe that a practical joker has been at work.

New Name. The now defunct Swastika Club of the beaches has adopted as its new name "the Beaches Protective Association," and in a letter under the signature of the same are notifying all business men and residents of the beaches district of the organization meeting to be held at Kew Beach School on Thursday night at 9 o'clock. The letter calls attention to the improved conditions existing at the beaches since the beginning of the Swastika agitation, and states that it thought advisable and advantageous to found an organization to protect the district against a recurrence of further objectionable incidents.

The letter says the club has now received the moral and financial support of a group of prominent beach business men and residents. Members and spokesmen said last night that they were ignoring the part being played by H. W. Macaky in the Kitchener meeting. The following statement was issued last evening:

The Beaches Protective Association has absolutely no affiliations with any type of political organization. It Is an association for the carrying out of its alms and objects in the benches district only. We have no connections of any type in any other city in Canada, and we have absolutely nothing to do with Fascist, Nazi, or other anti-Semitic Ideas.

"(Signed) B. W. Ganter, George E. Singer, Donald Griffin."

[vakonawaa]

DONT MIND ME JUST SOBBING OVER BANANA FISH FICS BECAUSE FOUND FAMILY AND FUCK I JUST WANTED THEM TO HAPPY SHIT

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 121

Irshad and Murshid (Guidance and the Guide)

Guidance is defined in different ways, among which are directing to the right path, awakening hearts to the Ultimate Truth, helping feelings and thoughts reach God by removing the obstacles between Him and people’s minds and hearts, and serving as a means for the souls to have some acquaintance with God, and for the souls who have acquired acquaintance with Him to deepen in their relationships with Him. It consists of educating people individually or in communities and, thus, elevating those endowed with the required capability and merit from among them from being potentially human to being really human, or directing them to the horizon of being perfect humans.

We can also see guidance as a call which a perfect teacher, who has full knowledge of the outer and inner aspects of the Religion and who is able to combine them in theory and practice, makes to those endowed with the required capabilities to be human at a certain level of humanity. From this perspective, we can regard guidance as the special efforts of heroes of spirituality to convey to others whatever of spirituality they have particularly been favored with. In the hands of such heroes, coal has always been transformed into diamonds, and rocks and soil have been raised to the level of gold. The teachers of Sufism have dealt with the matter of guidance and guides in this respect and have considered it as the superhuman effort of those with transcendent qualities. They do not regard endeavors at a low level as guidance, nor do they consider as guides those who are unable to open the doors to the horizon of perfect humanity for souls with the required capabilities. For these, themselves, are in need of guidance and must certainly be trained. A famous Turkish proverb states:

A guide who himself is in need of special favor Cannot know how he can impart favor to others! It is truly as if this proverb has been coined in regard to such people.  [1] 

voices the same consideration in a poetic way:

Our teacher himself suffers from a lack of knowledge, So how can he know what guidance really is? Ruhi of Baghdad[2] approached the matter a bit more humorously:

Look at the ascetic: he aspires to be a guide; He started school yesterday, today he wishes to teach. It is a fact that if there is one thing that is the most enduring in this world and the most meritorious in the Hereafter, it is guidance; and therefore a guide is the most valuable person. However, guides can only educate according to their own capacity. It is possible to talk of a wide range of guides, from the spiritual poles or axes to ordinary preachers.

As we have briefly mentioned, guides are, in a general sense, heralds of truth who possess whatever is necessary for guidance, heroes of spirituality, and heirs to the mission of Prophethood, who convey Divine gifts to the hearts. In regard to some aspects of this mission, a guide is also called a “sitter-on-rug” (postnishin), or the “elder one” (shaykh). The word shaykh is also used in the sense of teacher or professor. A guide favored with special nearness to God and special knowledge from God’s Presence, and charged and autho- rized with the duty of guidance, is different from an ordinary preacher. Ordinary guides find in themselves the truths to be imparted to others according to their own horizon of perception, and convey them to others in accordance with their capacity. However, perfect guides, like the North Star, direct all to the true way, based on the fundamental sources of the Religion, and present to others whatever should be presented out of the depths of their hearts and spirit. As for those who are both a spiritual Pole (Qutb) and a Helper or Means of Divine Help (Ghawth), they shape whoever enters their atmosphere in the mold of their own horizon, and rebuild them with the material purely from the Qur’an and the Sunna.

At whatever level it occurs, guidance is the most valued among the duties of servanthood, provided it is done purely for God’s sake; and any hero of truth who fulfills such a responsibility is a guide who is an heir to the Prophet, upon him be peace and blessings. However, it should be noted that the companionship of a perfect guide has a particular pleasure of its own and bears signs of a possible “meeting” with God, while it is highly difficult to be able to advance in the company of an imperfect one.

A couplet, whose writer is unknown, reads:

Go to a guide, to a guide, a guide, A guide has a cure for any suffering, O “father!” Anwari[3] contributes to this meaning with the following:

The mystery lying in, “You will never be able to see Me!”[4] — Which signifies the impossibility of seeing God’s “Face”— I was not able to understand it Before my weeping eyes became the Mount of Sinai with love for Him. The mystery of the Cloak in which the People of the Cloak[5] was covered— I was not able to understand it before I became happy in meeting a perfect guide. Now, without going into the differences that arise from the capacity and amount of knowledge each guide has, or the spiritual gifts that each is favored with, I will try to explain the subject in relation to certain essential elements that are found in every guide.

A guide is one who has sufficient knowledge of the relationship between God, humans, and the universe, and the matters concerning this sphere of the Religion. Anyone who does not recognize God is a denier and an ignorant one; and those who are unable to perceive the relationship between Him and existence are blind and unaware of the real nature of their existence, while one who does not know himself is, in fact, lonely and a stranger amidst existence. All of these types of human beings themselves are in need of guidance.

A guide is a hero of spirituality, one who is a careful student of the Qur’an and the book of the universe, and one who has an inquiring mind which has an acquaintance with existential mysteries. A guide is also a sagacious, insightful one with eyes that are observant of things, a tongue busy with reciting the Qur’an, and ears that listen to it. With sound and accurate sense perceptions, profound and comprehensive observations, and powerful reasoning, a guide is distinguished with the manners that are found in a Prophet at a perfect level. Such a person has a universal viewpoint in dealing with matters, is careful of the intersecting points of the revealed rules and commandments and the Divine laws of creation and life. These individuals seek only God’s good pleasure and approval in conveying to people what God wants them to convey and in communicating whatever is inspired into them to needy souls, thereby considering His nearness in whatever they do and say.

Guides are those individuals who try their utmost to proclaim, on any platform, the cause on which they have set their heart in a mood of dedication, and who mediate between what should be conveyed to others and those to whom it should be conveyed. As they never think of any wage, compensation, or reward, they also attribute any material or spiritual return coming, without expectation, to the sincere efforts of those around them. Without ever appropriating whatever spiritual gifts come to them personally, they regard their followers as a means for the arrival of these gifts. This is, without doubt, self-denial; but in a true guide’s sight, it is what an ordinary Muslim should do, not something worthy of acclamation. Such true guides never expect others to appreciate their activities, nor do they aim by them at any worldly or otherworldly outcome, except God’s good pleasure and approval. They are always sincere and upright before God, for they are aware that they follow the way of the Prophets and that this way has certain rules to observe, the most important of which is that any guide should pursue only God’s pleasure in the act of guiding others.

A guide is also a hero of love and tolerance, one who has full knowledge of his audience or followers with all of their characteristics; a guide keeps them under wings of compassion, shares their joys and grief, congratulates them on their accomplishments, and ignores their faults and deficiencies. Like sources of fragrance, such guides diffuse “incense” to satisfy needy hearts; like candles, they consume themselves to illuminate the dark souls around them, for the well-being of the latter. They find true happiness in the happiness of others and avoid no sacrifice in conveying their ideals. They die in order to revive; weep in order to make others laugh; become tired to enable the rest of others; strive constantly in order to be able to awaken others to eternity—without paying any attention to either sincere or insincere appreciation, or to unfair criticisms. They beg God’s forgiveness in the face of compliments, welcome any rightful reactions and criticism, and go on without faltering.

A guide is a wise one equipped with the necessary knowledge of both religious and certain secular sciences to discuss different subjects with an audience and present satisfactory solutions to their problems. In the Naqshbandiya Order, the duty of guidance was not entrusted to those who did not successfully complete all the courses taught in the madrasas or who could not combine spiritual and intellectual enlightenment. Rather, the lodges where the elders or guides of this school taught were each like a fountain of Khadr[6] at which those studying were able to quench their thirst. Any houses of guidance where guides of such caliber did not, or do not, teach are no different from ruins; those who claim guidance in them are deceived and the people who hope for illumination in such centers, which are themselves devoid of light, are indeed unfortunate ones.

