#and the other has witnessed murder practically since birth and life rolled him back in for round 2!

[tepikvinxi]

*puts these here because they're important to me*

[gukptune]

— phase one, the reap (m.)

Pairing: jungkook x reader

Genre: hungergames!au, hungergames!bts, tribute!jk, career tribute!reader

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, brutality, murder, all things hunger games, very mean/ very cold y/n, angst, smut

Summary: twenty five years after the fall of the second rebellion comes the fourth quarter quell. two different people from two different worlds stand out like sore thumbs within the pool of tributes―catching the eyes of others, sponsors and most importantly...each-other.

Words: 3.4k+

Note: a shorty for the first part of the series!!!! super excited for this and I hope you all like it toooo!

SERIES INDEX: one last breath

       — phase one: the reap

SERIES MASTERLIST

The dreadful day has come again, the day that many feared, despised, suffered from—the reap, the games.

Your district, a powerful one, important to the Capitol, stood with the president even to your dismay. Again comes the grim day, the skies had turned a dark gray, even nature was unhappy.

It was visible to you, outside your home the tides roared with anger and hatred for the reap, you could hear the planes and jets ripping the sky open forewarning to you to ready.

Your mother had knew the day would come, the day that you’d step ahead and join the games. Your whole life was built on this, this game. Your mother hadn’t cared much for the chance of her child’s death, of course she didn’t, you were her eldest of four. Your father had died during the games before you were born, your mother had remarried and birthed more children for her pathetic husband. 

The two of them agreed that to better the finances of their family that you should enter the career training and provide for them when you’d win the games, if you would.It was good for them, apparently, truly it was one less mouth to feed even if your district was drowned with food. They didn’t want to bother with you, mother must’ve hated you—she loved the others and would never want them to join the games. Maybe it was because you reminded her of father so much, she was angry that he left her, yet here she was forcing you away.

You were never home anymore, when you were five you were sent to the career camp, living your life training with your fellow future tributes—with the occasional visit from your family, mother and her husband standing by the gates as your kind siblings would embrace you with their love.

But today was different, you were home, readying up for the reap—for the quarter quell.You were uneasy, feeling tense, what could the twist be this time—which twist will be chosen from the glass of many.

Without a word spoken you got on your stupid dress and forwarded towards the courtyard, all the children settled in their spots as well as you. Your younger brother had reached the age of reap and he stood with the boys, looking over at you worry in his eyes. He was worried, why, there was no reason to be, many careers lurked amongst the crowd and never had a child in your district be chosen by force.

The Capitol’s representative had made her way up the stage, looking over the crowd with an obnoxious grin, “Welcome, welcome.”

You could already sense the annoyance she had caused amongst the crowd, people kicking at the pebbles by their feet or rolling their eyes. All you could think was: Uh, get to the point.

“I welcome you all to the reap of the Annual Hunger Games! This year is a little different, as you all may know this year marks the hundredth year since the fall of the Rebels, which means that this year is our fourth Quarter Quell!” Her high pitched voice scratches your ear drums with such pain that makes you wince.

She continues after she pauses for you to take in what she had said, “You all look very young, must’ve missed the last Quarter Quell. During a Quarter Quell the President shall pick a twist that changes up the reap, exciting isn’t it!”

With that you see the screen behind her light up with the Capitol’s anthem. You shifted your weight, kicking out your legs from standing for this long.

“Now let’s listen as our President joins us.”

The music plays for a few seconds before you could see the face of your relatively new president. President Snow, which is Coriolanus Snow’s son who was born just before his father’s death. Many could say the previous President was cruel, his son was no different.

“Thank you, thank you all.” You could hear the cheering through the speakers, which means that the President had an audience of very excited citizens of the Capitol, lucky them.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! This is the hundredth year of the Hunger Games.” The man spoke as with such pride and excitement, the type of pride and excitement that was only felt in the Capitol.

Other districts alike yourself, apart of the alliance has benefits. You didn’t hate the Capitol but you wouldn’t help but dislike the delusional retards that live there. Little do they know they’re easily played by the President.

“It was written in the charter of the games that every twenty five years there would be a quarter quell, to keep fresh for each new generation—the memory of those who died and the uprisings against the Capitol,” he spoke with such authority and venom laced in his tongue as he spoke about the rebels, “Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance and now on the hundredth Anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the fourth Quarter Quell—”

Cheers, claps and joy from the audience was loud and clear. A large glass sphere was brought out with what seemed like hundreds of folded parchment, all written with different twists made by the game-makers.

The President reached his hand into the sphere, his hand all the way to the bottom. He grins as he pulls his hand out with a choice in it. He waves the paper around as the crowd roared with excitement, you were excited to, twists are always a new change to the games.

You’ve watched nearly all the previous games, most being exciting. It was normal for the other Careers to not fear the games too, your whole life trained for the games. The only thing you worried about were the other tributes but when you watched the games, the Career pack managed to outwit each other instead of out-power, and you’d say you’ve got a lot of wits.

The President opened the paper, and began to read out the writing, “—as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest amongst them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this—the fourth Quarter Quell game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped—only through volunteering.”

The crowd grew silent within an instant, you could sense the air shifting as the children lessened with worry. An Career district were cheering inside, it was easy, the most capably at the time would volunteer and you knew this year it would be you. 

Yet, at the back of your mind you wondered how the other districts would do, how they would every come to a conclusion, maybe there wouldn’t even be a choice. God, who would ever volunteer to die.

“But of course, I wouldn’t imagine many of you would think of volunteering but you must—or the game would not happen, and without a game how would we remind the rebels that due to their ways their children must suffer their consequences—suffer the consequences of the actions of which their foolish, grandparents and parents did,” there wasn’t a cheer after this, the crowd seemed shocked to say the least, “Without a volunteer of a male and female tribute from each District, the District shall be punished—punished by the hour, with each hour the punishment getting worse until someone breaks and does the right thing. I’d hope we wouldn’t have to come to that, happy reaping, and may the odds be every in your favour.”

As the screen shuts off, you could hear the clapping, no cheering. The smug face on the President could possibly anger so many that feared losing their child or their own lives but not here, here it was easier, but still who in their right mind would want to jump into death—not even you, but what were you going to do, the right thing.

As the representative stepped back into the centre of the stage you could see her give the crowd a nervous smile, “Well, then. We’re going to need a male and female tribute from District four, let’s take a female volunteer first shall we?”

You blankly stared back at the woman, who waved her hand about as if welcoming whoever would step out, of course that person would be you. It was agreed upon before the Reap began, since forever really. You’d have a time frame of which you may have to volunteer as tribute, this year just so happened that your mentor decided you were ready.

The ground crunched loudly through the silence, as the woman’s face lit up as you stepped out of the crowd, “I volunteer.”

“Ah! There she is, come bring her up.”

The guards shining in white escorted you up without another word, it was the usual. Nothing new around your district during the reap, it was an illegal practice for careers to exist but of course, having connections to the Capitol allowed anything to get by.

“What a beautiful girl, what’s your name dear?” The woman eased you towards the microphone as you got up the stairs.

“Y/n.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” The crowd clapped, as the woman took you away from the microphone to announce the boys.

You were pretty sure who’d be your partner, it was agreed.

“Now for the boys, I’d like—”

“I volunteer!” The crowd ripped their head around to the boy who interrupted.

Are you fucking kidding. He’s—this wasn’t his year, what was he doing. Your chosen district partner was shocked, he looked around for our mentor who didn’t say a word at all, he only looked at the boy making his way up the stage with a grin on his face.

“Oh, of course, come then let’s introduce you.”

As the boy took his stance up close to the microphone you were confused to say the least, “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

“Cute name for a cute boy,” she compliments again, ushering you over to stand next to him.

Which you did as you kept looking over, wondering what was going through the damn boy’s head. He stood there proud for some reason, smiling ear to ear like a freak.

“There we have it, our tributes for the hundredth Hunger Games, good luck within the Quarter Quell children—there are always twists in the game, may the odds be ever in your favour.”

The crowd repeated her last line as it repeated in your head like an ominous hymn.

Within the victor’s camp you two marched towards the main building for your mentor, ready to leave for the Capitol in an hour.

Blasting the door open you ran towards your mentor, screaming your ears off, “Why did he volunteer? He wasn’t suppose to volunteer this year!”

The victor of the eighty-second Hunger Games, Min Yoongi of District Four places his drink down on the table with a blank expression, “I don’t know, y/n, he just did it.”

“Why did you do it?” This time you directed the question to him, Taehyung.

The boy looked over at Yoongi before he looks back at you, shrugging, “I wanted to be in the Quarter Quell, nothings wrong with that.”

He sat himself down, rolling his shoulders out, you couldn’t believe it. How were you suppose to win the games with a twat like him, who’s so overly narcissistic and self centred—the boy who refused to pick a female partner to train with and trained all by himself. A selfish prick.

“He’s going to get me killed.” You pointed at him.

Yoongi sighs, getting up of his seat, he places his hands on your shoulder looking into your eyes, “We both know, you’re best fit to win the game. He’s not a worry for you, he won’t pull you down, he’s good on his own. He’s fast, light and will hide well, you on the other hand—you can take people down and that’s what you’re going to do, that’s what your whole life worked towards—killing everyone in the game.”

