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akari-hope · 3 years

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lgbtq+ anime for pride month

decided to make this for anyone looking for new recommendations, or anyone who’s wanted to get into anime but doesn’t know where to start! all recs will include a summary, genres, applicable representation, and how accessible it is to people brand new to anime, as well as any major content warnings.

(a quick disclaimer for those new to anime - some series on here will NOT have explicit rep, but rather be heavily coded or have implied queer themes. however, these are included generally because the implication is strong enough to treat it as text, or because the series has been generally accepted as queer. i’ll be sure to clarify whether something is canon or coded in each entry.)

ouran high school host club (comedy, romance) summary: haruhi fujioka is an honor student on scholarship at the prestigious ouran academy, who’s only looking for a quiet place to study when he runs into the notorious host club. in his frantic attempt to leave, he accidentally breaks a vase valued at 8 million yen. club leader tamaki suou has an idea for how he can pay them back - working for the host club. rep: crossdressing/drag are staples of this series, nothing explicitly stated but there are definite themes of gender identity exploration, and the show doesn’t shy away from homosexual themes or ideas accessibility: newcomer friendly! the english dub of this series is notably good. content warnings: some 2000s-era language in regards to gay/trans people that may be seen as offensive today, one scene that implies intent of sexual assault (while there is no actual assault and it is quickly played off, it may still be upsetting to some viewers)

yuri!!! on ice (sports) summary: yuri katsuki is a professional figure skater, recovering from a crushing defeat at the grand prix final. he returns to his family home to debate what he plans to do for next season. he goes to the local ice rink to clear his mind, and shows his old friend there something he’s been practicing - his idol victor nikiforov’s latest world-winning routine. unbeknownst to yuri, he’s being filmed. the video goes viral, and before he knows it victor is standing right in front of him, offering to be his coach. rep: canon mlm romance accessibility: newcomer friendly! content warnings: a few scenes that briefly display anxiety/panic attack-like symptoms

given (drama, romance) summary: one day on his way to his favorite napping spot in school, ritsuka uenoyama finds a boy, mafuyu satou, dozing in his spot, clutching onto a guitar with rusted, broken strings. uenoyama wakes him up, berating him for not taking better care of his instrument. mafuyu, noticing his knowledge of the instrument, begs uenoyama to repair it and teach him to play. uenoyama initially refuses, but mafuyu is persistent, even following uenoyama to band practice. it’s not until uenoyama hears mafuyu sing that he changes his tune, offering lessons if he joins the band as their singer. rep: canon mlm romance accessibility: newcomer friendly! content warnings: discussions of grief and loss additional note: given also has a movie sequel, which has a scene involving sexual assault.

sweet blue flowers / aoi hana (romance, slice of life) summary: fumi manjoume and akira okudaira were best friends in elementary school, until fumi moved away. now in high school, fumi is back and attending the same school as akira once again. their relationship isn’t the same now, though. the two must navigate the new trials of high school while trying to revive their waning friendship. rep: canon wlw romance accessibility: newcomer friendly!

bloom into you / yagate kimi ni naru (drama, romance) summary: yuu koito has always dreamed of the sort of soft, heart-fluttering love in shoujo manga. when a boy finally confesses to her though she feels...empty. she begins to wonder if she only understands love conceptually, but cannot feel it. yuu is still mulling over how to respond to her suitor when she witnesses the student council president, touko nanami, turn down a love confession of her own. she decides to approach touko for advice, but then the unexepected happens - touko confesses to yuu. rep: canon wlw romance accessibility: newcomer friendly! content warnings: some mild sexual content, depictions of homophobia

stars align / hoshiai no sora (drama) summary: toma shinjou is desperate to recruit new members to the boys’ soft tennis club, which is on the verge of being disbanded due to poor performance. maki katsuragi, the new transfer student, immediately catches his interest due to his quick reflexes. toma persuades maki to join, and maki’s skill quickly becomes driving momentum for the entire team. through their shared sport, the boys of the soft tennis club explore their own capabilities and hardships as they navigate life. rep: canon nonbinary character, discussions of gender identity and sexuality accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: discussions and depictions of abuse, bullying, and violence

mahou shoujo madoka magica (fantasy, psychological drama) summary: madoka kaname and sayaka miki are good friends, regular middle school girls with regular lives. one day, the mysterious homura akemi transfers into their class, and strange happenings begin occuring. they meet a strange cat-like creature known as kyuubey, injured and on the run from homura. as thanks for saving its life, kyuubey offers them a reward - he’ll grant any wish they desire, and in return they’ll become magical girls with the power to help others. homura, despite being a magical girl herself, discourages them, saying everything is not as it seems. rep: sapphic themes and implied romantic feelings accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable content warnings: blood, violence, major character death, unreality, grief additional note: madoka magica has 3 movie sequels, with a 4th on the way. while the first two are merely recaps of the series, the 3rd, rebellion, is a continuation of the story.

no. 6 (sci-fi, drama) summary: the world has been ravaged by war - the last safe haven of mankind lies in six walled-off city-states. shion is an elite resident of one such city-state, no. 6, given priority housing and treatment due to his exceptional abilities. one night, a fugitive by the name of nezumi sneaks into shion’s room, and threatens to kill him. despite knowing he’s a fugitive, shion instead tends to his wounds and shelters him for the night. when his transgression is discovered by the authorities, shion and his mother lose their elite status, and are relocated. now just a regular citizen, shion begins to discover a new side to the city he’s called home. years after their first meeting, he reunites with nezumi once more - their meeting putting in motion a series of events that will unveil the secrets of no. 6. rep: canon mlm romance, trans/nonbinary coded character accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: blood, violence, major character death, body horror, insects (bees)

seraph of the end / owari no seraph (supernatural, action) summary: a virus ravages the human race, infecting and killing everyone above the age of 13. their food source now threatened, vampires come out of the shadows to take the remaining humans captive. the children of the hyakuya orphanage are among the survivors. yuuichirou detests the vampires, and is determined to escape. mikaela has hatched a plan to do just that. the hyakuya kids make their way to the exit of the vampire city, only to be ambushed by a vampire noble. yuuichirou is the only one to escape. he’s found by the japanese imperial demon army, who say they’ll use him against the vampires. believing the rest of the children dead, yuuichirou joins immediately, determined to seek revenge against the monsters who killed his only family. rep: implied romantic feelings between two men (in the manga the anime is based on this is canon, and the localization team views the relationship as romantic) accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: blood, violence, death, body horror, unreality

banana fish (action, crime drama) summary: ash lynx is a runaway on the streets of nyc, taken in and raised by the godfather of the mafia, dino golzine. now the leader of his own gang, he begins investigating “banana fish” - the only two words his brother will speak after returning from the iraq war. ash meets his friend skip at a bar, where he’s shunichi ibe and eiji okumura, japanese photographers covering american gangs. however, their conversation is cut short, as dino’s men storm the bar and kidnap skip and eiji. ash sets out to rescue them and continue his investigation. rep: canon mlm romance accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: blood, violence, major character death, drugs, homophobia, pedophilia, sexual assault, rape

wonder egg priority (fantasy, psychological drama) summary: after the suicide of koito nagase, ai ohto is left to grapple with reality without her best friend. under instructions of a mysterious entity, she purchases a wonder egg. ai breaks the egg in the world that materializes in her sleep, and is tasked with saving people. under the belief that she’ll be able to save koito, ai embarks on a journey where she must recognize the relationship between other people’s demons and her own. rep: canon trans characters, sapphic themes accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable content warnings: blood, violence, death, suicide, self-harm, transphobia, fatphobia, bullying, abuse, pedophilia, sexual assault, rape additional note: wonder egg priority has a special airing on june 30th, 2021, meant to wrap up the original series - as of writing this post, the series is technically incomplete.

flip flappers (fantasy, sci-fi) summary: cocona is an average middle schooler liing with her grandmother, no clear goals in mind for the future. she meets an odd girl, papika, who inites her to join the organization “flip flap”. cocona finds herself dragged along by papika into the world of pure illusion, a mysterious alternate dimension where papika searches for crystal shards. as cocona and papika explore pure illusion, they awaken to the power within the crystals, transforming into magical girls. they must learn to work together in order to unravel the mysteries of pure illusion, and their pasts. rep: sapphic themes and exploration of sexuality accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable content warnings: mild violence, unreality, mild sexual themes and nudity

noir (action, drama) summary: parisian assassin-for-hire mireille bouquet receives a strange email from kirika yuumara, a japanese student, who invites her to make “a pilgrimage to the past”. mireille makes to dismiss the email as nonsense, until it starts playing a song she recognizes from her youth. when the two meet in person, they’re ambushed by gun-wielding men. to mireille’s surprise, kirika is able to fend for herself - even more surprising, kirika has no memory of how she has such skills. the two of them team up to unravel the mysteries of their pasts, operating under the codename “noir”. rep: canon lesbian characters accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: violence, death, implied rape and csa (not shown)

revolutionary girl utena / shoujo kakumei utena (fantasy, psychological drama) summary: after an encounter with a prince who comforted her after the death of her parents, utena tenjou is given a rose-crest ring, and a promise that they’ll meet again someday. however, utena has now committed to becoming a prince herself! after witnessing the abuse of fellow classmate anthy himemiya, utena is drawn into a dangerous game. duelists with rings matching her own battle for the ownership of anthy - the “rose bride”. utena decides she must free anthy from this fate. rep: canon sapphic characters, implied romance (in the movie sequel, this becomes canon) accessibility: prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is necessary to fully enjoy this anime content warnings: unreality, violence, abuse, homophobia, pedophilia, incest, sexual assault, rape (for a comprehensive, spoiler-free breakdown of all potentially disturbing content, click here) additional note: the movie sequel, adolescence of utena, gives more explicit canon romance than the original series. however, the original series is considered an absolute classic must-watch for sapphics.

if anyone has questions about any series on here, feel free to ask! any other recommendations, feel free to tack on! (please include a summary, rep, accessibility, and any content warnings!)

#long post #i am. so sorry this is so long jdfskbngfd.#i'm not tagging everything on here if people find this post then they find it if not oh well-#also before anyone asks i didn't include legal streaming availability bc tbh it's too hard with different countries' availability #anime rec list #happy pride y'all

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embrassemoi · 3 years

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Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 17

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors A/N: slight head-hopping

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 17: The Stalking Map

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January 31st, 1976 | 11:30 pm

“Move your arse over!” Lily whispered. Moments after the lights went out, she crawled out of bed, her silky nightgown dragged across the floor as she walked over to Y/N. In one hand, she held a pillow, the other, Toulouse.

Y/N giggled, scooting over. “Can't get enough of me?”

“Hush! You know what I mean,” she blushed. Lily slipped in, the bed dipped as she wiggled around, making herself comfortable. But the small size didn’t help as they were slightly cramped together, leaving little space for either girl to move. Y/N made a note to herself to charm her bed so it’d be larger.

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February 2nd, 1976 | 12:23 am

“You really shouldn’t cram studying like this.”

A candle burned brightly inside their closed curtain drapes as Y/N continued to stress over an upcoming test.

“You’re smart — but you’re lucky if you manage a troll.”

“Be anymore encouraging, will you?” Y/N muttered out sarcastically.

Lily rolled her eyes, getting up from her pretzel seated position as her hand reached out, disappearing beyond the curtain drapes. Leaning over and supporting herself by gripping the bed frame, she grabbed a coffee pot and two teacups, pouring a steaming amount into each. She handed her one, Lily’s eyes squinted, her tongue poking out in thought before beginning. “So, five birds will be ejected from the wand with a blue light…”

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February 4th, 1976 | 1:12 am

They stared at each other for a moment before Lily’s mouth twitched upwards. The silence only lasted for a few beats before they both erupted into roaring laughter so strong that they had to lean into each other to prevent themselves from rolling off the bed.

“No. You. Didn’t!” Y/N exclaimed.

“What was I supposed to do? Not punch him?!” “Precisely!”

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February 5th, 1976 | 10:59 pm

Lily danced, jumping around on her bed. Her bright hair bounced around wildly whilst Y/N held her wand, pretending it was a microphone. One earbud was in Lily’s ear, the other in hers.

‘Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted!’ They mouthed to each other, despite there being a silencing spell around Lily’s bed.

‘Blue since the day we parted,

Why? Why? Did I ever let you go?

Mamma Mia now I really know!’

Y/N took her hands, pretending to play chords as if she were in front of an actual piano, mimicking the erratic backtrack. Lily shook with laughter before she slowly sank onto the bed as her hair sprawled out.

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February 9th, 1976 | 12:17 am

“Ginger —”

“I consider that harassment and bullying. Do you know how many detentions I can give you?”

“Haha — ginger.”

“Ten points from Gryff —” “No —” “TWENTY POINTS FROM —” “I’M SORRY!”

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February 11th, 1976 | 1:37 am

“What do you wanna know?” She whispered.

Speckles of starlight slipping through the cracks of their drapes. Lily, for whatever reason, seemed restless. It always seemed like whenever it was extremely early in the morning, there was a change in Lily’s demeanour.

Lily averted her gaze, biting her bottom lip, “Tell me a secret.”

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February 12th, 1976

After almost two weeks of their almost nightly rendezvous, they’d gotten closer than they have in the past six months and it seemed like Lily knew her better than she did at times.

Lily was practically bouncing off the walls. Every day, she seemed to become more radiant, happier, bubblier and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what caused such a spike in her mood.

The redhead wove their way out of the bustling crowd, her arm linked with Y/N’s. She’d caught a few times, Lily looking at her every now and then before she seemed to stare for a little longer than what was considered polite. She’d forced a cough, fiddling with a strand of hair with her free hand; looking everywhere — or at anything, but her.

Sometimes Y/N felt and sounded like a broken record.

Repeating her thoughts over and over again, analyzing herself and the people around her; overthinking causing loads of unanswered questions… It was a problem that she didn’t know how to switch off.

Sometimes, it’d become too overwhelming, even to the point of tears in frustration and the constant overthinking. It would start with a flicker of interest, morphing into a spiral of questions, then irritation before spreading through her veins like a wildfire, spiking with anxiousness or fury. But recently, her over-thinking wasn’t necessarily overwhelming or maddening, this time it was purely curious. It was as if she blinked an eye; suddenly Lily would be acting fine — normal to becoming strange and skittish within mere seconds.

Perhaps it was stress?

February began and the workload for the OWLs was beginning to wear down on everyone. To be dramatic, every day became a blur, all merging into one blob: wake up, head down to the hall, class, lunch, class, study — then become too overwhelmed from studying and have the urge to cry or yell, dinner, study more, then sleep. With hardly any time to retain the information and the OWLs set to start late May, Y/N’s main goal was to memorize every bit of information rather than learn what it meant; that was for another time.

Whenever the fifth or seventh years weren’t in class, they were studying in the library, the hallways, even at dinner or lunch. It was so busy that the Marauders made it a point to swing by — even Mary and Marlene were becoming frequent visitors too. Mostly, they studied, but other times it ended with Lily constantly threatening James with detention (which he already received one and lost around forty house points after starting a small fire — which nobody knew how it even happened), Peter brought baked goods but ended up spilling a cup of tea over his notes and robes; Sirius and Marlene often mucked around while Y/N and Remus begun migrating to the common room after Pince threatened to throw them all out (and honestly, they were tired with everyone else’s shit).

And it had been taking a toll on Lily. She’d lost sleep and was slightly more agitated when it came to those around her and overall seemed to become quieter than usual.

Yeah, it was probably stress, but it didn’t answer her happy mood. Whatever it was, it looked good on her.

That day, they decided to eat lunch away from the Great Hall. They sat on a nearby window ledge, watching students idly as they passed back and forth, all having their own little lives. Y/N’s back was pressed against the window, her knees bunched together as Lily guessed the lives of people around them.

Young students, old students, some smiling, some frowning. Usually, Hogwarts was almost too overbearing. The swarm of bodies clung together like magnets, hard to separate, hard to pull yourself away from because soon enough, you’ll be roped into another set of magnets. While Hogwarts had been smaller in size and population compared to Ilvermorny, you could never catch a break here.

But, in times like these, they were able to come down from the high. It was fascinating and oddly calm; the noise, the chatter, it all became background noise.

And like a magician, Remus popped out, walking towards them. Lily waved Remus down, inviting him to sit with them. Although, Peter wasn’t that far behind as he came bouncing up behind. A few people waved to him, he’d even stopped a few times to catch up with a few students that passed.

Remus took the free seat next to Y/N, Peter next to Lily.

“Bloody cold here,” Peter said, rubbing his shoulder up and down, handing each girl a muffin before Remus, but he declined, waving around a small bag of blackberries.

Lily and Peter quickly fell into a conversation while she and Remus turned to talk. His leg brushed against hers before ripping away quickly. Even with just the slightest touch, Remus was a furnace. Y/N quickly looked up to him, their eyes meeting shortly. Her eyebrow curled up at him, wondering why he was so warm; had he been sick? He didn’t look bad…

She hadn’t been spending that much time with him as of late, aside from the study groups. But he smiles broadly. There was a weariness on his face that seemed to have chased away immediately. “Noon.”

“Noon! How have you been?”

His smile turns even brighter, so much as he could rival the stars. There’s a certain playfulness in his eyes, devilishly and sly. He looks too eerily like James, but it only tells her that he’d come up with another prank recently.

“Great,” there is amusement in his voice, so smug, so confident. “Came up with a new prank idea.”

Bloody knew it, as he’d would say.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, let’s just say that there’s going to be a lot of dungbombs, Polyjuice potions and probably explosions.”

“Explosions?!”

“You’ll see.” Again, sounding so confident and smug. It put a smile on her face. “So what about you?”

Her mind racks around for a while; nothing much has happened recently; she’s stumped.

He considers her for a moment with a soft gaze, completely understanding. “We’re planning to mix in Polyjuice potion with pumpkin juice on Valentine's day at dinner. When the person drinks it; they should turn into who they fancy.”

“So where do the explosions come in?”

Remus gives a deep chuckle, “Now I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?”

But before she could make a witty retort, perhaps even convincing him to spill his deets, Peter calls out to Remus, pointing discreetly to a girl looking at them directly from the other side of the corridor. They all recognized her from the study group, a fourth year that comes on Wednesdays. She waved over to them — well, actually just at Remus as her other hand grasped an item behind her back.

He waves over, hesitantly getting up, “I’ll be back.

This wasn’t unusual — since he ran most of the fifth year groups, Remus constantly had younger students approach him in the halls. Although, they were all starstruck; after all, he was tall, a bit scary and a part of the oh so intimidating Marauders.

Their eyes were glued to his back as they watched the interaction play out. The girl tipped back and forth on her feet, swaying as she shyly looked up to him. She went on to a small monologue before pulling out a heart-shaped box of chocolates and holding it in front of herself.

Lily sucked in a sharp breath, a hand flying to her mouth to prevent giggling to seep out and the young girl overhearing, but it was out of entertainment rather than any malicious intent. Remus, however, did not look too phased, however, gave a pitiful smile, thanking the girl for her confession but letting her down softly. Within a second, the girl’s face contorted, her eyes swelling up with thick tears as she threw the chocolate box at Remu’s chest — but missed, scattering to the ground, as she bolted down the corridor.

“Blimey,” Peter breathed out, “That’s the third one this week. He’s going to beat Sirius for Valentine’s day confessions at this rate.”

“Well this is awkward,” Remus said, coming back to the group. He had picked up the box, an uncomfortable grimace on his face as he turned it around. Y/N looked up at him; he was flustered, unsure what to do. So, she patted his shoulder, gaining his attention and slid the box out of his hands and cracked it open; they were all sorts of different chocolate, milk, white, dark, truffles, shavings, even some had coconut while others were biscuits covered in it. It was intended for Valentine's day judging by the intricate and soft velvety packaging but she assumed that poor girl simply couldn’t refrain.

Yeah, she definitely should’ve waited — or not have said anything, but at least she had nerve. It felt like Y/N lacked the so-called Gryffindor trait often, so if anything, she applauded that fourth year.

The group looked at her oddly as Y/N shrugged, plopping a piece into her mouth. “What? Expensive chocolate is still expensive chocolate.”

She took the box, stretching her hand out, offering it to the group.

“Nu-uh,” Lily blurted, her wands waved out in front of her, “There’s no way I’m eating that.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you feel bad?! And that must be bad mojo! You broke her heart; why did you take the box?”

“Surely you saw her throw it at me! You didn’t expect me to throw it back at her?”

Lily stopped her scold, suppressing another fit of giggles before letting out a very loud snort. Y/N and Peter howled together at careless, ‘improper’ lady laughs that Lily usually didn’t make. Y/N liked the change, she seemed freer.

“Well, do you fancy anyone then?” Lily retorted as she composed herself.

Remus snorted too, scooted over to Y/N as she offered him the box. He nodded, grabbing a small bite-sized chocolate piece. He rubbed at his collarbone in a sheepish manner, cracking it which made Y/N and Peter's face scrunch up. “What do you think?”

“You should go and date around. Honestly, you have all these women at your feet and you’ve never gone on one.” Peter added.

“Yes, yes!” Lily urged, “Listen to him!”

“You guys care more about this than I do.”

If James and Sirius were the most popular students, James being goofy while Sirius was a playboy, and Peter had the most friends, Remus was definitely the most well-liked Marauder and the one with the coolest reputation; something that James was certainly jealous of. But the fact that he seemed oblivious to it, Y/N found hilarious and humbling, very unlike his friends.

His head shook. “Well then, what about you two. Do you fancy anyone?”

They both went red immediately. Peter bit the inside of his cheek before Y/N shoved the tray of chocolates his way; he grabbed a handful, eating them in complete silence. Lily, well, she went completely still, almost as if Remus had shot a spell at her. She coughed, looking away uncomfortably as a nervous chuckle embedded its way out.