Do not offer your hand to whoever claims guidance, For he may lead you to a slope which is impossible to climb, Whereas the path of a perfect guide Is easy enough to follow. [7] However transcendent in general knowledge and knowledge of God they may be, in particular, guides are perfect preachers who can combine, in a balanced way, their ascension toward God while still maintaining the level of their audience when conveying to them what they should convey. They always consider the dispositions, feelings, and thoughts of those whose education they have shouldered, and they avoid causing any misunderstandings or ambiguity in conveying the messages that arise from the particular gifts they have received in the horizon of their relationship with God. A true guide is a strict follower and meticulous student of the Qur’an and is, therefore, obliged to follow the Qur’an in the duty of guidance. Despite being the Word of the All-Great, All-Transcendent One, the Qur’an came to the horizon of the Prophet, upon him be peace and blessings, not in a wholly transcendental manifestation of the Divine Attribute of Speech, but rather, in consideration of the levels of all its audience. Thus, just as the Qur’an addresses humankind according to their many levels of understanding, its first and greatest communicator—and the greatest of all guides—the Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, also considered the different levels of his audience and said: “We, the community of the Prophets, have been ordered to address people according to their capacity of understanding.”[8]

Guides speak with the sublimity of their character, the depth of their spirituality, and the language of their actions. They are exceptionally faithful and devoted to God Almighty. It is an undeniable truth that those whose words do not conform to their actions and who are not trustworthy by their own actions cannot have any positive, lasting influence on people; thus, their message cannot be acceptable. The only way for those things that are said to be acceptable to the human conscience is the unshakable conviction of the truth of those things and the practice of them in one’s life. It is reported that God Almighty said to the Prophet Jesus, upon him be peace: “O Jesus! First give advice to your own soul, and only after you have accepted and followed it, then give it to others—or else be ashamed of Me.”[9] This is in perfect conformity with what the Qur’an quotes from the Prophet Shu’ayb, upon him be peace: “I do not want to act in opposition to you (myself doing) what I ask you to avoid.” (11:88)

O God, make us among Your servants who are sincere and who have been endowed with sincerity in faith and in the practice of the Religion, and honor us with following the Lord of those who have been endowed with sincerity, upon him be the greatest of blessings and perfect peace, and on his Household and noble Companions. [1] Salim Suleyman Uskudari (d. 1893) was a Mevlevi (Mawlawi) Sufi poet and writer.

[2] Ruhi of Baghdad (d. 1605) was one of the important figures in Ottoman-Turkish classical literature, who usually wrote about moral issues. 

[3] Awhadu’-Din ‘Ali Anwari is a famous poet who lived in the twelfth century in Iran and Afghanistan. Besides poetry, he was adept in logic, music, theology, mathematics, and astrology. His Diwan, a collection of his poems, consists of a series of long poems, and a number of simpler lyrics. 

[4] It refers to the Prophet Moses’ desire to see God on Mount Sinai and God’s reply to him, saying: “You will never be able to see Me (while in the world).” See the Qur’an, 7:143. 

[5] God’s Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, once gathered together ‘Ali, his cousin and son-in-law, Fatima, his beloved daughter, and their sons Hasan and Husayn under his cloak, and said: “O Lord, these are my family.” (Muslim, “Fadail al-Ashab” 32; at-Tirmidhi, “Manaqib,” HN: 3726.) After this event, together with the Messenger himself, these people came to be called “the People of the Cloak.” 

[6] (al-) Khadr is he with whom the Qur’an recounts (18: 60–82) the Prophet Moses made a journey to learn something of the spiritual realm of existence and the true nature of God’s acts in the world. It is controversial whether he was a Prophet or a saint with a special mission. It is believed that he enjoys the degree of life where one feels no need for the necessities of normal human life. 

[7] Mehmed Niyazi Misri (d. 1694), a Sufi poet, educated in Egypt.

[8] ad-Daylami, al-Musnad, 1:398. 

[9]Ibid., 1:144; Abu Nu’aym, Hilyat al-Awliya, 2:382.

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.III: Don’t Bite and Tell

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of death, brief accounts of violence, practice of ritualistic and sacrificial magic, blood and slight gore, etc. 

word count: 5,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

“I’ve encountered a couple hunters myself over the years, but never one who hunts and kills witches.” Mark watches Jinyoung pilfer through the scriptures him and the rest of his coven members managed to pull together after Youngjae’s reveal of a possible supernatural hunter in town. A murderous one, at that. Jinyoung skims through another page, before shaking his head, “The original supernatural hunters were created by witches to kill vampires… I don’t understand why one would specifically track down and murder covens? Nor how they have the power to do so?” 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out now.” With Jinyoung in tow, Mark heads toward the edge of the cemetery. The pair soon reach a small gazebo adorned with overgrown vines, where Youngjae and Jisung are sitting on the ground inside, herded around a large silver bowl, inside a tuft of dark hair and a special charm bracelet that belonged to Nayeon. Jisung holds a squirming black rat between his palms, while Youngjae proceeds to sharpen a silver dagger. 

Mark turns back to Jinyoung, “We’re going to perform a spell to track whoever or whatever used dark magic to kill Nayeon.” The vampire nods in understanding, leaning against a pole supporting the top of the gazebo. Mark takes his place between the two witches before sending a white-faced Jisung a glance, “You okay? Or do you want me to do it?” Jisung immediately shoves the rat into his awaiting palms. 

Mark takes the creature without a word, offering the youngest witch a soft glance. Once Jisung turns his head away, Mark quickly breaks the rat’s neck, internally wincing at the audible crackling of bones, and nods toward a waiting Youngjae. Youngjae slices open the belly of the rodent, causing warm blood to spill down Mark’s hands and into the silver bowl. Mark watches the bracelet and hair gradually bathe in the thick, red substance, before discarding the dead rat out of sight. 

At a call of his name, Jisung returns to the triangle, appearing a bit sick, and joins his hands with Youngjae’s over the bowl while Mark cleans the remaining blood from his skin with a nearby handkerchief. Their clasped fingers immediately begin to glow, allowing both witches to finally begin the incantation: 

“Inveniet hostium et tenebrae… Inveniet hostium et tenebrae…” Mark rises to stand beside Jinyoung as the two repeat the chant over and over again. However, his attention is stolen away at the loud, rather hateful call of his name. A sigh of annoyance slides from his lips at the sight of a fuming Minho storming toward the gazebo with a frantic Lia in tow. Mark bids Jinyoung a quick ‘be-right-back’ before hurrying over to the newcomers. 

“You let that bloodsucking bastard onto our grounds again!?” 

“I’m sorry, Mark! I tried to keep him distracted, but he saw our texts!” Mark waves away Lia’s worries and points her in the direction of the gazebo, leaving him alone with the red-faced, angry-browed witch. 

Mark releases another sigh, “I know you’re upset—” 

“Upset!? Oh, we’re way past that now…” Minho crosses his arms, “Not only do you completely ignore my warnings, but you go behind my fucking back!? Last I checked, I’m a part of this damn coven too.”  

“I had no other choice, Minho. You made it very clear you weren’t on board with our plan—” 

“And why should I be!?” He sneers, uncrossing his limbs to wave them at Mark in frustration. “When have the Primes ever done anything to deserve our allyship!? Much less our trust!? You of all people should understand that!” 

“Until Nayeon’s killer is found, we are temporarily working with Jinyoung.” Mark pretends not to hear Minho’s last comment, choosing to hide his budding rage beneath a blank, emotionless frown. “He wants to help, okay? And I want to be able to sleep soundly at night knowing that my people are safe.” 

“They’re not just your people… and just because you think you’re all high and mighty for calling the shots doesn’t give you the right to overrule everyone else!” 

“Are you seriously still on this bullshit?...” 

Back when the coven was first formed, and before Jisung joined the path down witchhood, Mark, Nayeon, Youngjae, Minho and Lia all came to a consensus that the coven needed a leader. Mark was voted as such by the majority, which he knew, never sat well with Minho. 

The younger witch shakes his head, “I’m just saying that you can be a little out of tact with your emotions when it comes to situations like this—” 

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?” Mark hisses, unable to hold back the floodgates of his own impending temper. Minho buries his face in his palms, murmuring nonsense while pacing back and forth. He resembles a mad-man, is Mark’s main thought, before he slowly removes his hands and murmurs: 

“I’m only trying to prevent a repeat of what happened last time.” 

“I won’t let that happen.” Mark growls, “Things are different now. We’re stronger.” 

“You say that now, until another one of our people ends up dead.” 

Mark frantically shakes his head, “Fucking hell, Minho! I’m doing the best I can here!” 

“If you were, then Nayeon would still be alive right now.” 

Minho spares one last glance at Mark before spinning on his heel and taking off into the direction he originally came. Mark calls his name, once, then twice, but Minho doesn’t slow his pace. With a heavy heart, Mark follows the younger witch’s form until he disappears behind the gate of the cemetery, leaving behind an even heavier feeling in Mark’s chest. 

“Mark?” He inhales a deep breath before peering over his shoulder at Jinyoung. Inside the vampire’s black irises, Mark almost swears he can see a spark of sympathy, but waves it off as a trick of the sunlight. 

Jinyoung gestures toward the gazebo, “They found a trace.” No sooner had the syllables left his lips, Mark is already beelining for the decorative structure. He enters to find the three remaining witches deep in discussion.

“What did you find?” Mark’s wave of elated hope expels from his veins at the note of Youngjae’s wide eyes and pursed lips. He glances between Lia and Jisung, but only receives the same disturbed expressions. He shakes his head, “What is it?...” 

“It’s worse than we thought, hyung.” 

“What do you mean ‘worse’?” 

“The spell didn’t trace to the hunter, or an object like we thought—” Youngjae pauses to take a breath, clutching Nayeon’s bloody bracelet in the palm of his hand like a life line. “The one who performed dark magic on Nayeon-noona was another witch…” 

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “But that doesn’t make any sense? If Nayeon was killed by a supernatural hunter, there’s no way they can also be a—” Before he can finish his thought, the puzzle pieces thundering inside his mind immediately click into place. His jaw drops, but not as much as his heart, “...unless we’re not dealing with just a hunter.” 