“We have no worries for most districts. You have the Career pact, use your charm, your wits, y/n. Manipulate them, make them fall for you, them and the people of the Capitol—then rip them out from underneath. We’ll get a message of the tributes soon, mostly from the Career Districts—I’d imagine it’ll take a while for the rest to push someone into killing themselves,” Yoongi walked towards the desk as he held up a tablet, “One, Two, Four, you’ll make the boys want you—make the girls want to be you or be scared of you. The rest well, they don’t stand a chance.”

Yoongi looked tapped his fingers against the screen, awaiting the messages, yet he seemed reluctant, worried.

“But I do fear for more twists, they’d do anything to make the games interesting. Don’t let your guard down, both of you, make friends, make enemies, know who you can trust, want to trust, want to kill.”

With that Taehyung looked towards you and nodded.

“We could pretend to be lovers,” Taehyung spoke, he kicked his feet up to prop against the table in between you two as you sat quietly in the train, “Like those stupid twelves years ago, who even believed that shit.”

You chuckled, wondering the same thing, maybe he wasn’t so bad. He was realistic, at least.

“We could pretend to hate each other,” You suggested, “During the training we make alliances with different people, making them thing we’d want each other dead first and then we make them kill each other.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened, he twirled the knife in his hand stopping as he grinned, “I like that, I think we’ll get along very well.”

“I think so too.”

“You all remember what I’ve said right?” Yoongi watched as the two of you nod, “This is your first day of training, make it count.”

He stands back and he allows the two of your to enter into the training room. Littered with tributes chit chatting, training, picking on eachother. The tributes all sported the same outfit, very skin-tight athletics wear in different cuts. Some wore shorts, some wore pants, some had long sleeves, some had short sleeves. 

You opted for sleeveless, and loose pants, all in black and your arm guards that laced your fingers like gloves and ran up to your underarm, with the elbows being much more flexible. Reminiscent of swimmer’s wear, it helped you with being faster in the water keeping your body tight, though the pants were a comfort choice—it wouldn’t be legible for the games being so loose and able to get caught on things.

As you both entered you saw the rest of the tributes look at you, immediately getting into the role you glared at Taehyung as you left his side. Him seemingly growling and also going away.

Great job.

You had it set out, maybe you’d intimidate, then see who you’d like to create a pact with—even if there was an automatic alliance with the Careers you weren’t so sure you’d let them free load so easily, as you looked at the tributes sporting the numbers they looked back seemingly giving you a nod, especially the boys.

You looked away, your way towards an empty mat, getting on your bum you began to stretch out. Fully splitting and taking out all the tight spots. Your eyes were closed for the most part, trying to feel it out, then you felt some sort of presence. A weight shifted the mat and you whipped your head towards it, making the culprit bolt back.

District thirteen. A godly pathetic District in the eyes of everyone.

You were surprised to see the boy so fit, muscle in all the right places and slim in all the good places too. His doe eyes blinking as he tries to catch his breath, you looked around to see no one was getting a look at this bold thirteen getting all up in your space.

“What do you want?” You spat, glaring at him as you began to stretch your waist.

He clears his throat, pointing at your body lazily, “You’re doing it wrong.”

Your raised your eyebrow at him, stopping in your tracks.

“The way you’re stretching, it’s only going to make you more tense,” He explained, you dropped your shield, seeing that he was stepping closer.

You opted to make friends first then, “So what am I doing wrong?”

“You’re—uh, putting against the muscle, you should pull with it—” He sat down next to you, feeling the heat that came off his sweaty body, he must’ve been training for a while already, “—can I?”

He motioned towards you with his hands out, he wanted to show you how. You didn’t argue, letting the boy do what he wants. He mumbled a cute thank you, pulling you at the waist flush against him boldly.

Your breath hitched, hoping no one was seeing this. He eases you into the position he sees fit and well, it was kind of better. You couldn’t feel your muscle fighting you and instead feeling your muscle relax under his touch.

After a few minutes of this, he finished, stopping as his hands stayed put around you.

“I’m Jungkook, from District Thirteen, and you are?” He asked you.

Making you feel as if this was all a part of a plan. You turned to face the boy, your face merely a few centimetres away from his own, “An alliance you want, right?”

His face froze for a second, knowing that you already saw right through him.

“You don’t want an alliance with me, nor my district partner. If you know who I am I don’t make friends, I make a list of those I want to kill. Your mentor may think that being in my pact makes your chances better, it doesn’t you’re better off hiding until the game’s over—”

“You’re a career, of course being in your pact would make my chances better,” He interrupts, again boldly, “This may mean nothing to you, but I at least want to hope I can make it to the end—to win maybe, to go home and help my family.”

His words struck you, you completely forgot that these tributes all volunteered—every year there would be an unlucky tribute from each District that got chosen but this year, he put himself here—why would he do that if he knows he’s needed at home.

“You know how it went right? We all had to volunteer...it may have been easy for you but I didn’t want to be here...” You could see his eyes wavering, you just kept quiet listening to him, “No one volunteered at first, then they took our water, then our food, they beat our old and then they began to execute them—think of that, killing our family because we didn’t want to die.”

His ears ran freely down his face at this point, you wanted to, you really wanted to just wash them away. Somehow help him, somehow just give him hope—but it was the Hunger Games, people win or they die, it was just the truth.

Before you could usher another word, those previous Career boys came up to you guys, snickering and laughing, “Look at that, a twelve trying to get a four on his side, how sad, did it work?”

District one, Jung Hoseok, a man of such a vile tongue and cocky attitude, you looked between the two, choosing a side. You shrugged, getting up and pushing Jungkook’s hand away from you, “Not really.”

You made your way towards Hoseok, who smirked with his arms out to embrace you. You pushed your back against his front as he wrapped his hand around your waist, his head leaning against your shoulder, “Did you feel bad, about it, about how they killed all those wastes of space.”

“No—they deserved it, why would you rebel against the Capitol. They died because they made mistakes, I wish they would’ve killed more of you, pity they’d have to waste such a potential like you to sacrifice himself for those old pieces of shit’s mistakes.” Your vile tongue slipped out, knowing that it would hurt him but you needed to make Hoseok know, he can trust you.

“No one forced me, I—”

“They did though, because if you didn’t volunteer, I bet no one else would and you’d feel bad for letting people die. At least you had honour, I watched your reap, you’re the only brave one—even your bitch of a district partner had to be dragged up the stage and forced to join before more casualties could occur, pathetic.”

You didn’t stay to see him respond. Hearing the laughter that came out of Hoseok’s lips was enough to take your mind of the damn Thirteen. You can’t be having your heart pick your allies during a game like this, no.

© archangegguk, 28 may 2019

[ailynyaxley]

            i am strong but also destructive. i’m restless and harsh and hopeless.              though i have love inside myself. it’s just that i don’t know how to use love.

AILYN ZANELE YAXLEY really is the spitting image of ANTOINETTE ROBERTSON, right? For someone only 26 years old, AILYN has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that PUREBLOOD has been scraping by at the sanctuary since JULY, 2028, working as a HISTORY TEACHER in the DIVISION OF CIVILIANS. SHE is a CIS WOMAN and is known to be INDIFFERENT and SECRETIVE but also INTELLECTUAL and ADAPTABLE. Best of luck surviving through this.

LINKS – pinboard, stats. playlist. CHARACTER PARALLELS – elle woods (legally blonde), allison reynolds (all for the game), michaela pratt (how to get away with murder), sun bak (sense8) TRIGGER WARNING – sexism, alcoholism, abuse, trauma, death (all have a trigger warning in-text too)

pre-outbreak

sexism tw || ailyn was born as the first child to andre and thandi yaxley, the first granddaughter to corban yaxley (who, at the time of her birth, was still rotting away in azkaban). she was wished for, kind of ----- her parents didn’t wish to raise children together, but did wish to have children so they could further their legacy. and then, of course, there was the fact that ailyn was a girl, which was a bit of a disappointment for andre yaxley, who wanted his firstborn to a son, because --- well, he’s instilled with traditional values that make no one happy (except him, i guess). || end of tw

andre yaxley is not a good man. he grew up in the shadow of his father ---- a successful death eater, who pulled the strings behind a ministry coup once, filled with a bitter wish for justice for him, angry that his father is imprisoned when he was so good at what he did, constantly hoping that the day will come where he can prove himself to be as good at scheming, plotting and cruelty as his father

spoiler: he’s not. he’s a useless piece of stale bread.

alcoholism tw || ailyn is raised in a web of lies. her father had inherited the once successful family company and had let it go bankrupt due to his incompetence, the shame that followed the family name and again, his incompetence, but did not speak of this: every day, he’d kiss his wife goodbye and go to work. but his workplace was the pub, and his work was drinking more beers than good for a man. her mother, who acted as if she was happily married to andre yaxley, smelled of other lovers when she came home from shopping or tea dates with friends.

ailyn is a smart child, an observant one, and figures out all the lies her life is built on quite early on in life. she learned how relative really truth is, how easy lies come. she confronts her father once, when he’s intoxicated and half asleep, and he tells her that he doesn’t have a job any more, that all the money they have comes from his parents-in-law, and he’s angry and disgusted and ailyn thinks he’s angry with her at first, but later understands that he just hates himself. (she would too, if she were him.) 

abuse tw || but while he is mostly angry at himself, he does sometimes direct his anger towards his wife, towards his kids. mostly verbally, sometimes physically. || end of tws

her brother is born when she is five. he is a boy, and her dad prefers him, and she would like to say now that she never cared about her father’s useless opinions, but she did, and she hated it. but she loved her brother, even though he wasn’t as critical as she was, and kept truths from him because of it. 