Y/N’s eyes widened and she and Remus immediately whipped their heads to look at each other. Their mouths gaped, closing and opening like goldfish. Both of their minds reeled, thinking about the same thing. Remus snapped his head back to Lily, his finger pointing at her. “Godric! You do!”

“I-I do not! I don’t fancy anyone!”

“Spill! What’s he like?” Remus asked. They kept probing her for questions, in hope of an answer but she wouldn’t budge.

“Is it Potter?!” Peter asked, his happy mood dimming but he forced a chipperly grin.

Remus was choking on air itself, “You’re taking the piss!”

They all looked at her in burning anticipation. If it was true, James was going to have a field day. Lily’s eyes widened, reaching over to grab the lid of the chocolate box and wacked Peter with it.

They were a mess of giggles, particularly Remus and Y/N who watched Lily berate Peter for the sheer mention of James. They basked in the safe feeling of the sunlight on their skin, the warmth spreading through them and rivalled the bitter chill.

As more laughter erupted, memories created, chocolate eaten, the bell eventually rang. Lily parted off with Marlene and Peter, both in the small class, as Y/N joined Remus.

“You think it’s Potter? Can’t be, can it?”

“I think he’d cry if it was.”

“Truly, he’d go mental.”

“Or maybe Lily’s gone mad.”

Remus shrugged, a smirk tugged at his lips, “Perfect match then.”

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Y/N slumped over her textbooks, watching as Bowie the Bowtruckle climbed into her hand. She hardly paid attention to what Kettleburn droned about.

“Alright! My pupils, listen up; next week, we’re starting a group project for the OWLs. But, I will be the one assigning the partners — oh don’t give me those faces! I have picked your partner based on grades and strengths. Ultimately you will both work together on hatching a Puffskein and care for it. It will be ongoing alongside the rest of your OWL studies and other projects I will assign.

“You will be graded on the overall health and happiness of your Puffskeins. We have gone over their care for a while and I think we’re ready to start. Remember to refer back to your books and do not hesitate to ask me. I have all your equipment ready to go next week.”

Kettleburn coughed, unfurling a piece of parchment with what the class assumed was a list of names.

“To start, Dorcas Meadowes and Lucinda Talkalot —”

Great.

Kettleburn continued to list name after name. Y/N brought a finger to Bowie, letting him touch her gently.

“ — Crabble and Evan Rosier.

“Amita Patil and Edmud Brown.

“Sirius Black and Y/N L/N.

“Susan Chang and Agnes —”

Wait.

Her eyes widened, sharply turning to Sirius who already stared back. Both of their mouths were agape. She hadn’t heard wrong.

“Now, don't ask me to change partners. I will do no such thing. We'll talk more about this next week. Class is dismissed — don’t forget about your paper due on Tuesday!”

Y/N watched as the class got up from their seats, her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Quickly, she stood, walking to the door and pushed the assignment quickly out of her head. But once reaching the door, a Slytherin knocked into her. His hands were pushed out, causing her books and notes to sprawl over the floor as he scoffed down.

“Sorry,” she groans out, “I didn’t mean —”

“Watch where you’re going, stupid Muggle.” With a sharp turn, Crabble walked away with a nasty smile.

Sirius had seen the entire ordeal go down, finding himself stuck at a crossroad; it took all the effort in the world to prevent himself from walking straight up to the boy, hexing him beyond belief, but casting a glance at her, struggling to process what just happened caused him to reassess his thoughts. Instead, he took a deep inhale, noting to himself to take care of that later, and strode towards her, dropping down as he picked up her books, shoving them neatly into her bag while collecting any loose sheet of parchment.

“You okay?” He asked with a voice so gentle it could have been mistaken for a whisper. He turned his head upwards to look at her.

Her eyes were foggy, a faraway look in them, completely in shock.

Sirius wasn’t sure what compelled him to, but his hand reached over, picking up her hand delicately in reassurance. His thumb stroked over her soft skin and helped to pull her to her feet.

The touch broke Y/N out of her daze; the physical contact caused both students to have a fuzzy, odd feeling settling at the pit of their stomachs.

His touch was so soft, so gentle despite his eyes brimming with rage that almost seemed feral.

But, she hardly noticed it as she nodded weakly, jaw clenched. Her mind reeled, attempting to process her emotions — completely baffled and shocked. It was so sudden she felt like she hadn’t had time to digest the situation. Muggle… the Slytherin used it in such a derogatory manner. A word meant to simply describe her sounded bitter — disgusting and low.

Sirius pulled back quickly, the hand flying straight up to his hair. A thought passed through his head, he wanted to reach out again, but he squashed it for more important manners.

“Are you okay?” He repeated.

“Why are you helping me?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. It was the only coherent thought she had at the moment. Sirius out of all people should be laughing at her, shouldn’t he? Being a Pureblood and all…

The comment and the way her eyes judged him quickly told him all he needed to know. A panged sigh went through him.

“Look,” Sirius grew stiff, “I —” he paused, “I may not particularly like you, but I don’t like blood purist arseholes who push women more.”

With another once over, Sirius checked for any scratches or injuries before calming down. “I can take you to the Hospital Wing. It was a nasty fall.”

She shook her head again. The last thing she wanted was for them to get along only out of pity. Sirius understood, handing over her bag and walked away. She watched as his hand clutched the straps of his bag; his grip was so tight that his knuckles were white. His other hand, the one that he touched her with, flexed several times before curling into a fist.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Currently, she sat by the window ledge in the common room, writing a letter to her mother. Although, her mother hadn't responded to her letters since December. In fact, her mother had only responded to two of her letters throughout her stay; about six months. It made Y/N bitterly press her lips into a thin line. For once, it’d feel nice for her own mother to prioritize her, to make her feel more important than her work.

Blood-red silk curtains nearly swallowed her whole, letting in the little light from the stars outside. The fireplace and chandelier were lit and she could scarcely make out the familiar figure of messy hair, two tufts sticking out like always, swinging an arm over her shoulders. He whined, “Oi! Evans has been stealing you! I feel like I’ve hardly talked to you the past week!”

“Jealous much?”

“Of course,” he said sarcastically, “Anyway, I, the James Potter, your best friend —" "Right." "— am inviting you on a prank. In or out?”

“In,” she said without hesitation. After the Muggle situation, she would do anything to get it out of her head, even for just a few hours. She immediately got up from her seat, walking out the portrait hole. James threw his invisibility cloak over them.

“What are we doing? Is it Remus’ prank we’re doing now?”

James turned to her, his eyebrows deep in confusion. “He told you about that? He hardly tells us before the day of the execution. Anyway, anything you want.”

“Anything I want? What about your boy band?”

He looked over to her in confusion, sliding out a small bag filled with both of their favourite snacks, tossing it to her. “Not coming, just us. Although Remus is on patrol tonight and his mini-gift to you — or er — us, he’s making sure that the Gryffindor and Slytherin floors are cleared from teachers. Should go off without a hitch. So, I’ll ask you again, what do you have in mind?”

“Pranking the Slytherins,” she said without a pause which caused James to grin.

“Atta girl! Learning from the best!”

The prank itself was small in comparison to the prank she helped with on Halloween. Y/N decided on having the prank in the Great Hall for everyone to see. James produced about a dozen dungbombs from his bag, setting it under the Slytherin table and placing a timer on it, ready to be set off in the morning.

But she insisted on the one Slytherin from earlier. Crabble, was it? She asked James to help her give him a little bit more misery than the others. They placed a dozen hexes and jinxes on his usual seat: hair lost jinx, jelly legs, horn tongue hex, Engorgio, twitchy ears, bedazzling hex —

Right now was not the time for Y/N to forgive and forget — revenge was beautiful, fulfilling; she couldn’t wait.

But, their only downfall was that they weren’t on the floors Remus had cleared out for them. So when Mrs. Norris came up to them, only to dash out of the hall, it caused the two pranksters to finalize their escapade before James grabbed her hand and fled the scene.

They ran throughout the empty corridors as the clicking of their shoes echoed throughout the corridor. They were both laughing, smiling brightly. They ran past the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick, woke up most of the portraits before they heard the vague sound of Filch’s screaming.

“COME BACK HERE!”

“YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO CATCH US!” Y/N shouted, which had James snickering.

He whipped his head around and placed two hands around his mouth to make his statement louder, “YOU MUST BE LOOKING FOR A GALLEON, EH?! RENT BOY!”

After an abundance of sharp twists and turns, passing by countless hallways and secret tunnels, James seized a blank piece of parchment from his back pocket. He muttered a few words, opening it and ran down another set of corridors, through a tunnel and outside of the castle.

“What are you doing?!”

“Just trust me!”

There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation: Y/N had grown to trust James a long time ago.

They ducked under an overhead from the castle, far away from Filch. Their ragged breaths filled the air before Y/N snatched the parchment from James’ grasp. “What is this?”

A panicked look flashes through James before he reaches over, trying to pry it from her grasp.

“Nu-uh!” She waved in front of her.

He sighed, realizing that he wasn’t going to get it back and that lying was the worst possible option. “You can’t tell anyone — my chaps will have my head if you do —”

“Who do you think I am?! Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes at her guilt tripping, “It’s a map we all created — er — Moony was the one to create it. He came up with it and did most of the work. Anyway, it tells us where everything and everyone is at every minute of the day.”

On the front, it read in maroon colours of the boy’s code names, Moony at the very front.

Moony — Remus… always a surprise.

James opened it, flicking it open as he pointed to a pair of animated footprints sprinted around the page hurriedly; Filch's name appearing overhead. His name travelled across the paper at a fast pace, running and zigzagging down the halls in the opposite direction. And by the looks of it, Peeves was following him. Above, they could see Remus’ name close to where they used to be, his name moving quickly in what both assumed was him trying to look for them. He must’ve heard the screaming.

It truly was amazing their little map. She marvelled at the classrooms, every hallway, every inch of ground that covered the surrounding area. Passageways, hallways, doors and abandoned classrooms were all there. Although, a few areas were missing. She noticed how the little nook underneath the tapestry nor a large plot of land close to the left-wing of the castle had yet to be mapped out.

“I proudly present the Marauder’s map.” James boasts.

Her face scrunched up, “You mean the stalking map — perv.”

James faked an offended expression, a hand came to clutch his heart. “I was raised to be a gentleman!”

“Sure thing.”

He was about to make another joke before his face slowly fell upon realization, “Wait, really? Is that why Lily doesn’t like me?” He tugged down on his hair in distress, his eyes looking as if they were to pop out any second. “Do women think I’m perving around?!”

Y/N chortled, prying the map from his hands and slipped back into the castle while having a panicked James follow, completely freaking out in the background, spurting out concern after concern.

She followed the map, walking over to Remus who stood underneath a large painting. He escorted them back to the common room to prevent them from getting any possible detentions and not needing the invisibility cloak. But James continued to babble on about his (alleged and false) creepy behaviour, his emotions spiking while Remus watched the two.

“Okay,” he sighed, observing James have a meltdown as he clung to Y/N’s arm, spewing apologies if he had ever crossed a line. “What did you do? You broke him.”

"Nothing.”

He didn’t question it but his nostrils flared as he attempted to press his lips in a thin line, his face going as red as Lily’s hair.

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criminalmindswhore · 4 years

Text

I Get It.

Completely inspired by @spencerreider

Get ready to have your heart broken. even though it sucks :)

"Can someone please write a fic about Emily Prentiss x fem reader where they are secretly dating for a while but Emily isn't comfortable with people knowing she's gay and they fight about it because the reader just wants to be able to show off her girl to the world and show how much she loves her and they end up breaking up. Then about a month later at a team outing at a bar Emily walks in holding hands with JJ and they announce they are dating."

Emily Prentiss was never the type to be shy or not confident, but when it came to her sexuality, she became a brick wall. While you're the opposite, you don't care. So when you and Emily started dating arguments would come up often. They always ended with you apologizing for trying to pressure her and how it's her choice when to come out. You would get up the next morning together, cuddle until the last minute, shower together, but then you would wait in the car for 10 minutes after she went in. It was so much work hiding it from the team, they're profilers for heavens sake, but you did it for Emily. There was a lot of secret make out sessions in closets where you would time your exit from said closet. You just wanted to tell everyone how lucky you are and hold your girlfriends hand on the jet, or even just tell people that you're dating someone.

"Good morning Emily, Spencer and Morgan." You said as you entered the bull pen exactly ten minutes after Emily. Everyone shared their good mornings and chit chat before starting paperwork. After an hour or so Morgan got bored, "Hey Y/n," You looked up at him, "Are you dating anyone right now? Cause my sister's single and I would love to have you in the family." He gave you a cheeky grin and you laughed, "You know Morgan I might take you up on that, but right now I would love to finish my work before 7 o'clock." He nodded understandly and felt your phone buzz. 'might take you up on that? wtf' Emily was seriously mad at you for that? You were at your breaking point. You wrote back, 'Not like you're ever gonna claim me.' This started an argument bigger than words can describe.

"No Emily I don't get it! You're a grown woman who can date, fuck, love, whoever she wants!" Emily was standing at the kitchen counter with her head in her hands, exhausted from fighting for the past 2 hours. "Y/n, they're gonna see me differently! They're gonna treat me different, I just want to be Emily not Emily the lesbian!" You shook your head, "No, I'm done. I'm done hiding my girlfriend from who I call family. I'm done not being able to walk into work with you, or be able to hold your hand when I want. Emily we've gone on three fucking dates in our 6 month relationship because you're scared of being seen!" You were panting at this point, your voice was sore and your heart was breaking. "Y/n-" "No. You either tell them, or get out. I am done." Emily took a step towards you, "Don't touch me." You turned and went to bed without another word. Emily never joined you.

2 months later the team were on their way home from a case when Rossi spoke up, "Let's go get drinks tonight at that bar on 4th street, I'll pay?" Everyone agreed and went back to napping. That night you ran home to change into a nice dress and throw on some extra makeup. You were over Emily and were gonna get laid tonight. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror she bought for the doorway and you got cold chills. It happened everytime you thought about how you two shared the apartment. Secretly. The walk to the bar was short because you live a block away and the second you walked in and saw the team smiling, the thought of Emily and yours relationship left your mind. You were here to get drunk, get laid, and get Emily off your mind. "Morgan can you go get me a round please?" He nodded and left to the bar leaving you with Garcia, Hotch, Rossi and Reid. "Hey where's JJ?" Everyone shrugged. After a round or two of shots, you turned and saw what you thought was going to kill you right then and there. Emily and JJ were holding hands and gleaming. Your breaths were getting caught in your throat as they got closer. Emily made eye contact with you as she spoke, "We have news, we're together!" Everyone congratulated them as your hands started to shake, and the only thing you could hear was your heartbeat picking up speed. "I'm gonna go get some air." You booked it to the front door without another word. Shoving your way through the crowd, your vision starting to blurr with tears. The door flung open as you threw yourself out of it, the cool air hitting your tears. You stood in the middle of the sidewalk just sobbing until a hand hit your shoulder. A hand you would never forget the feeling of. "Get the fuck off me Emily!" You snapped around to face her. "Y/n hear me out-" "No Emily, I will not hear you out." She shrunk down as your voice rose. "You fucking bitch! I loved you, I still love you, and you left me. But 2 months later you're ready to come out?" She took a step towards you as you paced back and forth. "Y/n you don't understand the situation please listen to me." The sweat dripping off your forehead was all the indication Emily needed to know she fucked up. "Then make it make sense Em, cause I'm lost." She cleared her throat as she had tears of her own threatening to fall, "I came out to JJ that night in hopes of telling everyone else so I could get you back, and she listened to me, and she made it feel okay to be this way. She doesn't know about us though so you can't hold that on her. Just me." A scoff left your mouth, "How many time did I listen to you? How many times did I do everything in my power to make you feel like it's okay to be gay? How much did I sacrifice to help you feel acceptable and loved?" Emily was standing completely still except for picking at her nails. "Em I get it now it's not that you weren't ready to be out you just weren't ready to be out with me. If I'm that damn embarrassing just fucking tell me. It's fine. I get it." She let her tears fall as you went back inside, grabbed your purse and left again. The team un aware what just happened. JJ tried to ask you if you were okay but you just shoved past her.

Emily was in the same spot where you left here you came back outside. Standing beside her you whispered, "My resignation will be in Hotch's office tomorrow morning. I can't work with you and now her. Don't contact me." With that you walked into the night and out of Emily's life completely. The team never heard from you again other than Garcia occasionally checking in on you. Emily had hurt you worse than you could recover from if you had to see her everyday. At the end of the day, you got it, loud and clear.

TAGLIST: @spencerreider

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily x fem #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x jj #jemily

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yume-fanfare · 4 years

Text

alright, since you asked, here's Nonsense Thoughts as i read! wwww

koudai go interview the next national track and field star Suzumi hiyori

the word koudai used to describe akechi is funny bc it's kinda like. egregious, has contradictory definitions

yeah

i get it though, lab coat-wearing language teacher with an endless supply of lollipops, he's not completely sane

also i love that akechi is like. The Teacher (1). the one who's always there when they need a teacher. no other teachers at sakuragaoka just mr akechi and his lab coat

(i love him)

kotarou and hina taking over koyuki's place in the gardening club. that's it that's the post

hhhhh ken and aizou's relationship....................... koudai knows something's going on but he doesn't want to push,,,

i love hina and hiyori's relationship so so much,,,

hina had been the kouhai waiting for koyuki to notice her for so long, but now she's hiyori's (beloved) senpai and just,,, her trying to be a cool senpai like koyuki was for her,,,

i have a lot of hiyohina thoughts please consider Them

i love how good aizou's relationship with his classmates is!!!

they may not be very deep friendships, but i love seeing that he gets along with everyone and that his classmates call him by his first name so casually

he's such a cheerful and fun kid i love him sm

and the way koudai's thoughts went "he's similar to his brother but more sane" oh if you knew

the nonfan novel pains me i want to know more about the famous vampire costumes they wore at the haunted house

we've gotten a lot of LIPxLIP vampire content, it's impressive

there's the vampire aizou from the calendar, this year's vampire/werewolf card, the elusive costumes from the school festival...

ALSO mskdlsmflslfms the hands on the haunted house's walls... yuujirou's hands

i love that the sound effect was yuujirou's hair dryer galsnsmdks boy knows how to take care of his hair

i want you to know that my first thought upon seeing how well the interview with aizou had went and the mention of yuujirou being a bit problematic was that yuujirou would somehow end up threatening him

then the flowers scene absolutely broke me

i've said this but there is just. something so poetic about yuujirou standing alone in the november cold, looking at yellow flowers that should have wilted already

like god. there's a lot to unpack there isn't it.

"looking at them as if he wasn't really there" so yeah, with his mind somewhere else, but the og sentence is so.

on the other side, that's such a stereotypically introvert thing to do it's almost funny yuujirou i love you

he is actually such a good kid

the contrast between this scene and aizou's is so striking too

on aizou's, there's laughter, lots of people, congratulations

yuujirou, however, has purposefully chosen a lonely place to spend his lunch break

and neither of the two is actually eating

it's interesting, really, in aizou's part you can imagine the sunlight, whereas in yuujirou's you feel... cloudy

anyway all the flower symbolism in haniwa Gets me

every mention of tulips is.....................

ayase koyuki i love you

i also love that yuujirou has so much curiosity

someone mentioned it was kinda like childish wonder and i haven't been able to get it off my mind ever since, it's true

he just,,, likes to learn you know

it makes a lot of sense too, considering his drive was "to find something"

BUT LIKE

THE WAY HE JUST PULLS A REVERSE UNO CARD AND DECIDES *HE* IS GOING TO INTERVIEW KOUDAI I JUST

CAN I EVEN LOVE HIM MORE

yes my boy go take pictures of your dog what's the point in getting an expensive camera if not to take pictures of things you like

(jshk people you know)

AND THEN HE,,, TAKES A PICTURE OF KOUDAI,,,

HOW CAN HE BE SO SWEET

he is so. lovely.

this short story made my love for him skyrocket sorry his part on this post is so much longer than the rest but oh god

(he deserved it, last time the stories were more focused on aizou)

(why are you so secretive about yuujirou haniwa)

yuujirou sleeping in the break room table...................................

i wanted to know what koudai wrote abt him aaaaa

though, the comment about chopping hiyori's head off aizou what the heck

he got violent so easily no wonder yuujirou and him are always fighting lol

ALSO UCHIDA'S COMMENT ABOUT AKECHI MSDKLSKDLS

god that was so funny

sorry miss hes gay

anyway yeah hiyori deserves a full interview come on

HIYORI CALLING AIZOU A PINEAPPLE,,,

and the scene with koudai looking at everyone from above..........................

it kinda feels like he's excluded, also in the "i first got a song last year despite having existed for ages" kind of way lol

but he's getting a new one so soon!!!

i wanted him to be aroace but, good for him lol

i think he would get along well with yuujirou, maybe

i love that they flat out said aiyuu are difficult students to handle smdjsmdmkd good luck akechi

and yeah, the ending,,, heartfelt

this was a really fun story overall!!! it really is so nice to see them being normal students, the lines that mentioned that felt a little like 4th wall breaking lol

#lipxlip #honeyworks #this ended up as me declaring my love for a lot of characters #hworks #mar's midnight rambles #anonymous #preguntas

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amazingorangedangantrash · 4 years

Note

The only ending everyone seems to ignore is v3 because it’s just... it’s just a mess.

How do feel about this game survivors? And do you think that everyone woke up from the simulator or tv show like sdr2 or only the survivors?

Hoo boy...

Honestly nonny, having only finished the dang thing yesterday I... don't know.

(I kinda went off into a spiel, so feel free to skip to the part where I talk about survivors and what I think happens next)

I understand the mixed response a LOT. I mean- I see what they were going for. The 4th wall break was cool, and the (sorta?) reappearance of past characters was pretty damn awesome. I like that the creators are definitely self aware- and there's a kind of 'learn to laugh at yourself' sort of thing.

