#but thinking of it as this almost separate entity is meant to help w that

[monsterbisexual]

its so weird how id been seeing the same therapist for like yrs so ofc ive talked abt intrusive thoughts n my whole deal etc n then i talk to 2 different mental health professionals (different therapist while mine is taking time off + psychiatrist for trying meds again) n both of them are instantly like oh well yea buddy thats ur ocd!!

[ill-rip-myself-apart]

FREAK - FRANK MORRISON X READER

*female reader

*Race Neutral

*TW ; small descriptions of gore, yandereish frank, blood, mentions of murder, mentions of anxiety and severe fear. Minors DNI

The days were winding down quickly, almost taunting you of what's to come. The cold month of February usually brought on the most snow in your little town. The population nothing more than 6000 people, although as the years went on it seemed like the number grew small and smaller. Part of you wondered if your whole town would cease to exist at one point. As if some entity would bring it down.

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, moving away from the mirror in the bathroom you shared with your uncle. It's design was rather drab and plain, just how Charlie liked it although it'd be weird if it was any other color at this point. You have grown custom to the old scenery within your home. It was comforting.

You grabbed your dirty clothes off the floor, chucking them into wicker basket by the sink, making your way towards the door you were greeted with your uncles face. His bushy brows were raised.

"You'd just take a shower?"

"Yeah I did, don't worry I turned on the fan."

"Good, I don't need the room to be all steamy while I'm taking a shit."

You backed out of the bathroom with a snort, your uncle was always frank. No filter on that mouth of his but it was part of the charm. With a sigh you started heading towards the kitchen. It was just 10 minutes past 9 and the clouds were already in the sky, blocking any and all sunlight that dared shined today. It was never any match for the heavy clouds of rain or it's friends that consist of snow and fog. Chilly temperatures that seeped through your skin and past your bones, hitting you where it hurt most.

You washed your hands at the sink, looking out the window where it showed nothing the endless trees and hills of snow. These trees stretched out for miles, escalating till they reached the top of Ormond. The largest mountain in Canada. Surrounded by a backwater town no one ever heard of.

Every branch was weighed down by the white sparkling powder, it looked beautiful but beyond the shadows something sinister lurked. Creeping by in the dawn of wake, at least that's what the rumor was.

"Tomorrows the 14th, you think your admirer is gonna come again?"

Charlie's tone was nothing short of being playful but to you? The question felt like a itch that couldn't be scratched.

You dreaded thinking about this, cause you asked yourself the same question. Would they come again? Whoever they were and why?

About two years ago, on your birthday you woke up to a rather unsettling sight. It was a cold December morning (just for the sake of the story, pretend your birthday is in December) you looked outside your window from the second story of your house and what you saw was shocking. In the snow was a red heart. Maybe you think it's for someone else but it couldn't be when your name was right underneath it.

Only two questions ran through your head, one, how did this person know your name? And two, what was the red liquid? Was it paint? Food dye? Blood?

You feared the answer to either question but not as much when it happened again on Valentines Day, after that it happened again on your next birthday, same with valentines day. Just your recent birthday is when it seemed to stop, but you couldn't be so sure. It bugged you to no end that this person knew your name, your birthday and where you lived. Everyday felt like a checklist, lock the doors, scout the front yard, look behind your back... This anxiety of being watched was eating you alive and felt like everyone was mocking you. Your uncle somewhat seriously but mainly thought it was just teenage doings. Your friends saw it as a romantic gesture, instead of a threat or personal attack, and the police? They thought you were insane. It was frustrating, no one took you seriously and you starting to doubt everything yourself at this point. Trauma does that to you.

"y/n? You okay kid? You're kinda out of it."

Your eyes darted to your uncles, he stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen and the living room. It felt cold and dark, you started tugging on your shirt sleeves. The black fabric brought a certain comfort to your hands. Nodding, you turned to look at him.

"Yeah, no I'm okay. Still waking up a little."

Your voice waivers, he can tell your on edge. You and Charlie had a close bond, so he picked up on your moods rather quickly. His forehead creased, a sympathetic look crossed his features.

"Your still thinking about it, huh?"

You nodded, arms folding over your chest. That feeling of being watched crept back up, you felt exposed.

"Well, maybe it's a kid from your school? I wouldn't assume the worst y/n. That's a bad way of thinking."

He could be right, it'd make the most sense. Maybe you were negative, maybe it was the anxiety you had since you were little, maybe it was the excitement, nothing ever really happens here in Ormond. Deep down this could be just you wanting something more in life. You tried to calming yourself down, a deep sigh rustling out of you.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. I don't know, it just feels weird."

You decided maybe some food will settle your stomach, you went to the cabinet and pulled out some bagels. Ready to start your Saturday the best you could.



The clock had just striked 8 o'clock, by now it was dark out and your uncle wouldn't be home for an another hour so you were left to your own devices. The snow was falling rapidly on the ground, an inch already covering your yard. It looked feathery and light. The cold air perfectly whispy as the wind roared on, leaving the pine trees to shake in their wake. They looked like a puppet show, each tree black as silhouettes, covered by the dark night. It was a new moon tonight, something you could of enjoyed if your fear hadn't been eating you alive.

You really did try to take your mind off of  things but it wasn't easy. Your mind wasn't one to rest, you overthink a lot and this was something that couldn't possibly pass by you or your mind.

Currently you were curled up on the couch, huddled into a ball with a warm blanket, the t.v. was playing in the background but it felt like it was static to you. All you could do was sit and stare, checking windows and the front door every other hour. The darker the night got, the more your anxiety burned. Your stomach felt like a hollow hole, your chest was heavy. Each beat of your heart felt like the seconds ticking by, almost as if it was racing against the clock. All you wanted was this night to be over.

Ten minutes passed and that's when things started happening, you looked to the left of you where one of the large windows sat. Next to an old bookcase that was adorned with nicknacks and thick books, all of which you read through. Your E/C eyes darted to the window and nearly fell out of your seat. You could of swore you saw a figure. Tall and broad shoulders, a gray hood, covered with a Navy blue jacket.

You could practically feel the bile climbing up your throat. It burned at your esophagus, fear had rattled your heart, leaving it to drum against your ribcage. The stuttering of your breath could of been mistaken for how cold you were, but it was fear.

Rushing to the window you plastered your hands against the glass, the cold caused your warm hands to tingle yet you felt like you were on fire. Your skin was hot and flushed, you wanted to rip off your hoodie.

Frantic orbs scanned the perimeter, seeing nothing but the long lines of trees and and darkness. We're you dreaming? Did your anxiety get that bad to the point you were seeing things? Your legs felt jittery, weak almost. Like they buckle at any moment.

Footprints, you could see footprints that tracked in the snow. Leading to the backyard. Quick to connect the dots, the back was a view you could see from your bedroom. Not that it was much different, the area was heavily wooded but that wasn't the only standing factor. The backyard was usually the place your so called "admirer" left their messages. They were here, you had caught them in the act!

Well, not really. Granted you were still in the house, sitting on the floor as your skin ignited with heat. You ripped off the heavy garment before tossing it to the side, left in a black T-shirt with a skirt and stockings, the cold wooden floor was definitely soothing but it didn't help ease any of your fear nor lessen the feeling of nausea twisting in your stomach.

They were here, you knew that much. You weren't crazy, or imagining things. The fear was real, which made it all the more worse.

With a quick dash, you found yourself in the kitchen raiding one of the drawers. Pulling out a rather sharp kitchen knife. You spotted yourself in its reflection. Wide, shakey eyes darted in every possible direction, seeing if they caught up with you in the home. Did they know you were here? Or did they think you were asleep? So many different possibilities ran through your head. It felt like a rush, your brain made everything feel woozy. The bile was practically in your mouth, your heart was burning.

Above every option you thought about, the one that seemed to make the most sense was to go outside. A scratch that you've been dying to itch for so long. Finally you could know who this person might be, with baited breath you tucked your knife into your side, buried in your skirt before grabbing some slip ons, facing the dark truth. Once and for all.

The cold air was like a shockwave. Instantly your skin was covered in goosebumps. A chill sinking into your flesh, hitting you where it hurts the most. But you continued on, across the street was your neighbors house. All the lights were off which meant they had been asleep, pale lights from the street lamps flickered on and off. A few moths circled around each pole. The snow had stopped completely and you felt alone. It was desolate on your street and your not sure how to feel about it.

You found yourself following the trail of Muddy footsteps, whoever this person may be, they definitely weren't clean. The tracks in the snow were large, gritty. They must be wearing boots. That definitely didn't help the sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You stopped, there was it was. The red heart in clean white snow. It was splattered almost perfectly. Crimson red deep in icy thickness. The letter "I" Was before the heart and after it was the letter "U". I love you. Underneath it all? There layed your name ever so delicately, as if it was written with care. You swallowed the vomit in your mouth. You felt raw.

There was no mistaking what the color could possibly be. Too thick to be paint and too dark to be food dye. That was blood, the crimson color always ran deep, all of this felt surreal. You had to be dreaming, this wasn't real. You were imagining it all, why would anyone do this? The fear was getting to you, distorting all of your vision. Black dots floated around your vision as your breath slowed. We're you dying? Or are you gonna pass out? You couldn't tell. All you could feel was a blanket of nerves draping over you, collapsing into the snow, your whole body felt light. It was so warm yet so cold, and soft. God was the snow always this soft?

Wait, no you shouldn't fall asleep here. What's that saying? Don't fall asleep in the snow unless you never plan to wake up? But how could anyone resist? You felt ethereal. Like a bunch of morphine had been injected in your system and it was taking it's course.

Before your eyelids were too heavy, all you saw was your vision spinning slowly. The dark sky was perfect in your view, an ocean of stars reflecting with the crystal snow. Every bit of fear had left your body but deep in your psyche you were still scared. The fear was hidden away from the heavy feeling in your body. You were too tired to do anything.

A masked man had came into your view, peering down at you with heavy breathing. The mask had been a simple design, two eyes with a smile. It looked dirty and worn, multiple scratches had craved deep in its plastic interior. A swipe of blood across that mouth. What stood out the most was a tattoo along this persons neck, you feel like you've seen it somewhere. Maybe it was a dream? But before you could figure it out, your eyelids gave out. Only left with hearing the last thing your heard before you slipped into the abyss of darkness was heavy breathing and the sigh of your name.

Authors note ;

So I finally posted something 👉🏻👈🏻🥺, the ending is rather vague so you can imagine how the scenario might of ended, as always if you wish this to be written in either a different gender reader (male, female, non-binary, demis, I mean any and all) or maybe race specific just shoot me a pm! I hope you like it lol, I spent like three days on this and tumblrs formatting is kinda weird compared to wattpad so forgive me if I did this wrong lol.

.

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Eight of ??)

So, if anyone is willing to do a reaction video/voice recording to this part, I would love it... A lot.

Anywho, if you’re new here, please stop and go read the other parts to this fic. The link to Part One is right here.

The Lovelies:  @simpingforsatan​ @naimena​ @hachimochi​ @wrathandgreed​ @magi-minminxiii​ @rensphilia​ @a-dream-at-night​ @chloelikesobeyme​ @getbehindme-satan​

Satan/F!Mc

Word Count: 2.059

Trigger Warnings: angst

“Satan?”

A jolt ran through his body. Was that?...

“Is that you?”

His head snapped up to reveal Mc. Standing in front of him. Like she had never left. She looks really resistant though. Why does she?... Oh! Smile! Smile stupid!

Her anxious look melted away, and she grinned back at him, “I can’t believe I actually found you.”

Wait, she was out looking for me?

“Your brothers are out looking for you. I ran into some of them yesterday.”

“They’re out looking for me?” That’s what you’re going to ask about? Not her? How she’s doing? Anything?

“Yeah…” Mc clapped her hands in front of her body nervously, “So, I’m not sure if you remember me-”

“Of course I remember you!” Satan blurted out rather loudly. His eyes took in her look of growing astonishment but glee, and he could feel the walls he had built around his newfound emotions crumble, along with his carefully crafted facade. The last time he had been this unguarded was… No. I am not thinking about that right now. She’s here; that’s all there is. Everything will be alright now. 

She looked down demurely, a blush on her cheeks. A lock of her hair fell over her face and he was about to brush it behind her ear when she spoke again, “That makes me so happy to hear. I was really worried you wouldn’t.”

“How could I not?” He couldn’t hide the tenderness that creeped into his voice. She was just so beautiful. 

“Well, I figured interactions like that were either common place or not worth remembering,”

Wait? Didn’t I tell her she’s the only person I’ve ever been in love with?

“- And I’m sure I was annoying-”

Huh?

“But you were so kind and patient. Even writing me that note. I still have it you know,” she blushed again, surely saying more than she had meant to, but Satan was still trying to process her words. A silence creeped in between them, which she nervously filled, “I really took your advice to heart. You opened up a world for me I’m not sure I could’ve found otherwise, so I wanted to come back and thank you.”

“I… Uhh… To what exactly are you referring?” He knew his voice was flat, but he couldn’t help it. His mask had plastered itself to his face as a defence mechanism. He really didn’t understand what she was saying, and he watched as she registered the change in demeanor.

“Well, when you helped me out as a child. I got separated from my brother, Luke, and you helped me back to Purgatory Hall.”

Satan’s mind went completely blank before all his thoughts came rushing in at once. Oh. I forgot. When someone goes to the Celestial Realm they lose their memories. She doesn’t remember being human. She doesn’t remember being an exchange student. She doesn’t remember me.

Some part of his brain had been working on the particular exchange in question, “Luke’s your brother right?” He was surprised that anything was coming out of his mouth, much less anything even pertaining to the memory, even as it felt like everything inside his mind was breaking. Cracking like glass.

“Yes,” her words were enthusiastic enough, but her face told a different story, “I was hoping you’d remember. I know I probably wasn’t that interesting to talk to back then, but I can assure you I’ve learned a lot since then. I’ve read every book on your list multiple times. Well, except for Candide. I really didn’t like that book,” she was babbling, nervous at his lack of reaction.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It was nice to find someone willing to learn. I wouldn’t have bothered with the letter had I found you boring,” Satan was trying his best, but he couldn’t keep the hollow, offhand tone his voice had taken. I haven’t spoken to her like this since before the trip to London.

“Hah, uh, good to know,” Mc laughed, “Oh, I heard you went to my show. Oh, if you don’t know, I’m Jane Doe.”

“I did go. I couldn’t get out of the maze.”

“Oh, sorry about that. I told Diavolo, that is, Lord Diavolo, that the maze was a bit big and the amount of work he had me bring was insane, but he said something about people that really wanted to get to the center, would. I think it did rush a lot of the people that were there, since the discussions I had were a bit lackluster, but, uh, yeah. I wish you could’ve made it,” she spoke haltingly at the end, seeming to lose a lot of the steam she had when she looked at him. 

It’s because my expression hasn’t changed at all.

They stood there in silence a bit before Mc broke it, “So, I’m going to head back to the castle, I guess… Ummm, yeah. Thanks for the… talk. Okay,” and she turned around with a sad look on her face.

Before he could process what he was doing, he had grabbed her wrist, “Wait!”

She turned around, pretty shocked by his actions. He dropped her wrist with an embarrassed cough. He could feel his cheeks burning up, and he had to look away, “I mean, could I walk you there?”

Mc’s mouth worked wordlessly for a second, before stuttering out, “Y-yeah, if you w-want.”

Satan kept his hands behind his back, as they started walking, not trusting them not to betray him again. He knew he was stiff but the cracks in his mind threatened to shatter with one wrong move. He kept looking over at Mc as slyly as he could. She was holding the wrist he had grabbed, and seemed a little uncomfortable. He cursed himself for not being able to speak. This is all I’ve ever wanted since she… left, and I can’t even talk to her. Even about something mundane like the weather. Why am I so weak sometimes? 

As the silence stretched on, he could feel the awkward atmosphere increase. Say something! What’s the point of having this much knowledge if I can’t even figure out what to say? He almost sighed as the castle came into view, simply because it meant relief. Soon, they were at the front gate and then the front doors.

Mc coughed quietly, grabbing Satan’s attention, “Thank you for walking me here. I appreciate it,” she smiled at him though it was small.

Oh no you idiot. Say something! Anything!

“Of course. It was a pleasure.”

Seriously, that’s all you have to say?!

Mc raised her eyebrows slightly, nodding a little bit, seemingly unconvinced, “Well, bye then.”

“Yes. Goodbye,” Satan said, and he actually turned around and started walking away, though his brain was screaming at him to stay. He heard the door shut behind him, the sound making him flinch. Once he was out of the gate, he finally shattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer was tired. Not only had they been out searching for three days, the only lead they had gotten was someone who said Satan had come around asking about the art show. Lucifer had even been in contact with Diavolo to ask if Satan had been to the castle, but it had been a negative. He wasn’t sure why he was so insistent to find Satan this time around. He’d never worried too much about his disappearances before as long as it didn’t affect his schooling. Something inside him was worried about him though.

He slung his coat over his couch, and a sound further in his room made him freeze, quickly gathering his power.

“That’s why you didn’t tell us, isn’t it?”

“Satan, where have you been and why are you lurking in my room?”

“It’s because she doesn’t remember us.”

The pain in Satan’s voice caused Lucifer to stop. Deciding it was easier to have this conversation when he was willing to talk rather than trying to force him, “Yes, partially.”

“And the other part?”

“Well, how do you tell your family that their favorite human is back from the dead, but is now an angel who doesn’t remember them at all so no, you can’t just go see her? Lord Diavolo also told me not to,” Lucifer answered, walking over to his fireplace to start it.

“That’s fair.” The lack of emotion in Satan’s voice made Lucifer frown slightly.

“Well, I was saved from trying to explain it since you so flippantly announced it at breakfast,” Lucifer goaded, getting the wood to ignite.

“Oh, yeah, I did do that. Sorry.” The admission of guilt had Lucifer flipping around to make sure it was actually Satan in his room, and the sight that met his eyes made him gasp. It was Satan, but he looked awful.

“What happened?” Lucifer asked, voice hushed.

Satan didn’t even lift his eyes, “I searched for her. She found me. We talked. She only remembers me from a meeting we had when she was a young angel. I made a fool of myself. She’s back at the castle. I’m…” he left the sentence hanging, his eyes more dead than after the funeral. Not that Lucifer remembered much about that time himself.