hogwarts rolled around, and ailyn was sorted in slytherin, though she was nearly a ravenclaw. she would have thrived in both, to be honest, but the sorting hat saw her ambition and self serving nature and thought her a slytherin more. she didn’t care either way. at hogwarts, she kept up her family’s façade, pretending that they were indeed like many other old pureblood families --- rich and thriving, despite controversy. 

she was bitter, though, didn’t want feigned success and richness, wanted something to be really proud of -- not just those fucking lies. ailyn’s hunger for her own success was born then. 

hogwarts was where she learned --- where she learned about her own power, and her lack of it. because here’s the thing: ailyn isn’t a good witch. she’s no good at wand waving and spells and any kind of practical magic besides potions. she understands magic --- delves into the theory of it and understands the tough texts --- and writes stellar essays, but when it comes to charming or transfiguring things, she’s shit. and honestly, ailyn has always had her doubts about blood purism but never pushed herself to actually doubt those ideals (because that’s what she was learned, and sometimes she’s scarily indifferent, and it puts her on a pedestal, and she didn’t mind that for a while), but when she sees that she -- a witch with so-called pure blood -- is no good at magic when others with so-called lesser blood are ten times better, she understands: it’s fucking bullshit.

she’s vague about her stance on it, mostly keeps her feelings hidden under layers of eye rolls and cynicism --- part of her is scared of word getting back to her parents, she supposes. another part of her likes being vague, too. an enigma. 

ailyn also found her love for history at hogwarts. not because of binns, of course --- she wishes she could kill a ghost multiple times during her years in his class --- but because of the work she does herself. obscure parts of history are devoured by her in the library. she learns about muggle history, shamelessly, intrigued by the ethics and morals of humans. 

ailyn might be a shit witch, but she’s very, very intelligent. she’s booksmart, able to read tough books with ease, able to write stellar essays and retain a lot of information at once. she likes learning theoretical stuff, likes getting her head dirty rather than her hands, and it’s because of that that she keeps passing her classes. 

besides, she thinks that it’s more valuable to have a good set of brains than to be good with a wand.

after graduation, ailyn got an administrative job at the ministry, just to make a bit of money, not because she wished to kickstart a career there. she started interning under a historian, and once she had made enough money from her job to have a bit of a safety net, she moved out of her parents house.

and then she didn’t look back. she didn’t cut ties, not really, but she started sending letters less frequently. her relationship with her parents had only worked when she had been dependent on them, and now that she was no longer, she no longer had any interest in being close with them --- she hated her father, thought her mother a coward, knew that they didn’t care about her, not really, not as they should. and so a wedge grows. ailyn shows up for family dinners every now and then and keeps in touch, but she focuses more on her own life, her life outside of her family.

ailyn gained the title of historian when she was twenty two, and started writing essays, starting doing research, comparing patterns in muggle and wizarding history, writing for magazines and reveling in her own success. she builds her own life, in her small apartment in cardiff and does what she loves, and does it well. 

outbreak

ailyn is working on her first book when everything goes to shit. she is in talks with obscurus books about a publishing deal, and is working on her first draft --- it’s a dream come true, and then everything goes to shit.

sexism tw || a bit of background on her family: her father and brother rejoined the death eaters, her father so fucking desperate to live up to his own father, her brother in his turn desperate to make his own father proud. ailyn isn’t even asked to join as well, because she’s just a girl, and she’s a bad witch at that. she doesn’t care. she doesn’t even want to join, anyway --- the death eaters are stupid, just as blood purism, and she doesn’t care that her father underestimates her because of her femininity. let him underestimate her. || end of tw

cardiff is overrun when she’s at home. she barricades her doors, her windows, everything, thinks that she can survive in her small home, sit it out, but it doesn’t fucking end --- there’s no government to fix this, no one is coming, no one is fixing this --- and ailyn is terrified. she can’t stay at home, but where can she go? 

away. and eventually, hogwarts. she travels by foot -- and sometimes by car, or another muggle vehicle -- with a small group, made up of muggles and wixen alike. she doesn’t dare apparate, because she was never very good at it and she’s unable to get in the right headspace to even try. besides, she feels a sort of loyalty to the people she’s with. which ... is odd, because ailyn has always only felt loyal to herself, and maybe her brother, and maybe some of her friends --- and yet it feels good, amidst all the bad, so she sticks with them. 

trauma and death tw || ailyn isn’t built for an apocalypse. of course, no one really is, but her weapon of choice is wit and words, and she can’t fight inferi with those. and so she fights with a bat, at times, rather than a wand. it’s not an easy journey --- of course it’s not --- and ailyn sees things that traumatise her; death and decay, and the inferi in general, and she’s not sure how she’s able to keep moving because she’s not built for this, she’s not, she’s not

she arrives at hogwarts in july, and has to prove that she’s not a death eater --- which she does with an eyeroll, even if she understands. she’s filled with trauma and grief, but she’s not the only one at least --- which is a strange comfort, but a horrible thing, too. she’s not sure how to deal with these emotions, though, because they’re overwhelmingly real, and before she was always able to choke her feelings down and ignore them, but now she shakes with them at times, and she doesn’t know how to talk about them, or what to do with them ---- theyre just there, these traumas and memories and feelings, and she can’t do shit about them. end of tws

ailyn becomes a history professor, teaching kids and teens, an infinite times better than binns ever could have. and she loves that. she finds comfort in that, that she can still do something with her passion. she returns to the library with warmth in her heart --- that’s the only good thing about this, she supposes, that she has unlimited access to the hogwarts library again (ye - she is a nerd)

it’s all ... a big learning experience, mostly. a way for ailyn to learn about the danger of her own indifference (which is fading more and more), a way for her to learn how to be compassionate without feeling like she’s weak, a way for her to open herself to people she wouldnt have looked at twice before

the circumstances suck though lmakldfhsjdf

personality & details

ailyn is a true neutral, powder pink lipstick lesbian who will drag your ass through the mud while speaking to you sweetly with a :) smile :). she has a mean streak and her nature isnt necessarily malicious but she can be when she chooses to. this streak most often shows itself in front of people that ailyn thinks lesser of/people that annoy her

she’s just … tired. tired of humanity and all the people around her and the ruckus theyre causing. ailyn just wants people to Chill Out and use their heads in stead of whatever’s motivating them ( their genitals, hearts, stomachs, whatever ). she feels very … Genius LMAO because she’s such a realist and she thinks she has the world all figured out when, obviously, she doesnt.

ailyn is very sure of herself, incredibly confident — sometimes too confident ( though she’s of the opinion that girls can never be to confident ) and in turn she can be condescending and haughty. she’s self aware, though, about most things. she knows where her strengths and weaknesses lie and has made peace with it, even knows that she’s arrogant and harsh, but doesn’t care much.

ailyn is hyperfeminine, believes in lethal femininity and the colour pink. very much elle woods in that sense — she loves fashion and make up and velvet high heels and looking good, but has a ready mind that she’ll apply to reach her goals at any given moment in time. will Not be underestimated because she’s girly (or, well, youre free to underestimate her, but you’re wrong and she cant wait to let you see that). a firm believer in the matriarchy. lover of womanhood.

she also … just thinks lowly of men a lot. like — her dad’s a deadbeat idiot alcoholic broke dude and he Sucks, and then there’s people like grindelwald and voldemort and a long string of ministers, prime ministers and presidents that just proof that men shouldnt be in power to her LMAO. her interest in history is mostly just ailyn sighing at the deeds of men and how they continue to disappoint her.

LOVES greek mythology and medusa is her #1 fave

emotionally constipated but less so than usual???? whew

she’s .... a nerd ... .... we stan

tbh she can be quite charming and fun to be around but she also can be all sharp edges and iciness ... depends on the mood, and who you are

idk i just love her and she’s ... rly living up to her potential here whew!!!

[wardati]

                      Void: A Brighter Future For Us All. 

Myani vowed to protect his sister like any brother would but soon the vow fades out of memory, but for now he'll hold her as she falls asleep in his arms.

She becomes a tidal wave at six when she masters three languages and goes on to a fourth. He knew this would happen, his little sister becoming more than a prodigy. He looks at his father enticed by his own creation as she speaks eloquently in tongue and spirit, the dreams of her conquering the world were now in reach. He looks over at his sister, hair slicked back like ravines eyes wide and attentive. Maybe if he looked hard enough he could see it too- his redemption- the person she would be in between her kind laughter.

She would grow up following a line drawn for her since birth, perfect, brilliant, practically cosmic. Myani knows this universe his father has created would eventually crumble. He takes his pills crushing each one after the other with his teeth, barely seething from the bitter taste as he downs it with water. This morning it's worse, he's thrown up for most of it, bones aching, skin breaking out in thick sheets of sweat and the skin, the skin would later on peel off in thin grainy layers. Hani sits next to him crushing weed, it will help but in the long run it will do nothing. Myani thinks of his sister instead it eases the crushing thump of his heart but he's still sweating, the thought of when he'll leave this world and how she would be next. Fighting her own body ,sitting on a couch with her best friend and secretly regretting saving the world.

Hani, his best friend is still talking about his fiance, she's pregnant now. Myani tries to smile he's known this for a couple months even if Hani talks around it like friends do when they know you're dying so you won't feel bad that you'll probably never have children of your own. Friends like Hani are rare.Infuriating but rare and Myani has been in love with him for the past five years and has done little to nothing about it.

Hani will be a great father better than his own that's true, yet he wonders if his best friend will finally stop talking about the life he wants to have and just live it. But, he never says anything about it, he never does.