On the other hand it can almost seem a little too mocking?

I get the whole yaknow. 'Fictional characters are aware they're fictional and rebel against their creators' thing but- like-?

As I mentioned before, thing is, Tsumugi is not us? We aren't exactly intentionally cruel? There's a BIG difference between the kind of fiction in our world and in their world.

What does Tsumugi call it? "Real fiction"?. Yeah- thing is- we don't have that. We don't have the technology for it, and I certainly hope we wouldn't abandon ethics for it either!!! We can't have 'real' fiction, because in our world, all fiction is fake! The closest you have is fiction about real people, perhaps, but- that's not even remotely the same thing?

So it does come across as a little... um- preachy.

We're supposed to represent the audience but... like- the audience fucking suck! What was that they said during the argument armament? "This guy should have died instead of Kaede!" Like- fucking hell. Imagine saying that to someone, who can HEAR you say it, and who's MURDER you could potentially watch unfold before your very eyes as a result of YOUR actions. I mean- look how empathetic some of us are to ACTUAL fictional characters. Could you imagine if we were in a similar situation to the outside world in V3???

Maybe it's because I keep imagining the v3 cast as like- sentient AI, instead of "just fiction". Because I can't imagine anyone being so sadistic or apathetic otherwise.

So uh- yeah. I don't... know how I feel about that. It's not- very satisfying?

With sdr2, the whole "none of this is real, the killing game is all a lie, you're in a fake world!" felt like a relief ! Whereas here it's more like- "what?? It's all fake? What the hell was the point then?!"

"Nothing matters!" vs "nothing matters..."

The whole HOPE VS DESPAIR, FUTURE VS PAST thing worked, because, well, it's something we can all understand. We have all felt hope and we have all felt despair. We've all, at some point in our lives, felt stuck in the past, unable to or scared to move on.

(Hey- some of us still feel like that now, even).

The first game was very simple- hope and despair. Still relatable, but fairly basic- effective to set up the foundation for the follow up.

The second game made things a little more complicated. Sometimes it's more complicated then just- choosing between Hope and Despair. We refuse to fall into Despair, but we can't just blindly have Hope.

So we choose the Future. We can't promise it'll be a good one OR a bad one. But whatever happens- we need to move on. The only way we can make things change is by making that choice, to create our OWN future.

V3 felt very... complex. It started to get kind of... uh... philosophical? And- don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with that. It just... it kind of shifted from TRUTH VS LIE to FICTION VS REALITY. And whilst the latter definitely sounds interesting- I don't really know if I liked the direction they took with it-? I wish they'd kept the focus on TRUTH VS LIE a lot more.

(Fiction and Reality are like extensions of Lie and Truth but- only to a certain extent? Really?)

It's kind of harder to get into the final fight in V3 because... what are you fighting? The outside world? I mean- I can't speak for the rest of you, but as far as I'm aware I'm not a fictional character.

(If I am- then wow someone's a reallly bad writer huh?)

I can relate to Hope. I can relate to Future.

I can't relate to Fiction.

I THOUGHT maybe the message was a warning of the dangers of escapism ('please dont go as far as to erase your own personality just to be a part of a type of fiction you like' definitely seems fitting for this fandom)- but the message "fiction has the power to change the world!" kinda contradicts that. I mean- I do like that message, but- I don't like the idea of a series about killing games being heavily influential-!

The whole problem was that people grew so obsessed with the series that they threw away their lives! Is that not the point you should be focusing on-!!!!

The outside world in this universe fucking sucks. So they changed their mind, big DEAL! that's not comforting knowing they let this shit continue for 53 seasons-! I mean, maybe Makoto and Hajime were all 100% fictional, but at some point they started putting real people into these games, and everyone was ok with that!

I just-

I'm glad Shuichi got through to them at last but...

Someone said something which resonated with me- "in a vacuum, this is good". Like... on it's own, I thought the ending was great! It was entertaining, for sure. And the whole concept and stuff was unexpected and interesting. You gotta give em points for originality.

The problem comes with it being the 3rd game in a series. (Ignoring UDG I mean-). When a series becomes a Trilogy, you gotta make it good. This is presumably the last game in the (main) series too. And- after the UTTER NARRATIVE DISAPPOINTMENT of dr3- can you blame people for wanting more? People fell in love for THH and SDR2 (and UDG even if its not part of the main series) for a reason- and, for me at least, a biiiig part of that reason was the continued storyline. The last chapter of sdr2 was the hypest shit EVER. when you see glimpses of the previous game bleed into this one, only for it to turn into what's like- a full crossover???? The previous game isn't just mentioned, it's a straight up sequel!!!! I had absolutely no idea Makoto and co would return (i thought the games were separate) so when i saw that they'd be interacting with the new cast- yoooooooooooooooo-!

Hell, even seeing alter ego again made me go WILD.

V3 plays upon these expectations, and subverts them, but... not necessarily in a good way? You- kind of feel cheated? (Idk if you're an avengers fan, but- it's like expecting *Endgame* and instead getting...

Well- Endgame).

The ending isn't bad persay it's just- not quite what one would expect? I can definitely understand why people are disappointed. The problem is, instead of standing alone, you can't help but consider it as part of the series. Individually, I don't think the ending was that weak or bad, but in comparison to the series as a whole?

Meh.

SURVIVORS

(Oh my- I really got off track, oh dear. I'll- get back to what you asked now.)

KEEBO

W H Y

They rllly gonna rub salt in the wound huh?

(Whilst i dont dislike the other survivors, there are a LOT of people i really really wanted to see make it to the end, and it's just the final god damn nail in the coffin to kill off the last of the few characters I came even close to liking the most-)

Killing keebo was dumb

Maki- I liked Maki quite a bit! She's a bit cold, yeah, but I warmed up to her after hearing her backstory.

I found it annoying (if understandable) that no one trusted her at first. I thought it was sweet that her, Kaito and Shuichi had this friendship trio. They really trusted each other- it was very refreshing. I also love me a strong girl. Her romance thing with Kaito was a little... forced. I'd have found it more meaningful if they kept it more subtle/ambiguous (though i suppose they needed smth to use against her in the final trial sooo-).

Himiko-

I-

*sigh*

Ok I'm going to say this once, and once only.

Someoneonthedrteamhasabigthingforlolis

OK! I SAID IT- AND IM NEVER SAYING IT AGAIN

No judgement here of course. Just. Uh. Y-yeah-

(I'm mainly kidding of course, idek if Himiko counts as a loli but-)

I mean... I'm not... the fondest of very small, childish girl characters (Saionji intensifies). I like a bit of childishness in a character but- i mean- it depends.

(I'll never recover from the "seductive whisper" thing from the love suite event

Never.

Never ever.)

Himiko comes across as like An Actual Child at times and at the start it was VERY annoying. Surprisingly, I warmed up to her eventually. I knew in advance she'd be a survivor so i kinda thought "well she's gonna stick around so might as well try to like her". I do appreciate that she underwent a character arc too, and it was sweet to see how she became a more active, determined person. I wish it hadn't taken Tenko's death for her to finally start changing but whatever. She is quite a cute character and after a while became more endearing then annoying.... (for the most part).

Was she in my top 3 picks for a survivor? No.

The top 10 even?

N-no-

I'm glad she's still alive though. SOMEONE damn well needs to be.

Tsumugi- ah. She's not a survivor, is she? I knew well in advance she was the mastermind so I didn't really warm up to her all that much during the final chapters, for obvious reasons.

Shuichi- if shuichi hadn't survived I think that would have been the breaking point for me, honestly.

Overall- uh... they aren't... the ideal picks. Shuichi is the only one I really wanted to see survive, I was neutral towards the others. Tbh I was just happy anyone was alive by the end of that.

Waking up- for the sake of my sanity, I like to think that after the survivors wake up, they threaten to sue and/or maim the shit out of the dr team if they don't start on reanimating their 'dead' friends right fucking now. Surely they gotta keep their consciousness' somewhere in those memories banks right? I mean- what if they ever wanted a "surprise return from the dead" plotline? Surely they gotta keep em somewhere? Right?

Whether or not they reawaken as their in-game or pre-game selves, who knows. Whichever you prefer, I guess. Maybe a mixture of both.

#ahdhsjsjsj #i am Tired ^tm #this makes me sound more disappointed with the ending than i am djskshsjs #im not actually as salty as i sound ok i promise-#im just naturally pessimistic #ironic coming from a makoto stan but wygd #v3 #rambling #thoughts #my post #anon #long #jajakdjsjs i went overboard again oops

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loverandservantoftheahlulbayt · 4 years

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🍃🕊🍃 The Tenth Imam 🍃🕊🍃

🍃 Ali Ibn Muhammad 🍃

🍃 Al-Naqi, Al-Hadi (as) 🍃

🍃 Born in Madina 5th Rajab 214 Hijri ( 8.9.829 AD). Died in Samarrah, Iraq 3rd Rajab 254 Hijri (1.7.868) aged 40 years. Period of Imamate 34 years. 🍃

The period of Imamate of our 10th Imam coincided with the decline of the power of the Abbasid Empire. They were threatened by the Turks and had to move the Capital from Baghdad to Samarrah. He was only 6 years old when his father Imam Muhammad Taqi (as) was martyred in Baghdad when poisoned by Mu’tasim Billah Abbasi.

Our Imam lived in Madina for the remaining 8 years of the reign of Mu’tasim and 5 years of the reign of Wathiq Billah. It was when Mutawakkil became caliph in 236 Hijiri (847 AD) the Imam was called over to the Abbasid capital Baghdad. Mutawakkil, was the cruelest and deadly enemy of the Ahlul Bayt (as) , who tried to drown the Grave of Imam Husayn (as) in Karbala’ by diverting the waters of the Euphrates River.

But by a miracle the river water encircled the grave and did not go over it in spite of the fact that the surrounding ground was higher. When the Caliph failed in his action of drowning the grave he ordered that the whole area should be turned into farmland but when horses failed to take the plough over the grave, he realized his folly.

Eventually he left the hallowed ground as it was but as long as he lived he forbade any pilgrimage to the Shrine of Imam Husayn (as) . History tells us that pilgrims to the grave of Sayyidush Shohada (as) did continue to go in spite of the danger to their lives. Indeed many were killed on their way to the Shrine but the enthusiasm to visit the grave never subsided.

It was during the reign of Mutawakkil that our 10th Imam was brought to the presence of the Caliph from Madina to Baghdad. Yakubi writes in his history of the time that once the raiding party of soldiers found the Imam on his prayer mat and took him away to the caliph in the same state. Mutawakkil was engaged in his nightly drinking and frolics and asked the Imam to join him. Imam declined replying, “A liquor such as that was never yet combined with my flesh and blood”.

The half-drunk caliph asked the Imam to read some poetry. Imam said that he did not indulge in such habits. But when the caliph insisted, the Imam recited the following lines (Ibn Khalikan narrated the story word for word).

“Protected by valiant warriors they passed the night on the summit of their mountains but these mountains did not protect them. After all their power and pomp they had to descend from their lofty fortresses to the custody of the tombs. O’what a dreadful change their graves had hardly received them when a voice heard exclaiming, “Where are the thrones and the crowns and the robes of State?

Where are now the faces of the delicate, which were shaded by veils and protected by curtains. To this the tomb replied. The worms are now reveling upon these faces. Long were these men eating and drinking, but now they are eaten by the worms in their turn.”

Many wept listening to these words uttered by the Imam. Caliph left the Imam alone for a while, but still kept him under house arrest. In the end Mutawakkil died in the hands of his protectors, the Turkish guards, and his son Muntasir became the next caliph.

Mutawakkil died in 250 Hijiri and Muntasir Billah assumed the caliphate. He ruled only 6 months. On his death Musta’een was enthroned. But soon he was also beheaded and succeeded by Mu’ta’z Billah. All this time our 10th Imam was either in Madina, or called by the Caliph to Samarrah where he spent the last days of his life under house arrest.

Hardships Suffered by the Imam During This Period

🕌🕋🕌

Caliph Mu’tasim remained preoccupied with war against the Byzantines and also with the troubles created by the Abbasids tribesmen in Baghdad. But he did not harass the Imam who carried his responsibilities peacefully. After Mu’tasim, Wathiq Billah too, treated the Imam fairly. But later when he was succeeded by his brother Mutawakkil, son of Mu’tasim, the period of persecution and tortures began in full scale for the Imam and for all members of his family. This ruler exceeded all his predecessors in bearing animosity towards Ahlul Bayt.

Our 10th Imam’s main occupation in Madina, whenever he was left in peace by the Caliphs in Baghdad, was to impart his knowledge to the people. He attracted pupils in large numbers from the provinces where adherents of Ahlul Bayt were strongest, namely Iraq, Persia and Egypt.

During the Eight years of the Caliphate of Mu’tasim and throughout the period of Wathik we do not hear that the Imam was molested. One of the most famous traditions he is said to have related, that had been written in the Sahifa by the hand of ‘Ali Ibn Abi Talib (as) at the direction of the Apostle of God, and inherited by the Imams from generation to generation is related.

It was that the Prophet had defined faith (Iman) as contained in the hearts of men, and that their works (A’amal) confirm it, whereas surrender (Islam) is what tongue expresses which validates the union. (Masudi,Muruj’l Dhahab.V.vii p 382).

Although the person of the Imam was not touched by the tyrannical caliphs for a while, they were always suspicions about his activities. Masudi narrates one such occasion when our Imam was called by Mutawakkil who was not happy about the methods of teachings in the schools in Madina.

Mutawakkil asked the Imam a question. “What does a descendant of your father have to say in regard to Al-Abbas ibn Abdul Muttalib?” Imam answered, “What would a descendant of my father say O’Amir, in regard to a man whose sons required his people to obey, and who expected his sons to obey God.” Caliph was pleased with this reply and let the Imam go.”

And in the same connection Masudi quotes another incident, which Ibn Khalikan has incorporated in his description of our 10th Imam ‘Ali Al-Hadi (as) “Secret information had been given to Mutawakkil that the Imam had a quantity of arms, books and other objects for the use of his followers concealed in his house, and being induced by malicious reports he was led to believe that the Imam aspired to the Empire.

Once Mutawakkil sent some soldiers of the Turkish guard to break in on him when he least expected such a visit. They found him quite alone, locked up in his room, clothed in a hair shirt, his head covered with a woolen cloak and his face in the direction of Makka. He was reciting Verses of the Qur’an expressive of God’s promises and threats, and having no other carpet between him and the earth than sand and gravel.

He was carried off in that attire, and brought in the depth of the night, before Mutawakkil. When the caliph asked his captors about the arms and ammunitions found they said, there was nothing in the house which presents a threat to the throne. The caliph was ashamed of his misdeeds and let the Imam go.

During the Sixteen years of the Imamate, Imam ‘Ali Naqi (as) had become famous throughout the Islamic world. Those who loved to learn the teachings of Ahlul Bayt always flocked around him. In the 4th year of Mutawakkil’s reign the Governor of Madina Abdallah ibn Hakim started harassing the Imam. He sent hostile reports against him to Baghdad.

He wrote to the Caliph that the Imam was assembling lot of supporters here which could be a danger to the security of the State. Imam became aware of this animosity and in order to counteract, he wrote a letter to Mutawakkil explaining the personal enmity of the Governor of Madina against him. As a political step Mutawakkil was quick to dismiss the Governor. At the same time he sent a regiment under the command of Yahya ibn Harthama who explained to the Imam in a friendly way that the caliph wished him to stay in Baghdad for a while.

He can then come back to Madina. The Imam knew well the motives behind this request. He realized that the polite invitation meant his banishment from his ancestral city. But to refuse to go was equally impossible for it would have resulted in forcible departure. Leaving the sacred city was painful to him as it had been for his respected forefathers, i.e. the Imam Husayn (as) in 60 Hijri, Imam Musa ibn Ja’far in 170 Hijiri and Imam ‘Ali Al-Ridha’ in 200 Hijri and also of his father Imam Muhammad Taqi in 220 Hijri.

This type of harassment had almost become a heritage. Mutawakkil’s letter was respectful to the Imam and the military detachment which was sent to escort the Imam was actually a deceitful show. So when the Imam reached Samarrah and the Caliph was informed, he neither arranged for any reception no for his stay.

He was ordered to be accommodated in the wilderness of the city with beggars. Although the Ahlul Bayt as the descendants of the Prophet were gladly associated with the poor and the destitute, and they did not covet luxurious living, Mutawakkil meant to insult the Imam. The Caliph him over to the custody of his Secretary Razaqi and prohibited his meeting with others. It was almost a house arrest for the Imam.

It has been seen during the imprisonment of Imam Musa ibn Ja’far (as) that his moral charm had softened the cruel hearted guard’s attitudes towards the Imam. In the same way Razaqi was also impressed by the greatness of the Imam ‘Ali Naqi (as) and began to provide for his comfort.

This leniency could not remain hidden from Mutawakkil who transferred the Imam to the custody of Sa’id, a cruel and ruthless man in whose imprisonment he spent twelve years. In spite of all the hardships he had to suffer there, the Imam passed his time in Ibadah.

He prayed during the night and fasted during the day. Although confined within the four walls of the house in Samarrah, his fame spread rapidly throughout the Provinces of Iraq. Every household in the city of Samarrah seemed to know the whereabouts of the Imam and somehow they got knowledge of Islam and of Ahlul Bayt from him.

Fadhl ibn Khaqan, a secret follower of Ahlul Bayt , had risen to the post of Minister in the cabinet of Mutawakkil solely by virtue of his intellectual and administrative merits. On his recommendation, Mutawakkil ordered that the Imam’s imprisonment be changed to a house arrest.

He granted him a piece of land and allowed him to build a house and live there. Sa’id was directed to keep a close watch over the activities of the Imam. His house was often searched for subversive activities but nothing was ever found.

During this period too, Imam ‘Ali Naqi (as) set an admirable example of trust in God, ignoring all worldly gains. In spite of permanent residence in Samarrah, the Imam neither made a protest to the Caliph, nor did he ever ask for any favors. The same worshipping and hermit-like life that he led during his imprisonment was passed in this state of house arrest.

The tyrant changed his behavior but the saint had maintained his own. Even in such circumstances he was not allowed to live peacefully. His followers were not allowed to approach him openly to gain the true Islamic knowledge from the Imam. But he endured all hardships for the sake of giving knowledge to all who sought that from him. Mutawakkil knew that and continued with persecuting the followers of the Imam.

Another event of these wretched times was equally painful. Ibn as-Sakkit of Baghdad, the acknowledged scholar of lexicography and syntax, was tutor of Mutawakkkil’s son. One day the cruel ruler asked him: “Are my two sons more respectable than Hasan and Husayn?” Ibn Sakkit was a true follower of Ahlul Bayt. On this question he could not control his feelings and flatly replied, “Not to speak of Hasan and Husayn (as), Imam ‘Ali’s slave Qamber is more respectable than both of your sons”.

Hearing these words Mutawakkil was outraged and ordered that Ibn Sakkit’s tongue should be cut off. The order was carried out immediately leading to the death of the most excellent artist of the time and a true follower of Ahlul Bayt. Imam ‘Ali Naqi, was not himself physically connected with these events, but each of these was a like a blow of the sword not striking the neck but torturing the soul.

Mutawakkil’s cruelties caused common hatred and even his own children set their hearts against him. One of them Al-Muntasir, conspired with his slave Al-Rumi to murder his father while he was asleep using his own sword, thus the world had a sigh of relief. The death of the tyrant and the caliphate of al-Muntasir were proclaimed. After the assuming of power, Al-Mustasir revoked the unjust orders of his father.

The Visiting of the Shrines of Najaf and Karbala were permitted without any restrictions. The tombs received minor repairs. The Caliph’s conduct towards Imam ‘Ali Naqi (as) was also fair. But this Caliph’s life was short and he died after a brief rule of only six months. After him, Al-Musta’een too displayed no maltreatment towards the Imam.

As stated, Imam ‘Ali Naqi (as) had built a house in Samarrah and did not go back to Madina either of his own free will or under the orders of these rulers. Due to his continued stay there and the lack of interference by the regime, the students, thirsty for knowledge, thronged around him to learn the teachings of Ahlul Bayt.

This alarmed Al-Mu’taz so much that he decided to end the sacred life of the Imam. He arranged through some courtiers to mix poison in his food. The Imam died soon after eating the poisonous food.

Imam ‘Ali Naqi’s conduct and moral excellence were the same as those displayed by each and every member of this sacred house. Whether in Imprisonment, confinement or freedom, in every case these sacred souls were engaged in worship and in helping the poor and the needy.

Totally refraining from desire, greed and worldly ambitions, they lived dignified in misfortune, dealt fairly even with their foes. To help the destitute, were the qualities marking their conduct. The same virtues were reflected in the life of Imam ‘Ali Naqi (as) .

During imprisonment, the Imam had a grave dug up ready by the side of his prayer mat. Some visitors expressed concern or surprise. The Imam explained, “ In order to remember my end I keep the grave before my eyes.”

The Imam died in Sarammara, the funeral was attended only by his son Imam Hasan al Askari who led the funeral prayers and arranged his burial, laying him to rest in his house.

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majimemegoro · 5 years

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Okay so on the amon thing. Amon essentially just shows up at the end after every substory (and sometimes some other bonus stuff) is finished up and challenges kiryu to a duel to the death because thats just what he does. Originally he was just a very flat "heres a super hard boss to test your skill since you 100% the game" kinda guy with pretty much no personality in 1, with kiwami adding a small 4th wall break of "hey this isnt the first time we actually met he he ha ha" (1/?)

after that in 2 he comes back, angry that kiryu is the first person he ever failed to kill, now bringing along his 3 brothers kazuya (dual wields axes), jiro (guns) and sango (rocket launcher. this one got a hat.) that fight kiryu before him, as of now, he's still pretty much a very flat character with no notable traits outside of being kinda salty about losing the last fight and having trained pretty heavily to beat kiryu this time, even stealing komakis ultimate technique.