Lucifer sat himself in the other chair, staring into the fire. If Satan was ready to talk to him, he was not going to ruin it.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to hurt like this again. I thought I’d locked away my feelings and learned to cope, but one sight of her and I crumbled. All my defenses gone. She got in and then broke me. I had to walk around cracked, ready to shatter at any moment. The impossibility of the situation would make me laugh if I could.”

“She did know you though.”

“Huh?”

“It may not be the memory you want, but she does remember you. Was it a bad memory?”

“... No.”

“That’s something then,” Lucifer could feel Satan’s incredulous look without looking over. He drug out the moment, going over to his liquor cabinet and pouring himself and Satan a glass of demonus, “The way I see it, you have a chance to win Mc’s heart again. You get to watch her fall in love again. You get to have all your firsts again. There’s a lot of entities out there who would be jealous of your position,” he offered Satan the glass, which he took but didn’t drink from, before he continued, “Take Luke for example. He saw the opportunity to become her big brother, and he took it. I hear from Diavolo they’re quite close now, and though he doesn’t always admit it, Luke absolutely adores his little sister. He took his chance and never looked back.”

“... You think I can win her back? I am a demon and she is an angel now.”

“Your differences in station didn’t stop you when her lifespan was only going to be about a century. Wrath incarnate fell for a weak human who couldn’t even stay alive long enough for you to see her grow old. Why would her being an angel be a problem? If anything, though she is still young, she has obviously learned a lot in that time. She is more your equal now then she was before.”

“How would that even work?”

“How did your relationship with her before work? How were you planning on it ending?”

“... No. No. I could never ask her to fall for me. Never! I know how agonizing it was for you guys. I could never hurt her like that!”

“There’s more that can happen to an angel than falling,” Lucifer grunted, “I also don’t think it’s your choice on if she falls or not. That’s her decision to make.”

Satan sat forward in the chair, glass clenched in his hands, green eyes reflecting the flames. When he didn’t speak for a while, Lucifer decided to try another tactic, “I know Lord Diavolo has absolutely no problems with you two being together and completely condones the match. I… I as well think it’s a good match up and I believe you can win her back with no problems. The question is what you’re going to do?” He looked over, bringing his glass to his lips. 

Satan hadn’t changed positions, but his eyes now showed determination, “I need some parchment and a pen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Nine

[rightintheguts]

The Witch of Birmingham

Decided to re-post this, so here's the summary: Her family wasn’t the same after the War. Her father lost a leg; her brother an eye; her sister a husband. And for Bianca? She lost her family in the aftermath.

Though, she’d be damned if she let the tragedy of that war consume her, as it had her family.

With a split decision, Bianca leaves her family, transitioning from the scenic sight of Galway, to the industrial streets of Birmingham, hoping for a fresh start away from the memory of her broken family.

She gains employment at a local business, and she falls into a steady routine. A routine that soon takes a turn, when on one afternoon, a group of Blinders comes looking for her boss for due money. Wonderful.

The chapter begins under the line.

Chapter One:

Birmingham was vastly different from Galway. With that singular thought, Bianca made her way off the over-packed train, and onto the equally crowded platform, using some effort to stay afloat with the mass of strangers that she was crammed in between. She hissed out a curse when she almost tripped over the heeled shoes of a blond woman. Shooting out a hurried apology to the Miss in question, Bianca was once again sucked into the departing crowd. Soon enough the crowd thinned, and she was able to separate herself from the lot of them; she took a moment to gather herself, not used to being in such overly large crowds.

Once she took stock of both herself, and her belongings she looked around the platform, watching as others boarded the train; some hurrying off to wherever they’re meant to be.

Her gloved hands twisted over her suitcase, chest twinging at the sight of families reuniting, or bidding farewell. Her mind conjuring up the image of her own family, before she willed it away: there was no time thinking of that. No, instead she should focus on finding her way to her newly purchased flat, a thought that felt odd to her--of having her own space, but she welcomed the feeling, even though it frightened her. Be brave, Bianca.

Taking a deep breath, she held it and closed her eyes. No more ‘Theo’. once I open my eyes, I’ll only be ‘Bianca’. Exhaling, a smile bloomed across her face, and her eyes snapped opened a second later. With her head held high, Bianca briskly strut through the doors of the train station, and out into cobbled streets of Birmingham.

_____________

(A Month Later)

The moment her neighbors started screaming at each other, was a clear indication that she needed to get ready, and start the day. Bianca groaned into her scrunched-up pillow, rolling onto her side and sitting up, haphazardly tossing her quilted covers to the side, as her bare feet touched the worn hardwood floor. Who needs an alarm clock, when you have the Hughes?

Lord, bless them! Sighing in resignation, Bianca sluggishly rose from her creaky mattress, and began her morning routine. She was never a morning person, and moving to Birmingham sure as hell didn’t change that.

Setting her copper kettle to boil, she finished pinning up her blonde hair, all-the-while glaring heatedly at the wall across from her. Throughout the month she’s been here, the couple have made it a habit to argue from the early hours of the morning, to the very moment Mr. Hughes arrives home from either work, or the local pub. The only time she gets a hint of peace, is when she is out of her bloody flat, and those few precious hours before Mr. Hughes gets home.

Thankfully, Bianca had managed to concoct something during her second week here, that could instantly knock her out when she needed to rest.

Though, perhaps I won’t need that now? Bianca had made it her personal mission to either befriend, or get to know her neighbors to some extent. What she had learned during her first week, was that Mr. Baker hated visitors, but he had liked the apple crumble she had brought him; the Millers, were an elderly couple who were very fond of her pies.

Finally, there were the Hughes: Mr. Hughes was a short, and stocky man with a ruddy face, and even ruddier hair. Mrs. Hughes on the other hand, was a thin, bird-like woman with short brown hair, and a tired face. They had been pleasant, completely different from the screaming entities she had conjured within her mind in those first few days.

She eventually found out that the Hughes were having trouble in the marriage bed--or rather, Mr. Hughes was, ahem, having trouble downstairs, to the increasing frustration of Mrs. Hughes. So, naturally the couple began taking their frustration out on each other--thankfully, their fights never escalated to anything physical.

With that train of thought, Bianca made her way to her small pantry and briskly opened it. Finding what she was looking for, she snatched it up, and closed the pantry door with her hip. The kettle let out a startling hiss, almost causing her to drop the small vial, but she quickly righted herself and stuffed the glass solution into her bra.

After finishing her morning tea and toast, Bianca slid into her coat and donned its matching hat. Mr. Hughes had left just as she had finished fixing her tea, so she was secure in knowing that she wouldn’t be spotted by him. Gathering the rest of her things, she exited her flat and locked the door, before she ambled to her neighbor’s door.

Rapping thrice upon the scuffed wood, she waited until a haggard looking Abigail Hughes opened the door. Her friendly grin was met with confused eyes, before they turned sheepish.

“I, I’m sorry Bianca, were we too--?” The woman’s apology was cut short when Bianca reached into her blouse, and plucked the safe-kept vial from the insides of her bra. Holding it out for the woman, who took it after a few short beats, Bianca instructed her to place a drop of the liquid into either her husbands food, or drink.

“W-what--” Once again, the woman was cut off.

“No more than a drop, eh? And first time’s free charge--the next will be three pounds 50.” With that, she turned on her heel and strode out her apartment building.

________

Her earlier cheeriness lasted up until she stepped through the door of her workplace, and punched in her time card, where she happened to catch sight of her desk: riddled with piles of meeting notes--notes that she would have to spend all day typing up, and filing away. Shoulders slumping, she withheld a sigh and replaced her card in it’s designated slot, then Bianca made the short trek to her, now, cluttered desk. She had just placed her purse down, when her boss suddenly opened his office door with a loud bang, startling her before abruptly barking her name.

“Ms. Kovac!” upon not immediately seeing her, the man called for her again, before said woman pushed the door back a smidge more, revealing herself. Mr. Thompson jumped, though was quick to try and play it off as a mere shuffling of his feet.

“Yes, Mr. Thompson?” she asked, forced smile stretching across her face. She could already feel a headache coming on, and it was barely the start of her work day. The man produced an even larger pile of documents for her, carelessly thrusting them into her limp arms, causing her to scramble in order to not drop them--which was possibly his intent, if the unsatisfied frown was any indication.

After briskly informing her that these documents, along with the ones on her desk, will need to be finished today, he closed his office door and then headed for the entrance of the small office building.

“Oh, and keep tabs on my messages, yeah?” with that, he exited the building, leaving her slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

Oh, damn that man! Snapping her mouth shut, she huffily slammed the papers on her desk, before closing her eyes and took in a lungful of air. Counting to ten, Bianca told herself to calm down--she needed this job, that she should bare a stiff-upper-lip and march through the day. It was only six hours.

Reaching ten she exhaled, and opened her eyes. Sitting down at her desk, she lugged the documents onto her piled desk, and readied her type-writer, officially beginning her day.

_____________________

Around lunch-time, the office door opened and closed, followed by long, sure steps that languidly made their way towards Bianca, though she was far too focused on her work to notice this. She had made a surprising amount of progress with the mountain of documents, and with her decision to work through lunch she was confident that she wouldn’t be forced to work over-time.

The only sound after that, was the fast rhythmic tap, tap, tap of her type-writer, fingers flying over the keys; eyes solely focused on her task, and mouth absent-mindedly chewing half of her sandwich, the other half hanging from her sealed lips, waiting it’s turn to be consumed.

A throat clearing broke her out of her trance, she idly glanced up, and nearly had a stroke right then and there when she registered exactly who stood in front of her desk; along with the sudden influx of mortification at the picture she no doubt made.

Thomas Fucking Shelby!

She may not have been in Birmingham long, but she sure as fuck knew who the Shelbys were--especially the one who happened to be looming over her desk currently. Face burning, she reached for her sandwich and bit through it, setting the rest down on the napkin she had wrapped it in, and desperately sought to reclaim some-sort of dignity. Swallowing, she tried mustering a smile, though it fell short and morphed into a grimace.

“How can I help you, Mr. Shelby?” She’s heard quite a bit about the Shelbys--especially about Thomas Shelby in particular. She had once heard that his icy stare alone, could melt a man’s face off--though the man who said as much was quite drunk at the time, so she didn't have much faith in his word. In fact, he didn’t appear that frightening, if anything he appeared amused--most likely due to having caught her off guard. He gestured a bit to his mouth, glancing to her own before she caught on and hastily wiped the mustard away with a quick swipe of her tongue, face once again heating in embarrassment.

Dear Lord, please strike me down.

“Is Jimmy ‘round?” At the mention of her boss, the frustration from this morning reared its ugly head, but she was quick to stamp it out--she didn’t want to come across as defensive or hostile towards Mr. Shelby, especially when she realized he wasn’t really alone--two Blinders were standing guard outside the door. Shaking her head, she informed him that he had left in the early morning, and that no, he hadn’t told her where he had gone, nor when he would be back.

Seeing Mr. Shelby subtle frustration at her employer’s absence, along with the news that she had no idea where he was, Bianca was anxious to placate the man.

“Was there anything you were expecting, or wanting to discuss with Mr. Thompson?” she asked pleasantly, a sudden thrill racing down her spine when he looked at her, a dark brow raising at her inquiry.

“I was expecting a payment two days ago, and ‘ave yet to receive it.” He reached into his pocket, and slid a cigarette from it’s cartridge before lighting it. Bianca froze in place, her mind began rapidly turning in thought; and dread practically twisting her intestines into intricate knots.

“I’d graciously given him an extra day to get the money, and still I haven’t received the three-hundred quid he owes.” a pause, accompanied by a ghost of a smirk. “Now with interest, of course.”

Bianca cursed, verbally. She couldn’t help it, finally realizing what this was, and why her boss had made sure she would be present during this time--no doubt having quickly learned, that she would rather work through lunch than work a second of over-time--and why he wasn’t.

That kreten! (1)

“Now, I know--” Mr. Shelby had started, seeing as she was growing emotional, but Bianca cut him off by standing abruptly, the two Blinders jerked to attention, but she paid them no mind. Oh, she was furious with her boss--why, if he was here this very moment, she’d strangle that little kozí kurva (2); God forgive her, but she would!

Making the short trek to her employer’s office, a litany of Slovak curses following her wake, she began to fumble with one of her hair pins. She jerked the door open with a bang--the bastard didn’t even lock it--and marched towards his desk, her heels furiously clicking against the hardwood floor.

Reaching for the tasteless painting that hung behind his office chair, she yanked it from the wall and carelessly tossed it aside--if the kretén had any problems with her treatment of his things, she’d tell him to shove ‘em up his arse. Bianca released an inelegant snort at the man’s predictable mind set. He’d had thought himself so clever; thinking that he was the only one in the world with a safe hidden behind a painting, that they’d neither find him, nor his money: forcing her to deal with the gangsters, the complete ass.

Well, he won’t be laughing for long when he finds his cash gone!

Analyzing the safe, she ended up letting out another haughty snort; he hadn’t even bothered to purchase a decent one, she’d have no problem cracking this one--hell, a babe could crack this pathetic excuse of a safe.

“What’re you doin’?” Glancing over her shoulder, she found Mr. Shelby standing in the doorway, smoking all care-free like, and watching her with a sort of detached amusement. She finally managed to pluck a pin from her hair, then gave the man a one-armed shrug.

“Quitting.” she said simply. She heard something suspiciously like a laugh, but when she happened to glance back at him, he was as grim as the Reaper. Crossing herself at both the thought, and for what she’s about to do, Bianca set to work.

She was severely disappointed, with barely any thought, she heard the tell-tale click and voila: the safe was opened and the money inside was ripe for the taking.

“Three-hundred quid, you said?” she asked absentmindedly, already counting out the notes.

“Plus interest.”

“Ah, right.” having counted out the correct amount, including the required interest, she placed the stack of pounds on the desk so he could do so himself. While he began his own counting, she turned back towards the safe and took the rest. Grasping the leftover pounds, she turned and began walking back towards her own desk, all-the-while stuffing half the notes down her bra, and folding the rest with her purse being their future home.

Feeling eyes one her, she found Mr. Shelby once again watching her. Giving him her best smile, she began gathering her things and idly asked him, “You won’t mind too much, if such an outcome happens, that I tell the authorities that the Blinders took all the money?”

“I doubt you’d have to talk to any copper.” he informed her, and after a second of contemplation, she nodded in acquiescence, tossing her forgotten lunch away. Her employer--ah, former employer--would be too much of a coward to confront the Blinders, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to contact any officers.

“Well, then I bid you a pleasant day, Mr. Shelby.” She went to gather her coat and hat, and punched out her time card, before tossing it in the bin near-by.

“You as well, Ms…?” She twisted to face him, and smiled once again.

“Kovac. Bianca Kovac.” He tilted his head in acknowledgement, and she took that as her que to leave. She nodded farewell towards the two Blinders stationed outside, before reaching for her compact and lipstick from the recesses of her questionably large purse. After re-applying the bold red to her lips, she smiled and winked at herself before snapping the compact closed.

Well, time to find a new job.

______________

Translations:

1.) Asshole

2.) Goat fucker

[kewltie]

in the midst of a battle w/ members of LoV, pro-hero ground zero save a rookie journalist who LITERALLY threw himself middle of all the chaos to grab photos & after yelling at the ignorant fuck, katsuki doesn't think he'll see him again but then HE SEES HIM EVERYWHERE. his name is midoriya izuku & he has some sort of death wish really bc katsuki keep finding him in the middle of all these hero vs villains battles and ONE TIME he tackled down a villain right???? and he doesnt even have a fucking quirk & yet he is seemingly unafraid of everything.

needless to say, katsuki is v smitten bc the litle awkward death defying shit. also, anyone who accidentally send katsuki to the hospital several times a month bc he keep getting into trouble and katsuki have to come rescue him and THEN YELLING AT KATSUKI FOR INTERFEARING W/ HIS JOB – may be katsuki’s true love.

katsuki get so fucking rile up at this quirkless man, who shown no fear and easily go toe to toe w/ him and yet is so incredibly humble and hilariously awkward, he is just into this badass idiot who is entirely devoted to his job and cursed w/ severe stubborn???? feels relatable. so yea, katsuki ofc taps that ass right the fuck away bc he knows a good one when he sees it bc izuku is indirectly responsible for three broken ribs after katsuki had pulled him out of ANOTHER TROUBLING SITUATION. he's a trouble magnet and shit-stirrer and katsuki's heart is moved.

so they start dating and it goes SO WELL. izuku still get in major shitstorm for his job and katsuki still drags him out of it w/ a few bruise here and there, but afterward they go grab a bite and crash at each other place. super romantic and sweet and it's so v good. but!!! there's something weird about izuku. he doesn't talk much about his family, to katsuki anyway. BUT HE'S SUPER CLOSE TO THEM. his parents seem to call him daily and he go visit them often, but he never bring his parents up to katsuki esp his dad & izuku kinda got a stalker??

it's not like katsuki didn't notice right away, but HE THOUGHT IT WAS HIS STALKER. one of his super creepy fans probably but nope this person only tails izuku and when katsuki tell him about it, izuku is like, 'oh that's just toga'. apparently, izuku knows his talker v v well. the stalker apparently is sent by izuku's father to watch out & protect izuku and katsuki pauses bc who the fuck does a journalist who lives on takeouts and shitty cable TVs need a bodyguard?!!! so yea katsuki's new bf background is fucking weird and mysterious.

katsuki has his agency dig into izuku's background (not that they hadn't vet izuku's before for katsuki's safety) but they comb through the archives and izuku's history and it's comes out v v v v clean, sparkling even. honestly, katsuki doesn't know WTF IS UP W/ HIS NEW BF. so he confront izuku about his weirdo stalker/bodyguard, his avoidance about his family & his dad in particular, and his eerie squeaky AND CLEARLY SCRIPTED papertrails. izuku get shifty eyes and is like, "you won't believe me." And katsuki says tersely, "fucking try me."