“A supernatural hunter and a powerful, traitor witch.” Lia groans, carding a hand through her already messy strands. “And to think things couldn’t get any fucking worse.” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

Vampires. Park Jinyoung. 

Those two things have been haunting the forefronts of your thoughts ever since you saw them scrawled so neatly across that yellowed page. You tried to search for more information, more elaboration, more anything, in Mayor Bhuwakul’s recounts, but that specific entry was the last, and the rest of the journal was as blank as a cloudless blue sky. Except you aren’t enthused by this particular emptiness, in fact… you’re completely fucking terrified. 

It doesn’t make any sense. The diary was written almost two and a half centuries ago, so there is no possible way that Jinyoung, and his so called brother, can still be alive. But then again, it does make sense. If Jinyoung and Jaebeom are vampires—

What are you even saying!? It’s not possible! 

You curse at the countless articles about the Twilight book series that come up in the search results, having dealt with this same issue since you took to the internet to find more research. There’s another thing—vampires are fictional, just like witches and werewolves and all those monsters that go bump in the night. All those creatures are just made up fairy tales to scare young children… but then why are you the one quivering in your boots? 

“Mrs. (L/N)?” You nearly flinch at the sound of your name, frantically moving to close the cover of your laptop. Your tension immediately releases at the sight of one of your students standing over your desk with an expression of confusion, “Sorry if I interrupted—” 

“No, no. It’s nothing important.” You quickly say before sending the boy a pointed look, “And what have we talked about? Mrs. (L/N) makes me feel way too old. Call me (Y/N), please Hyunjin.”  

“Sorry, (Y/N). I keep forgetting.” Hyunjin smiles sheepishly.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “What can I do for you, kiddo?” 

“I’m confused about this assignment Professor Park gave us yesterday.” You take the thick packet that Hyunjin offers, skimming through the many pages as he continues to explain, “I get that he wants us to analyze different elements of the excerpt, but I don’t get exactly how I’m supposed to do that…” 

“How to analyze the story?” 

“How I figure out the right stuff to analyze.” 

“Well, the thing about literature is that there’s no such thing as the ‘right stuff’ to analyze.” You meet Hyunjin’s gaze again, tapping the tab of your pen against the front of his assignment with a shrug. “You could read a story and feel one thing, but then I could read the same story and feel something completely different, and the author who wrote the story in the first place could have created it with a different intent than what both you and I got. 

“Think about it like… eating an apple.” You hold up the apple you brought for lunch, “You can just eat it how it is, or peel off the skin and just eat the flesh, or even cut it and up and put it into a pie. There’s no one right way to eat it—” Hyunjin intently watches as you place the fruit back on your desk. “—it’s the same concept in analyzing literature. As long as you find some sort of meaning beneath the words, you’ve done your job.” 

“Thanks, (Y/N).” You return Hyunjin’s smile as you hand him back his assignment. He tucks the paper into his messenger bag before nodding at the stack of papers on the edge of your deck, “Prof has you over your head in grading again?...”

“If you think this is bad, you should have seen what I had over the weekend.” 

“He takes advantage of you, you know.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “You guys all take advantage of me, and I’m not even your real professor.” 

“Somedays I wish you were. I learn more from talking with you in five minutes than listening to Park’s ninety-minute long lectures.” 

“Hate to tell you, you and your little entourage would get away with a hell of a lot less if I were in charge.” Your eyes shift toward the students lingering around the classroom, most either socializing or packing up some last minute supplies. You recognize Hyunjin’s group of friends waiting near the entrance, acknowledging their excited waves when they catch your gaze. 

Hyunjin chuckles, his own gaze drifting down to the notebook laid open across the surface of your desk. His confused expression returns as he skims through your hastily written notes before you have the time to grab them from view, “Are you doing research on… vampires?” 

“I-It’s for a, uh, a special project I’m working on for the university… about the town.” 

“Moon Dye Bay does technically have a history of the supernatural—especially witches.” Hyunjin explains, “You know, if you’re looking for something, or someone specific, I would check out the archives in the Town Hall. They probably have a whole bunch of ancient stuff down there.” 

Hyunjin’s advice sparks a multitude of new ideas within your brain: The archives probably date back to the beginning years of the town, meaning there has to be some account of residency in 1770. If you can find Jinyoung’s, or Jaebeom’s name, you’ll be one step closer to ending this ignorance… or one step closer to finding out a truth that could change your life forever. 

“I—” You nod your head, “I might. Thanks, Hyunjin.”  

“It’s the least I could do. I wouldn’t have passed this class last semester if it weren’t for you.” 

A call of Hyunjin’s name snatches both the student’s and your attention. Hyunjin shouts a quick response back to his awaiting friends before offering you a sheepish smile, “I should get going before they come over here and drag me away, but thank you again, (Y/N).” 

“Just make sure you get that assignment in on time, or it’s an automatic zero.” 

Hyunjin throws both a radiant smile and a playful wink in your direction as he heads toward the exit, “See you next week, Ms. (L/N).” 

“Call me that again and I’ll flunk your ass.” You shake your head and watch as Hyunjin, his friends and the remainder of the students filter out of the classroom, leaving you to your lonesome once again. With a heavy sigh, you bury your face in your palms, thumbing away the pain in your temples. 

Even if you do manage to find answers, where are you supposed to go after the fact? If Jinyoung is a—is not human, then everything you’ve ever known and believed is just… gone. Turned into a dust like the ghost of a forest after a fire. If vampires are real, then what other monsters lurk in the shadows? What other monsters are here? In Moon Dye Bay? 

...What kind of danger have you gotten yourself into? 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

The taste of bourbon runs bitter along Jinyoung’s taste buds, only to travel smoothly down the length of his throat and settle warmly in the pit of his stomach. He lowers the crystal glass from his lips, licking away the remnants of alcohol that remain before gazing outside the large, rain-stained window. The silhouettes of foggy trees and foliage stare back, doing little to cure the racing of his thoughts. 

A hunter and a witch working together to kill other witches… and to think that he had faced every type of enemy in the book.

 Jinyoung has met thousands of witches over the years, some who were not too keen on working with others of their kind, but never one who actively goes around slaughtering other covens. It’s against the Balance of Nature for witches to murder witches. Then again, the practice of black magic is too… so why would a witch, who already has access to such power, strive to kill their own?... Less it be for more power. But even then, to steal another witch’s magic would require mass amounts of energy beyond energy. 

And he’s only met one other witch who has been able to foster that much strength to do so. 

Jinyoung releases a deep breath before taking another sip of his drink, welcoming the temporary calm it brings to his mind. He turns away from the window to head toward the desk in the corner of his bedroom while shrugging the suit jacket from his shoulders. After throwing the garment over the back of the chair and setting his cup down, Jinyoung unbuttons and rolls the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, providing some much needed cool relief to his bare skin. He presses his palms against the surface of the desk, leaning forward to stretch the tension from his arms.

He’s not sure whether it’s because of the alcohol or the rain, but Jinyoung’s thoughts can’t help but shift to you for what seems like the millionth time in the past few days. Since your encounter a couple days prior, you always seem to make an appearance inside his head. It’s almost as if he can’t be rid of your face, your voice, your everything… not that he would ever want to. Especially since he made a pact to keep his distance—for your safety, and his sanity. 

Jinyoung moves toward the bathroom while undoing his button up, ready to temporarily wash away the stress and concern of the crisis at hand, when his bedroom flies open with a loud crash. He barely has a second to process the entry before his body is shoved back against the wall, a pair of hands holding the collar of his now torn shirt and a pair of enraged eyes searing into his soul. 

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, “This was one of my favorite shirts, hyung.” 

“You better have a good fucking excuse on why you’re hanging around with Tuan and his pathetic band of magicians?” 

“Couldn’t you have asked without ruining my clothes?” 

“Jinyoung…” 

Jinyoung releases a sigh of exhaustion, quickly realizing that Jaebeom won’t unhand him without an answer. 

“The coven is being targeted by a supernatural hunter and a witch. Their seer was killed last week.” 

“So what? You suddenly care about a bunch of witches?” 

“Mark and his coven are the reason we were allowed to remain in Moon Dye in the first place. If they die, do you really think the pack and the league will still let us stay?” Jinyoung shakes his head, carefully watching as Jaebeom paces toward the opposite end of his bedroom—his expression growing more and more infuriated. “Besides, I’m taking care of it.”  

“You’re taking care of it? Really?” Jaebeom whirls around with a scoff, “Did it completely slip your mind that these are the same fuckers who tried to kill us to begin with? Tuan and his alpha wolf bitch?” 

“I’m just ensuring our peaceful livelihood here, hyung.” Jinyoung stands his ground, calmly staring at his companion. “You may not care, and you may not like it, but frankly, I love this town, and I want to stay—it’s our home for goodness sake.” 

“You’re playing with goddamn fire, Jinyoung. Do you really think they’ve let go of the fact that we killed—” 

“For fucksake, Jaebeom!” Jaebeom’s expression falters at Jinyoung’s sudden outburst and lack of honorifics. The younger of the pair tugs at the roots of his scalp before heaving an audible sigh of exhaustion, “I’m too tired to fight with you. Please—just trust me when I say that I am taking care of it.”  

Jaebeom shakes his head, “How many times have I told you not to fuck around with witch business? Do you remember what happened the last time you—?” 

“I’m tired, hyung.” Jinyoung shrugs off Jaebeom’s starting-attempts-at-an-argument along with his torn shirt. He feels Jaebeom’s gaze following his near-to-bare form as he enters the bathroom, throwing one last comment over his shoulder, “And last I remember, you killed Jackson Wang. Not me.” 