In Y3 is where he actually gets a bit more screentime, he's actually the reason that one scientist with the street fighter mind machine shows up, and he was actually assumed to be behind the assassins that kiryu had to deal with in a long side quest, thought that was actually that one dude with the red suit from Y1s fault. Here he for one proves that he isn't just an incredibly skilled fighter and assassin but also incredibly smart. The training machine thing is actually his own invention that

he had the scientist create for him again just as a test. It also explains why, even beyond mine, the final boss of the virtual fights is a replica of kiryu, even thought kiryu would have no experience of fighting himself, obviously. Then when they have their showdown, he actually explains his clans philosophy and just how much it differes from kiryus philosophy. "Kiryu never killed a guy" is pretty much a meme, but for Jo Amon pretty much the exact opposite is the case and its a great contrast.

the amon clans philosophy is that killing is part of life, and is a completly fundamental part of life, because nothing can even survive without ending something elses life, like how humans cannot survive without consuming meat or plant life, so they have to kill. The reason he is so salty about losing to kiryu is the fact that a) kiryu is the first one to ever beat him, like, ever and b) the fact that he considers it incredibly disrespectful and dishonorable from kiryu to let him live, because

by refusing to kill him, kiryu is going against literally everything that jo knows and his very life philosophy, especially after beating him twice already, not just once. After beating him for a third time then, he threatens that he'll just kill people that are close to kiryu if he refuses to execute him, yet kiryu still refuses to give in, continuing to keep up his refusal to take a life, while amon is devastated that he is in fact refusing to take his life. I think Y3 is his most interesting

appearance (up until Y5, haven't finished it or 6 yet). In addition to that, earlier in Y0, he actually fights majima while his dad fights kiryu, having had a dream that kiryu would destroy his clan. In his fight with majima, we actually see a kind of dorkish side about him, because before the fight he actually tries to think of a cool line to say when facing down majima, still being in training rather than having taken over his clan. Interestingly, in 0 he also wears the hat that Sango would

wear in Y2, Y4 and Y5, so it seems that the hat goes to the Amon second in charge. The fight in and of itself in 0 is very interesting, because he perfectly copies majima and kiryus fighting style, and in addition to that, he actually fills up majimas inventory with fake healing items and Amon Pocket Tissues, making it very likely he wasn't actually taking the fight all too serious, essentially just having a warm up fight against majima while he's still training to be an assassin.

In (chronologically) later games he has a tendency to play a card carrying villain laughing at just how evil and powerful he is, which also leads to more and more ridiculous fights and attempts to take down kiryu. From a rather straight forward fight in 1, to stealing komakis techniques in 2, to using guns in 3 to just straight up buying/creating an orbital laser to just blow up kiryu from space in the middle of a fight, to whatever those roombas in 6 are, Amon gets more and more desperate to

finally win against kiryu, and it adds an honestly very amusing edge to his constant attempts and threats. In addition, he is also willing to team up with kiryu in kiwami 2 for the clan minigame thing, to ensure that no one but him actually gets to kill kiryu. Amusingly enough, with his ancestors appearance in ishin, the amon clan seems to have invented sunglasses in feudal japan, just for the sake of looking cool. I apologize for spamming your ask box with this essay on Jo and the amon clan.

What a great essay, thanks for catching me up! i hope i didn't garble the order while I was pasting the messages! fyi you forgot to put the asks on anon after the first one so I KNOW YOUR IDENTITY but I'm not going to post them in case you are embarrassed to be known as the world’s foremost scholar of the Amon Clan. So you are still the Amon Anon to the public >:)

I agree that all this is interesting and worth thinking about in more depth. It almost sounds like Amon is the perfect foil to Kiryu’s “life no matter what” philosophy, which he applies to himself as well as others (despite a strong internal instinct to self-sacrifice). I also definitely have a soft spot for characters with a strong sense of their own honour who feel fatally slighted at not being killed by a character who has bested them in combat. So you can bet that I’ll be keeping my eye out for a certain assassin as I slowly play my way through y0 and then y3-5 (I doubt I’ll ever get to fight Amon in Kiwami 2, because I think you have to get 100% on everything to unlock the fight and I can't play golf to save my life).

In the meantime, the burden of analysis falls to you. If you ever have the time or inclination, I would love to hear what the expert makes of all this, thematically speaking! :D

#jo amon #amon clan #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #majimeta #i love this

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rowankingsleyy · 4 years

Photo

Like this if you want to plot with Rowan and I’ll come ramble

NAME: ROWAN JESSAMINE KINGSLEY

NICKNAMES: Ro, Winnie (close friends only)

AGE: 28

PRONOUNS: She/Her

OCCUPATION: Published Author/Freelance Baker

HEIGHT: 5′1

BIRTHDAY: May 11th, 1992

ZODIAC SIGN: Taurus

PARENTS: Cassandra and Tony Kingsley

SIBLINGS: Damien Kingsley

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

MBTI: ISFJ

MORE UNDER THE READ MORE =)

TW: domestic violence, sexual assault, anxiety, eating disorders, mention of death, illness, drugs

SEQUENCE OF EVENTS

Rowan was born to Cassandra and Tony Kingsley in the early summer of 1992, at which point things were already strained between the two-some because of Tony’s alcohol problem and Cassie’s generally meek personality.

Rowan’s brother took a leading role in her care from a very young age, not just because her dad was useless, but also because their mother was so distracted by her need to please Tony that she dropped the ball often.

Both her brother and her saw things they certainly shouldn’t have, were told things that no children should be told, and occasionally went without for no reason other than Tony liking control, but he never hurt them physically. However, he did hurt their mother.

Less than a year after her brother turned 18 and moved out of the house, their mother died of an aneurysm suddenly and unexpectedly.

Despite how Rowan’s father treated her mother, the loss of her broke him and send him on a 3 month bender that only ended because he was booked with vehicular manslaughter and his 3rd DWI.

Luckily, Rowan only spent a few weeks in foster care before the court allowed her brother to assume custody over her.

From the moment her brother joined, the Valencia became her family. The women, wives and daughters of the organization were the people who taught her everything she knows about being a girl, doing make up, doing her hair, navigating boys. (This is probably why she went through a blue eyeshadow phase at 17)

Rowan is a textbook overachiever and perfectionist, she always had all As, was always in 6 clubs, and held officer positions in every single one including the dance team. While she did hold officer positions, she never really was one to take front and center--she prefers the positions of the people behind the scenes keeping things together. (secretary, treasurer, anything that has to do with organizational skills.

While over her high school years she wrote a lot, and even published one of her short stories in a local newspaper, she didn’t write her first full novel until she went away to college at 18. No one ever read that novel, it hit the trash during its 5th round of editing.

At 18 she received a full scholarship to the University of Nevada--Reno and left Red Ridge for the first time to go to school first time. She lived in the dorms all 4.5 years and graduated with a degree in English, minoring in Psychology.

If you ever ask Rowan what she’s afraid of, she’ll tell you losing control again. She notes two prominent times of completely losing control over her life, one fairly recent, and the other while she was away at college. While she was away, she went out fairly often with her friends and one night someone slipped something into her drink. Nothing happened, she made it home without incident, but the way it made her feel, the way she felt victimized or the potential of being so set her off. She had two drop three of her classes and extend her time in college an extra semester because of how hard she spun out, trying to control things that she wouldn’t typically even think about. She started her senior year 20 pounds lighter with 0% of the friends she had started her Junior year with.

While she was away at college her brother became a father, which meant frequent trips home to visit and help out with her niece who quickly meant enough to her to be her own.

She returned home from school at 23 and worked in a bakery until she could live off of her cookie business (at 25 her cookie business was self sufficient).

While she was growing her bakery cookie business, she began writing her first professional novel and completed it at 26. She sold it that very same year, and published it at 27.

While it changed her life or the better and got her foot in the door with the publishing world, publishing her book also led to the the single most traumatizing thing she has ever experienced.

While she was marketing her book, the marketing manager became very demanding of Rowan and her time, which often led to them being together very late at night. One night, while out of town for a book reading, he pushed himself on Rowan. This assault led to the second occurrence of Rowan losing complete control and her life suffering because of it.

After the assault, Rowan threatened to blow the whistle, and in return he threatened her career so she is still with that publishing company with him as her marketing manager.

As of now, Rowan is in the process of getting her second book published, filling in as mom as best she can for her niece, running her cookie business and holding cookie classes, and trying to make amends for the bonds she broke when she spun out last.

TENDENCIES

Because of how contentious Rowan’s early childhood was, she has a pretty anxious mind that is always running on 100. Her thoughts come a mile a minute and they can be pretty difficult to stop. Melatonin is her best friend.

When she loses control over things in her life (hELLO we meet again control-less childhood) she controls everything she can, and that manifests differently every time. Controlling what she eats to the point of malnourishment, controlling every single word of what she’s writing, putting herself on lockdown until whatever she’s working on is p e r f e c t.

She fixates on her mistakes, in high school if she answered to the wrong name during roll she would be thinking about it for the rest of the day.

She bakes in excess when she’s trying to think through something, the measurements and muscle memory movements help calm her brain into being able to process whatever is on her mind.

She’s always been a writer, from the very first time she had to write in her 4th grade ELA class. That only grew through Middle and High School creative writing classes. She’s always loved exploring the stories and that it was something that she could perfect through six or seven round of editing.

Sticky notes cover her bedroom walls because of how quickly her thoughts come and go, her ideas for books do NOT come in order and she can often be found starring at her walls with her little scribbles trying to figure out what order they should go in.

For someone who would be considered the ‘bright & shiny’ type, she has a thing for researching and watching shows about serial killers. She can rattle off facts like its her day job.

Because of how quiet she can be, sometimes folks assume she’s innocent or that she doesn’t know anything, but in reality the opposite is true. She’s spent so much time watching and analyzing everyone and everything that she knows much more that she lets on or that any civilian should.

She learned how to play guitar in college (not very well) and is a pretty damn good singer, but she’d never be the type to want to be front and center in front of a crowd. She mostly uses these talents as a means to an end in writing mini stories with lyrics. It appeases her in the in between period of having finished a book and being able to start a new one.

All floral, all the time. Enough said.

GENUINELY afraid of birds and giant frogs

I’ll probably add to this it’s 1am and I’m tired.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

**ex boyfriend, who she really fucked up with. message for more**

high school friends/enemies

someone who works in the bakery with her

women who influenced her growing up within Valencia

Valencia members who are like family

someone who mentored her in her baking

friends she lost when she spun out during college

literally anything

ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS

wherever i go, you bring me home Damien Kingsley// her brother. her parent. rowan is extremely close to her brother, as kids they were all each other had. he’s done everything he could to give her a normal childhood, to make up for her parents’ lapses. she would do just about anything for him or his daughter.

can't stop staring, at those oceans eyes, burning cities, and napalm skies. fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes Lev Yegorov// no title. but he’s the only man who has ever quieted her brain long enough for her to both lose her breath and catch it. they’ve kissed a few times and have something comparable to a magnetic field between them, but lev broke it off out of respect for her brother.

i'll stand up with you forever, i'll be there for you through it all Natalie Cassadaga// her sister. they may not have grown up together, they bonded to an extent that would have been unfathomable had she not experienced it. barring childhood, they’re sisters, no buts.

i’m a mess, i’m a loser, i’m a hater, i’m a user Freddie Dawson// her confidant. this is the only person outside of nat who gets to see rowan admit to being a mess. freddie gets the 100% honest version of rowan, usually with a little bit of liquid courage.

you can leave me in the dark if that's all I get from you ??????? OPEN // her ex. they dated in secret for 8 months before her assault. when she spun out after the assault, she didn’t tell him and she pushed him away. she fucked up the relationship, but she’s a little bitter about how easily he gave up on her.

'cause they’re gonna tell you all the rules to break, to take away that light OPEN // her roommate. the boldness to rowan’s softness. how different they are makes them work, they bring balance to each other (and rationalize the one another when they go too far).

If you’ve made it this far, you deserve a baby Rowan picture, here.

#redridgeintro #about.#IM SO READY FOR THIS #COME LOVE HER #GIMME THAT EX BF

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365daysoftododeku · 5 years

Text

4th May 2019

Author: CrzA

________________________________________________________________

Soul of a Song

A favourite song can say a lot about a person. Of course, that may not always be the case. After all, Izuku’s best friend is a bubbly, pink-cheeked girl who will smile in the face of adversity in spite of any troubles she may have, and some of her favourite songs have been screamo metal on more than one occasion. Izuku feels a little bad for her soulmate because of that, but then again, his doesn’t really have it any easier, he thinks. Not when he seems to change favourite songs like he changes pants.

Izuku kind of wonders what that says about him. His taste in music ranges from classical to bubble-gum pop, going through everything in between. Izuku would say that makes him sound diverse in his interests, but his soulmate might just think him indecisive, like he doesn’t really know what he likes and can’t stick with one thing. Given what he knows… that may very well be the case.

While most people he knows hear a different song at least every few years, Izuku has only ever found himself listening to one tune in his head on the occasions that it sneaks its way into his mind through the connection they share. Izuku likes that this strange connection soulmates share lets people hear the other’s preferred version of their favourite song. It makes it more unique, in a sense, that they really get to experience something their soulmate loves the way they love it.

For as long as he can remember, the song in his head has been the same: a lullaby, sung softly by a woman’s gentle voice. It sounds so wonderful, so peaceful, and whenever that song sneaks its way into his mind late at night when he is going to sleep, Izuku is lulled into his dreams by the thought of one day meeting his soulmate and asking them where it comes from.

Their favourite song never changed, not once, not even briefly. Ever since that first time, Izuku has heard that tender lullaby, and he can tell why his soulmate loves it so much. It must be annoying to hear a different song almost every other week when they stayed loyal to that one song for seemingly as long as they have lived.

Sometimes, Izuku feels a little ashamed, though he knows it’s quite silly. He can’t help what he loves, and that goes for everything, not just music. Izuku is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve and gives it away quite easily, in all honesty. Some people might call that foolish, but Izuku likes to live life fully and giving it his all. Keeping emotions bottled up was never something he could do, let alone wanted to. He doesn’t want to hide how he feels, no matter what about.

So, if his favourite songs change along with the winds, then he likes to think that’s just because he has a lot of love to go around for things he finds appealing, beautiful, captivating. Sure, sometimes he questions his tastes, but who doesn’t, really? Well, his soulmate apparently. But that’s something he tries not to dwell on much. He chooses to focus instead on the softness of that lullaby.

If that has always been his soulmate’s favourite song, then they must be someone sentimental as well. Izuku can certainly relate to that, at least. He can only hope that they have more things in common—if this is even one at all, since it’s all just conjecture.

As unusual as his soulmate’s favourite song never changing might be, however, Izuku thinks it might be a good thing. Some people spend their entire lives not really knowing their soulmates given the nature of the bonds between them. A lot of people can have the same song as a favourite, it’s often hard to pinpoint whether someone really is their soulmate or not.

Izuku has known of couples who were sure they were soulmates, only to find out further into their relationship that they had just happened to be obsessed with the same popular song at the time. That often doesn’t break them up, which Izuku thinks is good. Soulmates are somewhat of a strange concept to begin with, but they don’t necessarily mean that these two people should spend the rest of their lives together, romantically anyway.

Although, a small part of Izuku still has that childhood naïveté that longs for someone fated to be with him, so to speak. So what, he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic. That’s not such a bad thing, in his humble opinion, even if Ochako and Kacchan give him a lot of grief for it—for slightly different reasons, but still.

It’s not really a surprise that whenever Izuku has a crush on someone one of the first things he tries to learn is whether they are his soulmate. He isn’t as dense as to throw away a perfectly good thing just because he comes to the conclusion that they aren’t, but he can’t stop himself from asking. A part of him just keeps wondering ‘what if’, asking ‘wouldn’t it be wonderful’. Every single relationship he has been on, Izuku was never able to resist finding out.

Finding out their favourite songs didn’t match with the lullaby in his mind was never disappointing, though. He still liked them, still wanted to be with them, and that wasn’t going to change because the universe had bonded him to someone else. Even when those relationships eventually ended, for one reason or another, Izuku never once thought it had anything to do with them not being soulmates. They were just different people who wanted different things.

Well… somehow that seemed to change between his last few crushes. Izuku’s most recent crush was unlike any of the others.

When Izuku got to college, he wanted to focus on his studies. Medicine wasn’t really an easy career and Izuku had worked too hard getting here to let himself get side-tracked. He knows that when he falls, he tends to fall hard, and that sometimes affects his productivity. It’s somewhat impossible to memorise notes when they’re horribly scribbled with doodles of hearts and someone’s name rather than what he should have been paying attention to in class.

But again, Izuku isn’t one to run away from his feelings, and just because he hadn’t been planning to get into a relationship, that didn’t stop his feeble heart from fluttering at the sight of one of his newest classmates. At first, Izuku had tried to write it off as just simple attraction, after all… he is quite stunning.

As far as Izuku is concerned, Todoroki Shouto is more suited for the title of Adonis than whatever man had been the term’s namesake. His beauty is one unmatched by anyone he has ever met or (he thinks) will ever meet. It’s extremely hard not to stare when faced with a gaze as intense as a summer storm threatening to burst, clouds of gentle grey next to vast bright blue skies, especially when they are framed by white as pure as snow on the right and fiery red on the left. That icy blue stands out even further on a backdrop of mountainous skin, covered in grooves and valleys of reddish clay, sculpted in a way that could only have been tragic.

To add to such a breath-taking face, Todoroki is also tall and well-built, but not obviously so. Izuku trains, he has a noticeable build whenever he bothers to wear anything formfitting. But Todoroki is lean; turtleneck sweaters he seems extremely fond of in winter hug his figure in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination, but it’s subtle. One could almost write him off as lanky if they didn’t pay enough attention, but Izuku has most certainly been paying a lot of it.

Yet as beautiful as Izuku finds him, that is certainly not the extent of his feelings towards Todoroki. At first, Todoroki hadn’t been very friendly, not just to Izuku but really anyone around him. Rudeness is not a trait Izuku finds attractive at all, though he could tell that wasn’t the whole story. There was a tale hidden in those eyes that whispered through his posture, his quiet way of talking, the coldness of his aura.

For every time that Todoroki pushed people away, Izuku could see a sadness behind every gesture, hear a plea in every word. It broke his heart to see someone feeling so lonely yet having only isolation as their defence mechanism against whatever they might fear so deeply. And maybe meddling was ill-advised, but it had always been in Izuku’s nature to want to help people whenever he saw them struggle. That was half the reason he wanted to be a doctor anyway.

It was a slow process, an arduous journey to climb walls built so high they seemed impossible to breach. But kindness goes a long way, it builds bridges to cross entire valleys of distance put between him and the rest of the world.

It started small, as most things do, a word of comfort, an offer of help, a few gentle smiles. A front as cold as ice melted by a caring warmth as, slowly but surely, Izuku chipped away at his defences, gained his trust the best way he knew how. By being there when it looked like he needed someone the most.

It had been a bit of happenstance, that Izuku just so happened to be out for a run the moment Todoroki had stormed out of the university hospital doors with the look of someone ready to fall apart masked as murderous ire. It didn’t really suit him at all.

Izuku had run right into him, neither of them paying enough attention to their surroundings for entirely different reasons. The lullaby had been sounding softly in Izuku’s head and he had become distracted with the soft cadence of the woman’s voice, closing his eyes for just a moment to savour the honey-sweet notes. Todoroki had been half blinded by a rage incited by one who did not deserve the energy it took out of him.

Izuku still likes to call it a twist of fate. That was the first time they truly talked beyond a few words, when Izuku was so flustered with the accident—earning the other a few scrapes when they fell in a tangle of limbs—, that he insisted on making it up to Todoroki somehow.

“If I accept a coffee, will you let it go?” He had caved in exasperation, startled by Izuku’s sudden rambling that, as per usual, didn’t seem to have an end in sight.

A simple coffee turned to a long walk back to the dorm building. Apparently, they were living in the same one and never knew. They talked quietly as they went side by side, slowly closing the initial distance between them until their elbows occasionally brushed together every other step. It was nice, comfortable. Before they knew it, they had talked the night away, shared a few short laughs, a few heartfelt words.

It became a routine, of sorts, tacked on to his runs. Todoroki desperately needed someone to talk to, someone to trust, and Izuku was more than happy to be that person. He learned so much about Todoroki, everything he thought about him proving to be truer than he imagined. His father wanted him to follow in his footsteps to becoming a world-renowned neurosurgeon, but Todoroki’s heart was somewhere else entirely.

He had a way with kids, a gentleness he claims to have only his mother to thank for. Izuku thinks that it’s really all him, but whenever he says as much, Todoroki shrugs it off. Still, that side of him is important, enough to shape his entire career around it, and that he doesn’t deny, at least. Izuku loves that about him, too, the kindness in everything he does whenever he is around children.

No matter what his father tells him, Izuku refuses to believe Todoroki will do anything but what he is meant to. “It’s your decision, isn’t it?”

The smile that had stretched on Todoroki’s lips at the sound of those words is one Izuku will never forget, even if he wanted to. “Yes… Thank you, Midoriya.”

There is no doubt in his mind that Todoroki will make a great Paediatrics Surgeon, whenever he gets far enough to pick his specialty. And if it’s the last thing he does, Izuku will be right there with him in Trauma. If all goes well, anyway…

As they grew closer, they started studying together, quizzing each other for upcoming exams, supporting each other through all-nighters to memorise the entirety of the Human Physiology book, getting addicted to caffeine together; just med school things. But Izuku also found his feelings for Todoroki getting harder to set aside with each day that passed. At this point, Izuku was sure that he had a full-blown case of puppy love.

So, came the usual question as they studied.

“Hey, Todoroki-kun?” A hum was all the answer he got as his friend kept writing down his flash-cards. “What’s your favourite song?”