His long fingers take the joint, it sits between his plump lips and he inhales longer than he should so the clouds he blows into the air are thick and eggshell.

Myani wonders again, if this is it. If dying on the couch will be the greatest achievement he'll ever accomplish and even so, his father - the man who built him into becoming one of the most innovative people in the world, the martyr and sacrificial head of a biological enterprise that would start a new age for the years to come,yada yada fucking yada. The man who claims to be omnipotent- his father isn't here to witness.

So he's decided; Myani will make him. He'll turn the upcoming burden that will be throttled to his baby sister and take it with him in death. He'll destroy it all, he'll be a martyr one last time to save what's important to him. If he must he'll encase it Chinese finger trap and all, like a tongue stuck on ice or a kiss that leaves a stain.  It will hurt but none of that will matter if he was saving Noa in the end.

"Hani." He says in thought. "Hmm?" "You should show me your dad's collection again." "You know I hate that stuff, it's barbaric." It's amusing how Hani is intimidating in looks but a pacifist at heart. Truthfully it was annoying. "I remember you saying he only keeps it so collectors and curators don't colonize any more of your peoples artifacts." Myani takes another heavy sigh, "just for a couple of minutes, I need air."

Hani rolls his eyes and plucks the joint from Myani's fingers who gives a tired smile. "He has other things in there too.You do remember he was a military rat right?" Myani licks his lips, "I know."

BREAKING NEWS: 14 Dead at Ally Genesis Corporation including John "Myani" Paul, son of CEO and chairman Jahseem Paul.

BREAKING NEWS: 1 Million people may be at high risk because of Allie Genesis Corporation deficiencies and leaks since mass shooting.

BREAKING NEWS: Could John Myani Paul be a lead to the suspect of the AGC Shooting?

BREAKING NEWS: 4,020 people fired at Allie Genesis and 9 institutions are ordered to shut down by government officials with JIC and MGU approval.

BREAKING NEWS: AGC President of Defense Salah Bahatt under fire for potential information on the mass shooting at AGC Institution and bio-plague outbreak that killed 4 in Oregon back in 2010

BREAKING NEWS: Ally Genesis, science saviors? Find out how after the tragedy how the corporation is taking bio-mechanics, neurology and many more into uncharted territory.

BREAKING NEWS: Ally Genesis declares cellular regeneration is now possible. Could we bring people back from the dead?

There's something that pushes Noa out of the water, as if someone had yanked her out of the tub. It feels like a thread pinned under the skin of her chest, so when she's heaving for air as if her throat was wrung out with closed tight fists. It hurts to breathe even if she's supposed to be grateful for it, how conveienet. She at twenty decided to take her own life and failed so time and time again she'd cry into her arms puckered in scars. She could hear Myani's laugh someplace far away in her emptiness and every time she tried to follow his voice she'd be here back into this world that she could never escape.

Later in the day when she pushed herself into comfort and laid in Myani's bed a thought she would read his letters again, go through his photography, miss him with abandon. Yet the thread in her chest caught taught on to something else. She woke up from his bed and walked down to his living room for no real reason and without thought sat on his couch and as her hand pressed into the cushions something brushed against her fingers. She pulled at it and noticed it was an envelope. It was different then the letter he left for her, this did not have her name on it but it was directed to her... it had t be.  Her eyes widened as she read the words, the prickle in her eyes gained a heaviness that almost blurred her vision as she read the letter. She held her breath realizing even in death her brother still had a hold on her.

He still had secrets.

They framed someone else for what I did, didn't they? I would think so. If everything has gone exactly how I had envisioned. Noa, I'm sure they've started their trials on you. It may not look like they have, but father has his ways. I can't display my remorse in colorful words that elude to being remorseful or sorry, for once, I am not. I killed those people and planned on shortening my already short life not on a whim but it was something I had to do. I don't know how far back I've pushed their quota but it should be enough.

Leaking AGC's information will barely leave a scratch but it's a start to a very long journey. Whatever you choose to do in this life it will not outweigh your true purpose. Furthermore, in the next couple of years I know you'll find information about what I could do, and as I left you that day, the darkness in me will now rest in you. It will protect you now when I no longer can.

Noa,in a normal world all I would want for you is to be free, to smile to live and love as you please. But it isn't like that and I will need you to remember this life you live is yours but the part that you play is easily malleable. Father and his people will learn about you. You have always been his prized possession you have always been his favorite even if you don't think you are but all of this will be foreign to him if it means broadening the horizons of humanity and evolution. He is a man that will do what needs to be done. You should also take the same initiative. It was too late for me but I know you're strong enough. I know you're capable of much more than I. I wasn't capable of protecting you no matter how much you tried to follow me. I had to push you away at times because you needn't any more influence or my bad choices to pick up. I could of been a better brother to you, and I'm sorry.

So, when you wake up promise that you'll stop looking for me?

-Myani.

Noa opened her eyes realizing quickly what had just happened. It could be her mind drowned in grief and playing tricks on her but she swore she was sitting on the couch and not back in Myani's bed. She pushed the sheets aside and darted down the hall, when she reached the couch she sank her fingers between the cushions moving them from its frame, tossing them aside to find nothing. It was empty, it was all empty.

She stood alone in her silence for a long time. Noa reached for something, a remote that sat neatly on the end table. With a press of a button the television  blinked alive.

BREAKING NEWS: New footage shows son of Ally Genesis chairman, John Myani Paul trying to calm the true shooter of the one AGC Shooting in 2012. The shooter is 38 year old Kowen Williams who killed 14 and wounded 2. AGC claim no prior knowledge or how this new footage has come about. Williams had been tracked to his home in Washington state but found dead from self inflicting wounds.

AGC's Chairman Jahseem Paul issued this statement: 

"This could be justice, but it is also saddening and it is also salt on a wound that reminds the people who have been affected on that day. I'm glad officials have done their part in finding this murderer but it will not bring the lives lost back. It cannot bring my son back. Yet I will walk into each day hoping with vigor in my heart to carry on for my son and for my family and for Ally Genesis. My job is to push forward,endure and to broaden the horizon of humanity and evolution. For my son, and for the 14 lives lost that day I will continue to do so. I thank you all for the support and I thank the incredible people who made Ally Genesis with me and continue to better and brighten the future for all us ahead."

The news played on and Noa stood alone knowing all too well what her fathers words really meant. It had dawned on her just how orchestrated this all was, from Myani's trajectory till his suicide to the purpose of Ally Genesis, to her own. Every piece was set into place and finally it was time to make her move.

[emmaekay]

Kotonari - Travel, Part One

AN: Yo! Told you I wpuld have time for a couple updates this week. Here’s update #2! I hope everybody enjoys it. Mostly a lot of explanations and exposition. You can read this on Ao3, too! 

Travel – Part One

Dende stepped back from the bed, satisfied and tired. Who knew Vegeta’s memories would be so lewd! Who knew Dende’s theory would work?

Dende had been studying Saiyans and the Keiyaku for a long time, and when he heard that the princess was carrying the rare Saiyan Gemini twins, he prepared himself for the worst - namely, he prepared himself to bring Bulma back from the brink of death. It was serendipitous that the Queen had also known the sacred Namekian practice of preserving and restoring life, since Bulma would have been long dead by the time he arrived.

Once Dende found out what had been going on with Prince from Daiku and the King, Dende had started to form a plan. What if he connected their memories through the Keiyaku? It was always Dende’s plan to have the Prince Vegeta go into the spirit world in search of Bulma’s soul. After all, it was the Prince who had the strongest connection to Bulma, the Prince who had shared most of her time on this planet, the Prince who shared their bond. It was the obvious answer. Without Vegeta available to them, Dende had to get creative.

The morning that his Namekian brothers had arrived, Dende, Daiku, Nappa and the King had talked together in the Prince’s kitchen as the sun was rising. Once the King was restored to health by the Queen and Dende, all the Saiyans had been able to talk about was the battle in the storm.

“That wasn’t Vegeta,” Nappa said. “That looked like Vegeta, and it damn sure hit like Vegeta, but that wasn’t Vegeta. I – that was … I have seen those blood red eyes, but never in Vegeta’s face.”

Daiku agreed. “He wasn’t in his right mind.”

“More than that,” the King admitted. “He has been overthrown.”

Daiku and Nappa looked at the King quizzically. “Overthrown, my lord?” Daiku asked.

“Nappa… do you remember the mission to the Dokuishiki asteroid?” the King named that birth place of the miasma, the spreader of evil and malice throughout the galaxy.

Nappa pushed back from the table. “I try not to."

“What happened on that asteroid, Nappa? All died but you and Vegeta, who came back whole of body but with no memory of the events after you left this planet?”

Nappa cocked his jaw to one side, gritting his teeth and pursing his lips.

“Nappa,” the King repeated himself. “I didn’t push it at the time. We had so much loss to cover up, so many Saiyans dead. You said you didn’t remember, Vegeta said he didn’t remember… we let it go. We let it go, but we should not have. Whatever evil lived there, on that hellish rock, lives now in my son.”

“I didn’t know!” Nappa insisted, standing now, one hand board flat and pointed at the King. “I didn’t know it had taken Vegeta, too. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

“Nappa, I am not accusing you of treason! I just need to know what happened.”

Nappa gritted his teeth, the muscles working in his jaw. “When we landed, we waited for the rest of the pods to arrive. When all were present, we made our egress. Our suits indicated an atmosphere on the rock, good to breathe, stable. We took off our suits.”