Jinyoung doesn’t spare another glance at Jaebeom’s expression and shuts the door, cursing the fact that he forgot to grab his bourbon.

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/N).” Jihyo carefully maneuvers her belongings onto one arm, utilizing the other to open the front door with some amount of struggle. “Sana’s boss is making her work overtime too, so I’ll just hang out here with Momo and Mina tonight.” 

“Yeah, I got her text.” Carefully shutting the obstacle with her foot, Jihyo continues deeper into the apartment, pausing every now and then to stabilize the phone on her shoulder. She manages to make it into the kitchen without any accident, heaving the Chinese take-out up on the countertop with a relieved sigh. “I shouldn’t be long. I just have to take care of some last minute stuff for Park.” 

“Just do what you need to do.” Jihyo quickly adds, “And please, for my sake, take a goddamn Uber home.” 

Your chuckle carries over the line, “You got it, Mom.” 

“I’m serious, (Y/N). With my luck, you’ll land your ass in the hospital again.” 

“I’ll be careful. I promise.” 

Jihyo tosses her purse on a nearby table before running her fingers through her hair, offering a small smile to Momo who suddenly emerges from the living room. She nods, “See you in the morning then.”

“Yep. Night, babe.” 

At your goodbye, Jihyo hangs up the call and deposits her phone beside her purse. She moves to unpack the bags as Momo approaches, throwing a sheepish grin toward the newcomer, “It looks like it’s just gonna be you, Mina and I tonight, so I hope you’re hungry.” 

Momo hums, her gaze remaining on Jihyo as she goes about grabbing plates and utensils from various cupboards. Jihyo can’t help but shudder from the intensity of her hawk-like stare, but chooses to stay silent while laying out the food. Even then, her skin still continues to crawl, especially when Momo begins to mumble to herself. 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” Jihyo turns at a particular murmur, tilting her head at her blonde companion. To Jihyo’s surprise, Momo doesn’t answer, but steps closer, practically caging Jihyo in the tiny kitchenette. Jihyo finds herself anxious at the lack of space. “Wh-What are you—?” 

“You can see the tattoo.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” 

“Really? Cause I think you do.” 

Jihyo shakes her head, “It was honestly just a mis-misunderstanding—” 

“Look again.” 

“I really—”

“Look. Again.”  

The rational part of Jihyo’s brain yells at her to flee from the scene, disliking the borderline sinister expression graced along Momo’s features. However, her curiosity seizes the remainder of her self-control: 

She lowers her gaze to Momo’s right arm, finding the same dark, supposedly imaginary ink patterned in various elements: Jagged tree branches, illegible symbols, and compass needles pointing in an unknown direction. 

“What do you see?” 

“I-I don’t know.” Jihyo presses herself as close to the edge of the counter as she can, faltering beneath Momo’s still approaching form. “I see a tattoo, but-but that’s not possible—” 

“Wrong.” She gasps at Momo’s harsh grip on her arm, “You can see it… because you’re just like me.” 

“What are you even talking about? Momo, this is—” 

“It’s just like I said,” Jihyo’s mouth snaps open as her companion releases her hand to poke the back of her hand, causing the inked needle to spin right there across her skin. She doesn’t know how it’s possible, but somewhere deep inside her gut—Jihyo knows everything is real.

“You’re a hunter too.” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

There was once a time Jaebeom remembers where him and Jinyoung used to be close—a time where they used to be true brothers. The kind that were there for each other. The kind that fought side by side no matter the enemies who awaited on the other side. The kind that didn’t keep secrets from one another. Jaebeom would never admit it aloud, but sometimes he finds himself missing those days—missing Jinyoung. 

A part of him knows he’s the reason for the distance that has wedged between them, but even so, Jaebeom is too pig-headed to willingly accept all the blame, more so since Jinyoung has burned his own fair share of bridges in their various lifetimes together. Some far worse than what Jaebeom has thought of doing. 

Jaebeom never truly intends to hurt Jinyoung. He just gets so angry, and when Jaebeom is angry… he becomes very, very hungry. 

And you just happen to be right there, walking through the doors of the Town Hall and into the greedy shadows of the night. The moonlight bathes across your skin, practically illuminating your body for his benefit. Jaebeom knows he shouldn’t—knows that Jinyoung may hate him forever—but just as with everything else, Jaebeom chooses not to care. 

You’re being careful, he quickly notices, between the hesitant steps you take and the careful eye you keep over your shoulder. The knowledge only strengthens Jaebeom’s bloodlust. He can’t help but imagine how your blood will taste… Will it be sweet like honey? Or savory like a freshly-grilled piece of meat? His mouth waters in anticipation as he slinks closer and closer toward you. Like a predator rounding in on his prey. 

Thanks to his inhuman speed and strength, it only takes Jaebeom seconds to immobilize and press you against the nearest secluded wall where even the brightest rays of the moon can’t reach. The scream you attempt to release is muffled beneath his palm, while his other hand busies itself with revealing the delectable skin of your throat. Your scent hits him like a pile of bricks, and it’s unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He grows frenzied, almost deranged by the fragrance, desperately craving more and more. 

He easily counters your thrashes and squirms against his hold, practically suffocating your figure with his own. Feeling the thread bearing his self-control slowly splintering, Jaebeom parts his lips, runs his tongue across the pointed tips of his fangs and prepares to guzzle the pain  away, when your voice slips into his ears: 

“Don’t do this, please…” 

He makes the mistake of meeting your gaze. All at once, Jaebeom can sense the tidal waves of your fear, your passion, your will to live just in the glittering rings of your eyes. It leaves him breathless, no longer controlled by his need to feed, and instead, floating amongst his own disarrayed thoughts and pent-up emotions that he only experiences when he chooses to embrace his humanity. 

“Jaebeom…” 

You know his name— 

Jaebeom realizes at once he can’t do this—he can’t hurt you. Not when you’re looking at him with those eyes and speaking to him with that voice. No matter how intoxicating your aroma. He won’t hurt you. 

Jaebeom grabs your chin with near-to-trembling fingers and leans closer until the tip of his nose barely grazes along yours. In a hushed, yet stern tone, he murmurs, “You’re going to walk home and forget any of this ever happened. You never saw me… Understand?” 

“I—” He watches your eyes widen, “I understand.” 

Jaebeom doesn’t stay to check the result of his compulsion, quickly stepping away from your body and dashing far, far away from that alleyway. He doesn’t stop even when he’s thousands of miles away from Moon Dye Bay, trying to escape this spell you cast over his mind. But no matter how much distance he covers, Jaebeom can’t outrun the lingering ghost of your gaze… 

Jaebeom can’t outrun how, in that brief moment, you made him feel so completely human. 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

“I just don’t get how someone could do something like this.” Mark nods in agreement at Youngjae’s statement, watching his younger counterpart take a sip of his luke-warm coffee from his perch behind the lectern. “I mean, why take all these innocent lives—witches or not?”  

“Some people are just… fucked up, I guess.” 

“I don’t believe that.” Youngjae shakes his head, thumbing thoughtfully at the arm of his mug. “There has to be a reason, hyung. People aren’t just—born evil.”  

Deep down, Mark knows Youngjae is right, but he can’t find it in himself to reply, silently continuing to flip through the old spellbook in his own grasp. This particular text has been in his family for generations upon generations. It was given to him by his mother soon after his magic began to flourish—the last gift he received before her death. 

Due to the Tuan ancestral bloodline’s specialization in spellcasting, this book contains almost every spell known to witch-kind. He’s used its contents to defeat threats in various situations—this time should be no different. At least, he hopes so.   

“If we have any chance at winning this fight, our best bet would be to take out the witch first.” Mark carries the large book toward the table where Youngjae is sat, setting the pages out for both of them to see. “I’m thinking we can halt their magic flow somehow, so there’s no way them or their partner can touch us—” 

“So like a halting spell? Or a disruption spell?” 

Mark shakes his head, “A simple halting spell won’t work. Not if they’re practicing black magic.” 

“But what if we could pull enough power of our own?” Youngjae inquires, “I mean, with you, me, Lia, Jisung and Minho, shouldn’t that be enough to overpower their source?”

“Not necessarily.” Mark sighs, “Black magic is… complicated, but powerful. Depending on what or who exactly our witch is drawing from, we could be easily killed—especially if that is what they’re aiming for.” 

“Right. Have you… heard from Minho? Since earlier?” 

“No.” 

Youngjae hums at Mark’s haughty answer, watching silently as the older continues to flip through the giant book. Upon reaching a certain page, Mark halts and angles his findings to better show the younger witch. 

“We may be able to link their dark magic to something, like an object or even something alive. It wouldn’t necessarily block it, but if we channel it elsewhere, it could at least give us enough time to incapacitate them?” 

“Will Jinyoung be able to take on both the hunter and the witch?” 

“I don’t know.” Mark’s teeth sink into his bottom lips, his thoughts feverishly racing at Youngjae’s observation. An idea pops into his mind—one that replenishes a forgotten ache in his heart. Casting away the sinking feeling in his gut, Mark says, “The pack… might be able to.”

“Hyung…” Youngjae offers a sympathetic look that makes Mark’s gut lurch, “I don’t know if that’s a good id—”  

Youngjae’s voice is cut off by the sudden slam of the mausoleum door, opening to reveal a dark silhouette emerging from the black of night. With Youngjae at his side, Mark immediately rises at the intrusion, preparing for a possible fight, but quickly relaxes when he realizes the identity of the abrupt visitor: 

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here—?” 