There was a pause as Todoroki blinked up at him, eyes adjusting to the new plane of vision from staring so closely at the tiny papers. “I don’t have one.” He said simply, quickly returning to his work.

“Oh.”

And that—that was the moment Izuku realised something changed. A cold feeling settled deep in his gut that he still feels right now, as he stares up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His heart is still squeezing rather painfully in his chest and his eyes have been constantly prickling with the threat of tears. This crushing disappointment is something Izuku had never expected out of his feelings for Todoroki.

Everything just feels so right with him. Each time he thinks of them being together, Izuku can only imagine them being absolutely meant to be. And perhaps that’s a bit selfish, or even a little crazy, but… Something about Todoroki felt special, and he can’t shake that feeling no matter how much he tells himself that it shouldn’t change anything. It hadn’t before.

It would be so stupid to not pursue his feelings because of something as insignificant as Todoroki not being his soulmate and yet… Just thinking of it now stabs him right through the chest, leaving him to bleed openly. He shouldn’t feel this way, he knows. Izuku had been in love before and this never bothered him, so why now? Why did he feel like Todoroki might be the one? Why was his heart so sure that being wrong is so painful?

The next day, Izuku almost considers avoiding Todoroki until he can get over this ache that has burrowed so deeply in his soul. But just one look at those mismatched eyes and he is as lost as he has been since the very first time he found himself staring into their vast depths. As much as it may hurt right now, that gaze is still a comfort, it still holds that same kindness and gentleness. He can’t stay away and he knows that. For all intents and purposes, he knows that he doesn’t want to.

In spite of that ache settling deep in his soul, Izuku returns to business as usual, stuck in a limbo of confusing feelings. Todoroki must notice that something is off, he is keen like that, but he doesn’t pry him for information, just does little things that might lift Izuku’s spirits. He is the kind of person who may value someone’s right to keep to themselves, but he never backs down from helping his friends feel better, no matter what it takes. Stars, Izuku loves that about him too.

Just the fact that Todoroki can ease this strange pain by simply being himself and staying by his side even as he acts a little more aloof than he intends is enough to make him fall that much harder. Izuku takes comfort in their friendship, lets Todoroki’s kindness help him patch up the small tears in his soul. They shouldn’t have happened at all, but Izuku had built foolish expectations.

Todoroki is wonderful and Izuku loves him, no point in trying to make it not so. If fate, or destiny, or whatever it might be, has bonded him to someone else then… Maybe he will meet them down the line. Maybe he will love them and maybe he won’t. Even if he was disappointed—even if he still is—, that shouldn’t tarnish what they have right now. Izuku will be damned before he lets his silly and misguided hopes bring him down.

At least it’s easy to fall back into their routine when their studies don’t really allow much else. Soon enough, Izuku can almost pretend the dull throb in his soul isn’t really there, humming absentmindedly as he taps his pencil on the pages of the book he’s reading in time with the song’s beats. He hardly even notices he’s doing it until Todoroki’s voice jolts him back to reality.

“What is that you’re humming?”

Blood crawls up to Izuku’s cheeks and he clears his throat before apologising. “I’ll stop, didn’t mean to distract you.”

“What? No, that’s not what I—what’s the song?”

Izuku blinks stupidly, confused for some reason. After a couple of heartbeats, Izuku just tells him and Todoroki purses his lips.

“Is… is that your favourite song, by chance?” Todoroki asks, his eyes shining curiously.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just that it’s my soulmate’s favourite song.” Todoroki… has a soulmate…

Izuku’s eyes sting dangerously but he just takes a deep breath and pushes through it. “I mean, it’s a fairly popular song at the moment, so that’s not so strange.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Humming in thought, Izuku sets his pencil down, swallowing around the lump that has suddenly formed in his throat. “I guess, yeah. For now.”

“For now?”

“Yeah, I mean… I change favourite songs a lot…” He lets out a nervous chuckle, biting on his bottom lip for a moment. “My soulmate might find it annoying. Maybe they don’t even like the types of music I do and I just keep switching. Sometimes back and forth in the span of a couple of days.” Todoroki keeps staring at him and Izuku shifts awkwardly, wondering if he’s said something wrong and triggering his knee-jerk reaction. “Is that—is that weird? I’ve known people who change their favourite songs often too. But hey, it’s not like I don’t stick to certain songs for longer periods of time too! It’s just rare… and well, I mean, I’ve had some really weird obsessions too. There was this one time I couldn’t stop listening to—” Izuku cuts himself off, realising how embarrassing that particular song actually is. “You know what, never mind.”

“Chick Chick?”

Izuku’s eyes widen. “What.”

“By um… Wang Rang Rolling, if I remember correctly…” Todoroki raises an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “That was an interesting week, I must say.”

“Wait. Wait. You—How do you—What are you saying?!”

“Just out of curiosity, did you recently discover a particular band? Been listening to it a lot and changing favourites between them?”

“S-stop! You’re—how do you even—” Izuku stumbles through all of the jumbled sentences in his mind, unable to settle on any.

Suddenly, Todoroki hands him his phone, showing off a playlist with so many songs it’s a bit ridiculous. Izuku’s gaze focuses on the ‘My Soulmate’ as the title, scrolling down the list and finding favourite after favourite of his. His vision blurs and tears start to escape the confines of his eyes, one by one until Izuku he is sure he won’t be able to stop it.

“I suppose that you’re my soulmate, then?”

“You lied to me.” Izuku whispers, his voice raw, that hurt from before coming back with a vengeance.

“What, no—”

“You said—You told me you don’t have a favourite song! Why did you lie to me if you were just going to tell me this anyway?! Is that—is this a joke? Were you just messing with me since I asked you?!” Izuku blurts, outrage tainting his every other emotion.

Todoroki falls back slightly, hurt and confusion ghosting past his features and stabbing Izuku even further. “I don’t have one. I never lied to you, Midoriya.”

“Then why do I hear it in my head? Why have I always heard it in my head for as long as I can remember?!”

The anger ebbs away the longer Todoroki just stares at him at a complete loss, looking like a kicked puppy as Izuku fixes him with a terribly anguished gaze. His expression softens slowly as the realisation dawns on him…

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what? Midoriya, I have no idea what you’re—”

When Izuku starts to sing, cringing slightly at his own voice and how off it sounds with the words, Todoroki falls completely silent. Izuku knows he could never do that woman’s rendition justice, but he still tries his best, pausing on the same beats, lowering and raising his tone just the way she had. Recognition begins to shine in those mismatched eyes and Izuku keeps singing for as long as his choked voice allows, trying his best to keep his sobs at bay as not to ruin the soft melody.

“You… I… Where did you hear that?” Todoroki murmurs, crawling closer and reaching for Izuku’s face.

Sniffling, Izuku takes his hand and brings it to his cheek himself. “A woman sings it in my head. It’s soothing and beautiful, and I wish I could faithfully reproduce it for you.”

“That’s…” Todoroki brings his free hand up to cover his mouth, closing his eyes for a moment as he catches his hiccupping breaths. “My mom used to sing that for me… A really long time ago… I can’t believe that you…”

“It’s your favourite song, Todoroki-kun. It always has been.”

Nodding, Todoroki takes both his hands back to hide behind them, his shoulders shaking softly, and Izuku drags himself closer, the betrayal he had felt mere minutes before all but forgotten. Without wasting a single breath, Izuku throws his arms around Todoroki, pulling him into the tightest embrace he can manage in this position. Fingers curl tightly around his shirt after Todoroki buries his face in Izuku’s neck, trembling breaths tickling the column of his throat and making him shiver.

“I’m sorry, I’m… I had forgotten how much I loved hearing her sing that for me…”

Izuku’s heart clenches at the contradicting grief and joy in his words and he does his best to hold his soulmate closer, a swarm of butterflies fluttering within him when it finally starts to sink in that he was right—he was actually right!

“Can you…” Todoroki starts, then trails off until Izuku nudges him to please keep going. “Can you sing it again? Please.”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. And as he does what Todoroki asked of him, he notes the echo inside his head morphing to match his own voice.

________________________________________________________________

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blustersquall · 6 years

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Only Make Believe // Chapter 27: Back To Where It Started

Sorry for the delay in updates. With 4th July and stuff, I never know when is best. It’s technically Friday here in the UK, so have a new chapter. Only warning in this chapter is mentions of past torture, captivity and panic attacks.

December 29th

Cullen did not sleep well. Neither, it seemed, did Nevena. He was awake most of the night, her words whirling around his head like a tornado. He should not have exploded at her the way he had, he regretted it almost immediately seeing the fear in her expression when he raised his voice, how poised she was to run if he moved. Throughout the night he considered apologizing and trying to talk things out more calmly, but his own stubbornness and shame won out. That, and the fact it wasn’t all on him. Nevena pushed. Even though she apologized for it there was only so much prodding he could take on such a sensitive topic.

They barely spoke when they both got ready in the morning, and even over the complimentary breakfast they hardly said a word to each other. He knew the waiter noticed when he came to fill their coffee. The tension between them was palpable and it made the car feel uncomfortably stifling as they continued on their way to Gwaren.

The rain from the previous night moved on in the early morning, leaving the sky clear with the sun out, bright and cold reflecting off the wet road surface. The temperature dropped so there were warnings of ice on the road. Cullen kept to a reasonably sedate speed as he drove. A DJ spoke endlessly on the radio, cutting off the end of songs, and filling long periods with inane banter with his co-host. Cullen turned the radio down during those bits, but up again when the news and weather reports were aired and when music was played.

Nevena sat in the passenger seat, staring out of the window looking dejected. Since the morning he noticed she had the picture of her mother on hand. Even now it was clutched between her fingers and she was turning it over and over.

A sign flashed past Cullen's vision. He only noticed one thing on it.

Kinloch/Lake Calenhad 17 miles

Cullen cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He needed to break the tension. It was suffocating him. The photograph was a good a place to start as any. "Have... have you decided what you want to do?" He nodded at the picture when Nevena glanced up at him. "In regards to your mother. When we get to the Free Marches."

"Go to Ostwick," shrugged Nevena, "like you suggested." She kept he eyes ahead. "My family home is there, I'd like to see if there have been any changes to it. As for her..."

"Yes?"

Another sign.

Kinloch/Lake Calenhad 17 miles

"Maybe there are records of her at the town hall. If I have her name, where she was born... Maybe that will be enough to find a record of her death. See if she was buried or cremated." Nevena sighed heavily. "I'm not sure if I'd want to visit a grave or not."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know who she is. Not really. And judging by what my dad said, she didn't have family and probably not a lot of friends. Whatever the case, I want to deal with this head on and not let it linger."

Cullen nodded very slowly and silence descended once more. He wasn't sure why he was so eagerly looking out for signs for Kinloch. Maybe he was hoping that once it was no longer on any of the road signs, it would be behind him again and he might be able to relax. He honestly wasn't sure. Nevena's words kept echoing in his head though. He hadn't been back since the attack, it never occurred to him to go back. But now she suggested doing so might help, it was an idea he couldn't shake.

It was a might. A huge, resounding might. There was a good chance it would be a waste of time and a better chance that it would bring up a lot of traumatic memories that he spent years trying to forget and working through. But if there was a chance that going back to Kinloch and visiting the site where everything happened might quell some of the guilt that crushed him down into the ground… wasn't that a chance worth taking? Wouldn't he be doing himself a disservice if he didn't try?

And what about everyone who died?

Kinloch/Lake Calenhad 15 miles. Second exit.

"Did you find anything out about her online?" Cullen asked, breaking the silence again.

"Nothing, really." Nevena was watching the fields rush passed from the passenger window. "A few mentions in newsletters, but nothing really ground breaking. I suppose search engines and things like Google weren't really in high demand when she was younger... Or maybe she wasn't very technically savvy."

"Maybe."

Not going back to Kinloch meant Cullen was never able to pay the right respects to the friends and comrades he lost. People he was close to, some of whom were his own age and younger. He never thanked them for their friendship. Never told them how grateful he was to them for accepting him into their elite family and helping him learn the ropes. He watched and heard so many of them die, and those screams and images revisited him daily. He wondered if their family members went to Kinloch to pay their respects.

What kind of person was he if he never did that? Was he truly so selfish to not even say a prayer for those that were lost? Was it selfishness or arrogance or simply guilt that held him back? Could he keep running away from those he saw suffer? Those who died deserved his respect and his remembrance. To think he hadn't been back to give what was due to them made his stomach sink.

Kinloch/Lake Calenhad 12 miles. Second exit.

His body cooled as he indicated and slowly pulled the car into the correct lane for the fast approaching roundabout. A sickly sweat broke out over his forehead, cold and uncomfortable while his mouth dried up and his throat threatened to close over. Nervous panic and anxiety started to take hold, and Cullen consciously took deep breaths to try and combat the fear. This was the right thing to do. It was long overdue, and perhaps it would help in the end. It was a risk he was willing to take. A risk he'd been too afraid to take before now.

Waiting for a gap in the traffic, Cullen eased the car forward drove passed the first exit and indicated to leave off the second. The clipped voice on the satnav told him he had made a wrong turn almost immediately and he clicked both it and the screen off.

Nevena whipped her head between the road, Cullen and the traffic behind them, confusion evident on her face.

"You took the wrong exit."

"No, I didn't," Cullen replied, surprised at how calm his voice was. "We're going the right way."

It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. "Cullen..." Nevena ran her hands over her face. "This is… Going to Kinloch… I know what I said last night was out of line. I shouldn’t have said anything. Are you going because of what I said? Please don’t go because of what I said. I said awful things… Is this really a good idea? I was being a jerk—I shouldn’t ha-- "

"No," he interjected, glancing at another road sign. "You were right. I... I have been running from this for too long. I should have faced my demons years ago. I was just too afraid."

"Cullen," sighed Nevena. “I…”

"I need to face this head-on." Cullen smiled for a moment, echoing the same words she used. Nevena returned a weak smile. "If you can deal with your past, then so can I." He went silent and took a settling breath.

She sighed, wringing her fingers in her lap. “If you’re sure… If your mind is made up.”

“It is.” Cullen nodded, more to himself as if to add conviction to his decision. "Will... Will you come with me?" He glanced towards Nevena after a few seconds. "Stay by my side? In... in case I need some help or support?"

Nevena reached across the car and placed her hand on his forearm, a warm smile on her face. "Of course I'll be with you." Cullen removed his hand from the wheel and her fingers slid between his. He squeezed. "I wouldn’t leave you to do this alone.”

Cullen wrapped his hands tighter around the steering wheel easing the car through a narrow space. Kinloch's idiotic one-way system was a nightmare. It did little to help Cullen's frame of mind. He tried to breathe through the anxiety rising within him but his throat felt as though it was closing over. His heart was pulsing at the back of his mouth and there were moments he felt as though he was choking.

Kinloch was bigger than he remembered it. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe Cullen simply forgot the size of the city in his efforts to banish the place from his memory. The winding, cobbled streets were labyrinthine and Nevena commented on the different buildings they drove past, trying to make idle conversation. More than once Cullen tried to apologize for his lack of response, but the words caught in his throat like thick bile. It was all he could do not to vomit.

They made their way through a quaint old-fashioned part of the town, the streets lined with thatched cottages enclosed in low flint walls. In front of each house a flawless, snow-covered garden. Picturesque and peaceful - and hiding the devastation of a decade ago. Following the traffic took them into a more built up and modern area. Driving into it between high rise blocks of flats and office buildings, it felt like entering an entirely different era, let alone town.

These buildings were almost all new or had undergone some kind of extensive repair. Cullen could see distinguishing colour differences between bricks on some and changes in architectural styles on others.

Everything he saw and noted in his head served only as a momentary distraction. Nothing could penetrate the cloud of panic in his mind for long. Part of him wanted to turn the car around and drive away. Turn tail, run and refuse to confront the past. Cullen tried to quiet that frightened part of his mind. The scarred nineteen-year-old petrified of facing the consequences of his bold and brash actions.

He could not turn back. He knew doing so would spell the end of this chapter of his life, just as much as confronting it would. If he ran away now, allowed his cowardice to win out, then he would be running the rest of his life. Hunted and haunted by screams and faces of ghosts he condemned. If he confronted it, faced his guilt, and allowed himself to fully begin to process everything that happened more than ten years ago, then maybe there was a chance that one day he would sleep soundly and the nightmares would leave him be.

And he so longed for closure. For an end to the nightmares and the constant self-loathing. Or at the very least, a reprieve.

Either way, a visit to Kinloch was long overdue and every corner of every street served as a reminder of what he experienced here. And not just him, his comrades too. Beneath his clothes, he could feel every scar tingle, as if they were connected by an unseen force to Kinloch. A painful throb started in his shoulder and leaked down the puckered flesh of the burn scar. It made Cullen's skin crawl, the sensation like cold fingertips sliding down his chest and nails digging in, as if trying to tear the scar tissue from him.

More than once he reached up and rubbed his left shoulder in an attempt to soothe the sensation away. It did little to help. Nevena did not comment, either because she did not notice or, more likely, because she did not wish to cause him further anguish by bringing attention to it.

As he pulled the car gingerly through a narrow gap and round a corner, the high steeple of the town chantry came into view. Cullen's breathing stopped and he reached across grasping blindly for Nevena's hand. She took it in both of her own and squeezed, rubbing his skin with her thumb. He could borrow her strength if she allowed it. If she could resolve herself to face the truth of her past, then he would be emboldened by her courage.

"It's all right," she murmured, soothing him. "I'm here, Cullen. I'm right beside you... Breathe..."

He did, sucking in a quick gasp and releasing it.

They drove past the steeple and it disappeared in the rear-view mirror. The vice around Cullen's chest relaxed somewhat to his relief.

Continuing behind the cars, they eventually came to a small multi-storey car park which was mostly empty and unmanned. Cullen parked on the ground floor. After turning off the engine he remained seated, hands on the steering wheel unable to move, frozen by fear it seemed. He stared dead ahead at an opposing blue car, eyes wide and watering where he wasn't blinking. Unable to blink. He could feel Nevena's gaze on him, questioning and concerned for him but could not find the physical strength to move or the mental strength to speak and reassure her.

His breathing was short and sharp, panic growing and seizing every inch of him, threatening to swallow and drown him in a cold, dark abyss. He teetered on the very knife edge of oblivion - as if walking a tightrope without a safety net between two vastly different worlds. His vision blurred at the corners, colours clashing before his eyes like a kaleidoscope. Wetness slipped down his cheeks; genuine tears or simply his eyes begging for moisture he wasn't sure. The drops clung to his chin though, before gravity caused them to fall and to drain into his jeans.

With his heart racing, sounding like the beat of a thousand horses’ hooves in his ears, a loud mechanical 'click' broke through the haze for a brief moment. Despite being frozen, Cullen allowed his head to be gently turned but his eyes were unseeing, his vision severely blurred.

"Breathe, Cullen. Breathe..." Nevena stroked his cheeks, her thumbs running rhythmically beneath his eyes. "Come on darling, breathe for me. Shh... you're safe."

He allowed her to pry one of his hands from the steering wheel and he felt her open his hand and his palm lie flat on something soft and warm. There was a steady, strong beat under his palm and a regular rise and fall. In and out. Slow and deep. In and out.

"That's it, that's it..." she cooed gently, voice soft, and warm, and familiar. "Close your eyes, sweetheart. Close your eyes for me." Somehow he was able to follow her instructions and Cullen's eyes slipped closed. "Just focus on my voice, on the beat of your heart. Your breathing." Her voice wafted through the haze, and lips feathered over Cullen's forehead with each word.

"Breathe in..." Nevena inhaled and Cullen found himself doing the same. "Out." He pushed his breath out. "Slowly, slowly now, there's no rush... And again, in..."

There was no measure of time in that car as Cullen followed Nevena's soft instruction and quelled the panic before it truly took hold. It could have been two minutes, it could have been twenty, or even two hours. It didn't matter. All Cullen knew when he blinked his eyes open and was breathing calmly, was that the fear was now only a niggle at the back of his mind and the oblivion he was suspended over was gone.

Nevena was kneeling up in the passenger seat, leaning uncomfortably over the parking brake and gear stick. Her hands encircled Cullen's face, eyes wide, concerned, and gentle on his. Still feeling warmth under his palm, Cullen realised she had slipped his hand up under her clothes. It was her skin he felt and he quickly jerked his hand away, a flush rising to his cheeks grateful as he was.

"Welcome back," Nevena whispered, feathering kisses over his forehead. Those on his forehead were followed by more on his eyelids, nose, and the corners of his mouth.

"You called me 'darling'," Cullen rumbled, finding threads of his voice from somewhere. "And 'sweetheart'." He sighed and closed his eyes, his body sagging as if exhausted. He wrapped his arms around her hips pulling her closer and relaxing under the calming effects of the raw affection she lavished upon him.

"Of course you remember that." The smile in her voice was unmistakable. A bright spot amid a moment of darkness. "I had no idea coming back would have such an effect." Her tone grew softer and regretful and her arms wound around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed for you to come back here. If I'd known ho--"

"Shh," Cullen shook his head, leaning it back enough to lazily open his eyes and look at her. "I didn't know how I would react either. And you didn't push or force me. I made the choice." He sighed, eyes slipping shut. Both were silent for a few moments. "I still want to pay my respects. Put some ghosts to rest, if I can."

"Whenever you're ready," Nevena said.

Cullen hugged her closer, practically pulled her into his lap in the driver's seat. It was a tight squeeze, but with her legs extended into the passenger side and her arms around his neck, they managed to sit reasonably comfortably. Cullen buried his face into the crook of her neck. More silence, steady breathing and soft touches exchanged. Mutual reassurance this time. Not one sided. Cullen sensed Nevena's guilt. No matter what he said, she would believe this was her fault.

"I scared you," remarked Cullen after a while, nestling into the curve of Nevena's shoulder.