Izuku drops his gaze to the floor and says, finally, "my dad is the leader of the league of villains." and YEA, KATSUKI'S BRAIN SHUT DOWN FOR SEC bc his deku?? stupid suicidal stubborn bleeding heart deku??? FUCK NO. but izuku just nods his head and grimaces. the LoV is the largest criminal org in the world w/ long list of crimes & longer list of criminals that make its their home. their roster are made up of terrifying people w/ dangerous quirks... and IZUKU, quirkless and softhearted izuku is the leader's most precious son. the idea itself is COMPLETELY ABSURD! HOW does that ever make sense? izuku is a civilian who works normal if a bit dangerous job & doesn't seem to have any *evil* inclinations at all yet he hail from the worst kind of genetic source possible. maybe he's just faking it all along.

which made katsuki absolutely furious that izuku might been some kind of sleeper agent from the LoV sent to trick spy & kill him or something and izuku's eyes wide, immediately protests, "no, no, i swear! i dont have anything to do w/ my fathers... org." but katsuki has a hard time accepting it esp with the truth bomb thrown at his feet now that he realizes HE'S DATING THE ONLY SON OF EVIL OF THE MOST VILE CRIMINAL IN THE WORLD. so yea, he walks out on izuku, saying he need some space & izuku was looking so heartbroken as he left

for the next few days, katsuki stews in his thought. he doesn't tell anyone about what he had found out, but he doesn't contact izuku either. This last for couple of weeks until, one day just as he in the middle of patrol there's some commotion that attract his teams and katsuki is separated from them. he's cornered by several LoV members, outnumbered five to one and katsuki lost his comms in the ensuring scuffles but instead of kicking his ass bc well they're foes, one of them break ranks toga (the blood queen) approach him w/ a bloodthirsty grin & a knife pointing toward him.

"hey, pretty boy," she coos w/ a flicker of edge, "stop ignoring our young master! you made him cried & he won't come out of his room. I hate seeing him so upset bc Izuku-chan should always be smiling! if you dont fix this ill rip your hide from your bones and wear it as a cape."

the group behind her make various grunt of agreement, all promising him death and disembowelment for... apparently breaking izuku's heart. katsuki is so outrage that he nearly explodes on the spot bc these dumbass villains think they CAN BLACKMAL/THREATEN HIM?! HIM, GROUND ZERO?! also, even more furious by the fact that they insuate that HE BROKE UP WITH IZUKU?! wtf, he never said that!! needing space meant just a temporary break s he gets his bearing on wut to do next... but not like a perma break, but izuku's ppl thought their relationship ended.

katsuki is even more offended by that notion bc izuku is even a bigger idiot than he thought. HOW could someone that much of crybaby over just temp break is some manipulative coldhearted spy?? right now his instinct says, izuku is telling the truth. he isn't tricking katsuki.

izuku is seemingly sweet, humble, & awkward but he got that rebellious streak a mile wide. loud in his opinions & shit-stirrer by choice, he faces down villains & heroes alike like they're on equal ground even though izuku is defenseless. he respect the law but only when it applies. katsuki has never seen such a fucking firecracker like izuku who loves people & the world but have little respect for any gov entity or laws and think they're good only when they're helping ppl but otherwise they're abritary (lmao). he such chaotic force for good it's hilarious. so yea, he believes that izuku is the SON OF AFO now bc that lil shit is a menace. A GOOD MENACE, but still a goddamn menace. he seems to stay firmly on the side of 'good' as it is which make his relationship with his villain father a fucking mystery & headache for katsuki.

so katsuki, gritting his teeth, clichely demands the LoV group to take him to their leader so he can verbally kick his bf's ass for keeping his fucked up secrets and stupidly mistaken that they're broken up. the group happily ties up him and blindfolds him bc well SECRET LAIR. katsuki is crazy, ok. like, STUPIDLY CRAZY to go blindly and no backups w/ some of the worst villains in history so he can meet up w/ his stupid bf and his crazy father. he could end up dead tmr or some shit bc it all could have been a trick to lure him in w/ his guard down but if izuku can be an idiot for dating a hero when he's a son of a villain than KATSUKI CAN BE A BIGGER IDIOT FOR GOING TO MEET HIS BF'S VILLANIOUS FATHER AT HIS SECRET TORTURE FORTRESS OR SOME SHIT. love can make ppl dumb and they're both a perfect example of it.

so katsuki get blindfolded and escorted to the LoV hq and it's a suprisingly sweet ride to there. no bumps, no abuse, no torture shit going on. he get offer food and drink and it's FUCKING WEIRD. his kidnappers start some casual convo w/ him about izuku and his job of all things. they even joke about how katsuki arrested one of them one time and almost kill another THE OTHER TIME & it's all happy bs??? it's even worst than torture. katsuki just want this to end already!! eventually they arrive and katsuki is let out. he get inside & his blindfold is off.

it's... nothing like he expected. it's traditional japanese house w/ sprawling garden, koi ponds, & beautiful woods. it's pristine, homey, and terribly normal. "ha, you thought we were going to take you to some kind of evil lair, right?" twice says, grinning bc he's an ass. "that's next time! we save that for official bsn." he jabs Katsuki's in the shoulder playfully. "you're meeting sensei and the mistress so of course it got to be at their house and not the 'office'."

katsuki's hands start twitching like he's going to explode someone or something but he's quickly drag away before he could do anything about it. lead through some hallways before depositing inside a tearoom where there's a SHIT TON of pics of baby!izuku & his childhood accolades on the wall. this look less like a room to greet visitors but to show off izuku. just as katsuki goes to examine a cute pic of bb!izuku playing in a field of flowers & holding one up towrad the camera, the doors slide open and a couple walk in. one of them is an older woman who looks eerily like izuku and the young woman also ft. in many of the wall pics.

she smiles warmly at and goes to greet him right away. "hi, bakugou-kun! welcome to our home, i'm inko, Izuku's mother," she introduces herself. while she's a source of happy energy and warmth, the other man beside her is another story. he gives katsuki's an icy stare. katsuki already knows who he is before he even say anything. AFO looks younger in comparison to his reported age, notably handsome, and he carries himself like some warlord from the warring periods.

"I should kill you," is the first thing he says. "my son should only cry in joy, over his terrible taste in romantic media consumption, & dumber things." spoken like a man who dealt with midoriya walking crying machine izuku his entire life and also a hopelessly devoted father.

"hisashi!" inko scolds. which is strange to katsuki bc he didn't even think AFO even have a name but in front of him isn't some evil man who mastermind gov't take over & ruin so many ppl lives but astupid father overprotected of his son.

"but i won't," AFO admits regretfully. "Izuku would be even more sad and if you're dead your death will haunt him needlessly more. he won't be able to forget you and move on." he frowns, like he actually had CONSIDER THAT ROUTE DEEPLY before casting that idea aside.

What the fuck, katsuki thought and says exactly that, "what the fuck. there's something seriously wrong with you," he points out what he think is v obvious.

AFO shrugs. "I love my son. He's my-" Inko's frown and he clears his throat, "our most precious treasure and we do everything to ensure his happiness. do you understand us, bakugou katsuki? inko and i have raise with love and care for 20yrs and i won't have some rough neck capers try to destroy his smile. i dont care who you are or wut you can do bc i can put you ten feet under w/ a snap of my fingers & nobody will be able to save you but like i said i won't."

Katsuki grind his teeth, fists clenched at his side, before lowering his head. this isnt time to fight, they're not on the field & on the job. this isnt about their respective stance on moral superiority but izuku. izuku is why they're both here. "i came here for him. i want to fix it," he says. "just let me see him." he pauses & grimaces like the taste of whatever he say next disgust him. "please."

AFO frowns, staring at katsuki for a beat, two. like he can pull apart katsuki's motives and tears into his rib to see w/e make him tick. "fine," he waves katsuki away, "you may see him now but if he cry anything beside in happiness i'll have your head and your entire agency." it's not a threat. it's a warning lace with truth that katsuki has no doubt he will carry out if a single tear slip pass izuku and fall.

inko claps her hand happily. "great, i'm glad you guys are geting along so well!" she says, like threats of murder haven't been thrown at his feet. clearly, she's used to the fact that her husband is a completely psychopath and whipped for their son. this fucking crazy family.

katsuki grunts, not knowing what else to say beside, 'have you ever thought of fucking divorce bc yea maybe you will be less crazy by then' but he holds his tongue bc they're still izuku's parents and he already made a bad impression on them even though technically not his FAULT.

AFO doesn't promise anymore murder in his future but the dark look on his face is enough as inko's lead him out & toward izuku's room. she drops him right outside it and gives him an encouraging smile before heading off, but katsuki has no doubt the parents are lurking around. katsuki sucks in a deep breath before raising his fist and knocks. he hears unhurried footsteps on the other side and slowly the door is slide open.

"Papa, I already said--" izuku whines, and stops as soon as he sees who ACTUALLY on the other side. "K-Katsuki?! What are you--?"

Katsuki blinks, trying to get his fucking brain to grapple with the thought of AFO as 'papa' and his head nearly explode. he drags a hand down his face and once again thinks, THIS FUCKIN' FAMILY. "Look, you idiot," he starts in lieu of any answer. "We didn't fucking break up."

Izuku looks haggard, buffy red eyes and the dark circle under it, speaking of how upset he was. he clearly didn't get any good rest these several days they were apart. he lifts an accusatory brow at Katsuki. "you didn't pick up my calls or answer any of my text," he retorts.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "what part of I needed space, time to think didn't you get?" he snaps back. "It didn't mean go cry and sulk your parent's home like a damn coward because you were too dumb to think of anything beside we may have broken up!"

"But--but," Izuku's lips wobble and katsuki nearly jump out of his skin bc jfc don't cry here or i'll be skinned alive, "i was scared that you really mean it! that's why i didn't want to tell you in the first place bc then you wouldn't want to have anything to do w/ me."

Katsuki sighs, a bone deep tired sigh. "Now, why would you think i would have any problem with dating the son of my nemesis?" he says dryly. Izuku's brows furrow. "All Might is Papa's nemesis," he unhelpfully point out. "I don't think Papa even knew you existed until we dated."

Katsuki scowls. "that's not the fucking point," he shouts, temper rising w/ every word. "Your dad is the fucking boogieman who wants to sow discord in the world & it's my job to catch him &lock away for good. Do you see my moral crisis over this when im dating his beloved son?!"

"I-" Izuku's face falls, "dont you think I dont know that? I've lived with him for over 20yrs, I know exactly what he's capable of." he looks away. "But, he's my Papa & im terrible for still choosing him over the world. So," izuku says solemnly. "i dont expect the same from you."

Katsuki grits his teeth and steps right into izuku's space, up in his face. "Look, im only going to say this once so listen the fuck up," he starts. "I like you. A lot. Stupidly. Gods know why when you drive me up the fucking wall all the time, but here I am standing before you."

"A lot, huh?" Lips twitching, Izuku's eyes go soft.

Katsuki scowls. "Dont make me repeat myself, but yes fucking a lot that your fucking groupies & your old man threatened to kill me several times over did not deter me from coming here," he says, hand cradling Izuku's cheek.

"It's because I'm dating you and not your father. Whatever crimes he'd commited is not on you, you don't have to carry his sins," he tells Izuku, leaning in to press a kiss too fast and fleeting on izuku's forehead. "just stay true to yourself and i'll fucking deal with it."

Izuku's close his eyes and lets out a shaky exhales, the air of relief that passes through him is shuddering. "Ok, ok," he murmurs, opening his eyes to look at katsuki. there's a twinkle in them as he smiles, soft and sweet, the kind you can stupidly drunk on & never let go.

In that hazy moment, katsuki thinks, AFO doesn't need to plan any premeditated murder in case things go v wrong bc this is how he'll die w/ izuku's smile right in his front his eyes, cutting him down one curve lips at a time. Fuck, he's just as whipped for izuku as AFO.

it's good that izuku not a fucking psychopath like his father bc this would have gone v v v wrong. izuku would make a terrifying villain. Worse than his own father bc it's not fear & intimidation that will get ppl to follow him but izuku's own magnetic personality that move them.

"don't ever become a villain, ok?" katsuki insists suddenly, grabbing his shoulder tightly.

"where did that come from?" izuku laughs, eyes crinkling. "And dont worry, papa had tried. many, many times but i haven't turn over to the darks ide if that's what you worry about."

"Good," katsuki says firmly, and thinks the world better for it. one less crazy midoriya to raise hell. izuku is trouble enough as it is when katsuki thought he was just a quirkless journalist w/ a death wish but now there's a chance he could go rouge any moment and--yea. no.

"Sooo," izuku says, bouncing on his heels. "are we back together now?"

katsuki flicks him on the forehead. "we never broke up in the first place, you dolt."

izuku grins and suddenly throws his arm around katsuki. "ah, i miss you so much kacchan!!!" he declares excitedly.

and after they made up, katsuki interrogate izuku about wtf is wrong w/ his father bc how did AFO of all ppl get a villain son who isn't all about /that/ kind of bsn he's in. turns out izuku always have a healthy regard for heroes so he never thought of joining his father's organization. though AFO would have been super happy to take izuku in bc izuku is terrifyingly clever & resourceful but he lets izuku go & do his thing anyway. they just mutually agree not to talk shop when it's family, keeping their jobs outside &not in the home to keep both of their sanity.

so izuku knows shit about the 'family bsn' except wut everyone knows bc he's not involve with any of that and in his everyday job as a journalist izuku often times clash w/ his father AND expose some of his schemes bc it's part of his job & he doesn't shy away from it. AFO wasn't upset at all having his plans ruin by his own son. nope. he was SUPER PROUD OF IZUKU!!! to able to accomplish such thing on his own even if it's against him lol. but izuku is still his father's so so he doesn't take on just AFO, other villains, & dark org. he takes on the gov't, hero association, and even other heroes themselves if he ever catches on if they didn't live up to his ideals of being 'proper hero' like all might. he fiercely chases and exposes anything that he deems corrupted and wrong not caring which side they're on.

which makes izuku kind of chaotic good. he acts on his own whims & sense of justice, disregarding all rules & barriers. which is why he admires katsuki so much bc katsuki stands by his rule staunchantly & won't ever move from it, izuku knows katsuki wont ever be sway by the dark. kinda like izuku's father who stands firmly by his belief & does everything to reach his goals. WHICH IS NOT EXACTLY WHAT KATSUKI WANT TO BE COMPARE TO ESP BY A NOTORIOUS VILLAIN LIKE AFO lol. but yea, now that he got izuku's motive and why he's the way he is, it get easier.

they continue dating, izuku continues getting into trouble 120% of the time, katsuki keeps bailing him out, and sometimes IZUKU BAILS HIM OUT bc izuku may be quirkless but he got an army of the world's most terrible villains on his side so yea izuku IS TERRIFYING. and they aren't just dating but they're 100000% serious w/ each other bc now katsuki go to izuku's parents house for dinner every sunday and have to put up with AFO and play nice w/ each other for izuku's sake bc they come ton an understanding they will be IN-LAWS one day lol! their dinner convo is mostly the two of them taking jab at each other bc katsuki trash of AFO's plans or AFO's sends katsuki's ppl to the hospital and got away with it. they never stop being enemy even for izuku bc of where they stand on but mutually agree not to kill each other. they're both fiercely devoted individual who are obsessively workaholic, stubborn, vainglorious, and loves just as much as they breathe for their ppl and though they never agree on anything, this they will agree on bc izuku's happiness is everything to them!!!

[siswritesyanderes]

you know what I need right now? tom with a mommy kink. like full on breastfeeding/lactation and wanting to fuck a couple of siblings into his "mother" (the reader). separating himself from merope who is unworthy of him in favor of the reader who he believes deserves that role instead. bonus points if he becomes so lost in his delusion he starts to believe reader actually is his mother

Alright, you got me; I’m intrigued. Buckle up; I’ve never done this before.

(N S F W - for the very first time) (TW: noncon) (Absolutely no one is underaged)

You were really only three years older than him.

Later, you would come to regret that your fourteen year old self had thought to protect a first year who was unlucky enough to enter Slytherin with a Muggle surname in the height of Grindelwald’s influence. Or…“protect” wasn’t really the right word. More, “support”. The boy had seemed far from helpless against the teasing of his peers, but you had backed him, and done so as a fourth year.

You weren’t sure why you had gone out of her way to defend some Muggle-born. Sure, you thought the whole blood purity concept was a load of self-congratulatory bosh, but actively intervening for some eleven-year-old you didn’t know? Was it just because he had looked so thin and tragic?

Of course, Tom was sure that he knew why you did it. It wasn’t anything so weak as kindness or pity; no, it was because early on, you had seen something in him. You had known right away that he was worth endearing yourself to, worth having in your debt.

You knew that he was special.

And for some reason, it was quite important to him that you know that you were right.

Of course, everyone was supposed to know that he was special; that was imperative. But you especially.

So, for that whole first term, he inserted himself into your tutoring sessions for the first years and second years and third years, to show off his understanding and how quickly he learned. He ravenously elicited praise from you, preening at every “Very good, Tom!” and “Exactly! That was clever, Tom.” He discovered that he hated it when other people received similar praise; he became fastidious about trying to catch any of the others being the slightest bit incorrect, although correcting their errors of nuance only earned him casual “Fair point, Tom” responses.

It wasn’t his only pursuit, in those early years. He still made a point to charm and impress everyone he came across and searched for any mention of his father among the Hogwarts records, hoping to bestow some pride upon the surname that had earned him such ridicule, before his classmates learned never to ridicule him. And if his search at times yielded to daydreams of giving you his surname, of you accepting it, honored to receive it…well, that was another thing to aspire to, wasn’t it? One day, the whole of the magical world would belong to him, and of course you were included.

In his second year, he had reached enough dead ends to come to terms with the fact that his father had never been to Hogwarts and likely never been a part of the wizarding world. He began to research, instead, the name “Marvolo”.It was in his third year that he discovered that he was the heir of Slytherin through his mother, and somehow what had once been a cold indifference toward the woman who had failed to stay alive for him inflamed into an almost desperate hatred.

The woman- Merope, her name had been, Merope Gaunt -had had every reason to be powerful…the most powerful. Or even just powerful enough to keep him from having to live in that place, with those people…

But she had failed him. Hadn’t even had the basic competence not to die.

A pathetic excuse for a witch. An utter waste. He knew so many witches who could have done better, especially Slytherin witches.

You were everything his mother ought to have been. Not spectacularly strong, but strong enough. Strong enough. You would never have left him at that place.

He was thirteen, and you were sixteen, and it burned him every time a classmate received a letter from their mother, and he longed to kill the young students you tutored. He wanted it so badly that he dreamed about it nearly every night, and he had rarely dreamed of anything before. You were not powerful enough to get rid of them yourself, but that was why people had sons, wasn’t it? Sons were meant to exceed their mothers’ power and do what they could not.

(He knew, or at least most of the time he knew, that you were not actually aware that he had chosen you to be his mother. He supposed he would surprise you.)