The King shoved the empty chair at Nappa, who sat heavily, as if the weight of his tale, of his secret, bore down on him with implacable gravity. “We took off our suits,” he repeated, “and that’s all it needed to get in. From the rock burst tendrils of charcoal black smoke, and the tendrils drove into every Saiyan there – through skin, mouths, noses, ears. Gasping, choking Saiyans fell to the rocky ground.”

Nappa spun a butter knife idly on the table. “Don’t tell him I told you, but I picked Vegeta up and I threw him 20 yards into his pod. He slammed into the back and the pod snapped closed.” He looked across the table at the King, “Elatha as my witness, my King, I didn’t think it had touched him.”

“How did you escape, Nappa?” Daiku asked.

“I didn’t, my friend. I felt that poison invade me, as it did my brothers and sisters around me. I choked and retched as the dark, greasy sizzle made its way up my throat, up my nose, into my eyes. It felt like being thrown into tar – tar that knew things. Knew every cowardly thought I’d ever had. Knew every fear I’d ever buried. Showed me things. My Choy, raped and beaten by Frieza’s bastards. The King and Queen’s heads on pikes outside the castle. Prince Vegeta and all my friends, all my friends, all my people crushed and broken and dead before me. All this in moments, all this in the few moments it took Vegeta to depressurize his pod.”

Nappa didn’t want to talk about this, but it now bore saying. “My King, what I saw in 30 seconds was enough to make me want to take my own life. That… is how the other Saiyans died. They killed themselves on that fucking rock, driven insane by the miasma. Vegeta blasted me to within an inch of my life as I was about to drive this hand,” Nappa indicated the blade of his palm with a shake, bringing it up to his chest, “through my heart. Indeed I may have died and been resuscitated by my pod, for that is where I awoke.”

The three Saiyans shared a silent exchange of looks. Dende, little Dende, was the one to break the stalemate. “Then, if he was exposed then as everyone else was, Vegeta has been enduring these same images – these same thoughts – for years?”

“It can be assumed,” the King stated.

Dende left the Saiyan men at that, heading back to the bedroom to check on The Boy, who was keeping his mother alive through sheer force of will alone. When he saw that all was well with the boy and his mother, Dende decided to meditate. Surely there was a way to free them both – Prince and Princess. In his meditation, the plan began to form. If he could reach Bulma’s soul, could he send it through the Keiyaku to the Prince’s soul?

If the Prince had truly been overthrown, his soul was trapped in an in-between much like the Princess’ soul. If Dende could use their bond to send the Princess to him, would it give him the strength he needed to break free of the taint? This depended on many things. First, how strong was their bond? Would Bulma’s soul know Vegeta, remember Vegeta, help Vegeta? Or would he be making things worse? Next came the question of his own strength. He was a capable healer, he had studied Saiyans, but could he manipulate a force he had never felt? And could he do it without his people’s help?

A knock at the door interrupted Dende’s meditation.

Beri rushed in. “Excuse me, Dende, there are some of your folk here. And they’re asking for the King, but I think it would be best if you greeted them first. One looks… powerfully angry.”

“Piccolo!” Dende’s face lit up and he ran past Beri into the hallway and down to the door. And his supposition was correct, Piccolo stood in the doorframe with a face like thunder. Behind him were the relieved faces of Forte and Tremolo, and behind them was Nail. “Brothers! What brings you here?”

“What brings us here?!” Piccolo snapped. “What brings me here is the fact that a little green doctor has been missing and a Saiyan Prince tried to kill me!”

Dende’s eyes were wide. “Oh. Well, you must come in, of course. What happened? And I’m not missing,” he said, shutting the door behind him, “at all. As you can see, I simply arrived to our destination much more quickly than you.”

Piccolo rolled his eyes. “Where is the King?”

“In the kitchen, I shouldn’t wonder. But brother, there is trouble here, so please be understanding.” Dende explained all that had happened in the hours since Daiku had found him on the road, as he lead his brothers into the kitchen and the presence of the King.

The King, Daiku and Nappa were still sitting at the table where Dende had left them a little while ago. “King Vegeta, these are some of my people. Piccolo, Nail, Tremolo and Forte.” Each inclined his head in greeting as Dende named them. “Piccolo has had some contact with Vegeta.”

“I see,” said the King. “What brings you here?”

“Your son tried to murder me for the crime of having a nap.” The King arched an eyebrow and bade him tell the full story, which he did, brusquely and without embellishment. He finished by asking, “Are Namekians to be assaulted in public for no crime other than crossing a Saiyan’s path?”

“That,” the King began, “is not what has happened. My son is infected with the miasma from Dokuishiki asteroid, he is not himself.” The King decided to explain, truthfully, the heart of the matter. “His mind is overthrown by that poison, and he is not in control of his body or of his power. The Prince has never born any ill will to the Namekian people. I bear no ill will toward you, you are our allies. The Queen herself declared your people protected by ours, she made unprovoked attacks on peaceful Namekians a capital crime. In all your people’s years with us, has any Saiyan ever attacked your people?”

“No.” Piccolo would have been the first to demand revenge and redress, had that ever happened. His people would have told him immediately if they had been harassed.

“Then you must believe me when I tell you that the being that tried to kill you was not my son.”

“Brother,” Dende interjected, “Now that you’re here, I need your help. All of your help, actually.”

Beri bustled in to the kitchen then. “I’m going to cook. Would you like anything?” she addressed the Namekians because of course the Saiyans would want to be fed.

“Just water, please.” Tremolo asked.

“Come,” Dende said, “Let’s get out of Beri’s way and go refresh ourselves while I tell you my plan.”

The Namekians left the room as a group, and the King turned to the other Saiyan men. “Come with me, into the study. I want to take The Boy into the training grounds for a few hours, but we need to formulate a plan to find Vegeta first.”

And so the men departed to formulate their strategies of training and spying, hawkers were sent for and messages dispatched to the Crown’s Battalion. The Boy awoke and all had breakfast before departing, leaving Dende and his brothers to test his theory on exploiting the Keiyaku to free both the Prince and Princess from their bondage.

Piccolo guarded the front door, Nail guarded the bedroom door. Tremolo acted as life support, making sure the Princess had no new wounds to heal and kept her heart beating, lungs filling with air. Forte blanketed Dende, Tremolo and the Princess in his strong ki to support all three lifeforces in their work. Dende would act as the third – the one to go into the spirit world and locate Bulma’s soul. He meditated, aligning his mind with hers and letting his consciousness flow down into the dreamlike world of the dead.

He found her sitting in a room filled with machinery, strange glass boxes that flashed with lights and pictures, the room humming with energy and pulsating with mechanical sounds. She was staring down at great sheets of blue paper with intricate, indecipherable white lines that indicated some great work of steel and ki and fuel like blood running through it.

“Hello,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her.

“Just a minute, I’ve almost got this.” Bulma stared down at her paper, a burning cylinder of paper in her mouth.

“Where is this?”

“My lab.” Bulma finally looked up from her work, breathing smoke out of her mouth and nose. “You’re green.”

“Yep.”

Bulma flicked her eyebrows in acceptance of the fact. “I’m stuck on this problem, and I can’t figure it out. Which is not normal because there’s nothing I can’t figure out. I mean that – nothing. And you’re … green. Small. Never seen you before in my life. These things lead me to believe that I’m dreaming.”

“Something like that,” Dende said.

“Huh. Okay.”

“Would you like to wake up?”

“Yes. I don’t like this dream,” Bulma admitted. “And I feel like there’s something important I’ve forgotten, like I fell asleep in the middle of a project that can’t be late – or like I’m sleeping through an important date.”

“Come along with me, and we’ll see if I can’t wake you up,” Dende walked over to Bulma and extended his hand to her, wearing the softest and friendliest smile he had ever worn. Bulma took his hand and her laboratory faded into mist, replaced by deep black nothingness and the feeling of being catapulted along a rail at hundreds of miles an hour. She felt like she was riding the bullet train with her head out the window of a car – but there was no wind. Just the sense of impossibly fast propulsion, carrying her along a swift river of energy.

Dende saw and felt the trip much differently. Beautiful colors flashed around him, swirling and looping, changing and repeating. No sense of movement, but emotions that weren’t his own flooded his heart. Deepest sorrow, joyful elation, honest regret and strangest of all… a thing Namekians didn’t feel so fiercely… overflowing love. Overflowing love that brought tears to his eyes and rent his heart into pieces. As Dende pushed Bulma’s soul through the Keiyaku, he felt it. He felt what it was like to be a true Saiyan and the devotion they have to their mates.

Bulma slipped past him, through the bond and into the darkness that awaited her when her soul met Vegeta’s.

Dende had done it. They were joined. Now, would Vegeta help her make the final tether to this world? Would Bulma give Vegeta the strength to break free of the miasma. Dende sat back on his heels and waited, meditating while his brothers gave him strength.

---

Bulma opened her eyes with a gasp. “Where am I? Where are my babies? Who are you guys?” She stared at Forte and Tremolo, who stood at the foot of her bed.

“Princess Bulma!” Dende cried out, throwing his arms around her neck and hugging her. “You’re awake!” He turned his face to the other Namekians. “Tremolo, get Beri. Forte, get the Queen!”

The two Namekians fled the room with smiles on their faces.