"Well, yes. I don't like seeing you in the midst of a panic attack."

"No," sighed Cullen. "Yesterday. Or, this morning more accurately. When I shouted." He waited for a response, confirmation or denial. He took Nevena's silence as reluctant affirmation and his gut grew heavy. "I'm sorry for frightening you. For raising my voice. Given your past experiences, I should have done better."

"I don't blame you. I was being pig-headed," Nevena replied. "I would have yelled at me too."

Cullen shook his head. "I don't want to see that fear I saw in your eyes ever again. I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not." Nevena twisted her fingers in Cullen's hair.

"I will never raise my voice to you. I will never give you a reason to fear me." Cullen's voice thickened, emotion making speech difficult until he swallowed. "I'm truly sorry for doing it. Even once."

"Cullen," Nevena tilted his head back so they could look at each other. "Please, it's okay, I'm not upset. Please don't focus on me. We're here for you." Tenderly, she curled her fingers around his ear, brushing his hair back, and stroked his cheek.

"I know," he nodded. "I just wanted to clear the air."

She smiled, a small, genuine smile that still somehow made her eyes light up despite the dingy car park. "Consider it cleared." She pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips and then Cullen tucked himself back against her. "We can't stay in here forever you know," she remarked after several minutes.

"I know," Cullen replied, the warmth and closeness of Nevena's body and the aftershocks of his panic making him feel drowsy. "We'll go soon, to the chantry. Just," he nestled closer, "a little longer."

They wandered into the city centre sometime later, hand-in-hand and bundled up against the blistering cold. The pedestrian streets were as confusing as the roads. Even the signs didn't seem sure of where they were directing people to. Cullen didn't mind it though. The stopping and starting as he and Nevena got their bearings gave him a bit more time away from confronting his fears. He couldn't see any sign of the chantry from their current location - the buildings were built too high and Cullen didn't recall the chantry being a particularly large building.

They did not see many other people out and about. The snow and cold were off-putting and it seemed that the large majority of shops - those that were independently owned - were closed until after the New Year. They passed a few chain coffee houses and two supermarkets that were open, but even they were not very busy. Kinloch seemed a world away from the modern era, despite the facade the concrete jungle of the city centre presented.

Wherever the pair of them walked, Cullen saw signs of the devastation of ten years ago. The damage done by the two fighting factions, and some damage done by the TEMPLARS as they fought to protect themselves and civilians. Years and new buildings tried to disguise it, and on some, the damage and the history were almost imperceptible. But it was all around him. An off-colour wall here. An unexplained different coloured slab of paving there. Cullen doubted many of the inhabitants cared to remember the history and the blood that was drenched into the buildings and stone they walked on. And maybe it was better they didn't know or tried to forget. Open battle and the stench of death was not something people needed to be reminded of as they walked to work, or escorted their children to school. Ignorance was a luxury some had. A luxury Cullen wished he also possessed whenever he noted another sign of past damage and the attempt to disguise it.

Their pace was slow, not just because of how winding the streets of Kinloch were. Cullen stopped several times to catch his breath as it left him. When a car backfired he practically leapt out of his skin and screamed. That one event took him a good ten minutes to calm down from. Pacing a path on the street back and forth while he pulled on his hair and sucked in quick breaths. Nevena remained at his side as she promised she would. Patient, talking him through the panic and the fear. Each time he expected her to grow frustrated with him, she surprised him with kindness and understanding he felt undeserving of. She hushed him, held his hands, kissed him, breathed with him, and was unendingly calm with him. The only time she rose her voice was if a vehicle drove past them. Otherwise, her tone remained steady and soft, somehow breaking through his blind panic each time it threatened to take hold again.

When Cullen apologised she simply smiled, offered her hand to him, and continued walking with him when he took it. She made idle conversation, pointing out things that took her interest in an attempt to distract him. She argued with the GPS on her phone when it led them down the wrong road and made a show of looking in shop windows treating everything as though it was every day.

It was funny, in a way. Despite only knowing each other a short time, Cullen found he could not imagine making this trip and confronting this part of himself with anyone else. He tried to think of it, of coming here with Cassandra and Varric. He could imagine Cassandra trying to be sympathetic and soft with him, but falling short. Not because she lacked sympathy or was unkind, but simply because those things did not come easily to her. He knew Varric would be making notes for another book. Not openly, but mentally. That everything Cullen said and saw Varric would be squirrelling away for future use. He couldn't come to Kinloch and make this journey with any of his siblings. None of them knew the true extent of what he experienced and witnessed. Though Cullen had an inkling his older sister, Mia, might have had her suspicions, she was in possession of enough tact not to ask, though.

Coming here with Solona was out of the question. When they were together he would never have made it within twenty miles of Kinloch, and even if he could have brought her, Cullen didn't think Solona would have understood. He wondered if that was the reason why he never truly told her all the details. She knew he had nightmares, but he never told her the contents. She knew he was scarred, but he never told her the real truth of their origin. She knew he was in the armed forces from his late teens, but he never told her where he was stationed before Kirkwall. He realised he kept her very much at arm's length when they were together and that had been unfair of him.

Yet, with Nevena at his side, Cullen knew he could do this. Nevena Trevelyan, a woman he had known a little less than a month and who had come to mean more to him in such a short space of time than he ever expected. She knew him better and more intimately than his closest friends, and his last girlfriend - a woman he was with for years. She knew the contents of his nightmares, the source of his injuries, his past, and she did not recoil from any of it.

Cullen did not believe in the intervention of fate, or in soul mates, but with her, he was beginning to. Beginning to think fate had a hand in bringing them together and that maybe, just maybe, without his realising it, his soul had been crying out for hers. A strange and, if he was being honest, a frightening thought. One he was willingly starting to entertain. That this young woman who was damaged like he was, but differently, was his match and his equal.

That thought, the more he considered it, warmed him from his stomach to the tips of his fingers as they walked. He threw her a look every few seconds, listening to her talk and finding himself watching her speak intently. The shape of her mouth, and the way she looked around at her surroundings. Aware, but curious. He loved her mouth, the way her lips formed her words and the lilt of her voice when she said something she found funny and when she laughed at her own little jokes.

He loved the colour of her eyes, how they lit up, and how those same eyes looked at him with affection he never expected to see again. He could watch and listen to her talk for hours, happy just to listen to her babble about whatever thought popped into her head. He could not imagine her not being in his life now. She was new and exciting, yet familiar and a calming influence. Almost as if they had known each other their whole lives.

He squeezed her hand and suddenly the sights of the past did not incite the blind panic of before. They were unpleasant, for certain, but Cullen could manage it. He could do this. He would do this. And he would be better for it. He knew no one else could have accompanied him on this trip because no one else would have pushed him the way she did, even if her timing was terrible. He was grateful. He would have to tell her so.

"I think we got turned around again," Nevena pointed out. They stopped in the middle of the city square. There were more people here, popping in and out of more chain shops that were open for business. She tapped the tip of her nose while looking at her phone screen and turning on the spot. "It says the chantry is that way," she pointed north-west, "but we just came from that direction."

"Are you sure?" Cullen held his hand out for her phone and she handed it to him without a comment. He tapped the screen, bringing up the marker for where they were and zoomed out to see the marker for the location of the chantry. According to the map, they weren't far from it and yet they could see no sign of the building or how to get there. Nevena placed her hands on her hips and huffed, breath appearing as a puff of steam. "Maybe there's a side street?"

"I'm going to ask someone."

"We don't nee--" Cullen stopped when he realised Nevena was already jogging towards an elderly couple just coming away from an ATM machine. "Nevena!" He chased after her.

"Excuse me?" Nevena came to a halt and Cullen was at her side a few seconds later. "--looking for the chantry and we're a bit lost. Could you perhaps point us in the right direction?"

"The chantry?" one of the two men repeated. He was dressed in a heavy navy overcoat with a flat cap pulled low on his head, a tartan scarf wrapped tightly and lovingly around him to fight off the chill. His husband - Cullen assumed at the very least, given their closeness and how the other man stood with his hand on the first's arm, smiling blithely and dressed up against the cold in a similar fashion. "Head down through the square," he pointed, "and when you get to a restaurant with a neon blue sign out front, you'll want to go left. Keep going along that road about three hundred yards and you'll find the back end of the cemetery."

"Neon blue sign," Nevena repeated, smiling. "Thank you so much."

"The chantry won't be open," the second man said.

Cullen looked at him, "Oh? Why's that?"

"It's under repair. The roof caved in about... six, seven months back. Been under construction since then. All the sisters have been moved to other chantry's until ours is repaired."

"Oh," said Cullen, crestfallen and glancing at Nevena as if she might conjure a solution out of the air. "That's... disappointing."

"Why's that?" the first man asked. Cullen met his eyes - grey, and milky with the early signs of cataracts. For the first time, Cullen realised he was carrying a white cane out in front of him. He was smiling though and seemed genuinely interested in what Cullen's answer was.

"We came here specifically to visit," he explained. "I... uh, I mean, about ten years ago I..." he found his voice catching and swallowed thickly against the sensation of his throat threatening to close over. Nevena's hand tightened around his, a physical touch to ground him.

"Cullen knew some of the people involved in the incursion about ten years ago. Friends. We came to pay our respects," she explained with warmth to her voice. "Forgive me for asking, but were either of you here during that time?"

The first man sucked his teeth. "I remember. Loyalists and Resolutionists, wasn't it? Stayed inside a lot during that summer. Too dangerous to leave the house. Residential areas were attacked if any house openly displayed support for the opposing side."

"Yes. Resolutionists and Loyalists," said Cullen once he found his voice. "Opposing political parties with vastly differing views."

"Always politics," the second man said, wearily. The first nodded and 'hmm'd his agreement. "The chantry might not be open, but there is a memorial ground you could go to if you wanted to pay your respects. It was set up about two years after the conflict."

Cullen brightened, "Whereabouts is that?"

"Just," the man turned and pointed down the long road leading away from the city square, "head all the way down. It's on your right once you get away from the shops. About ten minutes or so."

"We'll go there." Nevena clutched Cullen's hand. "Thank you so much for your help."

"Yes, thank you," Cullen nodded, suddenly eager to get moving.

"You're welcome," the second man smiled at them both and gave the first a gentle tug on the arm.

"Happy New Year!" the first added before Cullen or Nevena started moving.

"And you," Cullen replied. They both moved off in opposite directions, Cullen's pace a little quicker than before.

They came across the memorial ground after a brisk fifteen minute walk. It was some distance out of the main city and the bustle of shops, not tucked away by any means, but clearly not in an area that got much traffic, foot or vehicular. The snow on the ground was practically untouched, except by birds, foxes, other animals and perhaps two people at most judging by the footprints Cullen could see making a beeline straight through the grounds.

It wasn't much, simple and understated. It was a snow covered field surrounded by wrought iron fencing, with a single gate leading in and out. A central pathway led up to a monument which stood in front of a small building. From inside the building, Cullen could make out an orange glow spilling from the open door. Rows of gravestones popped up through the foot or two of snow, the tops of them jutting out of the crust of ice. There was a sundial, a few small trees that were bare of leaves, but probably looked nice in the spring and summer. The edges of the grounds were surrounded with flower beds, though the only plants Cullen could see were some evergreen bushes, no flowers.

Lining the path towards the monument were a few placards and boards on wooden platforms, a few benches too. One had been dusted of snow, and there were fresh flowers lying on the seat. A bench dedicated to someone who perished, then.

Cullen inhaled deeply. The cold air bit at his lungs and the breath in him shuddered when he expelled it. He flexed his free hand at his side, willing himself to push the gate open and enter. Something was holding him back though. If he did this, he would not be able to go back. There was no running away. This was a gesture that was long overdue, and perhaps it would do nothing to quell his fears and nightmares and his guilt, but it was something he needed to do. He'd allowed his cowardice to win out for too long.

"You all right?" Nevena asked.

Cullen nodded, "So far." He grasped the gate and pushed it open, holding it as he entered and Nevena followed after him. He closed the gate quietly so not to disturb the eerie serenity of the grounds. There was so little noise. No cars driving past, or people chattering. Just the occasional bird call, a light brush of wind and the naked branches of the trees clacking softly when they trembled in the breeze. It was like entering another world with how quiet and almost private it felt.

They made their way up the path slowly, boots crunching on the slush and grit. Cullen wanted to go straight for the monument but stopped when Nevena slipped her hand from his to brush snow off one of the placards lining the path. He stood beside her and looked. In white, on a blue background, were words detailing the reason for the memorial and what happened during the incursion.

"It's built on top of where the Resolutionists made their base," Nevena pointed out, reading from the board. "The tombstones are mostly for show, as those who perished are buried in the graveyard attached to the chantry or their remains were returned to their loved ones."

"Hm," Cullen said, walking to the next one. He dusted the snow off, revealing more words and a diagram. Blueprints for the building that once stood there. "Despite military efforts to act as peacemakers and keep the civilians safe, the Resolutionist movement was not quelled. More atrocities were carried out, resulting in a total of seventy-nine civilian deaths and thirteen military deaths over a five-month period," he read from the board and tucked his hands in his pockets. "I suppose we didn't really do much good in the end."

"You tried," Nevena told him, standing at his side and tracing a gloved finger over the building blueprint. "Surely that matters. And I'm sure there would have been more fatalities if you and your squad weren't on hand."

"We'll never know," Cullen sighed. He tried to make light of the situation, but how did someone make light of the massacre of almost a hundred people? No one should have died due to different political views, just as no one should have died for his youthful arrogance and stupidity. Yet they did. People with convictions so strong, and prejudices so immense took the lives of the innocent for a cause most of them probably only half understood. The ringleaders were corrupt and convincing, their influence spreading like diseases and riling up those of a similar mind into a mob.

More should have been done to quell the uprising and the building conflict before it started, but no one in any position of authority took it seriously enough. He remembered before being sent to Kinloch, hearing on the radio and watching on the news people debating what they should do, rather than doing it. The police were outnumbered and overpowered within days and without full approval of the governing Landsmeet, the army couldn't be deployed. The only reason the TEMPLARS were given the green light was because their purpose was more to protect than to fight.

The third board described the date the army was officially given sanction to become involved, and how quickly everything was quashed when the full might of the Ferelden military was unleashed. Most of the leaders of the Resolutionists either died while resisting or took their own lives. Underlings and grunts surrendered without much argument when confronted with automatic weaponry and armoured vehicles. Within six hours the uprising was ended. Cullen felt a bristling anger at that. At the thought of the lives that could have been spared and saved if the government had only acted earlier, instead of debating.

Nevena brushed the snow off the last board and read it aloud after a reading in silence for a few seconds, “Despite all the odds, during their efforts to find survivors of the specialised unit deployed early in the conflict and finding the majority dead, they did discover a single survivor. Having endured months of torture, pain, starvation, and horrors that defy imagining, the solider – aged nineteen at the time - was rescued and made a full recovery." She looked towards Cullen. "I suppose they're talking about you."

"I suppose so," said Cullen stiffly. "Honestly, I had no idea it went on for months," he said, walking to the board and scanning the words himself. "The days ended up becoming a blur, eventually."

"I can't imagine how you endured it," Nevena murmured, eyes on the white words that seemed bigger as if they were screaming at him their large typeface. "You survived, though."

"Yes," Cullen's voice was curt. He sighed heavily, stomach twisting and sinking like a stone deep into his abdomen. "You were right, you know," he tucked one hand into his pocket and brushed the scar on his lip with the other. "What you said. Last night."

"Which bit?"

He shifted, telling her after a long pause, "About me being afraid to come back here." His voice was thick, his tongue heavy and he kept his eyes forward, fixed on the words on the board. "About being afraid of confronting my past. About... not coming back because I don't know who I am without that guilt of what happened to my comrades weighing me down."

"Cullen..." Nevena gently touched his arm.

"I've spent ten years blaming myself for what happened. Wondering why..." he cleared his throat with a harsh cough, feeling his eyes stinging with hot tears and a sharp prickle behind his nose as he struggled to keep them at bay. "Wondering why I... why did I survive? And not them? I shouldn't have lived." He gasped, sighed, and lifted his head to stare at the dull glow of the sun as it tried to penetrate the thick grey clouds. Squinting helped him keep the emotion choking him in check. "I would give anything for one of them to take my place. They were all better men and women than me. So why did I live and they didn't?" He dropped his head and looked at the board again. "Why was I the only one to survive?"

"I don't know," Nevena answered, though he wasn't expecting her to do so. Her boots crunched on the ground and he felt her slip her arm through his. "But, I know you can't keep blaming yourself for what happened."

"Can't I?"

"No." He could see her watching him from his peripheral vision as he lowered his head again and quickly wiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "It's like you told me, about my mother, she made a choice to kill herself. It wasn't me. I didn't push her to do it. The same applies here."

A short chuckle pushed beyond Cullen's lips, "You were a baby. I was a nineteen-year-old idiot, who thought he knew everything."

"Your comrades made a choice to follow you, though," Nevena explained, her voice softening. "And the ones who did the killing were the rebels, the Resolutionists. You didn't pull a trigger, or wield a blade. And given their penchant for killing, who is to say they didn't plan to kill all of you anyway?"

"Hm." He shrugged.

"You've allowed yourself to feel this guilt. To let it swallow you and wash over you and become like a cancerous growth inside of you, festering and tainting everything." She echoed the words he'd used with her just a day before, almost making him smile. "This guilt you feel about surviving when others didn't, it's going to destroy you - it almost has once before, you said so yourself. Though not in so many words." She paused and turned her eyes to the board in front of them. "It wasn't your plan that killed them. It was the people who killed them. You made a plan to escape, a plan your comrades trusted and followed because they believed in it. In you. They didn't know if doing nothing would result in them dying, or trying to escape would result in it - but having a plan you gave them a chance they didn't have before. You gave them hope. And that is something far better to remember and cling to, don't you think?"

Cullen raked his fingers roughly through his hair. "They still died because I thought I was clever," he stated, not looking at her.

"You may have died anyway. Your plan at least gave them a fifty-fifty chance of survival. And your friends, your comrades, clearly thought it was a good plan, and were willing to take that chance, whatever the odds. Or they wouldn't have gone along with it."

"Maybe." Cullen gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders feeling uneasy and weak in his body. He slipped away from Nevena and approached the central monument standing in front of the small building. It loomed over them on a marble plinth about six foot in height, engraved with a variety of names on three sides.

Standing on top of the plinth was an over-sized kite shield crafted from rough, dark grey metal and showing signs of battering and the ever-changing weather. Emblazoned on the shield was a symbol Cullen recognised, the symbol for the TEMPLARS, a sword with the blade pointing down to the ground with three waves on either side, supposed to represent holy fire. When he joined, he was told the story behind the mystic symbol: that TEMPLARS were an order founded on the holy ordinances of the chantry and the Andrastian religion. They became militarized due to circumstances lost to legend and had remained an unknown, elite sector of the military ever since. As fanciful as the tale was, Cullen never really believed it.

Scanning down the words engraved on the plinth, Cullen noticed names that immediately struck him like a slap in the face, making his stomach plummet to his feet. The side he stood before listed only the names of the soldiers whose lives were lost, he assumed the other two sides were full of the names of the civilians. He never took the time to get to know the civilians he and his comrades were supposed to protect. The names before him though, thirteen of them, each one caused a face to appear in his mind and a voice to ring in his ears as loud and as clear as if the person was standing beside him.

"You knew them?" Nevena was at his side, reading the names to herself.

Cullen nodded dumbly, choking on a breath as he fought to find his voice. "Alexander Carroll," Cullen pointed to the first name on the list, "he started with the TEMPLARS the same time as I did. He was older than me, didn't take things very seriously... You could never keep a straight face around him though... Agatha Ferguson was one of the oldest of us, she had a lot of experience. I've often wondered why she listened to me. She was a good sort. Given how few women there were in comparison to men, she really could give as good as she got. One look from her and you would swear you were suddenly a foot tall."

"You were fond of her?"

"She reminded me of my older sister, Mia," explained Cullen. "It made being away from home a little more bearable." Slowly, he went down the list of names, describing the people and their influence on him and the small group of them deployed in Kirkwall. He knew he was rambling, even as the words flowed out of him like water through a dam, but Nevena stood and listened attentively, asking questions about the men and women he described.

It felt good to talk about them. Strange, but good. As if speaking about them gave them all life again, and with each person Cullen spoke to her about, it was as though an invisible weight slowly sloughed off him. A weight he was never aware of, a force pushing down on him, or perhaps he was holding on to it instead. It was like the memories of these people were holding on to him and because he was so reluctant to revisit the past and revisit their memories they'd simply lingered. Restless spirits clinging to him. Now he was giving them urgency and a voice, bringing light to their memory and they could suddenly be released into the ether and allowed to rest.

Nevena ventured around the monument and Cullen followed after her, catching up as she stood in the entrance to the small building just beyond. The door was open and it led into a decent sized room furnished like a small chantry. At the far end was an altar, a white stone image of Andraste with her hands extended, a bowl of ever-burning fire held aloft. On either side were three wooden pews creating a central aisle for visitors to walk down. Lining the edge of the room were tables covered in dozens and dozens of candles. Despite the appearance that there was no one around, some of the candles looked to be recently lit, while others were burning, or almost completely burnt down. To the left at the far back, almost invisible on first entering was another door which Cullen could only assume led to a vestibule. A few decorative tapestries hung on the walls depicting images of the birth of the Andrastian religion, and by the door was a large, heavy book on its own table. The page open was filled with words and scribbles. Cullen assumed the whole book was like that, filled with visitor comments.

"Do you--" Cullen started, turning to Nevena.

She cut him off, "Take all the time you need." She gave his hand a gentle, supportive squeeze and turned her attention to the book. Cullen smiled at the back of her head, unable to find the right words to express his gratitude. Then he took slow, steady steps towards the altar and the vision of Andraste, his heart pulsing in his throat.