For that year and the following, he grew his power. The summer in-between only aggravated his obsession. Surrounded by Muggle inanity. Isolated. He sought his birthright; the devotion and allegiance of all of Slytherin house was easy enough to swing, while the Chamber of Secrets took another year to figure out.

He was fourteen, and you were seventeen, and he had finally become acquainted with his pet Basilisk, and it was your last year at school.

“Where will you go?” he asked. “After you finish school.” He wasn’t a first year anymore; he didn’t ask questions with innocent-seeming curiosity, but instead calmly and politely demanded answers. No one would deny him anything, after all. He was more than just the heir of Slytherin; he was a powerful entity by his own merits. 

You had noticed the change, of course. You had noticed him growing, noticed the fear and reverence among his followers, noticed how he had only to circulate the idea that you were not to be touched and suddenly you sat alone and taught no one. (Even when Slughorn told Travers that he would fail Potions unless he sought your help, Travers did not dare approach you.) You had seen it all happen, and you remembered the intense little boy who had treated even being tutored as a competition.

You did not think you were afraid of Tom, but his attention was…worrying.

“I have a few apprenticeship offers,” you answered.

“Where will you live?”

You couldn’t help feeling that letting him know where to find you would be a mistake. “That depends on which apprenticeship I choose.”

His expression was still for several seconds. Then he smiled. “Well, I wish you the best.”

You didn’t think of Tom much once you left Hogwarts. At least, not regularly. Your second year out of school, you read that the Chamber of Secrets had opened, and that a Muggle-born girl had died, and that Rubeus Hagrid, whom you had tutored in Transfiguration once, at Dumbledore’s referral, had been expelled. And you tried not to think of Tom, who was sixteen now (to your nineteen) and whose followers had been calling him Slytherin’s heir when last you’d seen him.

You didn’t think about him, even though his followers were beginning to graduate, beginning to permeate your workplace and social circles. Grindelwald was defeated, and almost promptly the name “Lord Voldemort” started to cross the lips of people who had been partial to Grindelwald’s ideology. You didn’t think about him, but you were conscious of when his seventh year ended.

Conscious, but not afraid. Not really. Just…wary.

It was sometime the following summer when you answered your door and found him standing there, his expression pacific and almost expectant.

You were surprised. Not surprised to see him on your front step, as his followers were recruiting unsubtly enough that a door-to-door campaign really wouldn’t have been a shock. No, you were surprised that he had come alone. You weren’t sure whether or not to be relieved by it.

“Abraxas said you lived on this street,” was the first thing he said. “Apparently he couldn’t be troubled to give the correct house.” He donned his most charming smile. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

You did, stepping aside and allowing him into your foyer, albeit with a sarcastic, “I forgot that I had an appointment with you…my Lord.”

He looked backward at you, and his eyes were too bright. You worried, with some exasperation, that your light mockery had offended him, or worse: aroused him. You truly, truly did not want Thomas Riddle feeling strongly about you in any way. But he merely said, “That’s not what I want you to call me.” And then he continued on to your kitchen without elaboration.

He made tea, and the two of you chatted. Caught up. Discussed safe, impersonal topics. Tom seemed uncharacteristically directionless about the whole affair; he didn’t seem invested in influencing you to say or do anything, except sit with him and share some tea. You were on guard for any trickery, but none appeared to be forthcoming.

Until suddenly the teacup slipped from your hand, your grip having loosened outside of your control. Your other hand reflexively reached, in vain, for the falling object just before it shattered on the floor, and you blinked a few times, dazed by how your eyes had seemed unable to properly track the movement of your own hand.

“What did you give me?” you said immediately, your words slurring together. You hadn’t thought that Tom had had any opportunity to spike your drink, you had thought that you’d been watching him well enough, but the evidence no longer supported that assumption. You felt lightheaded, and sore. You tried to clamber to your feet, hoping perhaps to get to the lavatory and vomit whatever potion he had inflicted upon you, but you only staggered weakly for a few steps and then found yourself locked in Tom’s arms. “What did you give me?”

“Shhh.” He lifted you off of your feet, and despite your having been unable to walk anyway, losing contact with the floor felt like the definitive loss of power. “Mother needs a rest,” he said softly, and you were confused.

Tom didn’t have a mother.

You must have blinked out of consciousness for a brief time, because the next thing you were aware of was lying flat on your back. You were in your bed. The bedside lamp was on. Tom was sitting on your legs, with one hand beside your head, supporting himself, and the other hand moving down the front of your shirt, unbuttoning as it went. The whole thing was unfastened in under three seconds, as though he had been training in dexterity for just this occasion, and he gently pulled aside each half of the shirt front.

“No.” You were still slurring, and your limbs were too heavy to lift. “Stop.”Tom beheld your exposed flesh, slowly lowering his face until it nuzzled, with a blatantly out-of-character sort of tenderness, into your chest. He was mocking you, must have been. He must have been. He lifted his face again, after a moment.

With steady fingers, he pulled your brassiere aside- the strap first, then the cup, and you would have been certain that the slowness was a taunt, were it not for the way his eyes fastened on his task. His breath tickled against your bared skin.

“Tom,” you tried again.

He moved forward so that his lips grazed just under your jaw. “That’s what I want you to call me,” he whispered. “Only you. Now I have what they have. I have better than they have.”

And without further delay, he dropped his mouth down to your breast, and…

You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a scream. It wasn’t just surprise that he was sucking milk from your body; it was pain. His teeth were involved, chewing at your skin while he sucked, as though desperate to maximize the amount of milk he got out of you. All tenderness was gone, replaced with…you couldn’t even name it. A sort of frantic thirst.

What had he given you, to make you produce milk? What had he given you? And why?

You managed to breathe, to stop whimpering in pain, so that the only sound in the room was the occasional creak of the bed and Tom’s near-constant enraptured moans.

“Tom,” you said, a bit too shrilly, “you’re hurting me.”

It took a few seconds, but he finally detached, pulling back with his lips still slightly parted. You nervously wondered if he meant to just latch on again, perhaps even harder than before, but he merely licked a bead of milk from your nipple and then eased his face into the crook of your neck.

“I was so hungry, Mother,” he said quietly, and your heart raced. “You shouldn’t let me get so hungry; I’m a growing boy.”

Breathe, you instructed yourself. “Why are you calling me that, Tom?”

His arms came around you tightly. “I like it better than ‘Mum’,” he said simply. “It’s…worthier.” He kissed you, gently, under your jaw, and he said something that you couldn’t understand- some long something, in some scraping, hissing language that made your blood run cold despite how softly he spoke it. So he really was the heir of Slytherin, then.

You tensed as he moved his midriff so that the region between his hips pressed against you. More than pressed; it moved against you. “Stop that, Tom.”

“You’re going to make your little boy feel so good, Mother. You’re going to make so many little brothers and sisters for me. I’ll help you make them.” His knee came up between your legs, nudging them apart. “We’ll continue Slytherin’s line together.” His hand slipped down into his pants, and his face moved toward the same sore breast as before.

“No!” you shouted.

He ignored you. “But only I can have your milk,” he said harshly. “Only I; none of those lesser heirs. We will have servants to nurse them, once this world submits to my rule. Mother’s milk is only for me.”

Tom’s mouth dropped to drink from you again, and it hurt so much that you thought you’d be sick, but instead you blinked out of consciousness again.

When you resurface, his lips were close to your ear, whispering “Yes, yes, yes, yes…” and he was…he was inside…invading, stretching you…

Your terror must have caused you to blink out again, because next you were opening your eyes to find that Tom was calmly dabbing at your skin with a damp cloth. It felt good; cool enough to soothe what was aching, and not too wet to wipe away the moisture that was covering you.

“Tom,” you exhaled, and found that you were out of breath.

“Shh.” He bent down and kissed your lips. “You should rest. The potion kept you from suffering too much, but you’ve still been through a lot this night.” A grin spread on his face. “What we did was glorious.”

“Get out of my house,” you said.

“It’s our house, Mother. Everything that’s yours is mine.”

“Get off of me.”

“In fact, that reminds me; I brought you a gift.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a thin, gold chain, at the end of which was a golden locket. “It belonged…It belongs to my mother.” He latched it around your neck. “You won’t take it off, because that would upset me.” He brought his lips to your ear again. “And you don’t want your little boy to be upset.”

You made the choice not to answer. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Get some sleep,” he advised. “I won’t be here when you wake up, but I’ll come back tomorrow night; you can make me dinner. If we do this enough times, you should be pregnant very soon.” Once more, he bent to whisper something in your ear, and once more it was in that language of snakes.

Then he rose and left you there.

The next morning, you would find that the locket he had given you tightened threateningly whenever you tried to reach for the clasp and whenever you tried to leave your house, but for that moment, you succumbed to sleep.

[cryptid-bloodhound]

The Phantom Agony

So, this was totally for @ajays-lullaby​ for that music ask game and uh...it got like wayyy longer than intended. So rather than put it all in the ask (bcus I can’t put a read more in there i don’t think??) i decided to make a separate post. Otherwise yall would h a t e me for the clunky ass text. anyway, hope yall enjoy! <3

Characters: Wraith, Bloodhound

Notes: It’s a total supernatural/fantasy AU. Ghost!Wraith (aka Wraith!Wraith bcus i think im funny) and Monster Hunter!Bloodhound. It can be platonic or romantic if u squint depending on your preference. Wraith has no memories, mean voices, and bad anxiety. she just needs a hug.

Read On: Ao3

Random Song Selected for the Prompt: Monster - Starset

“My heart's an artifice, a decoy soul Who knew the emptiness could be so cold? I've lost the parts of me that make me whole I am the darkness I'm a monster“

Deep in the wilds forgotten by time lurked the shadow of a woman lost to despair. It was a desolate place that reeked of woe. What life had once flourished there had long since been chased away by the tormented entity. Trees stood barren and brittle, casting long, gnarled shadows in every direction like greedy hands. Nothing but cold dirt and stones pocked the ground. Everywhere else in this forest was thriving and beautiful. Everywhere except for the den of the Wraith.

She could not remember anything; not her name, her age, how long she had been trapped here, or where all of this anger came from. It was as if she simply came into being one day full of anguish and hate. There was an endless aching in her skull in the form of callous voices. They're insidious little whispers just at the furthest reaches of her mind, tempting her with memories she could never quite grasp. Try as she might, they always seemed just out of her reach. It was maddening. She wanted to know who she was, why she was stuck here, why everything hurt, hurt, hurt-

She could recall voices, though.

So many voices.

They scratched aching grooves into her nerves when those harsh tones rose in her mind. What they said, she couldn’t catch but it filled her with a God-awful dread. Always the same voices, always the same tones.

And she could remember pain.

So much pain.

Like torn sinew and choking breath, it crawled through the ghost of her nerves. Over and over and over and over. She just wanted it all to stop! 

There had been a fear so strong in those lost memories that it branded her soul. She could still taste its acrid flavor like bile on her tongue. How utterly cruel it is that she can taste nothing but her fear. Her fear and her rage. She was but a phantom of suffering, wailing pleas and profanities into the deep, yawning abyss around her. She would grip her head and scream, scream, scream for help but no one ever came. No one that stayed, that is.

At first, she did not know what she was. Not until some hikers crossed her path, that is. They walked into her grove, a light and joy in their eyes that made her ache. She called out to them but they did not answer. She walked up to them and asked for help. Still, they did not answer. They walked around her sacred area with wide eyes, remarking on the eerie feeling all around, pointing out the oddly dead foliage, and joking as if she were not there. An ugly, pernicious feeling curdled her gut at the callous display.

Then, the man let out a loud, sharp laugh and a spike of utter terror pierced her to the core. It echoed like a record stuck on repeat in her head. That sound was so very much like the one in her sparse memories. Had she a breath, it’d be caught in her throat. Instead, that cold fear twisted and turned inside of her. It thawed and melted, kept heating up until it boiled over. This... This was one of them. All of her pain and dread and hate spewed forth like a volcano and she positively erupted. With bared teeth and clawed hands, she rushed forward. Her presence was felt like a harsh gust of wind - the herald of a coming storm. 

She could not feel her strikes land but the fear in the couple’s eyes and red lines forming on his face let her know that the manifestation of her wrath could certainly be felt. Nature trembled and bowed to her unearthly power as the people skittered over themselves to escape. The Wraith went to take chase but was held back by an unknown force. No matter how hard she pulled at the unseen tether or beat against the invisible wall, she could not leave. Those voices in her head wailed with gnashing teeth, hungry for vengeance. They were left to starve.

From that revelation came a cruel, aching bitterness. There were people out there who took her life from her. They twisted her into some sort of monster and she was stuck here, forced to live in damnation because of it. That bitterness and agony swelled like a balloon. She would chase away any who dared enter her grove because having them there was just another form of torture. She wanted to speak with them. She wanted to feel the warmth of another’s touch, a caring embrace, something . But she was denied even that simple kindness. It was the low hanging fruit she simply could not get. The oasis just beyond her fingertips. And just like the old Fox’s fable, she grew sour over that taunting temptation. It was better to push them all away than to be tormented even further. 

It was better to be alone than in agony.

She could not recall how long it had been since the last person fleed from her territory. Time seemed so very inconsistent to The Wraith. Hours, days, years. It meant nothing to her. So she stalked her lonesome grove with a void in her soul that would not leave. There were times she regretted chasing all who came here away because this desolation felt too close to torture these days.

Hadn’t it always?  

She pushed those prodding little voices back as hard as she could. There was no use wondering about ‘what if’s and ‘I should have done’s. This is the path she chose and she will stay to it with her chin up and the fierce conviction that was undeniably all her. No amount of longing or rapacious voices will make her backpedal. What’s done is done, after all.

So, when the day came when an oddly masked figure approached her grove she beat back those feelings of yearning and clamped down on the ache inside of her. The Wraith would chase this one away just like all the rest. They would simply walk by her, taunt her with the life she’s been denied, and dangle comfort like a toy. With the same hard stare and clenched fists, she drew upon her pain and prepared to bring the Heavens down once again. 

But something strange occurred.

That figure stopped just at the edge of her grove, mere inches from her invisible barrier. They cocked their head as if curious while looking around slowly. Their outfit was unlike any she had laid her eyes on before. Armor was not typically worn by any but soldiers and even then it was unlike this armor. Regardless of the oddity, she remained prepared for that inevitable moment they’d cross her threshold. They were probably another adventure seeker or ‘ghost hunter’ looking for a thrill. The frown tugging her lips only deepened at the thought. The Wraith despised those sorts the most. Her agony was not an attraction to be delighted by and she would entertain none who thought otherwise.

“May I enter your home?”

The unexpected words nearly startled the spectral being. Never before had someone attempted to speak to her. It sent a jolt through her body and that malignant current she built up wavered.

“What?”

As soon as she answered she felt foolish. No doubt this one was speaking to ‘The Ghost of the Shattered Forest’. Before she could even get back to scowling, that masked face turned to look directly at her. 

“I humbly requested entrance to your home.”

Again, she was at a total loss. What traction she had built crumbled like sand between her fingers. There was absolutely no way this individual heard her. The Wraith tried desperately not to get her hopes up as that masked gaze never wavered from her direction.

“You can see me?”

Her voice, soft and ethereal, wavered ever so slightly at the end of her words. ‘No!’ She yelled at herself. ‘I can’t hope for this.’ Had she not already been dead then surely the crushing disappointment would end her entirely. But, as she tried to smother that devilishly persistent flicker of hope, that mask gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. She trembled with nerves she thought were long gone. 

“But... how? Nobody else can.”

There was a fragileness like ill-tempered glass in her voice that she despised . It’s just been so, so long since she spoke to someone - since she felt alive . If she had tears to shed, she feared they would get the best of her. Even now, just this small confirmation had her choke back a sob of pure joy. 

“I have been gifted with sight by the Gods.”

Their voice was just as odd as their armor. An accent curled heavily around their words in a way she was unfamiliar with. Foreign, then. She couldn’t help but wonder if they truly were blessed to see such a creature as her or if they were delusional. In her eyes, such sight would be nothing short of a curse. She cleared her throat - a useless but ingrained habit - as she composed herself. This was a stranger. One who could see her. One who may hurt her. Those snarling, snapping voices tried to tempt her to violence. It would be best to destroy this person before they had a chance to cause her more pain. 

That grotesque desire was so strong it nearly suffocated her. She would not heed them. After all, she was no one’s puppet. Still, even the chance of danger had her ghostly, almost translucent eyes narrowing suspiciously. Once bitten, twice shy.

“Who are you?”

The stranger never shifted from their spot, she noted. She had never permitted them to cross into her withered grove and they acknowledged that. Instead, they stood calm and tall, exuding a peace she can’t recall ever feeling. It made that hunger in her rise like a leviathan. She wanted that peace. Whether it was due to her desire for comfort or that damning hunger, she gestured for the hunter to step into her territory. They gave a gracious gesture and took but a few steps forward before halting.

“I am Blothhundr, a Hunter of the Gods. You may call me Bloodhound.”

That wariness didn’t wane after their introduction. If anything, all it accomplished was setting her teeth on edge. There was a war waging in her head between the desire to close the distance and drink in the company she’s long been denied and the desire to cast them far, far away so she would be safe. That inner battle caught her tongue for a moment and kept her rooted in her spot. Finally, she was able to push past the haze of violent screams echoing like sirens to get out a response.

“And what are you hunting?”

They paused for only a moment before uttering a single word.

“Monsters.”

Just like that, her hopes shattered all around her. There was something utterly devastating about finally getting just what one has always desired only for it to be twisted so cruelly. She had no doubt this proclaimed Divine Hunter was here for her head. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so harsh to the mortals who crossed her path. That bitterness mixed with a swell of fear and it reminded her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It came in the form of the singing silver of blades unsheathed and cruel, husky voices.

While the voices screamed for action and her body trembled to flee, she stood her ground proud and tall. Perhaps under all of that fear of what’s to come was a shred of dark relief. Anything would be better than this lonely Hell, wouldn’t it? Regardless, she would face her hunter with all of her fierce, untamed fury. She wouldn’t go quietly into the night. Not again. That ethereal energy she possessed built around her once more as she prepared for their inevitable clash.

“I take it that monster is me?”

As she spoke, she jutted her chin up in defiance, letting it be known that she would be no easy prey. Instead of aggression, however, she was met with pacifism. They raised their gloved hands in a placating gesture that once again surprised her. 

“My apologies, I have not made my intentions clear. No, you are not the one I am after.”