“Save it!” Mark almost reels back at the amount of pure venom laced in your tone, growing more and more confused at the blend of animosity, desperation and what seems to be betrayal, written across your face. “You better have a good fucking excuse for lying to me all these goddamn months, Tuan!” 

“What are you talking about? (Y/N)—?”

“I’m talking about the fact that Park Jinyoung and Im Jaebeom are fucking vampires!” Mark’s blood runs cold at your response. At your next words, though he can’t see himself, Mark knows his face flushed as white as a ghost:

“And you—you’re a witch, Mark.” 

[2021animalfarmfanficg2]

Animal War

João Pedro Tamer and Rodrigo Catap

Fanfiction Synopsis:

After getting control of the Animal Farm and settling there, the pigs and the other animals, led by comrades Snowball and Napoleon, started to think about expanding their territory and taking control of England. With the same objective, they dominated Pinchfield Farm and declared war on the human beings. This act is the beginning of a national Revolution, a war between the animals and the human, between capitalism and animalism. There will be kings or beasts of England?

What if the pigs wanted to take control of all England instead of just staying in the Animal Farm?

Story:

“That’s it, comrades! We won the battle and we finally are free from Mr. Jones. I declare this farm, formerly known as the Manor Farm, the only place in England which isn’t controlled by humans. This farm, from now, is called the Animal Farm!” - With these words, Snowball showed the other animals that they were in command now.”

They weren’t slaves anymore. Their liberty was conquered. After this day, the animals would never be treated in the same way they used to be. 

From that day on, Snowball was seen as a leader, who was always making convincing speeches and having a lot of good ideas, like the construction of a windmill. Napoleon was more like a strategic and military leader. He wasn’t so good with his words, but this wasn’t a problem because his cleverness and his decisions were helping the farm to thrive and prosper. And finally Squealer, who wasn’t so strong as the others, but had the ability of convincing and persuading the others as nowone. His accurate words were like magic. He could easily change an animal's opinions, making someone that was firmly against a decision suddenly agreeing with what was said by Squealer.

With those three leaders, Animalism was implemented, the Seven Commandments were written, the animals had equal rights and peace was established. That could be a happy end to this story, isn’t it? But the pigs wanted more! They wanted to conquer the human’s neighbors farms, Pinchfield and Foxwood, who decided to attack the Animal Farm, just because they didn’t accept a farm controlled by animals instead of humans, which could turn into something bad for them. 

Napoleon was the responsable to preventing the invasions that were currently happening. After seeing a lot of human attacks and realizing that the Animal Farm was in trouble, he presented an idea to the Farm’s council: 

“Comrades, I have to say something... As you all know, our farm is being oftenly attacked by humans, with the objective to destroy us completely. With this fact, I realized some days ago that our defense isn’t impregnable, so we should improve it to not be attacked anymore. If we don’t change it, in a few weeks, we will have already been dominated by them. So, I offer you something. To scare them and prove we are stronger than them, besides improving our defense, we have to counter-attack them! We have enough military power, so we are capable of taking control of both of these farms!” 

The animals were shocked. None of them had some similar idea before. But that was true, the farm was constantly being in trouble, so something needed to be done. Probably, their best option would be counter attacking. This speech made a lot of animals start to sing their song: “Beasts of England”. 

Due to his strategic abilities, Napoleon was capable of planning and executing a big counter attack to beat the Pinchfield and the Foxwood Farm. After nearly a month, Snowball and Napoleon took control of both farms. The plan was a big success. Now, they were in control of the whole county. 

The battles against humans were now comun because a lot of farmers saw the Animal Farm as a threat to their business, having in mind their own animals started to think about adhering to the Animalism system. A lot of them stopped to work hard or even ran away trying to find the Animal Farm. 

With the Pinchfield and the Foxwood battle, even the parliament was seeing the pigs as a real danger, because their territory and their influence was increasing everyday. The farmers from all the country were desperate, trying to warn the Queen about this possible war that could happen between the animals and humans. 

Squealer was always converting the animals from all different territories that were conquered by the pigs, due to his convincing speeches, criticising the humans and their system and presenting Animalism as a solution and as the best system possible. 

The parliament was gathered to discuss this issue. They concluded that the best power in the pig’s hands was Squealer and his speeches, capable of convincing every animal living in England. Without him, Animalism could lose influence and power. As an answer to this increase of the pig’s power, they decided to eliminate him, sending some pilots with the mission of overflying the farm and throwing a big bomb, able to kill every animal in the place. 

Their first step was to find where Squealer was. This could be something very difficult to know, because there was very little information about what was happening in the animal’s territory. Then, the Queen told everyone that their first job was to overfly all the territory conquered by the pigs until they could find Squealer. After that, they would throw the bomb to the place where he was located. 

After three days, the attack was done. The pilots did what they were supposed to do and they could find their target in less than an hour. He was staying in the old Pinchfield Farm, which was named by the pigs as “The Beast Farm”. Their plan was a success. The bomb was thrown and it detonated exactly where they wanted. After some minutes, the pilots verified the situation and confirmed that Squealer, their target, was dead. 

This was seen as a victory to the humans, but the pigs weren’t over. The Squealer’s death impacted the animals, who quickly organized a funeral for him. Snowball and Napoleon both were very sad about what happened, but they were now mad with the humans. At this point, the pigs had conquered almost 10 counties in England and they had almost conquered the whole North region. 

Now, both of them had a new reason to fight against the humans. They had killed one of their best friends. When Snowball and Napoleon met each other again, they decided to declare war against England. From this time on, their objective was to take control of London, the country’s capital, consequently ruling the parliament too. 

For the parliament, who was celebrating a lot after their apparent victory, this declaration was a huge surprise. They were all shocked when the messenger entered Buckingham Palace with this news. Without thinking, the Queen said that they had to be prepared for what was coming, so a lot of troops should be in charge of protecting the city from the animal’s attacks. 

Napoleon had a strategic way of attacking the city of London that he had thought through many days. He and Snowball organized a council meeting to show their plan to the other animals, such as the dogs, who were always near from Napoleon, the hens, who were always against what was said by the pigs, the horses, who usually agreed with Snowball’s plans and projects, and the sheeps, who liked a lot to sing their rebellion song: “Beasts of England”. 

“Comrades, the humans declared war on us when they killed our comrade Squealer. We all know that they won’t stop. If they did it to him, they could throw a bomb to kill everyone here, so we are in real danger. Our only chance is to counter attack them. And we need to attack a specific place, where all the power in England is. This place is known as The Buckingham Palace and it is located in the city of London. The only way of invading Buckingham Palace is causing a distraction. You, my comrades, have the honour to make this plan work, because you, commanded by me, will start a battle in London against their army. Meanwhile, a group of animals will have the job of going in secret to the palace, where the Queen of England is. Snowball, I give you the honour of making part of this plan by having the mission of killing the Queen of England. Do you accept it?”

Snowball looked his friend with a lot of determination in his eyes and he replied:

“Yes, I do. I will do it for the Animal Farm! Let’s go, Beasts of England!”

From that day forward the animals, under the leadership of Napoleon and Snowball, began to follow the strategic route traced by the two leaders. They passed through several small cities, killing all the humans they found and releasing all the animals that had been imprisoned by them, all in complete secrecy, so that the Queen would not know that their plan was in place, and that they were increasing their army every time. to be prepared for the final battle.

Their troops grew, their territory increased, and the road to London was almost at an end, when they finally took over the farm closest to the capital, where they would establish themselves there to carry out the attack, which as planned, would take place in the following week. 

To finally invade and take full possession of parliament, thus controlling London completely, it would be necessary to take possession of most of the arms depots, which were scattered throughout the city. As they were a great threat to parliament, and in London, security was reinforced to the maximum, and to enter the capital would be a difficult task, if not the most difficult of all up to that time. After much thought, the two leaders came to a single possible solution: They would have to dress up to behave like humans. When they told their idea to the other animals, everyone was extremely upset, as they refused to imitate and act like their biggest enemy, the humans. But it was the only way, it would have to be done.

They spent approximately 3 days working for 24 hours making the costumes, so that they were immaculate, and that their presence could not be identified even by the English authorities. The end of the week had arrived, the costumes were ready, the plan was already made and the animals were more prepared than ever, they were ready to take over London and the English parliament completely. 

When the expected day finally arrived, all the animals, being pigs, horses, sheeps, hens or dogs, were costumed until they arrived in the city of London. Then, they were divided into two different groups. One of them was commanded by comrade Napoleon and the other was led by comrade Snowball. Snowball was leading only the most clever animals, like the dogs and the pigs, who could understand the plan better. Now, Napoleon’s group didn’t need anymore to be costumed, since they would start a huge battle against the humans, where they didn’t need to be furtive. 

After they were divided, Napoleon started the war when he and his soldiers appeared in the center of a pram and they started singing the “Beasts of England” song. Besides that, their leader started to make a speech to everyone who was present:

“Hello, everyone. I think you British already know me, but if you don’t, I'm Napoleon, the leader of the Animal Farm. Your plan to kill one of our leaders was a big success, and our plan will be as good as yours to kill your main leader, the Queen!!! So, let me introduce you to my power” - when he said that, thousands of pigs, dogs, hens, horses and sheeps increased their tone of voice and now they were shouting out. - “We won't let go of what you did to our leader, and we'll do the same with yours!!! That’s it, comrades! Let 's go! Let 's win this war!”