All the times he toyed with and imagined coming to pay his respects, he never thought he would truly come back to Kinloch and do it. All the words and sentiments he thought he would say and had rehearsed in his head over and over all now seemed too rehearsed and they would be insincere. They all flew from his head anyway as he lowered himself down onto one knee and clasped his hands together, bowing his head. He pressed his forehead against his hands and sighed, his shoulders sagging.

It was years since he recited the Chant of Light. Years since he felt worthy of speaking the words or even remembering them. As he knelt in solemn, respectful silence he could feel himself filling with the verses he memorized as a boy. He remembered speaking the Chant before every mission as one of the TEMPLARS. How he repeated it over and over during his early captivity to keep his mind focused. Some days, it was all he could do to distract from the pain of the lyrium withdrawal or the agony of hunger and thirst. Over time, he could only relate the Chant of Light to feelings of pain and hurt. The Resolutionists took that away from him too; only now, maybe he could reclaim it. If the place where he had been confined and tortured, the place that was filled with so much blood and death could be demolished and turned into a memorial ground - a place of peace and reflection - then perhaps the words of the Chant could be cleaned for him, too. Perhaps the meaning and the feeling could be purified and Cullen could find solace and comfort in it as he once did.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, somehow managing to block out all other sound and thoughts except the sound of his slow, steady breathing and the right words to say. He remembered his friends, the comrades he lost and, for the first time, chose to remember them differently. He could remember them as corpses, tortured bodies, their cries and screams echoing through empty hallways and shaking him to his core. Or, he could remember them as the people they were. As warm, and bright, and real. As people who laughed with him, and trained with him. Men and women with lives of their own, and families who adored them. Who were proud of them for the good they wanted to do. He could remember them as husks of themselves, half-mad with starvation. Or, he could remember them as vibrant human beings who died for something they believed in, and who wanted to do something good with their lives. As people who wanted to protect others who could not protect themselves. As people who wanted to make a difference in the lives of those unfairly under attack. He could remember them as people who did make a difference. As people who touched lives, and who would be remembered not just by him and by their families, but by the dozens of people they helped and assisted in their line of duty.

Feeling himself smile, and his body lighter than it had been in years, Cullen welcomed the tears of relief that dripped from his eyes and trickled down his nose. He didn't wipe them away, even as they tickled and some slid down along his lips. He allowed himself this moment to cry and mourn in a way he never allowed himself because of the leaden guilt he felt at the loss of their lives. A guilt he now realised he didn't need to carry around with him. It was another choice, like how he chose to remember the friends and comrades he lost. He could choose to carry the guilt or choose to release it. Choose to free himself from those shackles and live his life again, rather than allow himself to be chained to it for fear of forgetting them.

They would never be forgotten, not by him, or the people each person knew and touched in some way. They would be remembered forever because their names were immortalised in stone, and their deeds were remembered by those who survived. Their memories would live on through word-of-mouth, and that was a gratifying thought.

The verses of the Chant filled Cullen's head like the tolling bells from a Chantry calling the faithful to prayer. Words and lines he believed he forgot over time seemed to sing in his mind. The words came to him, easily and without ceremony, and Cullen was speaking before he even realised it.

"Draw your last breath, my friends, Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker’s right hand, And be Forgiven.”

Standing, Cullen went to the nearest table with the candles on it. He took thirteen unlit ones from a box and carefully placed each one in a vacant hole on a metal stand to stop the candles burning the wood. Taking a candle already lit, he ignited the wick on each one, saying the name of the person he lit it for. When he was done, he returned the original candle to its place, clasped his hands together in front of him and bowed his head. He didn't speak or pray, just stood in the warm silence and felt the peace flood over him.

When he was finished, he quickly rubbed his face and looked around for Nevena. He saw her at another table of candles on the opposite side of the statue of Andraste. She was lighting a candle, though he did not need to guess for whom. She must have felt him looking because she lifted her head and found his gaze across the room. She smiled sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders, the two of the mirroring each other as they approached each other and stopped in front of the statue of Andraste.

"I'm not even very religious..." Nevena mumbled, looking at her feet, "I feel like a bit of a fraud, lighting a candle and everything."

"I'm sure it's the thought that counts," Cullen assured her, reaching for her hands. She allowed him to take them, and he ran his thumbs over her knuckles. "You know," sighed Cullen, searching for words, "I think part of the reason I was so reluctant to come back here was because of how much what happened here changed me."

"Oh?" Nevena took a step closer to him.

"I never truly told anyone what happened to me here in Kinloch. B-before you, I mean... I was so... angry after everything that happened here," explained Cullen, closing his eyes for a moment. "After what I endured, I didn't think I could trust anyone again. I closed myself off from everyone and everything. The anger I felt, blinded me for so long to all the good in the world. It twisted my perspective... I'm not proud of the man that made me."

Nevena inched closer again, though there was barely any space remaining. "Cullen..."

"Coming back here, I think... I can begin to put some distance between what happened. I don't want to still be carrying that anger, that guilt around with me my whole life." He shrugged and opened his eyes to meet hers, "It's not much, but it's a start." An uneasy smile tugged the corner of his mouth. He felt vulnerable letting her in like this, allowing her close to him, but it came easily. He could speak to Nevena like no one else, let her know him in ways no one else did. He hoped she felt the same. That she could speak to him and trust him.

"A start is a good place to... start," Nevena grimaced, laughing softly to herself and leaning forward to bury her face in his chest. "Sorry," she groaned, muffled by his clothing. Cullen chuckled, releasing her hands to bring his own up to her face. He curled her hair behind her ears, holding her jaw in a gentle grip. Kissing the top of her head, he coaxed her to tilt her head back, pressing a second kiss to her forehead.

"You're so eloquent," he teased, smiling.

"Words are hard, sometimes."

"I noticed." Cullen's lips lingered against her forehead again, his laughter dying with hers. "I needed to do this," he said, after a long, comfortable silence. "I needed to come back here and confront the past. Confront the memories and the guilt... Maybe the feelings won't ever go away, not entirely but... I know coming here has been a good thing for me."

"Good," hummed Nevena, "I'm glad."

"It's because of you, you know." Cullen stood tall enough to look down at her, to see her face, and hold her gaze. "You are so much braver than you think you are, to want to deal with your past head on."

"Brave or foolish, more like," Nevena snorted with a half-hearted eye roll.

"Brave," Cullen repeated, his voice growing thicker. "Very brave." Colour flooded Nevena's cheeks, her mouth open slightly as she peered up at him, unable to look away. "Thank you for lending me some of that bravery today... For lending me some of your courage." He ran his thumbs over Nevena's skin beneath her eyes, stroking steadily. "You are the most remarkable woman I have ever met." He pressed his forehead to hers, nuzzling as he closed his eyes. "You are..."

Words failed him for a moment, and in the wake of a beat of silence, Cullen gently inclined his head to press his mouth to hers. The kiss was soft, warming, yet held an intensity and passion all its own. Cullen could feel every unsaid emotion he carried being poured into the connection of their lips, every unspoken word exchanging through their breaths. Cullen couldn't recall a single kiss like it in his whole life. It was as if he suddenly realized what kissing really was. It wasn't just two lips meeting hungrily in a rush of heat and yearning, it was two people connecting. Sharing a little precious, piece of their soul for a few seconds. Giving it to the other person to protect and cherish, as they would do the same. It was painful honesty and heartfelt passion. It was angry tears and sad tears, and tears of laughter. It was lazy days on a couch watching nothing on television but being content. It was falling over each other ice skating or skiing. It was being thrust together by circumstance, and finding a piece of yourself you never knew was missing.

Cullen pulled away, his lips lingering a hairsbreadth away from Nevena's. "I have never felt anything like this before," declared Cullen, a knot in his stomach tightening and twisting around his lungs and heart.

"Neither have I," Nevena breathed, her fingers curling into Cullen's jacket, "but, I like it."

They stood together in the warmth and silence a few moments more, relishing the atmosphere of this secluded chapel, and Cullen wondering if Nevena had experienced even a thimbleful of what he just had. Then she shifted, scraping her boot on the ground and put some space between them, a small, uncertain smile on her face.

"We'll miss the last ferry if we linger much longer," she told him, offering her hand to him and waiting patiently. "Are you ready to go?"

Cullen took her hand. He nodded with a feeling of certainty inside him that he did not expect to leave Kinloch with. "Yes."

CHAPTER ON AO3

This chapter was a doozy to write, and if I'm being totally honest with you, I'm actually afraid of the reaction it'll get.

One thing I'm trying so hard to avoid in this fic is the trope of "love magically healing everything". And I'm worried this chapter falls into that trope. It's not meant to. Cullen's nightmares, the PTSD, it's not magically cured and gone because he went back to Kinloch. It's not suddenly an intrinsic part of him. It's still there. He stuff has PTSD and all the stuff that goes with it. But, I guess for me, him returning to Kinloch allows him to perhaps... begin to heal some wounds that are still raw.

I don't know. I guess you guys will be the judge of that.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, at the very least. I appreciate it's very long and very wordy and quite heavy going. So I appreciate if you managed to get through it all.

Normally I have a list of questions that cover the chapter, but I don't really have anything at the moment. I'm kind of reluctant to upload anything, because of personal stuff. Confidence issues and just general... bad mental health that I'm trying to deal with. But it had been a while, and I hate the fact updates are already sporadic enough, without adding no uploads to the mix because my brain is not playing ball.

Sorry, I'm rambling. Thanks for all the kind comments and tag flails on the previous chapter. Please let me know what you think of this chapter as well. I'm really interested to see everyone's thoughts and feelings. There's a lot to unpack in this chapter.

Once more, thank you for joining me and reading, whether you're a new reader or a returning reader. Please let me know what you think in the comments or tags or by dropping me a message, or leaving a comment on AO3. See you in the next chapter. <3

#cullen rutherford #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age modern au #da:i #dai #modern au #dragon age fake relationship au #fake relationship au #cullen x trevelyan #nevena trevelyan #writing #cullen x nevena #my wriring #long fic #only make believe #new chapter #update

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megamanx1994 · 6 years

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Xenoforce II Chapter 9

Chapter 10: From bad to worse (Disclaimer! I own nothing of Xenoblade Chronicles or Ratchet and Clank) Anela was doing a diagnostic on my suit. “Looks like you’ve gone through quite a few rough battles,” said Anela. “So what?” I asked. “So, I don’t think you should be using this costume so often, it’s a hobo suit,” said Anela, “I won’t allow it.” “Then how am I gonna keep my identity a secret?” I asked. “You could come up with a new design,” said Anela. “Wait…” I said, “You want to make a new design for me?” “Ask me now before I change my mind,” said Anela. “Can you do it?” I asked. “It’s a challenge, but I accept,” she said. She got on the computer and started putting down ideas. “Something classy like… Prince Marth!” I said, “He had such a kick-ass look. The cape and the boots…” “How about cape in the trash,” she said, “Cause you’re not getting one.” “Why not?” I asked. “For starters they’re cliché and secondly they’re known for causing a shit ton of accidents. “Hey, let’s try to watch the language here,” I whispered, “A certain ‘someone’ can’t stand it.” “I heard that!” said Bryan. “You’ve heard of Doctor Strange right?” asked Anela, “Magic powers, can heal the sick and wounded, has a nice looking cape.” “Yes but…” I said. “Doctor Strange Issue #53,” said Anela, “All was well another day saved when suddenly… his cape got stuck on a wormhole.” “Whoever made that comic was not the brightest…” I said. “Martian manhunter, Issue #27, cape got stuck in the watchtower’s engines,” said Anela. “Anela what you’re saying sounds very….” I said. “Robin; caught in batmobile, Superman; snagged on takeoff, Raven; sucked into a dark hole!” said Anela, “NO CAPES!” “Well looks like you convinced me,” I said, “No capes.” “Don’t worry your costume will be finished before the next mission,” said Anela, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I got some work to do on it.” “Anela wait,” I said, “Thank you.” “Michael this is the 8th time you thanked me,” said Anela. “I know, but I want you to know that I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me and my friends,” I said, “If it weren’t for you I don’t know what I’d do.” “No problem dude,” said Anela, “That’s what friends are for.” “Its funny, you’re like the Alfred to my Bruce Wayne,” I said. “D-did you just call me your frickin butler?” she asked. “What? Was that not a compliment?” I asked. She walked away smiling. “My bad,” I said. (To the 4th wall) Most nights there wasn’t much action. I mean I had a little action with Kitty. But it didn’t matter because I was a star to Los Angeles and so were my friends. But one thing mattered; Los Angeles was my responsibility. And what of Chuck Qwark you ask? (Switches scenes) He was working out and giving himself a totally new body. Chuck sure made quite a stretch to assure that his throne as captain wasn’t taken away. “Boys,” he said, “Its time.” Classes just ended and Micah was getting some food. “Time to get some grub on,” she said, “After a long day of school.” Two of Chuck’s goons surrounded her. “Can I help you boys?” she asked. “You got something for us?” asked one of them. “Uh, no,” said Micah, “Go get your own lunch.” She started to walk away and one of them pushed her to a locker. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. Micah punched him in the nose. Someone snatched her lunch. It was Chuck but he had a muscular well tone body. “Whoa, have you gained weight?” asked Micah, “Now give me back my lunch!” “No,” said Chuck, “A fella like me needs protein, and you don’t deserve it.” “Yeah!” said one of them who’s nose was bleeding. “I said GIVE IT BACK!” said Micah. The two goons were hitting her while Chuck was eating her food. “Mmmmm, frosty,” said Chuck. “HEY!” I said. I threw a trash can lid at them. “That’s enough!” “Who are you to mess with us asshole?” asked Chuck. “I’m Micah’s big brother,” I said, “And I don’t tolerate you bozos messing with her like that. Now give her back her lunch!” “And who’s gonna make me?” asked Chuck. I kicked him in the balls and he dropped the lunch and Micah got it. “I can just buy another frosty,” she said. “Here’s $5,” I said. (To the 4th wall) Always take good care of your younger siblings. I turned back to Qwark. “Its one thing to mess with me, and its another to mess with my friends,” I said, “But mess with my sister, I’ll kick your ASS!!!” I was about to land a blow on him when his two goons caught me. They started beating me up and giving me bruises. “That’s what you get for threatening Captain Qwark!” said one of them. I was about to use my digital headband but Qwark stepped on my hand. “We can’t have tinkerers like you sabotaging our paintball team,” he said. He took my headband from me. “This is to teach you a lesson about messing with the wrong dude,” he said, “Don’t mess with the best!” He ripped the headband and the jewel fell out and shattered. “My… my headband….” I said, “Ruined…” “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before messing with someone who’s 10 times better than you will ever hope to be,” he said, “You’re nothing without that headband. What are you gonna do now turd?” I finally snapped. “That’s. IT.” I said. I jumped at him and started punching and hitting him. The two goons tried to attack me and I got out my electric batons and hit them all around. “If I ever catch you pricks messing with my sister again, I WILL KICK. YOUR. ASS!!!!!!!!” I said, “Do you understand me?!” I suddenly had a vision. Qwark was about to grab me and punch me hard in the face. I quickly turned around and grabbed his leg. Then I did a hammer fist to the leg breaking it. He screamed so loud it could be heard throughout the school. “MY LEG!!!!” he shouted. We were both in the principal’s office. “Hammer fist to the leg?” asked Principal Gibson. “It was a form of self defense that Denise taught me,” I said. “Nonetheless, Charles I am very disappointed in you,” he said turning to Qwark, “In this school any student including Michael is allowed to use technology he builds to help the team.” “You are so dead,” said Chuck. “Screw you,” I said. “Charles because of your injury…. I’m afraid you’ll have to miss the upcoming paintball game,” said Principal Gibson. “What…..” he said, “But I’m fine, see?” He tried to get up but fell. “Don’t look fine to me,” I said. He got on his chair and left. “This isn’t over,” he said. I was giving some gear to Professor Freeman. “Professor?” I asked, “I have something for you.” I saw him and he was wearing some kind of mask. “Um…. What’s up with the mask?” I asked. “I have to wear it,” said Professor Freeman, “Otherwise people will think I’m a monster.” “Are you talking about what happened last time?” I asked. “Yes,” said Professor Freeman, “Its for everyone’s safety.” “Professor,” I said. “Especially my family,” said Professor Freeman, “They can’t see me for what I am…. They’d leave me.” “Your family loves you,” I said, “There’s no way they’re gonna freak out over a….” He showed me his face. Half of it was scarred and half of his hair was gone. “HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!” I said, “Y-y-you mean when that light hit you…” “Yep,” he said. “And it….” I said. “That’s what I’m saying,” he said. “And you wear the mask to….” As we speak,” he said. “HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!” I said, “I… I feel like this was my fault. I couldn’t save you in time.” “This isn’t your fault Michael,” he said, “You did what you could, and I thank you for that.” He put his mask back on. “Just…. Take it easy for now,” I said, “I’ll see if I can find someone who can heal that face of yours and everything will be back to normal.” I left feeling guilt. “Its not like you could’ve done anything to help,” said my uncle’s voice in my head.

#xenoforceii #ratchet and clank #captain qwark #xenoblade chronicles #FFEU phase 1 #fan fiction extended universe

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juuls · 7 years

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Facing uncomfortable truths about abuse

This week has been about facing truths, some of which I wish I never had to face, and I know that Mr. Juulna has had to face some pretty harsh truths as I have spoken them to him. Some he has accepted, at least at face value, and some I don’t think he will ever be willing to face, let alone accept.

One of which (is a vast meta umbrella) is that he abused me.

But... it was in a subtle way. Before last Tuesday, July 4th (yes, apparently fate decided to be dramatic with me and its timing), I was unwilling to truly accept that I was abused.

I wasn’t being physically abused. No, not often. (Yeah, and isn’t that a ridiculous sounding statement.)

But subtle, emotional abuse, is still abuse.

And it took me reading this passage in a fic I was reading, a poly Avengers fic called all this devotion (i never knew at all). It... has some tough topics, especially concerning Tony, a sub, and his former relationship with his dom, Obadiah Stane (the dude Tony killed in the first Iron Man movie).

[Thank you so much @themonstersoflove for writing this beautiful fic and helping me handle my own problems dealing with abuse. You don’t know how much this helped me.]

Like... okay, fine. Poly and slash and sub/dom isn’t for everyone. The latter is certainly not my usual cup of tea to read, but I don’t mind it at all. I sort of read everything in a ship or fandom I enjoy. And this I very much enjoyed, but for more than the smut. It was an emotional journey, and an important one.

But the point is that, no matter the subject, this following passage has a very important message. And it struck a huge chord within me.

Tony sighs, [...] "You all do better than Obi on that front. What you say or do, you mean. Half the time when he said he was fine, he didn’t mean it."

“Why’d you stay with him?” Steve blurts, then winces. [...]

Tony rolls to face him, and gazes at him with incisive, dark eyes: Howard’s eyes. “I hate that question,” he says after what seems an age.

“Sorry. Sorry, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to-“

“No. I should.” [...] “I hate it because there’s never a good answer. There’s never an answer that satisfies people as to why a smart, wealthy man with all the world before him would choose to stay with someone who hurt him.”

“Any answer you give would be enough for me,” says Steve, and Tony half-smiles.

“So noble. All right. Part of it was that people have this picture of abuse, where it’s a hundred percent of the time someone’s being evil and hitting the victim twenty-four-seven and, I don’t know, threatening their cat until the victim gets mad and burns the bed with him or her in it.”

“I- is that… a real thing?”

Tony laughs. “No, no, it was this awful movie on Lifetime. Sorry, I didn’t mean to confuse you. But that’s the thing, is Obi wasn’t cruel ten percent of the time, or even five percent. The times when he would be angry and hurt me were few and far between, and I always believed him when he said he was sorry, that he’d change, because for months or years at a time, he would. You got to remember, Steve, we were together twenty years.”

“So… there were good times?” It seems impossible that someone who owned the things [very cruel and improperly used BDSM implements] Steve saw in that trunk could be kind, could be good.

“Of course,” Tony says, frowning and looking at Steve as though he’s said something exceptionally dim. “I mean, I know it doesn’t fit your – let’s face it – black and white concepts of morality, but he could be nice. Very few people in this world are a hundred percent evil to everything and everyone. He was a great cook,” Tony smiles with the memory, “and he used to make the best breakfasts the morning after scenes and feed me in bed. Or when I was a kid, and my dad and mom were out at charity things that I didn’t go to, he’d come over and we’d tinker together, and then he’d make pizza from scratch. Before I hired Pepper, after my parents died, it was Obi that kept me from self-destructing.”

Tony shrugs, [...] “Which was another reason. I had a lot of good memories associated with him, and if I acknowledged that he was abusive, those memories seemed… devalued. Unreal. [...]”

[...]

“Anyway. I suppose the last part of it was fear. Obi was… the most stable thing I had in my life. Everything else changed, constantly, but I could always go to Obi’s place and know exactly what to do, where to go. Obi said he could make me the perfect sub, could help me get over what the schools did to me, and I thought he could. Even though he couldn’t, even though it hurt, I valued his confidence. His belief that I could be perfect, and not broken. As time went on, he just became-“ Tony gestures, frustrated, “-part of me. I didn’t know how I’d ever find anyone who treated me like Obi did, like I was valuable for something beyond being Tony Stark, and it just seemed easier to stay than to go, restructure the company, possibly be revealed.”

After I read this passage, I sat in my bath and just stared at nothing, trying to process what it was that I was feeling. It was... it was really hard. To see what I was feeling (mostly) put into words that I could read on a page and recognize in a relationship laid out before me on the page, with characters whom I could see this readily happening to, with the way it was explained.

It was terrifying, but it was also freeing.

I’ve finally -- not just with this, but with a lot of things leading up to this -- been able to recognize what happened to me. To accept that I was abused. That I will be experiencing the aftereffects of what I went through for a long time to come.