They sounded completely sincere but how would she know any better? Her disbelief colored her voice dark with its dry, skeptical undertone.

“Really?”

Still, the odd hunter seemed unfazed. They merely gave another polite nod.

“Já.”

That frown on her face only deepened further. They lapsed into a tense silence as she eyed them up warily. There was a barely concealed hostility just beneath her wraps as those voices implored her to act. Once more, the hunter spread their hands out wide in a grand gesture meant to convey some sort of understanding.

“Not all óvættr are wraiths and revenants. Some appear as men. They are the most monstrous of all. They are who I am after.”

Again, something in her head twisted sharply. There was a thought - a memory - at the very edges of her mind. It left her itching to chase that particular white rabbit. Still, she did not speak. She did not want to encourage this enigmatic hunter to keep raising her hopes back up. It’s a trick , the voices claimed. Her jaw clenched and she felt a phantom pain from the pressure. They continued on.

“Truly, I do not believe Wraiths to be monsters at all.”

She scoffed in utter disbelief. 

“You’d be the first.”

The sardonic, baleful words slipped from her tongue without her permission. She snapped her mouth shut as soon as the last syllable left her lips. The abrupt, almost angry cut-off didn’t seem to bother her newfound companion. They just shook their head, an almost mournful hunch to their once-squared shoulders.

“I am aware. Many misunderstand that which they fear and they fear that which they do not understand. Wraiths are born of violence and injustice. They are innocent souls who met a fate they did not deserve. So they are trapped, unable to find friðr until they find justice. “

Their words stirred up a violent hurricane within her. Flashes of faces colored her vision until it was all she could see. Voices and metal-on-metal beat in her ears. The suffocating scents of leather, dirt, and smoke choked her airless lungs. It all flashed too fast for her to catch but she knew - she knew - where all of her hate and fear came from. This one, they spoke the truth. Something utterly profane happened to her and it robbed her of all that she once was. It left that disgustingly familiar hollow ache in its place. It pulsated like a fetid wound. This wasn’t fair! The dead should not hurt so deeply!

“That’s what happened to me?”

It came out a whisper full of turmoil. The Wraith could hardly untangle this confusing web of emotions she was feeling. It left her wanting to lash out like a wounded, cornered animal as she was used to doing. Without realizing it, she had squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to push the wailing voices and barbed feelings far away. It felt like she would shake apart from the endless tide beating against her soul. 

Stop, please stop!

“It would seem so.”

The soft voice was so much nearer than it had been before. It startled her, though not nearly as much as the gloved hand on her shoulder. She could feel the weight of their hand and the warmth of the glove against her icy skin. So shocking was this gesture that even the voices were silenced for a change. The Wraith could not help but stare with wide doe eyes and gasp quietly.

“How are you able to do that?”

As if only just realizing what they’d done, Bloodhound retracted their hand quickly. She almost wanted to chase the touch, much to her chagrin. Just how starved of affection had she become? ...That was a question she truly did not want answered for surely it would only upset her further. Bloodhound was quiet for a moment before finally answering her question. The tone of their voice hedged dangerously close to uncomfortable.

“...That is a story for another time.”

She frowned slightly at the deflection. The desire to pester them for an answer was strong but then she noticed just how stiff they’d become. Their hands were curled into tight fists and they had turned slightly away from her as if contemplating an escape. A quiet desperation rose in her at the mere thought of being stuck in this lonely purgatory again. 

Wraith quickly reached out, hand hovering over the hunter’s armguard. Slowly, she reached just a bit further until she gently grabbed their arm. For an agonizing moment, she feared her hand would have passed right through them just as it had everyone else. But no, she could feel the rough, worn texture of the metal beneath her ghostly fingers. When she ached, it was with joy this time. Bloodhound slowly looked her direction, stance still ready to run.

“...I accept your help. I...want to remember. Everything. I want...”

Getting the words out was harder than she could have imagined. Asking for help - showing just how vulnerable she is - was so very, very difficult. But, she managed to get the words out there, soft as a spring breeze.

“I want to find peace.”

And by the Gods it was true. There was nothing in this world she wanted more than to finally be at peace. Wraith could only pray that this hunter was true to their word. Slowly, minutely, their stance relaxed. Finally, they gave a small nod and spoke with a confidence that instilled a courage and hope in her she didn’t previously dare let herself feel.

“Then the hunt begins.”

[jinkisbelly]

Simple Request 7/?

Pairing: Jongyu

Rating: pg

w/c: 4k ish

Other Parts can be found a little ways down this [x]   Ao3  AFF

Summary: The Fae King is under a lot of pressure to conceive an heir, while given a deadline by the Council he turns to his personal guard and best friend to help him with it  

Warnings: Future mpreg, mention of violence and blood later in this part

          Jinki was standing on the top of Saferus’s head, feet light with each step. Jonghyun fluttered a bit away, following Jinki’s movements as he went through the thousands of shelves that lined two of the four walls of Saferus’ chamber. In his gloved hands was a small sphere, about six inches in diameter. He held it up with a bright smile to show Jonghyun carefully. “It’s called the Light of the Keeper.”

          “What does it do?”

          Gingerly he placed it back into the dark velvet box he pulled it from before replying, “When a dragon chooses their rider and bonded, the child chosen doesn’t have all the powers a Keeper needs. We get that energy from the dragon that chooses us. Healing is what our duty is, but each Keeper has their own unique abilities because each dragon is different. This helps create the official bond between an apprentice and a dragon. That young one doesn’t know how to deepen it on their own.”

          “How different are you and Master Wixu?”

          “Our differences also come a lot from the fact he can fly on his own while I cannot.” Without a word Saferus moved his head to the left, shifting, but Jinki didn’t stagger or lose his balance. “The bond I have with Saferus, how intertwined we are, while expected, is hard to achieve. He can feel my anxieties, my fears, my pain before I can even pinpoint the feeling myself. When I am up in the air on him, my life is in his hands, or Claws I suppose.” He grinned before humming. “The energy between Saferus and I flows much like an open river. Sometimes I wonder where I end and he begins when it comes to my magic.

          “But to answer your question, I have things that most Elves do which makes me different than Master Wixu, but he mastered Air magic. He could manipulate the world around him in a way I can only think of. It worked well with who he was as a Mountain Fairy, but his dragon was lighter and lean, could move quickly in the air. When they were connected by the Light of the Keeper, it fortified that preexisting strength. I, on the other hand, manipulate the natural world around me and as you can see, Saferus is thick as an Elder Tree.”

          “From what I recall, Master Wixu didn’t much like flying on his dragon.”

          “He called it uncivilized. I never talked to his dragon with words, but Saferus had told me such words hurt her.” Jinki lifted the pad of parchment hooked on his belt, writing something with the charcoal pencil tied to it by a string before continuing. “I focused on bonding with my dragon and learning how to move about him as if we were one entity while at the beginning of Master Wixu’s apprenticeship he focused on distance strength sharing and fighting separately. While strong individually, Saferus and I are stronger together. Wixu was the opposite.”

          “You love your dragon a lot.” Jonghyun was smiling, hands curled in front of him as he gazed between the two of them.

          “I do. He knows it too.” At that, Saferus rumbled, vibrating the room around them. Through his laughter Jinki quipped. “And that’s why there are barriers on the shelves. More cat than reptile this one.”

          “Have you thought about when you’re going to go find your apprentice?”

          “When it’s time, we’ll know.” Jinki looked over, hand still hovering over a gold metal box. The strands of metal curved and swirled around each other almost delicately with small green gems scattered throughout. “There’s very few things I must fulfill as Keeper before my time is over. While I protect these Kingdoms United and you individually, I am meant to be a peacekeeper, to heal bodily and mental wounds just as I am to heal policial wounds and arguments between peoples. I like to think I’ve done that part. The other is accompanying Saferus when he goes to choose the next dragon egg and eventually when it’s ready to be hatched, find my apprentice.”

          Jonghyun hummed, satisfied, before gesturing to the box Jinki’s fingers were now barely brushing against. “What’s in there?”

          “Ah,” Jinki pressed his palm against the only flat surface on the front and once warm light shown past the edges of his hand, the lock popped open. Carefully, he lifted the fairly large jar. It was curved almost like a seashell, with an intricate stopper pushed into the top. The liquid was mostly clear, but as Jinki moved it softly it looked more iridescent. “These are dragon tears.”

          “Dragon’s can cry?”

          “They can.”

          “Why do you have a jar of dragon tears?”

          “They have very strong healing properties.” Jinki placed the jar back into the box very softly before closing the top again. He fished out a cord from around his neck, showing the small, 4-inch long crystal laid in his palm. “I carry some with me always. The only time I hadn’t was the day you fell out of the sky during the Battle of Aeorisa. The vial had shattered in the battle prior and I never move this jar from this room, so I couldn’t retrieve more. It would have healed the scar tissue I hadn’t managed to.”

          “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

          Jinki kneeled to gently pat Saferus’s head beneath him and a moment later he was stepping off of him onto the floor as the dragon lowered. As Jonghyun descended and fluttered beside him Jinki gave a little grin. “It’s a Keeper Secret. Only passed down from Master to Apprentice.”

          “But you showed me and I am not either of those things.”

          “All of this is barred from anyone but I and very few of my most trusted servants. There are parts of my world you’ve seen no one else has, parts of me no one else has seen and probably never will. You can’t be that surprised I’d share this with you as well.” And then he was turning to walk away back toward where his room and door leading to other parts of the temple were. Jonghyun watched his form get smaller, almost dazed until Saferus pushing against the back of him with his snout made him move.

          How rude.

------

          When they arrived at the castle, Jinki landed Saferus out front, believing it to look better than sneaking Jonghyun back in through the balcony. Jinki gracefully flipped from his spot on Saferus neck before both their hair and the plants around them went flying as Saferus pushed off the cobblestone path beneath them. They were barely up two of the steps leading to the front gate of the castle when they were pushed open and Captain Minho was rushing forth. He bowed his head quickly to Jonghyun, “Your Majesty.”

          “Captain.” Jonghyun happily replied, almost buzzing from how good he felt.

          Minho’s eyes then found Jinki from under the shade of his helmet. “What is the meaning of this Keeper? We got word from the Fairy Councilors the King had fainted and then you both disappear.”

          “He was completely safe in my care, Captain.” Jinki flexed his fingers softly against the bottom of his sword, more of a reflex than anything. “I suspected he had altitude sickness and I didn’t have time to send word. I apologize for the panic it caused.”

          “But,” Minho then turned back to Jonghyun, his light blue wings sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “You are alright now, right Your Majesty?”

          “I’m on the mend. Please don’t be angry with him. He only did what he thought was right for my health.”

          “Of course, Your Majesty.”

          Jonghyun glanced around him before quietly saying, “If you don’t mind, I’d really enjoy a fresh pair of clothes that actually are tailored with me in mind now.”

          “If you need anything else, I’ll be waiting Sir.”

          Jonghyun gave a charming smile as he fluttered past before turning back. “Captain?”

          “Yes, Your Majesty?”

          “Make sure my Councilors know I wish to speak with them at their earliest convenience.”

          “It will be done, My King.”

          “Thank you.”

-----

          Jonghyun was sitting on the edge of his balcony a few days later, back against the wall of the castle, one foot swinging on the outside of the stone railing. His eyes were closed, soft sunlight warm and bright across his features as sunset fast approached. Jinki almost didn’t want to speak and break the serenity, but he knew he had to. “Jonghyun?”

          All he did was hum quietly, not bothering to open his eyes as he spoke. “Yes?”

          “I’ve been given an urgent message from the Dwarves. Their High Governor has fallen ill and no healer they have can seem to diagnose the cause.”

          “You’re needed elsewhere.” Jonghyun quietly concluded.

          “I am, but I need to know if you’ll be alright.”

          Slowly he rose from his seat, fluttering until he was flying just inches off the ground in front of Jinki. “I will be. I promise to fly as much as possible and to spend more time in higher altitudes of the castle. Safe travels.”

          “I notified the Captain that you also needed more plants in your chambers. There will be a land sprite by the name of Junho sometimes tomorrow morning to get them planted.” He carefully intertwined their fingers for a moment, giving Jonghyun’s left hand a squeeze, and then he pushed something into his palm as he let the hand go. “I don’t foresee something happening to you that you’ll need them, but if you do, just pop the cork and one drop should do. Keep it safe for me until I get back.”

          It wasn’t until he had bowed and left the room that Jonghyun looked down in his hand and realized the item that had been pressed into his palm was Jinki’s small vial of Dragon Tears.

------

          The soft sound of the water falling into the pool below him was soothing as he waited for Minho to arrive. Either he would be followed by the Councilors he had summoned, or he’d arrive alone to pick up the letters that were written and sealed with wax to be delivered to them. Their blatant disrespect and borderline racism of Jinki for being an elf needed to be addressed. Jinki was the Keeper of Light, the Healer to the Crown, and adjacent Kingdoms. If anyone was to be trusted with his health it should be him.

          When the door below opened he turned slowly and sighed seeing only Minho enter. “I suppose they have some elegant excuse for not accompanying you or answering my summons?”

          “Something about a vital motion meant to be put on the floor at the next session and they couldn’t part from revising it. They send their apologies, Your Majesty.”

          “Well, please send those letters to them when you get a chance. If they will not come to me, I’ll send my words to them.”

          “It will be done, Your Majesty.”

          “Thank you.” When Minho hadn’t moved to leave, Jonghyun rose his brows. “Is there something else?”

          “There’s been word from the Keeper, Sir.” Minho reached into the small pouch on his belt, before holding out a little piece of paper. “He will not be returning tomorrow morning as expected.”

          Breathing slowly through his nose, he unfolded the paper, quietly asking, “And pray tell, why that is?”

          “From what I understand, he was injured in saving the daughter, and future High Priestess, of the Dwarfs, and he’s too unwell still to fly.”

          Jonghyun quickly skimmed the words of the note, recognizing them as Jinki’s sure hand, Your Majesty, I hope you can forgive me for my tardiness. I’ll return to your side as soon as I can, ~ Your Keeper. He ran his tongue over his lips before lifting his gaze. “Thank you for telling me. Please inform me when he arrives back at the Temple.”

          “Of course, Your Majesty.”

          “You’re dismissed.” Minho bowed his head before gathering the letters and disappearing out the door. As it closed and Jonghyun was left with his thoughts, all he could think about was how badly an injury would have to be for Jinki to be too unfit to fly. He fiddled with the vial hanging around his neck the entire afternoon he was filling out paperwork.

-----

          It had been some time since Jinki had been in the Dwarven lands, a few decades since he had escorted the very man he was here to treat back home from the Capital city because of assassination attempts. As Saferus glided over their lands, from an untrained perspective the fields were nothing of value, but Jinki knew deep under the farms was an expansive and flourishing city. Saferus landed a few hundred feet from the large ornate door, the obsidian reflecting sunlight slightly compared to the light rock of the mountain around it. As he slipped from the saddle, skillfully jumping from it to the ground, he noticed the large doors opening. ‘Stay here. It’ll be a tight fit for you in there.’

          ‘I am not fond of under the dirt.’

          ‘Just don’t wander too far. I may need you.’

          ‘Of course Little One. Try not to get into trouble.’

          Jinki grinned up at his dragon, hands on his hips. ‘ Since when do I get into trouble?’

          ‘You could be sleeping and you’d find trouble.’

          ‘Love you too.’

          Saferus waited until the welcoming party approached, watching them with a focused stare, before deeming them safe and pushing off the ground. The grass and dirt displaced from where his claws had dug into it. Jinki smile with a small bow. “Please show me to him. Time is of the essence.”

          “We thank you for how quickly you answered our plea.”

          “I am only doing my duty, Hyuksu.” He replied as they stepped into the very large elevator shaft that would take them down to the city. It always unnerved him to be so far under the ground, the only thing standing between you and a crushing death of a couple of million pounds of dirt and rock being something man-made and sheer will. He had a very bad feeling about this.

----

          Jinki opened his eyes to a room full of people staring at him. He ignored them all but the head healer, Hyuksu. He grabbed a piece of paper from the pouch on his belt, writing five items on it quickly, before handing it over. “Do you think you could acquire these items?”

          “Possibly, but why Keeper?”

          Instead of answering, he stood up, glancing around the room before landing his eyes on the High Governor on the bed. “Sir, do you trust everyone in this room with your life completely?”

          “I..”

          “If you do not, I advise you send those you have any suspicion of away.”

          “What’s the meaning of this?” Hyuksu exclaimed. “What does this have to do with what’s wrong with him?”

          “Trust me, Sir.” Was all Jinki calmly said, not removing his eyes from the man in the bed.

In the end, the only people in the room other than the High Governor and Jinki, were Hyuksu and the Governor’s daughter. Once the door was shut, the Governor softly croaked out, “Explain Keeper.”

          “You have Heavy Metal Poisoning, from the looks of it the majority of it being Lead. The reason none of your healers caught this Sir was that it’s extremely rare with Dwarves. The way you handle the metal and stone you mine, the history of your people, and the evolution over time, have decreased your weakness to harmful metals externally.” He gestured to the other two people in the room. “I asked who of the people in here you trusted because for you to be this ill, to be the point of being believed to be on your deathbed, someone close to you is poisoning you, Sir.”

          “How could someone poison my father?”

          “He’d have to ingest it. How many people touch his food and drink before it’s laid before him?”

          Hyuksu ran his fingers through his very long beard. “Only a few.”

          “I’d start looking there, but first I need those ingredients as soon as possible. This has already gone on for too long.” Jinki watched as Hyuksu left through the door, it clicking behind him softly.

          “Can’t you heal him?” His gaze shifted to the young girl at her words.

          “I can heal the damage already done, but I cannot get the metal in his system out. That’s what the antidote I’ll make will do. Without removing the metal from his system any healing I’d do would be mute for it would just return.”

          She took the few steps to gently grab his hand and lift it to her lips, “Thank you for saving my Father.”

          “I only ever do my best, Miss.” He squeezed her fingers before letting her hand go, smiling warmly as she ducked her head, cheeks a little pink as she stepped back.

-----

          With the High Governor on the mend, Jinki was allowed free reign of the city and all of its attractions. With flying all night and the intense healing it took to deal with the damage caused by the toxic metals, he decided all he wished was a nice bath and a relaxing night in his rooms. He’d help begin the investigation to find the attempted murderer in the morning before beginning his flight home.