The battle started and it lasted more or less three hours. Napoleon stayed outside in the streets to hold and kill as many soldiers as possible, while Snowball and the dogs stormed the parliament to brutally execute the queen. A lot of deaths happened on both sides. The fight was nearly in the end, but some soldiers were still in the battle. One of them was Napoleon, who had killed a lot of British soldiers and was now surrounded by 20 enemies. At this time, he stopped fighting and made another speech, maybe his last one:

“Fight for our Farm! I can go away, but our cause isn’t death and never will be! Let’s go, Animal Farm. I trust in every animal…” - while he was saying that, a soldier shot him in the chest and he was bleeding a lot. Napoleon noticed that his life was fading away, but he finished his speech with a final sentence - “Beasts of England! Beasts of Ireland! Beasts of land…” - then, a shot was heard and all the animals saw the life of their leader ending in front of them. Another leader was gone. First, Squealer, and now Napoleon. The only thing they could think of was Snowball’s situation.

Meanwhile, the dogs' group, leadered by Snowball, entered Buckingham Palace with some explosives. Their attack was fast and effective. They invaded the Queen’s room and quickly did their job. A single shot was enough to kill her. All of them were celebrating after accomplishing their job, but when they arrived in the center of the city to tell the other that the Queen was dead, they saw Napoleon lying on the ground and a lot of animals crying around him. They had won the war, but they lost one of their leaders. That was the price to be paid. 

With Napoleon's death, a funeral was made in his honneur, and a statue was built on top of his body, as a tribute to his person, for being the greatest military leader in Animalism history.

Snowball was in control now, and following his and Napoleon's ideias, 3 months after the war, the Animalism had already spread out through hole England, being the main system there. 

[squibbles94]

Requiem for a Tower

Also on AO3

Fandom: MCU

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark (NOT STARKER)

Rated T for language

Warnings: None

Square Filled: Home Invasion

Peter sat in the chair in his room, staring at the TV. He knew he wasn't supposed to be up, but he just couldn't go to sleep. There was a new video game that came out the week before, and he was almost done with it. Every now and again, Peter would look around his room and smile. There was a familiarity that sank into him when he caught sight of the rough blanket at the end of his bed. It was the same one that his parents bought him when he was young and one that he couldn't see himself parting with. It was something that soothed him as a kid, and he was surprised when he walked into the room and saw it. May must have mentioned it to Mr. Stark and set it up where it would be with him at the Tower. She knew he would miss home and would need something to tether him to the Parkers. 

The day he got his room at the Tower was something he would never forget. Peter was sure that his aunt was going to make him stop seeing Mr. Stark all together after everything that happened with the Vulture. To his surprise, all it took was a swift conversation and a tentative agreement about Peter's safety to make May agree to let him continue. There was an expectation that Mr. Stark take a more active role in Peter's life, which he was okay with.

So, when Mr. Stark let him see his room in the Tower for the first time, he almost lost his mind. While he loved it, he couldn't stop the embarrassment flooding through his cheeks over the amount of technology in his room. He knew there was nothing he could do to make Mr. Stark stop spending money on him, but usually, he tried to make it a point to at least refuse the gifts. One time, Mr. Stark wanted to buy him a needlessly expensive water bottle when his red one broke. Peter almost agreed until he saw the $100 price tag. Even though he refused, it was neatly placed on his desk with a note that said it was nonrefundable. Eventually, Peter realized it was how Mr. Stark showed him that he cared.  

It was strange how everything worked between Mr. Stark and Peter after the incident with the Vulture. Suddenly it was like Peter had value, and he thought it was because he proved himself to Mr. Stark. It was like the man saw that Peter really just wanted to make a difference and that the boy could actually take care of himself. Mr. Stark started inviting him to the Tower once a week to work on his suit, which turned into twice a week. Eventually, Peter found himself over at the Tower more often than he was home.

Peter even started spending some weeknights at the Tower when May was working late. It got to the point where the press started speculating about Peter and how he fit into Mr. Stark's life. Thankfully, Pepper put out a statement the week before announcing Peter as Mr. Stark's personal intern. That seemed to pacify the media, much to Peter's relief. 

"Peter, it is nearing three in the morning. I suggest heading to bed soon," F.R.I.D.A.Y reminded him. 

"I'm almost done, Fri. Please don't tell Mr. Stark that I'm still awake. I promise I'll go to bed after this level," Peter begged.

"Very well. I will not intentionally tell Boss, but if he asks, I will report the truth."

"Thanks, Fri. You're the best. Where is Mr. Stark, anyway?"

"He is in his lab. He is currently working on the same phone you were helping him with before he sent you to bed. Would you like me to get him for you?"

"Nope. No. I was just wondering," Peter said quickly.

There were times that Peter forgot that F.R.I.D.A.Y was nothing more than an A.I. It seemed strange that she had more personality than some people he met, but she didn't have any real emotions. It was a true testament of Mr. Stark's genius that he could code her to be almost human. 

He was just about to reach his final checkpoint of the level when the T.V. flickered, and Peter found himself in darkness. Peter groaned at the loss of his progress, but that only lasted a few seconds before he realized the power was out in his bedroom. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?" Peter asked. 

There was no response. 

Even if the power went out, F.R.I.D.A.Y was programmed to work on a backup system that was not powered by the building. Peter jolted to his feet as the back of his neck prickled. Something was wrong.

He paused to grab his phone from his bedside table. When he looked at the screen, he knew what he saw couldn't be right. There was no signal. No internet. No way to contact anyone. Still, he tried to dial Mr. Stark's number, hoping it would go through. When it didn't, he cursed softly, knowing there was only one option left to him.

Peter grabbed for his web-shooters, but stopped when he remembered they were still in the lab. They were going to update the fluid cartridges the next day, so he left them down there. Sighing lightly, he made his way to his door. He cracked it slightly open and strained his ears, trying to hear anything that could give him an idea of what was happening. When he heard nothing but his own shallow breaths, he slipped out of his room and set off towards the lab. He made sure he stuck to the side of the wall just in case there was someone that wasn't friendly in the building. Though how anyone would get in, he didn't know.

It was almost dark enough that Peter had to strain his eyes to make out a clear view of the hallway in front of him. Other than the quiet, the most unnerving thing was the shadows that seemed much more profound than they should be. Peter tried to make a quick inventory of who was supposed to be at the Tower and felt his stomach drop to realize that it was just Mr. Stark and him. 

Colonel Rhodes was in D.C. on an assignment, Pepper was in Japan on a business trip, and Happy was at his own apartment. Vision was in and out of the Tower, and this was one of the times he was away on a "special assignment". 

Peter made his way through the living area only to stop when he heard footsteps coming from the stairwell. He could make out ragged breaths and a heart that struggled somewhat to beat, but that didn't tell him who was coming down the stairs. So, Peter flattened himself against the wall just outside the doorway and waited to make his move. 

Only waiting a second, Peter lunged as soon as the door opened. The person tumbled to the ground with Peter pinning them down. He raised his fist to strike, but stopped when familiar brown eyes stared back at him. 

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked, horror filling his voice. He knocked him down. Mr. Stark had a heart condition, and he was getting older, and Peter knocked him to the ground. 

"Not that this isn't fun, but can you hop off there, bud?" Mr. Stark asked. 

Peter could feel the blush that rose to his cheeks as he clambered off of his mentor and helped the man to his feet. "Sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn't mean- the lights- and F.R.I.D.A.Y-and I'm so so sorry," Peter babbled. 

Mr. Stark dug his hands into his lower back and stretched a bit before taking stock of Peter's appearance. "Were you already awake? Why aren't you in bed?" The man shook his head slightly. "Nevermind. We can talk about that later. Did you see anyone up here or anything?"

Confused, Peter said, "no. I was play-going to the bathroom when the lights went out. My senses went off, so I came to find you."

"Okay, let's get up to the lab. Just keep your eyes open and stay with me until we figure out what's happening. If you see someone, I want you to run. They might not know about... the other guy. So, don't do anything stupid. We can't risk anyone finding out about your powers. No arguments."

"But-"

"No. Arguments," Mr. Stark emphasized. 

"Okay," Peter agreed. He only felt slightly bad that he didn't know if he was going to keep the promise. He was going to try to listen. He knew Mr. Stark had good reasons for asking Peter to keep his powers a secret, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

Peter followed Mr. Stark toward the lab, making sure to stay close to the man. They made it to the floor above when Peter's Spider-Sense went crazy. Before he could mention anything, six men were surrounding them. Each one carried a gun, and Peter could see at least two of them had knives strapped to their sides. They each carried a flashlight. As they shined them toward Peter, he felt his muscles tense with anticipation. 

They all had masks on that made it hard for Peter to see what they looked like. Peter took this as a good sign. He found that if they cared about showing their faces, they probably had something to lose. Most of the time, it meant they weren't planning on killing anyone, so he counted that as a win. 

Still, the feeling of panic overrode him when he felt himself being pushed back by Mr. Stark. The man had stepped firmly in front of him and guided Peter towards a wall, effectively boxing him in. Peter wanted to protest the move, but Mr. Stark's look was enough for him to remember his promise. 

There were too many of them for Peter to take on by himself. He was sure that Mr. Stark had something he could do, but he also knew if he revealed himself as Spider-Man, there was nothing he could do to keep May safe. So, Peter stayed where he was, at least until he found an opening to take the men down. 

The man in the center of the group took a step forward. "Good evening Mr. Stark. I see that you found your friend for us." The man gestured to Peter. 