That just because it wasn’t “as bad” or “physical” like other people experience in abusive relationships, that just because I am strong and have a good support network and came out of this relationship not a complete mess, broken pieces to be glued back together but never to be the same again...

... just because I’m not all of that, does not mean I am any less justified in calling what happened to me abuse.

I was made to feel like my illnesses were a burden; that I should stop complaining about the immense amounts of unrelieved pain I was in.

I was yelled at and stalked online and told how terrible I was for blogging about what I did, and for writing fanfiction about what I did. That I was a whore, a harlot, a slut. That I was having an emotional affair; that I was cheating on him by writing what I did.

And when he would get extra specially mad, like when I would inevitably push back (because fuck him) -- he would throw things that would break whatever was hit by whatever it was he’d thrown. Or he would punch walls and doors. And more.

One time he was in the car and rammed it into the side of the house.

Very shortly afterwards, he threw his luggage at me.

And then... then he shoved me against the porch wall, his hand around my throat.

All of this was going on while I was being bullied in the reylo and reylux star wars fandom, and it was even going on before and after I was hacked and my fics removed (yes, it could have been him, but he’s terrible at lying and surprising me, and I honestly do believe he didn’t do it... but I still could be wrong). So, I was facing attacks about my fanfiction writing from two fronts, and I felt like I couldn’t receive comfort from him during my time of emotional need... which just led me further from him, and reinforced his accusations of emotional distancing. (Which, yep, were happening... but because of him.)

But... I still stayed with him.

Why?

Like Tony said... it’s hard to come up with an answer that makes sense and will satisfy the person asking.

He did all that stuff to me and more. Most of it was little things here and there that just added up. It got to the point where I was living in fear of him. I was still doing the things he hated (because, again, fuck him), but I was making sure to hide them -- to hide me -- from him so that he wouldn’t get mad.

All the while protesting that he was a good person. That he had his great moments, and great parts to him that outshone the bad.

That I still believed in him and his ability to change.

And he did change. That’s what made leaving all the harder. The fact that he had changed from how awful he’d previously been, made it harder for me to realize that it just wasn’t going to work out. That I needed more than just his trying better and being better. I needed to not be with him more than I needed him to change to suit me.

Because in the end, I want what’s best for him as well. I want him to realize how fucked up everything became, how fucked up he treated me... but I also want him to have someone who can be what he needs, and what she/he needs.

Despite it all, despite how it sounds, he is a (mostly) good person. Our fighting is part of his development, and a divorce will serve as punishment enough. Because we did have great times. He’s still at fault, he still did me horrible wrongs that I will never forget or forgive, but I have hope he can be a better person for any new people to come into his life, into my former position in his life. I hope for their sake that he’ll have chilled the fuck out by then, though, and maybe he will without me in his life.

But there were a lot of warning signs that I missed -- that I should have seen and pieced together -- because those signs were too small, too far apart, too innocuous at first, for me to realize I was being abused.

And I know that there are many more people out there like me.

Don’t be afraid, ladies and gents, to leave. Leaving is the hardest thing you will do, but after that it gets better, despite the hardship, feelings of being lost, etc.

You have more friends than you know.

Abuse is abuse, no matter if it’s all the time or rarely, or physical or emotional/mental.

I love you, even if I don’t know you. I’m here for you, as I know you’re here for me.

*hugs and love*

#abuse #emotional abuse #tw: abuse #spousal abuse #physical abuse #tw: physical abuse #divorce #mental health

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geek-gem · 7 years

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Infinite's An Asshole

Just saying I’ve been thinking about this for some time and even mentioned in my last post about Chaos in Sonic Forces. Including when searching up Tumblr infinite sonic forces I’ve decided and even thought more when liking some stuff of finally making this.

Including I thought of making more where it’s other characters from other forms of media.

I know with the lyrics in Infinite’s theme seems like he has a tragic back story. Which seems very nice I like that. Yet what your about to read is very harsh yet funny. The characters even make some 4th wall mentions because they don’t give a shit. Including just I keep thinking Infinite is just the biggest asshole…also it may have some of my own thoughts in it.

Please be aware of not just spoilers but very…brutal and kind of dark things said in this that might bother you. Yet supposed to be done in a funny way.

Infinite to Shadow.

Infinite: Your whole existence is the reason why everyone on the Ark died. You are basically the reason why Maria died. Basically you killed your own family by existing.

Shadow: *looking disgusted and pissed off* how dare you.

Infinite to Sonic.

Infinite: Your up beat positivity and outlook on life sickens me. One of these days your gonna break down and realize how much of a failure you are. Your the reason why I exist and why the world’s gone to shit being taken over by Eggman and me. It’s all your fault.

Sonic:…the game hasn’t released yet and I don’t know if I know you in anyway. Also the breaking down thing I’m feeling depressed at times I’ll think about it…or wait till I see what the game has to offer.

Infinite to Chaos.

Infinite: All Chao’s deserve to die. Your a piss ass guardian and Chao’s are weak and deserved to be slaughtered to out right extinction.

*Chaos now instead of one middle finger and now puts up his arms, forms huge hands and puts up both middle fingers with his eyes looking like he’s pissed*

Infinite to Metal Sonic.

Infinite: You a weak copy of the real Sonic. You will never beat him and never be the real Sonic. Your life is filled with misery, your father hates you because you fail to do the one thing you were born to do. I’m surprised you haven’t decided to end your life yet. You will always the worst thing Eggman has ever built.

Metal Sonic: Must…kill…now. *puts up both middle fingers and his red eyes flash*

Infinite to Zavok.

Infinite: Nobody will give a shit about your achievements in Sonic Lost World. You will always be forgotten and never considered one of the greats. Even people didn’t know who you were in the E3 trailer. Shows how much of an impact you left because you hardly left an impact.

Zavok: *sigh* it’s true. *He looks down to the ground just being all depressed as fuck*

Infinite to Dr. Eggman.

Infinite: I find it embarrassing of working for you despite the game isn’t out yet. I don’t care how threatening you are and what achievements you’ve done in your life. Your a weak villain who can never beat Sonic until now and you had my help. I’m surprised you haven’t committed suicide yet. In fact Ken Penders is more of a villain then you and we all hate him.

Dr. Eggman: Orbot hold my beer. *Left hand gives beer to Orbot* Exuse me while I get the Egg Dragoon and kill this sorry exuse of a villain WHO SAID KEN PENDERS WAS MORE OF A VILLAIN THEN ME!

Infinite to Silver.

Infinite: I honestly feel sorry for you. Your birth is so tainted in a game were sick of joking about. Yet our memory still stays strong remembering your horrible exuse of a debut. Unless Sega and Sonic Team reinvents you in canon. You’ll forever be taunted and your potential will never be reached and remain as a joke forever.

Silver: I’m sorry ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME CRY! *Has tears being formed in his eyes*

Infinite to Mephiles. Had to look on Google twice for Mephile’s name.

Infinite: I don’t care what people say. You were never the greatest Sonic villain. Your such a dumbass that you would of killed Elise at any chance. I don’t care if you wanted to be an asshole just for the sake of it. The way you are written. Also even when Elise dies old everyone’s gonna die anyway. Your plan is so flawed…you just fucking suck and the game you debuted in sucks.

Mephiles: *sigh* I know. *Like Zavok just looks to the ground being depressed as all fuck*

Infinite to Classic Sonic.

Infinite: I don’t care if your pandering. You have no exuse to me here with your pandering ass even if I talked about that. Your a God damn punk ass who was inspired by Mickey Mouse and Felix The Cat and might never speak in this game maybe.

*Classic Sonic just looks sad with tears forming in his eyes. Along with his mouth being messy*

Infinite to Buddy the wolf the custom character.

Infinite: YOU FUCKING SUCK YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE IN THIS GAME! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE! THEY SHOULD OF LET ME BE THE THIRD PLAYABLE CHARACTER! YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE EXISTING AND NEVER SHOULD OF EVEN BEING IN THIS GAME IN THE FIRST PLACE! I’LL BE ALMOST SICKENED IF IM RELATED TO YOU BECAUSE YOU DESERVE NO LOVE JUST NOTHING!

*Buddy just falls to the ground crying sobbing uncontrollably kind of like a baby but in his own voice*

Sonic: Jesus Christ Infinite what the fuck is wrong with you!

Infinite: What I’m an asshole!

Sonic: You didn’t have to make him cry like that my God seriously you made him feel more like shit then the others.

Infinite: I’ve been wanting to save the worse for him cause he deserves it.

Sonic: This is just GeekGem speaking isn’t it.

Infinite: What if GeekGem is Infinite.

Sonic: What.

Infinite: Or Jessie Eisenberg is Infinite.

Sonic: GOD DAMN IT INFINITE CAN YOU WAIT UNTIL THE GAME IS OUT!

Infinite: Damn it I just hope I’m really cool and I pick up buildings and throw them at people and me screaming I AM THE DEVIL I AM SATAN! Yeah I need to chill out and wait but I’m still an asshole.

Sonic: Damn it just Jesus Infinite.

Went to tags by mistake on that last part when choosing the word Infinite. To be honest the Classic Sonic part I don’t mind as long as they well the dimensions thing is an explanation.

Yet the custom character. I actually said in my head looked when making the you don’t deserve to be in this game I thought in my head or some shit the design looks cool. Seriously my head saying random shit okay it does don’t lie to self.

I’ve even made a post saying when I play the game I will make my own opinion about if I like the custom character or not. Saying I will not do anything special by just making the custom character look like what he’s been looking like. Because I rather not give a shit. Just don’t like to myself I could hate it or not.

We just have to wait and see. I wanted to make these pretty maybe not as harsh ha normal to smile yet well the funny parts are of how characters react Infinite’s insulting basically roasting them.

Well got tags down and forgot to mention Sonic Mania fuck it that looks good as fuck just as Sonic Forces and some new messages 4 by the same person scared me when getting the tags down.

edit this is funny read what I typed. Also fixed oh to or on the Jessie Eisenberg part

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic forces #sonic forces infinite #sonic infinite #sonic forces custom character #buddy the wolf #classic sonic #shadow the hedgehog #chaos #metal sonic #dr. eggman #silver the hedgehog #mephiles the dark

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preachbvne · 4 years

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***DON'T MISS THIS MESSAGE BELOVED*** Set The Reminder! *Prophetic Word* Make my Speech&Deceit To Be Their Wound & Stripes JUDITH (Weapon of Countenance) Give TO Thy Daughter the Power I have Conceived https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ng14odsA2qE

**Destroy Their Stateliness By The Hand **Make My Speech and Deceit be their Wound and Stripes

The King OZIAS Set a Time Limit on Waiting on The Lord (Error) Judith 7:29-32 29Then there was great weeping with one consent in the midst of the assembly; and they cried unto the Lord God with a loud voice. 30Then said Ozi´as to them, Brethren, be of good courage, Let Us Yet Endure Five Days, in the which space the Lord our God may turn his mercy toward us; for he will not forsake us utterly. 31 And if these days pass, and there come no help unto us, I will do according to your word. 32And he dispersed the people, every one to their own charge; and they went unto the walls and towers of their city, and sent the women and children into their houses: and they were very low brought in the city.

Judith Widow full of Counsel and Gift of Beauty Judith 8:7-8 7She was also of a goodly countenance, and very beautiful to behold: and her husband Manass´es had left her gold, and silver, and menservants, and maidservants, and cattle, and lands; and she remained upon them. 8And there was none that gave her an ill word; for she feared God greatly.

Warns Ozias; Error and Evil in their Words Judith 8: 9-11 9Now when she heard the evil words of the people against the governor, that they fainted for lack of water; for Judith had heard all the words that Ozi´as had spoken unto them, and that he had sworn to deliver the city unto the Assyrians after five days; 10then she sent Her Waiting Woman, that had the government of all things that she had, to call Ozi´as and Chabris and Charmis, the ancients of the city. 11And they came unto her, and she said unto them, Hear Me Now, O Ye Governors Of The inhabitants of Bethu´lia: for your words That Ye Have Spoken Before The People This Day Are Not Right, touching this oath which ye made and pronounced between God and you, and have promised to deliver the city to our enemies, unless within these days the Lord turn to help you. Do Not Bind the Counsels of the Lord- HE IS Not as Man Judith 8:12-17 12 And now who are ye that have tempted God this day, and stand instead of God among the children of men? 13And now try the Lord Almighty, but ye shall never know any thing. 14 For ye cannot find the depth of the heart of man, neither can ye perceive the things that he thinketh: then how can ye search out God, that hath made all these things, and know his mind, or comprehend his purpose? Nay, my brethren, provoke not the Lord our God to anger. 15For if he will not help us within these five days, he hath power to defend us when he will, even every day, or to destroy us before our enemies. 16 Do not bind the counsels of the Lord our God: for God is not as man, that he may be threatened; neither is he as the son of man, that he should be wavering. 17Therefore let us wait for salvation of him, and call upon him to help us, and he will hear our voice, if it please him.

***Prayer- The POWER I have Conceived- SMITE BY MY LIPS*** Judith 9:6-7 6Yea, what things thou didst determine were ready at hand, and said, Lo, we are here: for all thy ways are prepared, and thy judgments are in thy foreknowledge. 7 For, behold, the Assyrians are multiplied in their power; they are exalted with horse and man; they glory in the strength of their footmen; they trust in shield, and spear, and bow, and sling; and know not that thou art the Lord that breakest the battles: the Lord is thy name. Judith 9:8-11

***Give to Me the POWER I HAVE CONCEIVED*** 8Throw down their strength in thy power, and bring down their force in thy wrath: for they have purposed to defile thy sanctuary, and to pollute the tabernacle where thy glorious name resteth, and to cast down with sword the horn of thy altar. 9Behold Their Pride, and send thy wrath upon their heads: give into mine hand, which am a widow, The Power That I Have Conceived. 10 Smite by the deceit of my lips the servant with the prince, and the prince with the servant: break down their stateliness by the hand of a woman. 11For thy power standeth not in multitude, nor thy might in strong men: for thou art a God of the afflicted, an helper of the oppressed, an upholder of the weak, a protector of the forlorn, a Saviour of them that are without hope. ****I Pray The Oh Lord *** 12I pray thee, I pray thee, O God of my father, and God of the inheritance of Israel, Lord of the heavens and earth, Creator of the waters, King of every creature, hear thou my prayer:

Make My Speech and Deceit be their Wound and Stripes Judith 9:13-14 ***Make My Speech and Deceit Be their Wounds***** 13and make my speech and deceit to be their wound and stripe, who have purposed cruel things against thy covenant, and thy hallowed house, and against the top of Zion, and against the house of the possession of thy children. 14And make every nation and tribe to acknowledge that thou art the God of all power and might, and that there is none other that protecteth the people of Israel but thou.

Judith Took His Head -My Countenance has Deceived Him Judith 13:14-17 14Then she said to them with a loud voice, Praise, praise God, praise God, I say, for he hath not taken away his mercy from the house of Israel, but hath destroyed our enemies by mine hands this night. 15 So she took the head out of the bag, and showed it, and said unto them, Behold the head of Holofer´nes, the chief captain of the army of Assyria, and behold the canopy, wherein he did lie in his drunkenness; and the Lord hath smitten him by the hand of a woman. 16 As the Lord liveth, who hath kept me in my way that ***I went, my countenance hath deceived him to his destruction, and yet hath he not committed sin with me, to defile and shame me. ****KEY - JUDITH was Directed*** Judith 13: 17-19 17Then all the people were wonderfully astonished, and bowed themselves, and worshipped God, and said with one accord, Blessed be thou, O our God, which hast this day brought to nought the enemies of thy people. 18 Then said Ozi´as unto her, O daughter, blessed art thou of the most high God above all the women upon the earth; and blessed be the Lord God, which hath created the heavens and the earth, **which hath directed thee to the cutting off of the head of the chief of our enemies. ** 19For this thy confidence shall not depart from the heart of men, which remember the power of God for ever. Deceit Of Beauty Proverbs 31:30 (KJV) 30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. Esther 1:11 (KJV) 11 To bring Vashti the queen before the king with the crown royal, to shew the people and the princes her beauty: for she was fair to look on.

of A Woman7:12 (Judges & 2 Kings) and 2:17(Acts 2:17) Acts 2:17-18 (KJV) 17 And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams: 18 And on my servants and on my handmaidens I will pour out in those days of my Spirit; and they shall prophesy: Deborah The 4th Judge Judges 4:4 (KJV) 4 And Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lapidoth, she judged Israel at that time.

Judges 4:9 (KJV) 9 And she said, I Will Surely Go With Thee: Notwithstanding The Journey That Thou Takest Shall Not Be For Thine Honour; For The Lord Shall Sell Sisera Into The Hand Of A Woman. And Deborah arose, and went with Barak to Kedesh.

The Lord said to me.. What's the 7th and the 12th Book of the Bible Read The 7th Book of the Bible (Judges) Read The 12th Book of the Bible (2 Kings)

He told me: JUDGE KINGS! The Anointing upon me is That of DEBRA Seek for Yours

Notes I took from Sadhu 3 Years ag0-- It came Right Back around to my Understanding 3 Roles of Women - Triple Anointing (Psalms 68:11) Three-Fold Cord -Cannot be easily Broken

1. Miriam Anointing (Prophetic Worship) Prophetess • (To to get Through Her)(Visions-Dreams) • (Family Ministry)(Prophetic Worshipper) • Exodus 15:21 War Songs-Sing To the Lord • Sing to the Lord -Praise the Beauty of Holiness • Receiving New songs... To Then Share Revelation (12:11-12)(12:7-12) • Who do he think he is.. God speaks to us too(Don't make it a Spiritual Battle) • Address the Actions- NOT the OFFICE

2.Deborah Company Anointing • Prophetess and 4th Judge(Judges 4:4) • Wait on God (Communes) • A military strategist • Arts of Warfare(Warrior)(Judges 4:9-10,15) (5:22-23) • Wife • Weeps(Intercessor)(Be Aware of Angels) (Spiritual Sound) • War Cry Songs(Psalms 68) • 3.Anna Company Anointing (Name means Grace/Favor)

Grace Nuggets: (Prophetic Intercession Meaning) (They Pray as Directed by God) One will be the Dominating and one the Undertow

2.Anna Company Anointing

• Extreme Devotion to Fasting and Prayer only • All Night Prayer Visuals • Set Aside to Pray Only for the Church(For the Church to Stand Strong Against Persecution) • (Revelation 8:3) • (Regular Intercessor Meaning) • To Meet and Certain Time- Stand in the Gap- Taking on their Issue upon Yourself • Bring Petition

Scripture of Women as Apostles, Prophets, Deaconess, Warriors and Worshippers • Anna (Isaiah 8:3) Luke 2:36-38) • Phebie was a Deaconess (Romans 16:1-2) (Acts 16:12-15 Lidia) • Pricilla and Aquilla (Romans 16:3 and 1 Cor.16:19) • Apostle Junious and Indonicous(Romans 16:7) Paul called her a Notable Apostle • Maria Woodword-Etta- 1904 • Aimee Semple mcpherson 1950-60 • Kathryn kuhlman

4 Reasons... this will Happen 1) (A Company of Praising and Worship Women and Children go forth, before the Coming of the Lord and another Host Behind Him) 2) (New Methods, New ways- He gives Instructions) 3) (Pray for the Birthing of the End-time company of Saints, Kids, Youth, Toddlers, Pastors and Ministers) 4) (Women will Prophecy in the Last days and have a Call to do so

We will be a Triple Threat says the Lord • A Sword in One Hand • A Tambourine(Timbrel) in the Other • And Incents of Prayer coming from out Mouths...

LEAD CAPTIVITY CAPTIVE Judges 5:12 (KJV) 12 Awake, awake, Deborah: awake, awake, utter a song: arise, Barak, and lead thy captivity captive, thou son of Abinoam. UTTERLY DESTROY Deuteronomy 20:17 (KJV) 17 But thou shalt utterly destroy them; namely, the Hittites, and the Amorites, the Canaanites, and the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites; as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee:

The Lion has Roared..Who can But Fear?... The Lord has Spoken...I can But Prophesy!

"I Prophesy to the Perplexities and Give the Practicalities!"

The "GOD-With" Ministry

"Not Inspirational Speaking, But Word-Based Preaching!"

TRUTHALITY! Facts are Temporal Truth is Eternal! What is real? The TRUTH that, Nothing is too hard for God!

Preach Be a Voice Not an Echo www.preachbvne.webs.com www.preachbvne.blogspot.com Twitter@Preach_BA_Voice Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/preach_bvne/ Facebook: www.facebook.com/PREACHbeaVoicenotanEcho Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/PreachBVNE/ Youtube Channel:www.youtube.com/c/PREACHbeaVoicenotanEchoMinistry

To Sow into this Ministry Mail to: Shawntrell Davis P.O. BOX 30392 Clarksville, TN 37042 CashApp: $KingdomStewardDavis PayPal: www.paypal.me/SHAWNTRELLDAVIS or Email:[email protected]

Thomas Emmanuel Davis III Shawntrell Davis Ambassadors of the Word of Reconciliation Followers of "The Way"

Distributors of the Revelation! Distributors of the Truth! Distributors of the Release!

S.H.I.F.T Suddenly Heaven Invades Forcing Transformation!!

#YesLordIWill #CryLoudAndSpareNot #TheLordMyGodIsWithMe #PartakersofHisGlory #FortifiedBrazenWall #Repent #TheKingdomOfGodIsAtHand

Let the Lord be Magnified! Announcing the Coming of the Glorious Kingdom of God!

2 Corinthians 5:20(KJV) 20 Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God.

Matthew 24:14 (KJV) 14 And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations; and then shall the end come.

Obadiah 1:1 (KJV) 1 The vision of Obadiah. Thus saith the Lord God concerning Edom; We have heard a rumour from the Lord, and an ambassador is sent among the heathen, Arise ye, and let us rise up against her in battle.(They will Fall)

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