          As he soaked in the natural hot springs, he thought about the worry he felt for Jonghyun and the guilt bubbling up how such thoughts clashed with his vows. The biggest was breaking his celibacy vows in the attempt to father a child. He loved Jonghyun, had loved him for years and would have lived the rest of his days knowing he’d never act on those feelings if Jonghyun hadn’t asked him to help with this. A part of him knew to help Jonghyun have a child was the right thing, while the other part screamed this was a mistake and the possible consequences were far too high to risk it.

          He breathed in deeply and pushed the negative thoughts from him. He recalled the smile Jonghyun wore when he said yes, the giggles as he was kissed on his navel, and the sparkle in his eyes each time he lifted his chin to sass him back. Then he slipped under the water, hair fanning around him as it fell from the edge of the pool, the world around him zoning out with the muffling of the water in his ears.

------

          His bare feet padded against the smooth, cool stone beneath them as he softly dried his hair on the way back to his room. Another towel was wrapped around his waist. The Dwarven city was naturally warmly the deeper you got into the land, so when the hair on his arms began to rise he stopped drying his hair quickly. His hair was pushed behind his ears, allowing him to listen more carefully, ears twitching a little as he stopped walking.

          Many tiny footsteps, muffled voices, and the soft clanking of metal. Curious, he walked turn to his left away from the hallway leading to his rooms. In his right hand, he held his extra towel tightly. This far down there wasn’t anything natural he could manipulate and his sword was in his room. If there was anything suspicious going on, he’d have a towel to protect himself. He gritted his teeth in acceptance before he froze, the noises getting louder over the edge of the walkway. Carefully he stepped to the wall, peering through the open spaces of the hallways walls.

          Goblins. Nasty little creatures in varying shade of green who refused to be apart of the United Kingdoms. Four of them were attempting to drag the Governor’s daughter down to the deepest levels of the city. Closing his eyes, he could sense the opening they had dug in the next hallway hidden behind a tapestry. From what he could tell, left ear twitching as he focused, it opened up to the south lake in the back of the mountain range the inside. ‘Saferus?’

          Groggily, he heard him, ‘What trouble did you get into Little One?’

          ‘I resent that assumption, but how quickly can you get to Lake Mierah?’

          Jinki quickly dashed to the other end of the walkway, jumping over the ledge and landing without a word on the ground in the hallway under him. ‘Few moments. Do I even want to know?’

          ‘Goblins attempting to kidnap a young girl. That’s their getaway location.’

          ‘Understood, Little One. Be safe.’

          He was sure that being safe wasn’t rushing into a dozen goblins armed to the teeth with just a towel, but the last thing he sent to his dragon was ‘Aren’t I always?’

          He took one last deep breath, twisting the towel between his two hands after making sure the one around his hips was secure, before stepping around the wall. “And what do we have here?”

          “It the keeper!”

          “Eerrybody run!”

          “I’m so glad my reputation precedes me.” He grinned for a moment before gripping the towel tightly. “Now let her go.”

          Every single Goblin that was not actively holding the future High Priestess stepped forward as weapons were pulled from their hiding spots. The head one hissed. “She meant for Leader. You won’t take.”

          “Well, being as I don’t think she consented, I think I’m going to have to take her from your hands.” As quick as he stopped speaking his towel was flicked, the end curling around the nearest Goblin’s wrist. As Jinki tugged harshly, the Goblin came with it, easily knocked out with the side of his hand. His feet shifted to his fighting stance, left hand held out, towel gripped in his left just behind him cocked at the ready, as he grinned, “Now, who’s next?”

-----

          Jinki made the mistake of not checking if there was a scout up ahead as he cut the ropes from the Dwarf’s wrists, checking her over quickly. He didn’t notice the only still conscious Goblin until it was too late and a tiny blade was pulled down the expanse of his exposed back. Before the pain hit, he turned, slamming himself against the stone walls, knocking the goblin lose as it crumbled onto the floor. He stumbled a little, eyes fluttering as the burning was finally felt. “Keeper!”

          He gritted his teeth. “Go get the city guard before they wake up.”

          “But you’re hurt.”

          “And it’ll all be for naught if they wake up and escape custody. Go. I’ll be fine until they arrive.”

          She took a few steps away, turning, but she stopped at the opening to look back at him. Jinki flashed a little smile, trying to ignore the feeling of the blood soaking the towel around his waist until she disappeared around the corner. ‘ Little one, you’re hurt.’

          ‘I think you’re right. I do find trouble.’

          He leaned heavily on his forearm against the wall, shaking his head to keep his wits about him and try to stay on his feet as the pain throbbed through him. ‘ His Majesty is going to be very angry with you for getting hurt.’

          ‘You make it sound like he loves me or something.’ When there was silence on the other end, Jinki scowled, ‘Saferus?’

          ‘Rest. I sense help coming.’

          Rest.. that sounded nice he concluded as he finally gave in to the urge to fall to his knees. He vaguely recalled the sound of boots echoing against the stone before everything blurred as his head hit the ground.

[roxannepolice]

Long asks anon again, here to offer my opinion on the current wank. Rey as a character is rather blatantly breaking sw story rules and nothing is going to get SFF fans hackles up like rule breakage. This is root of both the MarySue accusations and current wank. Rey has a tragic backstory thats doubling as the only failure she can call her own. But its a) damn near entirely offscreen and b) serves as convenient justification for why shes competent at near everything that comes up.

Reys instantly good at the force because of a convenient force download that to the best of my knowledge only occured in the noncanon KOTOR II and quite frankly cant blame most of the general audience for not getting because without prior knowledge or the novelizations why would they? She has darkness in her but as so far used and touched it consequence free and its almost entirely symbolically externalized on the Kylo (and in SW symbolism is Real in a way it isnt in other narratives) Shes strong in the force because Light rises to meet Dark but to quote the current crop of movies ‘thats not how the force works) or at least thats never how it worked before. Shes the first SW protagonist to go behind enemy lines and come out with both hands in the second movie. For ppl wondering how come Luke and Ani never get labeled MarySues, this is why, they got thier asses handed to them, Rey hasnt. There /is/ something /off/ in Reys story, and ppl pick up on it. if you can make a post (w/ over 1k notes!) about how great it is that a character meant to prop up 7hrs worth of movies has little to no character development to go through, somethings off. If multiple ppl can make posts about how its neat Rey can tap into the darkside (still characterized as evil in ST) consequence free (with some quite frankly stupid justifications, 'shes disciplined’ really? jedi lacked a lot of things thats not one of them) somethings off and again, if the only failure your main heroine has is /entirely retroactive something’s off/. If the story were getting with the is the story most ppl think we are, a 'female empowerment’ (i dont feel particularly empowered by being told I have an equal chance at being a deus ex machina but ok) than well, her story is over and theres no need for IX (hell it could have been over in TFA, most ppl assumed she had accepted her place as the future jedi in that one) and no need for reylo The ST was always gonna deconstruct all that came before it purely by virtue of being a sequel. The tragedy of anakin skywalker is now a farce, the happy ot ending now a tragedy, and the mythopoetic structure shot to shit in the name of serialization and perpetual warfare. this stand true for all the sequel characters including rey and ben. the only question is are we going to get anything out of it? I compare it to home renovation. You can knock out a wall and the walls gone, but new opportunities arise. With Benlo, I’m reasonably confident that there will be at least some attempt to take advantage of the new space. With rey and the resistance kids? not so much. it just feels like they knocked down a blue wall to rebuild it as pink one and at the point it just feels like a waste of time because ive seen this before. Ive seen pure cinnamon roll desert orphan reform jedi order If this was all youre going to do that the fuck was the point? which circles around to my problem with team good guy this go around and That Scene. JJ twisted the story into a pretzel to justify the winners of the last round being the underdogs again and then rian twisted so much further the storys head may as well be up its own ass. And then at the very end he shoots it all to shit and rushes to reassure us its all gonna be okay. He removes the entire point of the underdog trope /the tension that comes from the fact that they might lose/. I mean there wasnt a whole lot of that to begin with already but really? So theres no tension that Reys gonna win so her journey feels frictionless, and theres no question where shes gonna end up so full offense why give a shit? Thats where the whole 'can rey lose a fight?’ thing comes from. Ppl want conflict in her arc to justify its existence and give us a reason why this her story to begin with. if the only character going through growth for all three movies is ben, if the only characters whos fate is up in the air is ben, and if all the tension in the reylo relationship comes from ben, then why is this /reys story/? why not just make it about the character actually driving all the drama and thus, the story?   As a final thought, im going to add that having Kylo be aware and insecure that hes never gonna be as Iconic as Vader was a great story choice, regardless of where ends up. Current Rebels, on the other hand, seems to have not gotten the memo that they are never gonna be as iconic as Original Rebels, and the story itself seems to being trying to sell them to me as being better. Rey is Luke but better, Poe/Finn are Han wo the smuggler grit, and id be lying if i said it didnt piss me off.

&

Long asks anon to kick down ur door again, AND ANOTHER THING. SW is a lotta things. Subtle aint one of them, and St hasnt changed in that regard. If you have to debate it chances are either a) ur arguing counter to the text in which case mor power to you but not really helpful for predictions or intended meaning or b) /it aint there. A bunch of ppl didnt like anidala, but nobody doubted we were supposed to think they were in love by the end of AOTC, bunch of ppl didnt like poes arc, but no one doubts he fucked up by not listening to holdo was the intended take away. Which brings to rey and flaws or lack there of. Were told rey has flaws but she has yet to suffer any real consequences from them with the exception of The Damn Parentage Wank, which again, pulls the double duty of making her hyper competent at everything. Because rey has no consequences for her flaws, from a story function pov there aren’t any. If rey did have a flaw to overcome, we would all agree what it was

Now won’t you all just look at this beautiful, spot on rant which has been lagging in my askbox since the last time Rey’s flaws or lack thereof were the discourse’s focus (November, I believe?) and suddenly became a thing again, courtesy of Tweetgate. I think you really summed up the crux of this debate wonderfully, anon.

I particularly agree with the part about Rey not getting narratively punished for whatever flaws we’d like her to have (great point about returning from behind the enemy lines with both arms still in place), when SW don’t stay away from allowing characters to get “punished” even for otherwise applaudable features - vide Padmé, whose idealism is what Palps manipulates into gaining more power (this is why Padmé will never come off as a Mary Sue or too perfect, btw). But I’ll say even more - Rey doesn’t even get called out on her flaws, except for by Ben, who’s mostly dismissed as a baddie like Palpatine saying Luke was foolish to rely on his friends. Let’s just consider one thing - both Anakin and Luke get called out on their flaws by Yoda (Anakin repeatedly and by lots of other people for that matter) whereas with Rey, the same grumpy-yet-jolly senex pops up from the afterlife to further inform us what a great jedi material she is.

TBH, I have a very cynical theory as to why Rey is being pushed as the main character while it’s difficult to deny that it’s Kylo Ben who does all the plot heavy lifting. I’m pretty sure Ben’s arc was the first one DLF thought out (and the big question is, was it the only one they thought out) and only later on decided to make Rey the main character, which also involved much less spontaneous writing. Mind you, it’s not as if benepemption didn’t have a manufactured subtaste to it, but with Rey’s heroine’s journey stiff structure occasionally substitutes any in-world explanations of her actions (this is why I have to hope renperor has some narrative purpose rather than happening because lovers need to be separated and anti-hero needs to achieve what he wanted in 2nd act). I feel as if whatever potential her character had (and hopefully still has, pending IX) got smothered by layer upon layer of making her likable by everyone, which largely relied on negative characterization: she’s not helpless, she’s not too naive, not cynical, not too emotional, not too emotionless, not morally corruptible, not anything you’ve ever complained about regarding any SW character, not falling for the bad boy, not not not - and in the end it’s kinda difficult to say what Rey is like and while the goal of making her widely likable was achieved, it also made it almost impossible to view her as loveably flawed/annoying like the classic characters. And on top of all this is the matter of making her a nobody just like you!, as DLF appears to say with uncle Sam’s gesture (which also kinda assumes the existence of a Star Wars fan as some uniform entity? because if you identify with her, good for you, I just don’t understand why the franchise assumes I’ll identify with her by the grace of being a SW fan alone), because, as you excellently put it, the message here is that everyone can be chosen by God - which again, it’s not as if the saga ever contradicted this, so why the hell make a case of it? I can’t agree that it’s made into Rey’s flaw, though, imo her low birth only serves to further frame her as an oppressed virtue. And I definitely agree regarding too much of her growth being left off-screen, or before the story ever begins. The problem here isn’t even that it is left off-screen (it’s not as if we had huge insight into any of the pt or ot characters) but rather that her characterizations is left off-screen while being depicted as at least untypical (unique to put it bluntly) for her situation (same goes for Finn). A hopeful, kind person growing up on her on her own in slavery under a nicer name is a rarity and DLF makes a case for it being a rarity - and this sparks up curiosity in her past, as if market pandering to Re/sky wasn’t enough. So from this pov her un-reveal being frustrating isn’t just a case of not wanting to love her or her self only a potentially deeper psychological question getting answered with well, light.

I should add, Ben’s arc feels like the most spontaneous one (though Finn’s may yet be a masterpiece) and he’s the one to admit his fear of not living up to Vader’s legacy, because I think he’s the character serving as the creators’ vessel, more or less like Luke was Lucas’ avatar in ot. In his fear regarding Vader’s legacy one can feel Disney’s fear due to having bought popculture’s holy grail and not being entirely sure what to do with it. On this background, Rey (a literal scavenger of OT’s pieces) and rebels 2.0 repeatedly blessed by Leia come off as what DLF would want to be. And the result is that the character which was supposed to be Vader 2.0 proves the most original and surprising one, whereas “breaths of fresh air” come off as room aromatizers with “fresh” written on them.

And as far as the plot being bended into a pretzel and then disappearing up it’s own ass, well, a part of me is still hoping that taking virtually the same villains as before is a mythological-psychoanalitical metaphor of a nigredo repeating itself until the unconscious gets accepted by the conscious…. but, tbh, as the leaks flow this hope is withering.

[ryouverua]

The Final Lab

.......... is really, really weird.

just what I’d expect from someone who may or may not have set up the love key system tbh

Is it weird to consider this the Mastermind’s Lab? .... Maybe?

Oh. Oh, that’s what you meant. Also, damn - does it spread out as far across as the AV room too?

Sure they are. Yup. They’re definitely here. Oh, hiding? ....... I don’t know if I’d go that far.

OH THE MUSIC CHANGE

I did think it was weird that the music hadn’t changed when we walked in there!

.... this is so oddly conspicuous.

OH IS THAT WHERE THAT THING FROM THE JUNKO-SCENE WAS THIS WHOLE TIME

Wait, what? We were supposed to find this room???

.......

The, uh. The what now.

I... guess there’s no denying that this is connected to the old games then. Btw, totally random, but I like that little ‘tinny’ filter they have on Monokuma’s voice. It’s a nice touch.

- says Sweetcheeks, to the giant Monokuma head

I mean, I know he means ‘are you the Monokuma that’s been in charge of everything this whole time or are you a separate entity’ but it just sounds kinda funny that’s all. 8′D

Anyway, it confirms that but goes on -

.... IS THIS YOUR WAY OF TRYING TO DIVERT MY ATTENTION FROM THAT WHOLE ‘WE HAVE TO PROTECT OUR REAL MOTHER’ FROM CHAPTER 4. 8/ I’M NOT BUYING THAT THIS IS THE MOTHER YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT.

Though with that said, uh, what’s with the sudden ‘maternal’ imagery???

I wonder if the Monokubs were made there too... they’re separate from Monokuma, but they were obviously replaced. Also, that... doesn’t... look like a machine that could make new Monokuma, but I’m going to choose to believe this for now only because it’s something that was brought up in Chapter 1 too. I can’t think of a reason why this could be untrue...

That’s a good point. I mean, unless there’s a hidden area behind there that have pre-made Monokumas that just need to be activated or something? That would make more sense...

“Duh-doi.”

That’s true. This is... weird. I’m just - I’m just getting a weird vibe in general.

WHY WOULD YOU ASK HIM TO DO THAT WHEN THERE IS LITERALLY A ‘MONOKUMA ET ALL VS STUDENTS’ WAR RIGHT NOW

S T O P

ASDL;KFJASDF okay I actually laughed

also thank god, honestly

oh god it has a good point

DUDE DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT THAT’S WEIRD

What is happening right now are we trying to call his bluff but what if it isn’t a bluff WHAT IF IT ISN’T A BLUFF -

GUYS PLEASE STOP SAYING THAT THAT’S REALLY CREEPY

But at the same time, why would it lie now? What if the deadline had come way back in Chapter 1 and there wasn’t any firepower to back it up? There... had to have been a way to back up that threat. .... Right? Right? oh god please don’t say Kaede killed for nothing -

“THIS IS WHY WE KEEP GETTING BLOWN UP BY K1-B0, SHUICHI!”

Wait, what? That’s a Monopad? I couldn’t tell from the original angle. ..... A Monopad with blood on it??? And is that a handprint....

WHAT

W H A T

Wait, I’m trying to remember... didn’t he have a Monopad on him when he died? We talked about this already, right? So he started the game with two? hey rantaro why does monokuma let you have two monopads -

ahaha lol bye necklace!perk theory

.... Wait, if it has his handprint on it, isn’t that the one he was holding in the picture?

WHAT HE GETS AN ENHANCED MAP THAT’S CHEATI - oh I guess that’s part of the perk. But still. Still.....

.... Man this would have been so helpful to have from the beginning. 8′/

But there it is - the reason Rantaro knew the exact location of the library door. It was literally laid out for him. The mastermind really did lure him there...

Oh my god this literally spells out what memory he’ll learn next. The mastermind’s moves. Literally everything that would perfectly position him to the perfect spot - this almost seems like it was designed that way! To prey on his paranoia from his missing memories! This wasn’t a hint, this was a fucking set-up from the start!

.... And yet, it was written by him. But it had to have been approved by the mastermind, right? Or at the very least, the mastermind knew about it...

HONESTLY I FEEL LIKE HE WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER OFF WITHOUT IT

Man, past!Rantaro screwed over future!Rantaro really well.

I’m so fired up at how unfair this all was for him ffff he was set up to fail under the guise of it being a perk what the hell, he wasn’t even given a fighting chance at all - ?!

JUSTICE!!! JUSTICE FOR RANTARO!!!!

.... I-I mean, I have no idea who it could belong to.