Mr. Stark took a half step back, making Peter's back hit the wall. Peter could feel the brush of Mr. Stark's shirt as he breathed. He could also hear the man's heart skip a beat at the knowledge that the men in front of them were interested in Peter. 

"What the hell do you want?" Mr. Stark growled.

The man in charge smiled, his ice-blue eyes crinkling slightly. "We are going to be working together for a bit, so you can call me Mr. Trager," the man said. "As for what I want, well, that will come in due time. What you need to understand right now, Mr. Stark, is that I have the authority to get my job done however I need. I can use any force deemed necessary. You should also know that I have never failed at my job, so it would be best if you complied."

"Yeah, that didn't really answer my question," Mr. Stark said.

Peter glanced at the other men around the room and saw that they were tense. They were scared. But the question was, were they scared of Peter and Mr. Stark, or were they scared of their leader? There was a big enough space between them where he couldn't tell for sure, but they kept throwing glances at Trager.

"Let me make this easy," Trager said. "You are going to step away from the boy, Peter, isn't it?"

Peter felt himself startle at that. How did they know his name? 

"I will admit that I was surprised to see him here. Don't interns usually go home at the end of the workday?" Trager said. "Unless...oh, Mr. Stark, you wouldn't be hiding a secret child, would you?"

Peter could feel Mr. Stark stiffen in front of him, and he couldn't stop himself from swallowing loudly. 

"It doesn't matter who he is. You're here for me. So, I'll ask again. What do you want?" Mr. Stark snapped. 

"At the risk of sounding cliche, I want something only you can give me. You are going to give me access to your A.I. I believe you call her F.R.I.D.A.Y, correct?" 

Mr. Stark let out a biting laugh. "Yeah, I don't think so."

"That wasn't a request." Trager snapped his fingers, and the other five men started towards Peter and Mr. Stark. 

Peter's Spider-Sense flared as two of the men reached for Mr. Stark, who was yelling at them. The smaller of the other three people grabbed Peter's arm. The boy shoved at him with a little more force than he probably should have, which sent the man tumbling to the ground. Without missing a beat, the other two men grabbed Peter by the arms. He fought against them, remembering to only use a fraction of his strength. 

"Get your hands off me!" Peter yelled as he twisted his body around.

The man on his left shifted slightly, releasing his arm. Before Peter could move away, there was a tight pinching on his back, and then he was on the ground writhing in pain. It felt like he couldn't control his body as his arms and legs twitched. Looking up, Peter saw the wires that led to a stun gun that the man was holding. 

"Stupid boy," the man said before yanking out the wires.

Peter felt his skin tear on his back, where the barbs were wrenched from him. He couldn't help the scream that flew from his mouth. 

"You fucking asshole," Mr. Stark yelled. "He's just a kid!"

The leader spoke to the man with the taser with a reproachful tone, "Marks, that was unnecessary." Then, he knelt down by Peter and ran his fingers through the boy's hair. 

Peter flinched at the touch and tried to turn away, but the man's grip tightened in his hair. Peter's head was wrenched back, so he was looking at Trager. 

"That was stupid of you to fight, Peter. I don't want to hurt you, but I will. So, don't do anything stupid, yeah?" Trager told him. 

"Yeah, that makes me... feel better. Nothing like a...few volts of...electricity to get me to be compliant," Peter panted. He could still feel the after-effects of the stun gun jolting through his muscles, causing his limbs to twitch. 

Trager hummed and then turned to Mr. Stark. "Alright. I know you have a lab in this Tower, so let's move there. And Stark, don't try anything, or the kid won't live to see his next birthday."

As if to make a point, someone grabbed Peter by his arm and yanked him to a standing position. Peter almost fought with the person until he felt something cold touch his throat. He realized, belatedly, that it was a knife. Peter locked eyes with Mr. Stark and felt the pure fear radiating from the man. 

Peter raised his eyebrow. Should I try to get out of this?

Mr. Stark shook his head almost imperceptibly. No. It's too dangerous.

Peter was pushed along the hallway behind Mr. Stark, who was walking between two of the men. Trager led the procession, and there were two men at the tail end, effectively boxing them in. 

They made it to the lab with minimal curse words flying from Mr. Stark, just a lot of dark glowers at their captors and worried glances towards Peter. Something that didn't sit right with Peter was how they got into the building and deactivated F.R.I.D.A.Y in the first place. They had to have been somewhat intelligent to take down the Tower's defenses. Had Mr. Stark been able to send out a signal for help to come? Was anyone aware that they were in trouble?

These thoughts came to a halt when he was pushed into a chair by the main desk. Mr. Stark was deposited in a chair across from him, where he could clearly see Peter. The relief that Peter felt about not being separated from Mr. Stark only lasted a few moments. 

"Okay, I want you to transfer all controls of F.R.I.D.A.Y to myself," Trager said. The man positioned himself just behind Peter and stood close enough to place a threatening hand on his shoulder. It was a silent warning that made Mr. Stark clench his jaw. 

"Gee, I would love to, but seeing as there's no power, you're gonna have to come back later," Mr. Stark said. 

Trager's hand tightened on Peter's shoulder, eliciting a small gasp from the boy. It was nothing that Peter couldn't handle, but he knew he was going to have a bruise later. Mr. Stark's gaze shifted to Peter before going back to Trager. 

"Like I said," Trager crooned, "I don't want to hurt the kid. But I will."

"You're not going to hurt a single hair on his head," Mr. Stark snapped. 

"That depends on you. Now, I know you have a way to grant access to a new manager without power running through the Tower. Even you aren't stupid enough to leave yourself without a way to transfer ownership. Let's face it: you almost die every day and need a backup plan in case you do."

Mr. Stark smirked at the man. "Who's to say I don't have a protocol in place already that transfers ownership in the case of my death? Why would I need to transfer it again?"

"Okay," Trager said. 

"Okay?" Mr. Stark questioned. "That's it? I expected more from you, really."

Trager snapped his fingers, and Peter's Spider-Sense blared at him. It told him to move, move, move. Peter leaned forward in the chair a bit, but didn't get far before the knife was returned to his throat. He felt the biting sting of the blade as it punctured his skin. Peter tried to get as far away from the knife as he could, but his head collided with the man behind him. He felt the blade dig a bit deeper into his skin, causing him to whimper. Peter didn't mean to let the sound slip, but the feeling of blood running down his neck frightened him. 

"Stop!" Mr. Stark shouted. He moved as if to stand, but the two men who flanked him pushed him back into his chair. 

Trager nodded to the man behind Peter, and the blade was tilted away from Peter's neck. The boy let out a sigh of relief. 

"Reconsidering already?" Trager asked. 

Mr. Stark swallowed hard and refused to look away from Peter. His eyes darted from the boy's neck to his eyes, trying to make a decision. Eventually, Mr. Stark's shoulders slumped as he drew in a ragged breath. 

"Fine. I need my glasses," Mr. Stark said. 

"No, Mr. Stark! Don't-" Peter was cut off by a blow to his stomach. He lurched forward, making his neck dig into the knife again. 

"Hey!" Mr. Stark warned. "I said I would do it. But before I do, let him go." 

Trager laughed. "That's not the deal, Stark. You're gonna do it, and then we will let him go. If you take too long, I know Rubio would love to have a private minute with such a lovely boy. Not gonna lie, I don't like his methods, but he is one hell of a motivator." 

"The square glasses over on the table near the back of the lab. Would you like me to get them, or do you want to send one of your lackeys?" Mr. Stark asked. 

Trager motioned for one of the men to find the glasses. "So, this is how it's going to work. You are going to transfer controls to me. Then you and the kid are going to be tied up somewhere while we do our job. After that, you can go back to your whore and your billions. Easy."

"After this is over, I'm gonna make sure you don't have the use of your legs," Mr. Stark growled. 

Trager simply smiled. The man returned with the glasses and handed them to Mr. Stark. Before he could put them on, Trager spoke up. 

"Try anything that doesn't involve my instructions, and well, you know."

"Yeah, got it," Mr. Stark said as he put on the glasses. "Alright, girl. I need you to do your magic. Have you heard everything going on so far?"

The men around the room looked slightly confused when Mr. Stark started talking to himself. Peter knew that the earpiece connected to the glasses let F.R.I.D.A.Y communicate with Mr. Stark without anyone hearing her side. Though, he wasn’t sure how Mr. Stark was communicating with F.R.I.D.A.Y. if she was disabled, he figured the man knew what he was doing. Maybe there was a backup backup system that Peter didn’t know about.

"Hey, kid," the guy behind him said. "What's he doing?"

"I honestly don't think your brain could comprehend what he's doing," Peter said without thinking. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but there was only so much he could take. He was trying to respect Mr. Stark's wishes that he not do anything, but Peter's Spider-Sense told him that, even if Mr. Stark did what they wanted, they weren't going to let them go. When Trager said they would let them go, there was something about the man's tone that made Peter shiver. 

"That mouth is going to get you in trouble one of these days," the man said. "I might just ask the boss if I can keep you after this."

"Alright, Fri. You ready?" Mr. Stark asked after a few minutes. 

"Mr. Stark! Stop! Don't do it!" Peter yelled, ignoring the man behind him. 

"It's okay, Pete," Mr. Stark assured him. Then he turned to Trager. "All I have to do is give the confirmation code, and it's yours. Now, I want the kid over here in my arms before I do that."

Trager started to shake his head.

"I'll throw in ten million dollars for you. No strings. Just let me have the kid," Mr. Stark pressed. 