“Princess Bulma, I am Dende. Those were two of my folk, named Forte and Tremolo. Also here are Nail and Piccolo from my people. You are in your bedroom. Your children are safe and well with the lady Beri, who wi-“

“LADY BULMA!” Beri hurtled into the room to drape herself over Bulma’s lap as she sat up in the bed. Beri wept and wept with relief and joy. “You’re alive. You’re alive!” She wrapped her steel cable arms around Bulma’s waist and crushed the air out of her lungs in the fiercest embrace. “Oh thank all the gods and goddesses, all the doctors and healers, all the stars in the sky, you’re alive!”

Bulma laughed despite her confusion. “Beri, you’re crushing me.”

Beri released her, but grabbed for one of Bulma’s hands with one of her own, swiping at tears with the other. “I’m sorry, but you – you’ve been dead for days.”

“Dead?” Bulma’s head swam.

“Oh! Your babies, let me get your babies!” Beri jumped off the bed with such force that Bulma bounced, running into the adjacent nursery and scooping up the little prince and princess before hurrying back to place them both into Bulma’s waiting arms. “They’re healthy, perfectly healthy. I did my best for them while you were… gone. I kept them always with me, unless they were with the King or the Queen. I was never away from them.”

Bulma cradled the children in her lap, marveling at their beauty. Her heart was bursting with love and pride and… wait.

“Where’s Vegeta?”

Beri looked down. “Princess… He…”

The Queen entered the room. “Vegeta is… not ill, not dead, but something else.”

Bulma remembered him, hanging there in something like the blackest, darkest dungeon. “Wait. I saw him.”

Dende shoved forward now, “You saw him?”

“Just… just before I woke up. I was with him. He was … imprisoned?”

“What happened?” Dende asked, the Queen drawing nearer in concern and curiosity. “Did you talk with him? Is he free?”

“I …” Bulma squinted, trying to remember, but the memory was like a dream – harder and harder to recall the more you tried. “I was with him, in the dark. He asked me if I remembered the children, we talked. I got angry with him because … because it seemed like he’d given up. Like he was content to remain chained in the dark. Like he was content to forget me, forget our babies.”

She stopped to stroke the little prince’s cheek. “So I slapped him. Hard. Twice, maybe three times. He yelled at me. I went to slap him again, and he… he broke free. To stop me slapping him. Because I think – I think he forgot, for just that instant, that he was bound. I think the only thing keeping him bound there was the idea that he was bound there. After that he just… slipped out. He was free. I felt like I was waking up, but I told him to come home. He said he’d be on his way.”

Bulma lifted the babies up to her chest and hugged them both tightly.

The Queen sat down next to her and gathered all three – Bulma, prince and princess – into her arms. Bulma cried. “What is going on?” Bulma asked her, tearfully.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll explain everything,” the Queen assured her. “I’ll explain it all.”

Dende cleared his throat. “One more thing… was there anything else in the ‘dungeon’ with you? Anyone else?” “A voice,” Bulma told him. “A dark, angry, brutal rasp. It said the most horrible things to Vegeta…. Vegeta said that the voice, whoever it was, wanted him to forget me. Told him that he deserved to be trapped there.”

Dende nodded. “It’s as I suspected. This would have happened, sooner or later – the only thing preventing it this last year and some months has been you, Bulma. Your love for Vegeta. His love for you. He needed you. He needed your light to keep this darkness at bay.”

Take me to a man who needs me, just as much as I need him! Take me to the man I’m destined to be with!

Bulma’s words to the dragon rang in her head.

[tombcnd-a]

hellloooooo friends!! it’s everyone’s favorite hoe, harley!! after a long time of decision and some work, i’ve decided to bring in a third and final muse. typically, when i bring in a third muse, it doesn’t seem to stick, but i’m hoping it will this time if adult life and time allow me to do so! and again here i am with another underused/unknown fc, because i have no self control, and apparently hate myself enough to make a fuckton of icons for them... without further ado, here he is! if you wish to plot, hit that like button and i’ll come to you!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of abuse, injury, pregnancy, and murder/crime

[ kier kemp, twenty-seven, cis male, he/him ] ━ hey, I just saw [ thomas “tom” blackwell ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ three years ], and you can catch them around town working as a [ owner of outside the lines and con artist ]. I hear they’re known to be [ clever and efficient ] and [ deceitful and downtrodden ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ blurred lines, fake passports, crying babies, half-painted walls, trashed hotel rooms, French swears, a knife in the back, smudged eyeliner, chipped teeth, chasing ghosts, counterfeit cash, messy haircuts, leopard print ]. ━ [ ooc: harley, 19, cst, she/her ]

name: thomas judah blackwell

nicknames: tom, tommy

birthday: february 29, 1991 (age 27)

hometown: atlanta, georgia (later baltimore, maryland)

occupation: owner of outside the lines & con artist

orientation: demiromantic heteroflexible

relationship status: married

children: a two-year old daughter, penelope (nicknamed penny or pen), biological father of the baby Hazel gave birth to at 18 (has no knowledge of it)

education: high school diploma, certificates in management and art history

VARIOUS INFORMATION AND FACTS:

made up of french heritage, born to a waitress on the poverty line and a famous actor as a result of a hushed affair, he was abandoned at an orphanage by his mother as a baby when she found she could not afford to care for a child of her own

growing up in the foster system did not go well for young tom after he hit a certain age when he lost the cute, endearing baby-like charm of a small child, and he began to be bounced around foster homes on a fairly constant basis

during high school, he never fit in. he knew who he was from a young age and that he didn’t fit in with the crowd, and it caused a rift between him and others- for someone so patient and soft, he didn’t tolerate the bullying he faced as a result of being an outcast and stood up for himself. his strong-willed independence led to him working double shifts on a job as soon as he could manage to scrape up enough cash to purchase a shitty beat-up car to pull him to and from work and school

though exceptionally bright, he fell short academically with the constant running from home and physical abuse in the homes he did end up in, as well as stress from the general school environment, and only graduated by the skin of his teeth

living in the seedy part of the city thanks to a foster home he was living in at the time, tom was involved in a near-fatal stabbing when he was seventeen and suffered substantial injuries that left a nasty scar

met his father once during high school, and while the meeting went decently enough, he felt they were from far too different worlds and he didn’t wish to push fatherhood on someone who showed no apparent interest in it

he and Hazel (our Kaya) grew up together and became particularly close when high school rolled around, practically inseparable and the best of friends- for him, she was a safe place to hide when he needed to run away from an abusive foster home and have a place to stay until he was chucked back into the system and placed in another home, and each other’s soft spot in a harsh world. at the beginning of their senior year, they began to date and the relationship lasted for a year up until somewhere after their graduation, when they decided to mutually part ways on account of tom’s ventures to move up north- unbeknownst to him, hazel was pregnant with his child

after moving to baltimore, his life improved- for a brief period. finding a decent job as a backroom stockboy and earning his certificates, his luck seemed to be turning around and he could picture a future for himself

all good things come to an end, however, when working the backroom ended with him becoming a witness to something he wasn’t supposed to see. little did he know, a crime syndicate ran the store that he worked at, and said crime syndicate was run by a striking, empowered, and ruthless woman by the name of jezebel (may or may not become a wc at some point in which her name would become utp). she allowed him to go unharmed under the condition that he were to take up running tasks for the crime ring, and naturally, he obliged

before long, he was head over heels for none other than jezebel herself, and the two courted. the longer they dated, the more he rose in the ranks, from runner to pickpocketing and small, often petty crimes and before he knew it, he was in the same position as she was- tom had become a hitman. together, their crime ring thrived with an abundance of clientele in the city and the surrounding area, making out well. the dirt poor foster kid that had once been suddenly had more money than he really knew what to do with

when he was 23, they got married in a fever and couldn’t be happier with one another, and the honeymoon was nothing less than perfect. two years into their marriage, jezebel found she was pregnant with his child

but happy endings didn’t last forever either. for him, being a hitman was just a way of making money and for jezebel, it was a way of life. that way of life began to catch up to them and she feared for the safety of the child that was to be born. she feared that an enemy of theirs would find out their identities and try to destroy the competition. to maximize her sense of security, they made the shared decision to pack up and leave baltimore, moving to crownsville where his wife purchased ownership of outside the lines

on november 7, 2015, the light of tom’s life was born and penelope came into the world like a firecracker, as fiery as her mother, and he was completely taken by her and the joys of fatherhood

a short time after penelope was six months old, though, jezebel disappeared, leaving only a note, apologizing to tom for her leave and saying it would be better for both he and the child to keep them safe. she didn’t say where she was going and they haven’t seen each other since. from time to time, he receives packages in the mail, unlabeled, from her with varying post cards and letters and whatever else that had stacked up over the last few months, with enough time between them and the package’s arrival to ensure his inability to track her down

settled into crownsville and with the disappearance of his wife, he decidedly made the attempt to weasel his way out of the hitman business. it’s still an uphill battle for him, on account of both needing money and the career choice not being the easiest in the world to escape from, and turned to con artistry instead to make up for the lack of cash, and ended up with the ownership of outside the lines

he and hazel kept in contact, although sporadic and unpredictable, exchanging emails from time to time

tom is a compulsive liar and can and will lie over a multitude of details of his life, even the everyday mundane detail, and sometimes with no reason at all- he’s quick on his feet and able to spin a lie at the drop of a hat

short bean at 5′4″, probably can’t reach the top shelf at a grocery store, and has had the same messy hair since high school and somehow finds time to put eyeliner on with a kiddo in tow

hair dyed black or red (currently red) since he was literally 15, bad teeth because he didn’t receive much proper care as a youth, terrible chainsmoker, fluent in French (+ partially fluent in Portuguese because of hazel), still wears his wedding band, extremely fond of leopard print jackets

unironically loves the black eyed peas and fergie... also classic rock

not big on alcohol and never has been, will only indulge the occasional beer or social drink

extremely feisty and strong-willed, will not tolerate shit from anybody and is more than willing to stand up for himself and call someone out on their bullshit and despite being small, he can pack a punch if he needs to

punkass kid at heart and though his job made him rougher around the edges, he still manages a soft, patient attitude thanks to his daughter