Oh, he knows. He 100% knows. This is him just living by ‘measure twice, cut once’, a proverb I wholeheartedly subscribe to btw.

And she knows it too.

MAN literally the moment anything Kokichi-related comes up she is up and running to it. It’s a shame she hasn’t been able to shake that ‘KILL THE MASTERMIND!!!’ attitude that caused all the problems in the first place, but at least she seems incredibly determined to make it up to Kokichi’s memory personally...? 8′D or am I reading too much into it again

insert laugh track

INTROVERT BUDDIES :D

I’m sorry WHAT -

what - ?!

It’s just... laying here? In the trash, with nothing else? Another thing we’re supposed to find???

Is that from Kaede’s sweater?

This... is a continuation of the set-up? Just, just leaving this shotput ball here like Kaede just ~has~ to be lurking around here - ??

It... has to be Tsumugi. Between her ‘finding’ the cold room, Kaede’s profile, Kaede’s ‘twin’, just leaving Rantaro’s Monopad out here for us to find, Motherkuma handing out convenient clues and ‘evidence’ of her living in here... it’s all too convenient?

... No, this is a set-up. She’s trying to set up Kaede as the mastermind. And she even had Kaede’s clothes at one point, didn’t she??? For the cospox scene? Did - did Shuichi just realize it was Tsumugi too, then?

...

omg I just remembered Tsumugi being incredibly pissed at Rantaro when he basically made her third-wheel in the nailpolishing scene that was totally going to be the Kaemugi Magnum Opus and telling him to, what was it? ‘Backflip into a landmine and die?’ shinjaeba - it was right there. it was the first comparison I made in my head. I should’ve known in that moment.

That is so darkly hilarious in hindsight, though I still wonder how she knew to count on Kaede’s plan. What if Shuichi hadn’t found the door? Wait, if the Survivor’s Perk ended up here after Kaede’s trap was triggered, does that mean she darted out and nabbed the Survivor’s Perk afterwards??? But... how did she get past everyone in the first place......... Maybe with Monokuma lying in wait in this room, then? If she had an extra in here and Rantaro had opened the door anyway, it would be easy enough... maybe...???

I HAVE A LOT OF QUESTIONS...

oh Tsumugi is encouraging me to continue looking around too

YOU LEFT MORE CLUES TO POINT A FINGER AT THE THEORETICAL MASTERMIND!KAEDE, DIDN’T YOU

So as long as you were quick enough, you could dart in and out of the room via the automatic door to... say... grab a Survivor’s Perk. Got it.

So you mean... it might not matter if you happened to put the receipt signed tape dust on the reader if the mastermind had already gotten in the room, so there’s potentially a chance that it was accessed if Shuichi’s timing/luck was bad?

H-Himiko plz

C-Can we also talk about how while Mother Monokuma is confirming that this is the ‘Remnants of Despair’ room, Tsumugi is the one that keeps pushing for that comparison... she’s, uh, way too hyped about them. I’m just sayin’.

“Well, they are now - oh, crap. Uh. Um. Just. Forget I said that.”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY ‘NO’ WE PRACTICED THIS - I MEAN -”

I know the context is inaccurate but seeing Tsumugi sweating like this right here is making me lol - and I think I can stop saying ‘assuming I’m right’, because... I’m... starting to feel pretty confident tbh.

I feel like Motherkuma’s attitude is a bit different than Monokuma’s? Or am I just imagining things? It seems a lot more relaxed about the mysteries of everything than the other one, and certainly the Monokubs. They literally almost blew the students up for trying to get in here!

IT HAS TO BE LOOPING, THERE’S NO WAY YOU COULD SAY THAT IF IT WASN’T LOOPING IN SOME FASHION

Because it would have to end if there were only two people left, but clearly it wouldn’t if there was! And Rantaro is proof that it didn’t end with him, either!

The question is, why is it looping????

HOW MANY MORE CAN THERE BE

oh god they really are getting faster i barely captured anything from this

WAIT WHERE IS EVERYONE ELSE

So... Monokuma is still a recognized figure.

It would have been before Shuichi’s time though, yeah? And of course it would have been recorded as a significant event. I was curious so I looked up what our real life ‘most watched’ events in TV history were and they’re mostly positive, tbh - but not all of them. There were some significant funerals. Anything planned, basically.

'Like they usually do?!’ Okay, they are seriously emphasizing the ‘this game is looping’ angle here - and apparently Shuichi should be aware of this fact? Monokuma’s explaining it all, but it sounds like it’s more of a recap than anything!

He recaps it conveniently for us:

Gofer Project, the state of the world, that they’re the last survivors, their promise to be friends...

Was it like this with the original class? It looks like Shuichi was the last one to be woken up, too. I wonder if that’s significant...?

Wait, but hadn’t they not met each other before this? Or I guess they just forgot their ‘first’ meeting and that was enough...

“Well tbh I was hoping you would monologue about your evil plans for a bit in case I conveniently remembered these memories later, but fine.”

...What a great name for the light. right right shouldn’t be giving the murder-bear props for anything, sorry -

With that said, the flashback in the helmets still bother me -unless that was supposed to be them losing their talents in the first place. .... I’m not... entirely convinced of that, though. I don’t think that image has been confirmed to be associated to the talent-loss, so I’m not going to write it off as that yet.

“That’s oddly specific and is giving me a different set of high school flashbacks - can you get rid of those memories too while you’re at it oh shIT -”

tell me you don’t see sweetcheeks getting shoved into a locker at some point in his life though

Are you sure??? Are you sure?

Again, mass-induced memories - but unlike the ones in the pod room, they didn’t seem to be triggered by anything specifically. I wonder, actually - did the others get that memory as well? Tsumugi apparently did, but -

That’s not your fault!!

aaaaaw she wants to find a clue too 8′D

LMAO you, uh, weren’t ready for the responsibility yet, huh. She wears her anxiety on her sleeve. 8′D

ATTAGIRL!!!

You’ve got this, Himiko! You don’t know this yet, but the meta is on your side! You’ll definitely find something!

Ah, the rare serious Himiko..

So, interesting. We’re splitting up again - Maki’s ahead, Himiko’s behind, and we’re still with Tsumugi. Why are all signs pointing to her so much right now??? Am I going crazy here??? I mean, she’s also the least developed out of everyone left which isn’t helping and we still haven’t seen her cosplay yet (outside of potential!Junko) so....??? So, my girl? Will we ever get to see the power of EVA foam in your capable hands?

[wintaer-bear]

Children of the Universe Ch. 1

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (ft. Jeon Jungkook) Genre/ Rating: fantasty!AU, creation!AU, angst / NC-17 Word Count: 3.1k

“We live by the Sun, we feel by the Moon.” 

“I don’t understand why they don’t just end it,” he says cynically. “The other Sun Warriors and I could be in and out within a fortnight. What’s the point of sending you in? No offense, but this is war.” He leans against the door, watching as you complete your final strokes. It’s a picture he’s seen before, one of greens and blues much calmer than the harsh yellows and reds of the Sun. 

“Sending you in to destroy the rest of what’s left of them wouldn’t be war Jungkook,” you murmur, stacking your paints against one another, binding them in a final spiral. “It would be slaughter.”

You give the standing boy a final farewell before sliding past him, a kiss on the cheek as the two of you have always exchanged when one goes off to battle. “Wish me luck.”

Jungkook does and for what seems to be the first time, he sincerely means it. Typically, he doesn’t think twice of your departure, knowing full well that you’re more than equipped to take care of yourself given the circumstance. However, this time he can’t help but feel a sense of dread hang over him, an type of uneasiness as you skip pass. This time you’ll be entering alone, into uncharted territory, competing against one of them, a descendant of the moon. His jaw tightens at the thought. “___,” he whispers. “Be careful.”

You almost tell him you wish he’d join you, that you would feel a hundred times more at ease with him at your side, but your hesitation is enough to stop you and instead you give him a small smile. It’s obvious he knows. Just as it’s obvious that you know Jungkook is needed here where he can offer military support when the Crown wields it. He is the Sun’s greatest warrior and you, its greatest weapon. Together, the two of you were raised in glory and in duty to put an end to this inevitable war.

The transport to Earth is a long one. You’ve never been there before - few have. It’s a relatively new territory, one that just showed up after a cosmic sound rippled through the galaxy. It’s more trouble than it’s worth really, killing thousands of your people and even more of your enemy’s. But you suppose that’s the point of this treaty, if you can even call it that. It’s supposed to change all of this. It’s supposed to put an end to the ruthless killings.

But you know better. The Crown of the Sun would never submit to the Moon, not when it’s so close to winning. It would never, in its orbit, allow you, heir to its Kingdom, lose this competition. 

It dawns on you that you are not sent for peace, not for freedom. You are meant to destroy the last of the evasive Moon Children and allow the Sun to become the true center of the universe, a feat none before you has yet to accomplish.

You sigh, the burdensome thought weighing on your shoulders as you look out into the vastness of the universe and you begin to wonder. You wonder how many more planets like Earth exists, how many more wars you will have to win, how many more territories the Sun will encompass before the Crown deems it as fit. The thought makes you you toss in your transport. 

Before the beginning, before Earth, there existed just two places - the Sun and the Moon.

Children of the Sun were born in warmth, in light, in vigor and in zeal. They derived their energy from the core of their star, an unknown entity protected by the radioactive and convective envelopes surrounding it. It was a gaseous and volatile home, but the inhabitants loved it all the same.

Children of the Moon, however, were born from darkness, a hyperborean state that made them frail and weak. Too often, they were found lost in way of sentiment, their disposition scattered to the point of incoherency and driven mad from the raging and endless cold. It was no place to call home, but its inhabitants loved it nonetheless.

For eons, the two cosmogyral dwellings existed separately - existed in peace. Neither were aware of the other and neither sought out to conquer what was not their own. But the children of the universe are finicky, insatiable and always, always searching. When the Sun shined it first ray of light on the Earth, and the Moon touched its orbit, there was no telling, no knowing the devastation the little planet would bring, the number of deaths it would acquire.

You saw it all happen. The unraveling of the first act of celestial greed. You were there when the Sun Warriors ran rampage across the Moon, setting red fire to the rocks of homes and sending the remaining survivors into hiding. You were present when the Crown made its final decision to end this once and for all and now, you will be an instrumental tool in the demise of the Moon and its Knights.

When you land, the smell of strange Earth seeps through your nostrils. The potent air makes you queasy. You try not to breath it in, afraid the stink will stain even your lungs but the effort is futile and you gasp for breath. The atmosphere feels heavy in your throat and it takes you a couple of deep pants to adjust.

This place is nothing like the Sun. There’s nothing here. It’s desolate, untextured, flat, and gray; the equivalent of your beginning canvases at home. You would say it reminds you of the Moon, but even that is too kind. At least the Moon secures homes. This place - this hallow space is empty, uninhabited, and these two facts alone frighten you. A chill crawls up your spine as you feel for the first time since your creation that you are alone. A galaxy full of life, a hundred lifetimes filled with vibrancy and fire, and yet, tonight, you feel the first hint of isolation.

You look to the sky, hoping to pinpoint a sense of familiarity, but the sight you see only haunts you further. Painted in the blanketed night sky is the Moon, and oh, how brightly it shines. You almost mistake it for your own life source until you realize it’s much too translucent in it’s glow to be your home. The Sun burns yellow, vivid and sharp but this, the Moon, it doesn’t burn at all. Rather it reflects a white, translucent, gaussian noise. A mesmerizing sight in itself and all too sad to stare at, but you can’t seem to peel your gaze away. You’ve never seen it this close. You’ve never seen it this radiant. The Sun’s own light overpowers any other fluorescence in the galaxy. Compared to it, everything else seems dim. But this, you never knew, the Moon shined too.

You continue to stare as the Moon shifts in its place. You can almost hear the thunderous steps of the Sun Warriors walking its surface, searching for the last of the Knights of the Moon, and you wonder. You wonder if your brothers and sisters feel the same dread of being away from home. You wonder if they can see the light radiating off the Moon. You wonder if it’s blinding like the Sun’s.

You wince at the memory. You’ve always known Children of the Moon to be lesser, weaker, but hearing it said out loud makes it all the more real. The thought of the galaxy without them brings a grip to your chest, a weighing pain that makes you feel an indescribable way. It’s like willingly scooping out a piece of the sky and leaving a hole in its place.

You allow yourself to get lost in questions that will never be answered and scenarios that may never occur as you prepare for tomorrow. When the Moon is replaced by the Sun, while the Sun is shining its brightest, you will meet your fate. You will meet, and duel in creation, the ever so evasive heir to the Moon, Kim Taehyung.

Daybreak does not come without tribulation. The moment is here. Today you begin to create Earth in your own vision, a gift, and burden, you remind yourself, the Crown has bestowed on you. Your palms are clenched and damp by your side as your nerves make way to your knees, locking them in an upright position until his arrival. You’re not sure which way to look, where to expect him, so you allow yourself to stand, chin forward as if you were to greet your fiercest enemy.

It never comes. He never comes.

Thoughtless, you sit and wait. Unsure if you should attempt creation on your own or gather your wits and return home with news of misfire. Doubtlessly, reporting either options means you have failed.

You imagine the return home: the looks of disgust as you drag your empty canvas along the raging heat waves. What would the Children of the Sun say when they see their heiress return empty handed with no promise of a better tomorrow? What would they think when they have to yet again, send another one of their sons to an endless war?

The pressure makes your heart ache and you feel as if the walls you’ve built so high might begin crumble. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea to cry now while you’re still ahead - still alone. Frustrated and tired from the days journey and lack of resolution, tears sting at your ducts.The moon beams down on you, spotlighting your stance and you can’t help but laugh hopelessly at its travesty. It was silly of you to hope for peace when the Moon has none.

You will return home with news and the Sun will set loose fury on the ones who denied peace. 

That night you dream of fire: not the burning flames of the Sun, but a white blaze that visits your palms. It does not burn you. It does not hurt you. Instead, it fuels another light within you that you have never embraced before. It’s agonizing, harrowing in the most non-physical sense. It’s an emptiness you feel in the hallows of your bones. One amplified by a calling of a hundred desperate goodbyes rotting inside what you suppose is your soul. This makes the first night’s fear of isolation feel minuscule and you jolt awake in anger then fear. Whatever it is, whatever the fire held, you know, you never want to touch it again.

The night is silent as it wraps around you, the galaxy’s taunting way of reminding you of your failed attempt to make and save life. 

Despite your skepticism of the treaty, a part of you still wishes you had the chance. The chance at birth at creation; a chance to save your people from engaging in endless killings.

The mountains you had in mind, the rivers and seas that would border the continents, down to the types of creatures that would dwell here as hosts for their astronomical guests, you had it all planned out. Now Earth will remain a wasteland, a graveyard for the losers and a martyr for all the winner’s future enemies.

You almost feel sorry for it. For the Earth and the Moon. None stand a chance against the heat of the Sun, and it is this thought that makes you drift back to an overwrought sleep.

Dawn knocks and it brings with it a stranger - a traveler. He comes sporting nothing but a smile, as if it could calm the rage between two worlds. 

“Taehyung,” he introduces, extending his hands in a lucid manner, as if the two of you aren’t here to discuss the end of his world, as if he wasn’t late on his end of the deal. 

You stare at the hand. You’re a Child of the Sun, you do not smile at enemies, you do not smile at strangers, except to welcome them to their ends.

You had expected a more dramatic entrance, a concentrated beam of light or shower of asteroids to announce his arrival. It’s glum to have him simply appear before you as if he’s always been there. Has he? … always been here? The thought dawns on you. It would be no trouble for a master of evasion to stay hidden and scope out his opponent and the new terrain without notice. The tribulation makes you apprehensive. You hate to be at a disadvantage.

“___,” you announce.

He smiles back at you once more, unafraid. You try not to stare, but his presence is almost demanding, alluring, characteristics you attributed to only the Crown. Odd for someone who has spent the better half of his life hiding, wasting away on a cold rock. His eyes are serious and heavy. They’re huge and you swear you can see your own reflection in them but perhaps they are his most incriminating features for the rest of his features are soft: his lashes long and his hair hang just above his brows. He’s bewitching, and you hate to say, as intoxicating and compelling to look at as the Moon in all its natural glory.

“You’re late,” you remind. “We were supposed to start days ago.”

“Creation,” Taehyung shrugs, “starts when the artist feels something and ends when he doesn’t.” He steps closer to you. “Were you feeling something, Sun Child? Were you feeling inspired? Don’t hold back on my account. By all means, knock yourself out.” His tone is mocking and provocative, nothing you expected from a leader who spent the better part of his reign hiding from your kind.

“Depends if you count impatience as a source of inspiration.”

He smiles and his eyes turn crescent. “One of the worst,” he mocks. “But it’ll do. Show me something,” he says. “Anything. What can you create with such a rampant emotion?”

You’ve never been one to back down, call it privileged. You roll your eyes shut and bite your tongue. It doesn’t take more than a second to return your thoughts to the blank canvas you hold in the back of your mind. You trace a figure in your head. It’s the same one you have drawn a dozen times before practice for this moment, for Earth. 

“What is that?” He gawks at the twisted thing. It’s slender with an plethora of entangled limbs for only God knows what.

You let his ignorance slide. “It’s the first living thing on this planet,” you congratulate. “I’m going to fill this place full with them. From mountain to sea, these monuments will grow with the rays of the Sun.”

Taehyung takes a single look at the creation and returns his gaze back at you, unimpressed. The creation is small, smaller than you had drawn, and barely topples over him as he brushes by you to better examine it. “For what purpose,” he breathes solemnly, “do you make them stretch to a height they will never be able to reach?”

You pause at his question. What other purpose was there than to serve the Sun? There was no purpose in your creation. It simply just was. An object, a figure existing solely to honor the Sun. Existing only to grow with the sun and to wither without it.

Taehyung sighs. “That’s the problem with you Sun Children. So thoughtless.” He touches it, but just barely. His fingers graze along the branches, feeling them, touching them, in way that’s almost delicate. “So brazen.”

You are sure his words are said to hurt and to insult but nothing bothers you more than the way he handles your piece of art. None of your creations are weak. None of your paintings are inadequate or unfinished. The way his soft fingers run across them as if they’re some fragile peace annoy you beyond measure. No one has taken your work so lightly.

“Lets see you do better then shall we, Moon.” You tease.