"Trager. That might not be a bad deal," the man next to the door said.

Trager appraised Mr. Stark and then brought his attention to Peter. The seconds crawled as Trager thought through his options, and Peter could feel the tension rolling in the room. "Rubio," he said. 

Peter heard the man behind him sigh mournfully, then he pushed Peter out of the chair. Stumbling a bit, Peter hesitated where he stood as he eyed Trager. He had to pass by the man to get to Mr. Stark. 

"Well?" Trager asked. "Get over there."

Peter's movements were slow and methodical as he inched past Trager. When he was about to pass him, the man took a half step towards Peter, making him flinch. Trager let out a chuckle but didn't move farther. 

Once Peter was close to Mr. Stark, he hurried towards the man's open arms. Mr. Stark grabbed his shoulders and shifted them, so Peter was as far from danger as possible. 

"You okay, kid?" Mr. Stark asked as he tilted Peter's chin up and brushed his finger under the deep laceration that was still seeping. 

"Yeah. I'm fine. Mr. Stark," Peter lowered his voice, "you don't have to do this. I can help. Just let me-"

"Stop. You gotta trust me here, Pete. Can you do that for me? Trust that I got this?" Mr. Stark pleaded, his eyes boring into Peter's. 

Peter hadn't trusted anyone more than he trusted Mr. Stark, except May and Ben. He knew that Mr. Stark had gotten out of worse things than this, and there was no way he would let someone use his inventions for their own gain. 

Peter nodded, trying to project all the trust he had in his mentor. 

"Okay, kid. Just...stay behind me." Then, Mr. Stark whispered something so low that their captors didn't catch it. "When I say, get on the ground and cover your head."

Mr. Stark turned around, making sure Peter was out of sight before regarding their captors. "Alright. When I give the signal, my glasses are going to scan you. Don't shoot me or anything. It just needs your impression before granting you access."

Trager nodded but kept his gun in his hand. It was almost as if he was daring Peter or Mr. Stark to make a move that he didn't approve of. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, execute Protocol Goldilocks."

There was a deep blue beam that filtered through the room, passing over the men in masks. There was a low whining sound that came from the glasses that made Peter's senses twinge. The tone shifted slightly before the overhead lights pierced through the darkness. After being in the dark for so long, the brightness overwhelmed Peter's senses, sending stabbing pain through his skull. His eyes snapped shut as he heard Mr. Stark yell at him. 

"Now, kid!" 

Thankfully, Peter's heightened reflexes took over. He slammed into the floor, narrowly avoiding smacking his chin on the hard concrete. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of men screaming around him and the pressure of Mr. Stark holding him to the ground. The man's hands were wrapped securely over Peter's ears. He could feel the breaths coming from Mr. Stark as the man lay over him protectively. 

As quickly as the chaos erupted, the room descended into an eerie silence. 

Peter lifted his head slightly and peeked around the room. He saw the men in masks in heaps on the ground. They weren't moving. 

"Mr.-Mr. Stark? What did you-what?" he stammered. 

Mr. Stark was already on his feet and offered a hand to Peter. "Just a prototype I've been working on. Don't worry, they're still alive, unfortunately."

The men's arms and legs were stuck at odd angles, almost as if they were frozen in place. One of them had his arm slightly raised, his hand bent at an unnatural angle. Trager was lying prone on the ground, his fingers still wrapped around the gun. Peter noticed they were still looking around the room, their eyes shining with unadulterated fear. 

"What did you do to them?" Peter asked, being sure to stay away from the frozen figures. 

"Remember when I was telling you about how I helped develop a paralyzing device years ago?"

Peter nodded. 

"Well, I figured it needed an upgrade. It was too dangerous to be used in massive areas, so I made some modifications. It takes an imprint of the targets and uses a mix of radio waves and strobing effects to confuse the neurons in the brain. It adapts it to each person's genetic makeup. I wasn't really sure how it would affect you, so I made sure your eyes and ears were covered. So, that's a win, I guess."

Peter didn't know how he felt about that. "I thought you didn't make weapons anymore."

Mr. Stark turned to him. "They'll be fine. It will wear off in a few hours, and their hearts won't stop beating or anything. Perfectly non-lethal."

There was a soft humming noise as the lab started whirring to life. Then, F.R.I.D.A.Y called from the ceiling. "Boss, most functions have been restored. The virus uploaded to my servers has been quarantined in a file for you to view later. Also, the code that inhibited cell service has been deactivated. Might I remind you that I told you this could happen." 

"Seriously? We've been through a trauma, and you're gonna sit there and say 'I told you so'?" Mr. Stark snapped. 

"Factually, that is correct. I also feel the need to remind you that Ms. Potts is on her way home."

"Yeah, thanks. Do me a favor and see where Rhodey's at, would you?" 

Before F.R.I.D.A.Y could reply, the window shattered behind them, revealing the War Machine armor. It landed with a metallic thud that reverberated through the room. The suit was poised to attack, the arms held up in a sweeping gesture. 

A snort came from behind Peter. "Yep. A little late for the rescue, there Rhodey," Tony said. 

Lifting his faceplate, Rhodey looked around the room, baffled. "What the hell did you do to them? I thought you guys were in trouble."

"I had it covered."

"Tony, I left a meeting because F.R.I.D.A.Y said you were about to die."

"She said what?"

F.R.I.D.A.Y decided to interject, "I implied that you were in over your head."

"Thanks for the confidence."

"I'll ask again, what the hell happened to them?" Rhodey sounded impatient. He regarded the men for a moment. "Tony...you didn't."

"They were threatening the kid. Look at his neck. I couldn't let that slide, Honeybear," Tony said. "Now, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to call in someone to come get these assholes?"

Rhodey turned to Peter. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, thanks, Mr. Rhodes." 

Mr. Stark called to Peter from the doorway. "Pete, come on. Let's go clean that cut up and get you out of here."

Peter gingerly stepped around the limp bodies, making sure not to get too close just in case they could move. When he reached Mr. Stark, the man put his arm around Peter's shoulders and guided him downstairs. 

As they walked, Peter couldn't help his rambling. "Mr. Stark, what happened up there? How did you get F.R.I.D.A.Y to start working again? How did they hack her in the first place? How did they get in? Why couldn't I just knock them out as Spider-Man? How did Rhodey know that we were in trouble? When-"

"Jeez, Pete, take a breath," Mr. Stark said, guiding Peter towards the couch. He gently pushed Peter into the cushions and went to retrieve the first aid kit. As he was walking out, Peter heard him say, “Fri, talk to me, girl.”

While Peter waited, he took an inventory of himself. He could feel the drying blood on his neck that pulled uncomfortably on his skin when he moved. He could also feel the bruises that formed on his stomach from the punch. All in all, they were minor injuries that he wasn't worried about. Thankfully, Mr. Stark didn't have any injuries that Peter saw. 

 "Alright, kid. Let me clean you up," Mr. Stark said as he perched on the coffee table in front of Peter. 

"It's fine, Mr. Stark. It'll heal in a few minutes. It's not that bad."

"It still needs to be clean. Just...let me do this." Mr. Stark's eyes pleaded with Peter's. There was a vulnerability that only showed itself when Mr. Stark was too tired to be as guarded as he usually was or when Peter was hurt.

"Mr. Stark," Peter murmured. "I'm okay. They didn't hurt me that bad."

Mr. Stark took a large breath. "They...they put a fucking knife to your throat, Pete. It doesn't matter if you're enhanced. If that man decided to, he could have...you could have died. And it would have been my fault. So, do me a favor and sit there while I clean you up a bit."

Peter grabbed Mr. Stark's wrist as he was about to wipe the blood off his neck. "It wasn't your fault, Mr. Stark. You didn't know. If anything, I should have Spider-Manned my way out."

"No. You were right to listen to me about that. I had F.R.I.D.A.Y do some digging while she was bringing everything back online from the emergency server. Trager works for a specialized group that hunts down enhanced individuals. They were poking around in the files where I keep notes on potential assets to the team when they were trying to hack her last week before she shut them out. I didn't think they'd try again, and I had F.R.I.D.A.Y searching for them. Hell, the only reason I know it was the same people was their signature written in the code."

"I should have done more," Peter insisted. "I would have been fine."

"If you did, they would have killed you," Mr. Stark snapped. "They would have killed you before I could have stopped them." 

Peter looked at Mr. Stark's hands and saw that they were shaking. He knew the man was scared, but he didn't realize how terrified he was. Without thinking about it, Peter lunged forward and wrapped his arms around his mentor's waist. He hid his face in the man's chest, relishing the way he could hear his heartbeat. 

"I'm okay, Mr. Stark. It's okay," Peter whispered. 

Mr. Stark wrapped his arms around the boy, gripping him impossibly close. Peter could feel the man bury his face in his hair as he tried to slow his breathing. 

"I'm okay," Peter insisted again.

"I'll do better, kid. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," Mr. Stark promised. 

"I know." 

And he did. He knew that Mr. Stark would put five more protocols in place for sending out emergency signals if there was even a blip in the power grid. He knew Mr. Stark was thinking up ideas for his Spider-Man suit. Something that would do scans of pedestrians as Peter swung past, just to make sure they weren't a danger to him. Peter knew the man would hoover in his bedroom as he slept to make sure he was okay. He knew Mr. Stark would deny falling asleep in the desk chair because he was too afraid to leave Peter alone.

He knew that he was lucky to have Mr. Stark in his life. 

He knew he was loved. 

And Peter could live with that.