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Former clientele (petty crimes only, e.g. stealing for someone, supplying them with something, etc)

Parent friends

People he’s sold fake art to / ripped off

Enemies

ya girl is literally the world’s worst at plotting, hit me with all ya got

[zeldrispendragon]

Life and Death

I SHOULD BE STUDYING!!! Anyway! Here's a grim reaper AU I made for Geldris or Zelda however you call that ship. I hope you like it!

~~~~~

"Wha-what do you mean...?" Zeldris rolled his eyes hearing the same exact word the millionth time around. Humans should know that they will inevitably face death, they should live long enough to know that, it was simply their fate. How hard was it to accept that? A concept that had existed from the moment their world was created, a cycle that'll never end and will practically remain forever until this world dies.

He glances at the clock over his hand, no longer ticking, his thumb rubbing against the silver cover reading the name clearly. Kai Pendragon, another selfish soul who brought nothing but suffering to those people around him. Taking advantage of the love his brother felt towards him, claiming what wasn't supposed to be his and usually finding happiness in the failure of others.

He glances at those wide horrified eyes with obvious boredom later shifting his gaze over the corpse of the man over a stretcher. The sound of the ambulance echoes far too loudly that lord of death wasn't even able to hear the soul's strangled cried. A car accident, too drunk from a party to even drive properly that led him to his demise... his death however, was well deserved along with whatever kind of judgement the gods were to give thim.

"I am pretty sure that you are not deaf and you had heard me properly, Kai Pendragon, I do not wish to repeat myself." He stuff the watch back into his pocket, actually certain that he'll throw it in the pits of the purgatory rather than hanging it in the garden of Eden.

He glances back at the ambulance, seeing a boy around the age of 15 crying his heart out as he embrace the corpse. Amber hair, purple eyes, he remembered seeing those before... the night where the child's biological parents died while he remained as the sole survivor. He had went through a lot, rather kind to be in this world and Zeldris kbew that he would be taking his soul soon enough... his mission was about to be over.

Arthur Pendragon was too understanding and kind it was foolish, Zeldris thought yet he knew pretty well that the boy wasn't at fault for he was but a victim of his brother's tyranny. The child may be oblivious to his brother's crimes but the gods weren't... he will get what he deserves.

"Why fear? If you've done great in life then there is nothing to fear." Death once uttered, glancing back at the soul. He smirks, seeing the cold sweat all over the man's face as he took a step backward.

"Unless you didn't..." The man had screamed then on, turning his back on Zeldris who merely clicked his fingers. A grand silver gate appeared behind him, opening iself as skeletons crawled out of it in pursuit of the soul who wishes escape.

He was far too used to this...

It was almost boring.

~

They say that being a lord of death was a blessing, yet it wasn't honesly... It was a job that was meant to last for thousands of years it was almost too much to bear.

He could still remember it... he and his brothers, holding unto each other firmly before a god. They were all scared and confused, not understanding what was going on. Just moments ago, the three of them were celebrating their birthday, the whole country was rejoicing for it was a beautiful day for their princes and rulers.

Then he saw it, Estarossa with an arrow pierced through his chest, everyone was screaming, and the next thing he was was Meliodas pushing him away only for the blonde to be slashed with a sword right before his eyes. The two trying to protect him were all in vain, for moments later after he had lifted the sword to kill whoever murdered his brother he felt a slash over his throat.

He couldn't breath, he was dying, sight growing blurry as he tried to glare at the man above him with his tear filled eyes. Next thing he knew is that he saw his own body, laying down the castle's floor along with his brothers with a sword standing over his chest.

It was the day they died...

On the day that they were supposed to be celebrating their birth.

It's been 3000 years since then...

He sighed, picking up another watch in his pocket, it was gold this time... It mean a well spent life. It was still ticking, yet it wouldn't be long until it stops. He kept it wrapped between his fingers, walking through the halls of the hospitals until he halted his steps.

He scythe disappeared, his body walking pass through the walls of the soul he was about to pick up. As he look up to see the 93rd death he'll witnessed that day. Yet something unexpected had welcomed his eyes beside the body, his orbs widen seeing a Life after more than centuries.

The life was a beautiful woman with blonde locks, he couldn't really tell if it was long since it was braided, otherwise she was still beautiful. Her eyes were completely identical to his before he was turned into a death, they were a lovely pair of ruby as red her lips.

"How unfortunate, she really does die." The life uttered, sighing sadly before glancing at Zeldris. He felt incredibly stupid for immediately looking away, looking at the woman in the hospital bed with a child in her arms. No wonder a life was here, someone was being born.

"Don't worry that much, the boy will grow up fine. He has a loving sister waiting outside and a father who's willing to give his all to them." He told her, although very sure that the life knows of such.

"But the father... his time is also running out." He glance back at the blonde life. Her eyes were so full of emotion, and sympathy... shenwas probably new, or she just wasn't used of seeing lives taken since she's the giver of it.

"In five years, yes... his mission is going to end soon as well." The lines on the monitor suddenly went straight as the man beside the woman cried out. Dale Wincesteshire, and his new born son Zeal Wincestishire. Dale will die in five years, his eldest daughter Guila will become a successful lawyer in the future and her brother will be a doctor who will save many lives.

They'll go through a lot... but they'll be fine...

A little sphere of light suddenly floated above the body, later manifesting itself into a woman completely identical to the one laying down the bed. She glances at Zeldris first then at the life, still confused until she looked down.

A smile was painted over her face.

"Thank you." She uttered first, looking at the life standing before her. The life smiled, nodding as she later glance at the death by the doorsteps of the hospital room. Tears were over her cheeks, hating the sound of her husband's cries, not really wanting to leave them soon.

"They'll be alright..." Zeldris assured, rarely doing such. The last time he did was picking up a boy who was crying because he didn't want to leave his parents. Beautiful souls such as these deserves such.

The soul nodded, biting her lower lip with tears still staining her cheeks. She walks towards him as the silver gate once again opened behind him. He offered his hand to the mother, leading her the way glancing back at the life. The life smiled, giving a short wave as if telling goodbye. He merely nodded in response knowing pretty well this wasn't the last time he's seeing her.

Humans say that life is beautiful...

She literally was.

[omnicat]

Now that we're on the subject anyway though, shoutout to the Gemini of the Meteor creative team for the most annoyingly pointless game of carrot-dangling I have ever witnessed. Sorry Misaki, we had nothing better for you to do but to be humiliatingly thwarted for 12 episodes, and no intention of giving your storyline any payoff whatsoever. Aren't you lucky we brought you back at all?!

And also for the most outrageous case of "oops, was that character development? that won't do, let's turn it into a HARBRINGER OF THE FUCKING APOCALYPSE instead!". Sorry Yin, we had to punish you for being Hei's favorite girl somehow, I guess. Gotta keep him good and tortured? Or something?

And the most egregious "let's bring back this cool character! ...for no other reason than to Gainax bounce all over the place and then DIE USELESSLY in the very first episode!". Sorry April, turns out nobody back here actually cares about anything but your tits.

Plus the dirtiest a piece of fiction has made me feel since I made the mistake of watching the Léon: The Professional director's cut. Sorry Suou. No, seriously, I am so, so sorry you had to exist for no other reason than to be a source of skeevy loli fanservice, fall in Stockholm Syndrome with the drunk jackass who kept slapping you around, and have everything you managed to achieve in the end erased so a completely different girl who's lived a completely different life practically from birth could take your place.

By the way, thanks for making sure that the literal pedophile who wouldn't stop making "jokes" about his rape-y hard-on for what he thought was a preteen boy dies without doing any on-screen damage, I guess? But I really hope you realize that that guy's presence only made the loli fanservice MORE disturbing. Nor did his death make it not the epitome of distasteful to have the lesbian who murders him be forced to make out with dudes all the time. And the fact that the love interest she was avenging couldn't get through a single scene without gratuitous focus on her short skirt, low-cut top, exaggerated T&A, and hapless o:-face before ultimately being tortured to death will never not make me roll my eyes. And no, that other woman with the ridiculous T&A was nothing to write home about either.

I mean for crying out loud, the first season had Brita getting her streaker on almost every scene she was in, but I thought you managed to keep THAT tasteful and respectful. What the fuck were you even DOING the second time around?

And of course that's not even going into the most rage-inducing non-ending to a show I have EVER SEEEEEEEN. "Oh, you wanted ANSWERS to this mystery we've been building up all season?? You wanted there to be a POINT to any of these storylines??? LOLNO YOU LOSER, go watch My Little Pony for that plebeian tripe."

AAAAAAAAAAAARGH.

*explodes in a cloud of ultra-diluted concentrated. CONCENTRATED. frustration*

(okay, I think I'm done for today)

[themonsterguys]

Guest Post: "Halloween In July" - The Fear Merchant's Top 10 Horror Films The Monster Guys

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Guest Post: Halloween In July - The Fear Merchant's Top 10 Horror Films

Guest Post: Halloween In July – The Fear Merchant’s Top 10 Horror Films

During our #HalloweenInJuly event this month on The Monster Guys Podcast, we had the distinct privilege of having Richard Martin, a.k.a. @TheFearMerchant and host of The Bazaar Cast, on the show chatting up all things Halloween.