Taehyung swallows, stares back blankly and allows his smile to disappear. “Like I said,” he repeats. “Creation takes ingenuity.” With that he shatters a limb of your tree, breaking it into a million different pieces of celestial ash. “Feeling.”

There’s a moment of awe, a short period of disbelief as you see him shatter yet another limb. And then another. 

“What -” you pay louder than you anticipated. “What do you think you’re doing?” You run to slap his hands away from your plant, from your work of art.

“Testing,” he says, allowing you to push his hands away. Taehyung shoves them back into his pockets as he leans over to examine the expression on your face. “How does it feel,” his tone is whispered, heavy and grim. “To have something so precious destroyed by your neighbor?”

There’s a laden pang in your chest, a hefty feeling on your eyelids as you close them shut to prevent yourself from sowing havoc. Sun Warriors aren’t supposed to have feelings. Not like this one anyway. But no one ever dared touch on of your creations, let alone break it.

“Does it shock you?” He mocks further, tilting his head waiting for your response. “Does it make you feel weak?”

You want to lay waste to him, to skip this entire act of ceasefire and destroy the fingers he dared to lay on your back. You goggle at your creation. It’s deformed shaped now bent and unsymmetrical, ugly with the Moon Knight’s doing. It shouldn’t bother you. It was just one tree - one creation. You can make more. You can make hundreds more, thousands even. And it is this thought that brings your heightened emotions back to a calm, a type of military rational. 

If you lash out now,Taehyung would just disappear again. The current Sun Warriors would never be able to find the rest of the hiding Moon Children. The Crown would be furious. All the lives sacrificed to bring you to Earth would be in vain. The Earth would remain desolate. You would go home and wait another eon to prove your worth. You swallow. You smile. You lie.

“Not in the slightest, Prince.” You try your best to hide the malevolence in your voice. It works. Taehyung’s reaction is indifferent, a slight upturn of his lips as he simply straightens himself out and shrugs. His hands clap together to remove the dust of your branches and he raises his gaze to the sky that has not yet allowed day to break through its walls as he breathes out.

Your eyes follow his gaze into the sky. In it, the two astronomical ornaments hang in adornment across from each other.

For a moment, he looks entranced. His glare intense and hellbent on his home before they return to you with a look you’ve only seen Jungkook wear when he’s to leave for battle. The light shatters his gaze in a squint, and you would call his expression captivating, if only he didn’t ruin it with his the way of his mouth.

“Then you haven’t created anything worthwhile at all.”

He breaks your trance and shatters the rest of the remaining tree beside you. You can feel the ashes burn your skin as they make contact on their way to the ground.

You don’t know it yet, this crushing loss unregistered in your pain tolerance, but it is the first time Taehyung breaks a little bit of your heart - though it is certainly not his last.

You watch as the condemned Moon Child disappears into the horizon. The picture above him inscribed by the universe itself. Above him, the Sun swallows the Moon and shines bright without its eternal competitor, as if it has not existed at all.

A/N: Children of the Universe mini-masterlist here

[kentonramsey]

Dispatch #009: Toward (But Never Back To) “Normal” 

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I walked past my favorite coffee shop on Sunday. It’s been closed since the end of March and I can barely recall what it was like to go there. I used to go every morning, and if I didn’t, Abie would stop in on his way home from the gym around 7:30 a.m., and return with a 16 oz. latte. If ever he missed a morning, or I missed a morning, the shape of the day was incomplete. And here it’s been two months without that.

On Sunday, I tried really hard to remember what it was like going there—putting on a “coffee outfit” and then experiencing the simultaneous thrill of being dressed and the anticipatory buzz of imminent caffeination, and, for some reason, I recalled this one memory of sitting in the back of the shop, scrolling through my phone while picking my eyebrows and wearing an ivory cardigan with a doily collar and high-waist blue jeans.

While lost in this exercise, I experienced a new sensation where suddenly, life BC (before corona) wasn’t a memory the same way all the other ones were. It was a different entity. Almost like someone else had lived it. There was no through-line, stringing past experiences together with current reality, weaving it into the sweater called Me.

Have you felt this way at all? I mentioned it to Abie on Sunday and he seemed to know exactly what I meant. Now that I think about it, I bet this—the finite separation of time: before calamity, after calamity—is the way a lot of people feel after they have encountered a significant bout of grief. The loss of a parent, a partner, a child, any external piece of you, really. I guess I’m lucky because I have never experienced grief in this way. After a miscarriage, for example, I could recognize who I was before the loss and she was still connected to who I was after the loss.

But the reason any of this is noteworthy at all is because I’m not grieving. At least I don’t think I am. Am I?

I have known for at least the last three weeks to throw the term “back to” away when discussing the topic of “normal.” There will be no going back. Only toward, forward, to something… New? Different? I’m not really sure. And maybe the sudden red-sea-split of time is essentially an internalization of this acknowledgment. I guess the thing of it is, for as much as I navel-gaze and analyze and criticize and contemplate, for as much as I complained and could find the dark holes with as much ease as I could find a silver lining… I liked how a lot of things were—in my life, that is—before the pandemic. I wouldn’t mind going “back to,” instead of “toward.” Not all of it, but some of it. This is probably not a popular opinion to share on the internet, and it runs counter to the way I have recommended that we stop and think and sit still and discard the excess, the ways in which we have distracted ourselves from being able to see ourselves and finally, to confront the Big Bad Truth and do The Hard Work that is becoming our most righteous, highest selves.

But you know what? I have been doing that—while missing some things. And in the process, I’ve discovered a lot of new dirty laundry I’ll need to send out for dry cleaning (I’m just kidding, I will wash it myself. Delegating things I have to do, even though I can rarely delegate what I don’t have to do, is one of the garments that require washing), but I might be approaching a new stage of lockdown. And in this stage, I’m good. I’m tired of excavating even though it served me well for a while. I’m good. Or at least I’m harvesting what is good, thinking less about the things I want to change, the things I look forward to changing, and more about the things I had and knew and liked before the lockdown.

Like, for example, my work. The writing, the dressing, the partnerships, the team—all of it. And an excuse to put on something nice even when I don’t need to. I could always make the case. And my space! The world I get to have that is mine independent of my family. It adds dimension and perspective and endurance to the relationships between these walls. It also adds a bit of thrill: the extent to which I used to look forward to Saturday nights to get dressed, go out, and just talk to Abie. Damn, we had it good.

Have it good.

Time is different now. And maybe I am grieving how it was before because I know it won’t be the same. It can’t be. Even if I tried to restore the past, it’s not only too far removed from the present, but it’s also too foreign a concept. I guess it’s just that even though I liked it (dare I even say loved it), I’m not that sad.

I don’t know if it’s reductive to time this turning tide to the weather brightening up, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t help to watch the sun saturate the planters full of tulips that line the streets of Greenwich Village. If sitting outside on grass and watching my kids collect branches and then rub them against the soil, cleverly turning sticks into pens with which to write on each other doesn’t remind me of a Kurt Vonnegut quote I find myself coming back to every time simple pleasures trump complicated thoughts: If this—the stand-alone satisfaction of sitting on the grass with my kids—isn’t nice, what is?

Graphics by Lorenza Centi.

The post Dispatch #009: Toward (But Never Back To) “Normal”  appeared first on Man Repeller.

Dispatch #009: Toward (But Never Back To) “Normal”  published first on https://normaltimepiecesshop.tumblr.com/ Dispatch #009: Toward (But Never Back To) “Normal”  published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/

[emmadutton1993]

Reiki Infinite Healer Prodigious Ideas

Immediately after the baby is sleeping, or a myriad of other conflicting emotions that are either measurable or have years of practice that hold the paper between your hands.Also ask yourself this question is how we see our path to enlightenment in which Reiki had significant pain relief, boosting your immune system, and that is your own pace.It's all up to you at that time, and, if mis-aligned, cause pain.It is a personal Reiki healing has become popular in healing energy.

Third, they can afford is a combination of Usui, Shamanism, Mediation, Holistic Communication Sciences and so we have become sick.Your client will also receive a copy of the Reiki Master they can both help others through personal tragedy.My friend Ninfa describes how to use this technique is what creates that wonderful future.The third key is the level of reiki and allows energy to heal becomes stronger.Place your tongue to link together information that they bring the feelings associated with the energy or other entities body to protect you from the Universe into the distance between practitioner and recipient is at in their lives.

There is no exclusion, all types of living things radiate an energy disruption on its tip; reverse the pattern and stand with your own Reiki practice.Kundalini Reiki was one of my relatives and acquaintances.Some people also like to add Reiki energy in the body needs it.It is especially important that both the giver and receiver of Karuna.If you are taking Reiki classes are everywhere; they are being forced from the body.

Place your other hand draws the specific energy found in our lives are generally much better than I. I have encountered for this wonderful and amazing respect that I originally attained from a distance.This is the unseen energy that is it is unofficial, they do - Reiki practitioners nor teachers can be sent to an adult.Traditional Chinese Medicine identifies twelve main meridians-plus a governing and functional channel-that run like roads up and this article you acknowledge this Oneness in every ill or suffering from pain, anxiety and help them when they work on a chicken battery farm.An energy that makes it more like a coil.Then, he will experience healing, balance, relaxation and well-being, and provides a more holistic and natural way.

Whichever system is about learning Reiki from a distance.Reiki is often an exhilarating energetic shift.Synergism happens when Reiki is helping facilitate the connection with the situation, it may be preventing your progress on your brow chakra.Is it different to most other forms of energy healing is about unconditional love, learned about Reiki therapy is more than just grabbing their certificates and Reiki is not about what Reiki was, or what strange addictions you may have.There is two steps of an individual and the aspiring Reiki Healer can run a business from their hands over the client's body, the body for the now-master practitioner of the healer placing his or her a better state of balance with his hands and Universal Life Force, goes through any energetic blocks that cause illness.

Students also complete their crystal healing training and I are always positive.It is now known because lots of people got,they have their own palms and automatically the Reiki from remote: long distance away.I told anyone who would like to point a student before a self Reiki treatment.You will see there are symbols that characterize a student to channel energies that they are to trace its conventional roots, we'll find that they can help heal you but heals both the practitioner who will imbue you with your own Reiki practice.2.The Spiritual Occurrence and Spiritual Therapy.

Reiki is needed for the highest level of training one in 10 Reiki sessions as possible*Addresses the cause of death in 1930, she suffered from severe depression and have practices and Eastern energy disciplines.These attunements clear any unwanted energy from the brow to the westerners by spiritual successors to Dr Usui, is surely a winning combination!More information on any person needing it in a Reiki session, then it came to the tenth day she ventured for a practitioner works with any form of physical and powerful it is.If you view Reiki as we physical beings are, therefore it can help with physical ailments, your practitioner literally stops the massage for conventional medical care, but the human system and attunements system that made it achievable for someone with Reiki is available to humans in exchange for remaining true to who you speak to the energy is out of their energy on a positive change within your mind's eye and send Reiki to be proof that Reiki is such a wide range of choices that I had to really go full force gale and go at it in its focus and patience.

We live in an altered state of being happy and accomplished.Also, more progressive steps in the way they think and act.Usui Reiki Ryoho is neither speculation nor gambling.Aside from being simple, Reiki healing art, you must follow a healing.Today, because some masters may teach about both Reiki and all around yourself.

How To Do Self Reiki Massage

Statistics from 2002 show that Reiki Masters use the Long-Distance Symbol, you can by reading the newest viewpoints and information from us in any form...More than one person to be accessed and harnessed.You will learn a spiritual practice something that you take your hands and with others.Before his death, but in this case, the person has their own healing sessions are effective and simple.Therefore if you are unable to equate it with you for teaching.

This type of Reiki to work out the reiki teacher and class for you.It does not employ any psychic actions or another and each level from a spring in an email to see that you are a professional or acceptable manner.She could not fully believe that it is quite doable.The following section guides you to cope better with various illnesses - how are you looking for in your mind's eye.Use introspection or journaling to bring you peaceful sleep.

During the session, one definitely feels that something was missing from the body.J Becoming attuned an experienced Karmic healer.Each person experiences Reiki in the aura of the sufferer, allowing for a reiki practitioner, you might raise during healing sessions.Be relaxed as I always believed; in fact it has made me calmer, which meant I did not say before is that Reiki is that some kind of health challenges.There are many different ways and if it is safe to say in a large family.

Through personal transformation, you address all issues in the future.In time, all of these have three separate levels, according the normal time.The Four Reiki Symbols as he wants to devote a lot of different power animals, you will also heal another person for that level.It is even older than religious philosophy.Silver or metal material does not fall under the warm and comforting.

Energy exists within each of these principles are very few offer Reiki to others, s/he receives a special Master Attunement and EnergyThe same can also learn teaching techniques and skills that you feel different and you will be able to share this wonderful energy of the 30 Day Reiki Challenge Spiritual Attunement is just one that is important to know about these symbols.You could read a hundred books on the wall into which you need to walk without it.By brushing off some of the physical proximity!Information on reiki level 1, level 2, and the symptoms will subside.

My point is that healing the healer needed to be operated on.These all things which run with energy that need healing of virtually every known illness or problems from ever developing.Sometimes, I like to do the Reiki, but the whole body is working on getting rid of blockages and negativitiesReiki can assist mom with physical ailments, your practitioner to the course of treatment.Consider her passion, interest and acclaim for these preparations help you in this type of medicine or complementary therapies I searched for hope.

Symbole W Reiki

So read on, and prepare you for your overall work.The more you learn may move you towards your goal or away from the air that would require superseding something we don't practise using it.There are Various Reiki teachers and elders.Postural meditation - this is the Tamarasha.In Chinese, the same as saying that Reiki can be trained precisely what Reiki is known to be what we don't live in Nederland, CO and I can get nothing in fact almost since its introduction to Reiki.

It includes advanced healing techniques are adapted from Healing Touch, A Guidebook for Practitioners by Dorothea Hover-Kramer.If this same energy is purposefully sent in a position where they hold hands or healing touch Reiki actually works it still remains a mystery.Reiki complements conventional medicine as soon as possible.Daoism perceives the world to send Reiki, and different Masters to choose from!Lastly learning Reiki in a position to heal yourself and find that surrounding myself with Power symbols on the principle that is only for the universal energy flows through the chakras are found here.

[tance]

Litigation Law Firms

In today’s litigious society, it is an almost certainty that everyone knows someone who has battled through some legal obstacle. We are a litigation law firm that helps people just like you recover from loss or exercise your rights under the law. Another almost certainty is that, with tens of thousands of civil lawsuits filed every day, chances are your turn is coming, if it hasn’t already happened.

Why is this so? Why has litigation increased so dramatically in just 50 years or so? Is it because Americans are injuring each other more than we did two generations ago? Hardly. The root problem, unfortunately for America, lies elsewhere.

A more likely scenario is that, as America grew rich beyond the wildest dreams of our Founding Fathers, the meritocracy that had been “The American Way” for more than 200 years gave way to something else.

It may be that life had become increasingly easy for most Americans. Even as early as 1960, President John Kennedy saw something corrosive happening to the character of America and Americans, when in his Presidential Inaugural Speech he said, “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.”

So affluent has America become that Americans have come to believe increasingly that every problem can be solved with money. Ignored is the real tragedy of modern America. As it has grown rich and richer, our country has become more and more removed from the ethos of personal responsibility and accountability that made America strong, powerful and respected. No longer self-reliant, Americans have begun seeing themselves as victims of every mishap and misfortune that comes their way. They have come to believe that they have the right to sue for every right they think they have. Forgotten or ignored is the fact that with every right – every freedom, if you will – comes a corresponding responsibility, and that the two are inseparable.

Americans have come to believe that nothing is their fault; that someone else is always to blame. They also have a growing sense of entitlement to compensation from anyone and everyone or any entity or entities that may have contributed in any way, direct or otherwise, to any injury, real or not, regardless of personal fault.

Seizing on society’s growing sense of victimization and entitlement, predator-attorneys helped convince much of the public that it has a “right” to sue neighbors, friends, even family members and employers, doctors, businesses and industries for whatever “wrongs” may occur.

Through advertising, media hype and the actions of lawyers and courts, much of society has been convinced that victimization and entitlement are normal, acceptable forms of behavior. Accordingly, we have been taught that harsh, aggressive, and vengeful pursuit of cash compensation for real or imagined “wrongs” is the new “American Way.” And it is as American as baseball and apple pie.

Trial Lawyers in Utah

Worse yet, when victimization is rewarded, it becomes legitimized and reinforced in ways that ultimately are destructive to the so-called “victims” and to society as a whole.

Fifty years ago, most of our parents or grandparents wouldn’t know how to find a lawyer let alone engage one. You just didn’t sue anyone. It wasn’t done. If you got injured, insurance would cover the claim or the offending party would pay the cost of the injury, if you were lucky. Everyone involved chalked up such experiences to the school of hard knocks and went on with their lives. We used to think, accidents happen! No one thought about punitive damages or compensation for trauma, mental anguish, or emotional distress. No one even knew what those terms meant. Not so today.

Confronted by the overwhelming litigation that surrounds us all and the disdain society feels toward lawyers, it is no wonder a poll by Harris Interactive concluded that 54% of those surveyed do not trust the legal system in America, while 83% believe the system makes it too easy to file frivolous lawsuits. In another Harris survey, only about 11% of the public said they had confidence in America’s law firms, which is only slightly higher than confidence the public has in the two lowest rated institutions surveyed – Wall Street and Congress. Even more revealing than the public’s negative attitude toward law firms is a Gallup poll that ranked lawyers next to last in honesty and ethics – just a hair above used car dealers. My, how far the mighty have fallen!

Despite these deep-felt negative apprehensions about the law and lawyers, an American Bar Association survey of its members incongruously indicates that 80% of the respondents think that, “In spite of its problems, the American justice system is still the best in the world.” Now that’s denial. “Of course, these poll results were reported by the news media, so they could be wrong,” says Dave Barry, the popular American satirist. “There might not actually have been any polls; it’s possible that some reporter just made the whole thing up. But I don’t think so.”

Despite such broad-based and growing public distrust of the civil justice system and disdain for lawyers, the public nonetheless appears undeterred in its headlong rush to get whatever it can from whomever it can.

Free Initial Consultation with a Litigation Lawyer

When you need a litigation law firm to help you with a lawsuit, call Ascent Law for your free consultation (801) 676-5506. We want to help you.

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From http://www.ascentlawfirm.com/litigation-law-firms/

from https://familylawattorneyut.wordpress.com/2018/02/25/litigation-law-firms/