Because he is an avid viewer and expert of the horror film genre, we asked Richard to provide us a list of his Top 10 Horror Films that we should be watching to get us in the mood for this year’s Halloween festivities.

Below is The Fear Merchant’s Top 10 Horror Films!

Thanks, Richard.

Do you agree with his list? Are there any films you would add to or subtract from the list? Let us know on Twitter: @TheMonsterGuys.

From The Bazaar from Afar … The Fear Merchant’s Musings: Top 10 Horror Films

Below is a list of my top 10 horror films as of this time. Some are outright classics, others are more recent. This list may change over time, but for now, in this moment in time, here are my favourites. Make sure to get in touch on Twitter (links at the end) if you agree or disagree. Enjoy!

10. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986)

Although the original is no doubt a classic, the sequel to the cult hit narrowly makes the cut in this Top 10. With a self awareness, knowing it could not trump the suspense and horror of the original. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 goes for an off the wall black comedy and absolutely nails it.

With returning characters like the iconic Leatherface, this movie is like a bonkers, hyper-reality spin off and not the official sequel.

Set in an abandoned fun park sort of place, the madness and tension builds, leading to chainsaw dueling (yes chainsaw dueling) built around a whole host of colourful and memorable characters. If you’ve never seen this, now is always a good time!

9. Train to Busan (2016)

One of the more recently released films on this list. Maybe it hasn’t had time to set in yet but my goodness does Train to Busan breath some life into a dead genre (pun intended).

The set up is simple; a father needs to bring his daughter across the country in the midst of a zombie outbreak.

A Korean film that has some of the best characters that you can get behind in this epic fight for survival. It’s exciting, tense and an emotional roller coaster. This is one you could possibly have overlooked but it is a must watch for any horror fan.

8. Halloween (1978)

This classic could be considered as John Carpenter’s break out hit. Some would also consider this film as the birth of the slasher subgenre, but maybe you didn’t know Black Christmas (1974) laid the groundwork for what we have here with Halloween.

This film introduced us to Michael Myers (long before the comedian of the same name brought us spy spoofs).

Starting with what might seem like the most cliché plot ever; an escaped lunatic is on the loose and begins to stalk a teenage girl. The tension builds with the unseen and flashing glimpses of the stalker. Doctor Sam Loomis (Donald Pleasence), Michael’s old psychiatrist, attempts to track him down before he claims more victims. The music is chilling also and used extremely appropriately throughout. If you played a sample for anybody, they should know where it is from.

With a familiar suburban setting that could be anyone’s neighbourhood  adding to the immersion (if you live in American suburbia, that is. I think this aspect is lost to an extent on foreign audiences). All around a must see and should be part of any self respecting horror fan’s collection.

7. Se7en (1995)

Rolling in at number 7 on this list at no coincidence is Se7en. One might argue this film is more along the lines of a thriller/crime drama rather than a horror, but there are plenty grizzly elements to sink our teeth into.

For those unfamiliar with this David Fincher classic, it follows retiring police Detective William Somerset (Morgan Freeman) with newly transferred David Mills (Brad Pitt). They begin to discover a string of murders all tied together through the Seven Deadly Sins. The tension builds as they try and hunt down the killer leading to a climax that in my opinion is one of the best in cinema, not just in horror.

With a fantastic cast and great storytelling, it brought horror back into the mainstream.

6. The Babadook (2014)

The Babadook, in my eyes, shook up the haunted house subgenre in all the right ways.

It follows the story of a widow and how she is dealing with raising her son. The son begins talking about a creature in a book Mr. Babadook. As the story progresses, reality and delusion become intertwined.

A chilling tale blurring the lines between outright horror and intelligent insight into dealing with PTSD and grief. A match made in heaven, highly recommended.

5. The Hitcher (1986)

I’d make the case that this is Rutger Hauer’s finest performance next to Blade Runner (1982).

The story is of a young man who picks up a hitchhiker. This stranger ends up trying to kill him. The young man escapes but is pursued relentlessly by the hitchhiker and is framed for his crimes.

This film had me at the edge of my seat, just as you think the suspense can’t get any higher it ramps it up again. A chase film at its core, it’s absolutely fantastic.

Hauer’s performance captures mania in  a bottle. You can almost feel the heat of psychosis coming through the screen. If you watch this you can positively skip the lacklustre 2007 remake starring Sean Bean as the hitchhiker. The remake went for the gore factor rather than tantalizing suspense, which was a poor substitute.

This is one of my all time favourite films, not just from the world of horror.

4. Saw (2004)

Saw is one of those films that redefined a genre when it was released. It opened the floodgates and reintroduced the world to torture-porn, or really it popularised it and brought it into the mainstream a year before Hostel (2005) was released.

I wouldn’t ever put the whole franchise on this list as they really became derivative and couldn’t recapture that lightning in a bottle. The sense of intrigue and the ghastly contractions that maim and kill the antagonist, Jigsaw’s victims.

But it wasn’t just the gore that drew me to love this film, it was the great writing and storytelling. There was no good and evil, everyone was cast in shades of grey. The final act and conclusion is really where Saw came into it’s own. If you haven’t seen any of these films where have you been the last thirteen years?

With a reboot/prequel/reimagine out this Halloween, now would be a good time to check this out.

3. Alien (1979)

Ridley Scott’s breakout sci-fi hit Alien, soon coming up on it’s 40th year, still holds up today. H. R. Giger’s alien was, and is, so exotic and terrifying you really can’t separate the Xenomorph from the Alien franchise.

This film achieved so much for the time. The world was also introduced in a big way to Sigourney Weaver, bucking the trend as strong female lead using wit and cunning rather than brute physical strength to overcome the menacing threat of the Xenomorph roaming the ship in the shadows.

The ship itself, The Nostromo was practically its own character too, given the phenomenal set design which many sci-fi shows and films have borrowed from since. It’s a film essentially about space truckers who unknowingly bring a murderous alien on board after responding to a distress call. The claustrophobia and tension as the crew get picked off one by one and the sneaky subplot involving a dodgy corporation make for a great watch.

This film spawned a bit of a franchise that yields diminishing returns after the first sequel Aliens (1986), but the original is still a great sci-fi horror that won’t let you down.

2. 28 Days Later (2002)

This film was something special for me. The opening scene of an empty London just blew my young mind at the time it came out. The sense of utter devastation of society resonated from the start. As we the audience are scrambling to put the clues together, we are greeted with fast paced ravenous “infected”.

Before 28 Days Later, zombies were slow and shambling and usually it was other humans who were the primary threat as groups of survivors struggle to survive (look at AMC’s The Walking Dead as a prime example).

This film brought zombies back as a greater threat with a much higher risk and it was absolutely breathtaking. The tension provided by this movie and the distant hope of a safe haven made for compelling viewing. Alas, as much of a threat as these lean, mean and jacked up zombies gave us, the third and final act brings the dark side of humanity back to the forefront, taking us off guard, just as we thought things couldn’t possibly get worse.

The film also brought Cillian Murphy into the mainstream, a man also from my beloved city, Cork, Ireland. How can I not be a fan?!

Since 28 Days Later, its game changing alteration to zombie lore has been exhausted but I’d say the original is best. A great film.

1. The Thing (1982)

It really is no secret that John Carpenter’s The Thing is my all time favourite horror film. I’ve mentioned it numerous times on The Bazaar Cast. The second Carpenter entry on this list, the thing with The Thing is that it is near perfect in my opinion.

The first time I watched this, in full, I was blown away and that was only as recent as 2010. The idea that a shape shifting, adaptive mimic of an alien infiltrates an isolated Antarctic outpost is terrifying as you really can’t trust anybody, with no sign of rescue on the horizon. The sense of paranoia and dread increased by the minute. The blood test scene, as I’ll dub, is one of the best scenes in cinema history.

The Thing was the first in Carpenter’s thematic “Apocalypse Trilogy” but for me I think he reached his peak with this one.

The art design of the alien being is fantastic and the effects work still looks amazing even to this day. The bursting tendrils and body horror really sell the creature as an extra terrestrial.

The film is a retelling of The Thing from Another World (1951), but the two are miles apart in tone. This is a lot darker and visceral. The film is well-paced with a satisfying ambiguous conclusion with fantastic performances from the likes of Kurt Russell and Keith David. If you haven’t seen this, skip the terrible 2011 re-remake/prequel and stick with this all-time classic.

  If you’d like more from me follow the links below. Check out my podcast The Bazaar Cast, where I interview all types of cool people discussing their work and what makes them tick. Think Tim Ferriss, but for horror.

Website: http://www.TheFearMerchant.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/TheFearMerchant

The Bazaar Cast:

Soundcloud http://www.soundcloud.com/thefearmerchant

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/ie/podcast/the-bazaar-cast/id1179306591?mt=2

Stitcher: http://www.stitcher.com/podcast/the-bazaar-the-fear-merchant-podcast/the-bazaar-cast-feat-the-fear-merchant

And you can catch all the #HalloweenInJuly series podcasts from @TheMonsterGuys below:

Part 1: “Scarecrows – Created In Our Image”

Part 2: “Oh, The Masks We Wear”

Part 3: “Jack-O-Lanterns, Will-O-The-Wisps, and Other Foolish Fires”

Part 4: “The Spirit Veil”