#even with the children and the drowning victims

[rustbeltjessie]

Some photos from Pioneer Cemetery, one of the oldest (if not the oldest) cemeteries in Door County. The only two families buried there are the Claflin and Thorp families.

Some interesting facts about various graves and the deceased who reside there:

Hugh (top two photos) was seven when he died. The only things in bloom in that cemetery so far this year were near his grave.

Both Horace O. Thorp and Freeman E. Thorp died in water-related accidents—Horace by drowning; Freeman in a shipwreck.

Brothers Albert and Charles Claflin died just over a year apart from one another—both while fighting as Union soldiers in the Civil War.

(April 12, 2023)

[kastalani123]

The Riordanverse is, ultimately, a children's series so it's expected that the nitty-gritty, darker details of certain things get omitted. Still, I think it'd be interesting to see the demigods, each raised for slaughter in their own way, be the soldiers, the victims, the prey that they grew up to be for both godly and mortal reasons.

Percy always keeps Riptide in arm's reach, always keeps his fingers curled around it, ready to unsheath it every waking moment. He sits and stands with his back flush against walls, eyes and ears always open to seek the slightest hint of danger. He trusts Paul, he trusts Chiron — he still watches every minute shift of their expression, of their body for warning signs. He keeps outside Dionysus's range, ensures he always has an open exit within reach. The smell of alcohol makes him dizzy, nauseous; his thoughts leave his body sometimes, when it gets bad enough.

Annabeth keeps a packed bag at the bottom of her closet when she stays at her family's home; she has places she can stay and her parents and Chiron have been good, but her feet still itch when they frown a time too many. Nobody knows she still sees spiders sometimes, feels her skin itch with their crawling. She makes Percy swear he'll never leave the room before she wakes up unless it's truly necessary. She puts boards on her bed's edges so she'll never fall while she thrashes from nightmares; falling would only make it worse.

Leo sits far from any open fires and leaves if people start roasting meat; Plan C is used sparingly once he isn't constantly fighting for his life. His tool belt can't make food, but it stores more granola bars than he could ever carry without it. He makes himself near-unnoticeable earplugs after New Year's and he avoids looking at himself; his body is too whole for being blown to pieces and half the time he's sure the chunks are rotting around Camp Half-Blood where they should've fallen. He tries to keep from unnecessary interactions; he can't have things tying him to some place, not when he's mapped out dozens of escape plans. He smiles longer and wider than ever before.

Hazel doesn't wear jewelry; the only exception is a wooden bead bracelet Nico gave her after she rejected a golden necklace. Walls close in around her, dust and liquid clog her throat, stones crush her bones– she comes back to the present. She clings to affection like a drowning man to a piece of wood, but keeps watch for signs that it'll turn against her. Silence haunts her every step; she keeps an MP3 player and headphones with her at all times to drive it away.

Frank gathers up his form and pours it into a mould of himself, does what he can to keep it from spilling through the cracks. His fingers are littered with scars and scratches, with a trail of broken mirrors left behind in their wake. There are always voices arguing in the back of his mind — not his father's, but not his own, either; just a phantom screech pulsing through his head. He drowns them by sinking into new responsibilities, new dangers, shaping himself to fit while trying to remain himself. The crackle of burning wood follows him everywhere he goes and he can do nothing to down it out — only stare at whatever he had managed to save from his suicide to remind himself he does not need to worry about it; he has already crumbled into ash.

Piper dives into Oklahoma, into mortality, like she'll suffocate without it. She remains far from everything, though not far enough to be out of the loop, because she needs to know about every prophecy, every end of the world, every step and challenge her friends face. She calls them on a bronze-infused phone, not a rainbow, even if the camera and the notifications and the everythingness of it blind her like a spotlight and the thrum of electricity runs through her veins like venom. She paints her face a bit misshapen here, a bit discolored there, a bit unsettling everywhere, and Shel understands. She understands and she loves her and she says it's beautiful not in aesthetics but in the potential protection it provides, as Piper intended.

Jason had learned every rule with the mere intention to break it, to tear through the chains of military life that had been clamped around his throat for as long as he could remember. He had chased life, rather than the survival he had clung to for so long — packed every second of his ticking down time with it. Finally with freedom, but so little time with it, he snatched every piece of it he could: a mortal highschool, a movie theatre, a mall shopping spree, a room of his own — all carefully documented in stacks of journals, ever breath of air and glimpse of the sun, with copies upon copies stashed away so that his memories could never again slip away like sand between his fingers, so that his friends had something of him left, after his life of nothingness.

[lyesander]

Not crazy about people writing off the Titan submersible incident as some schadenfreudic buzzstory they can rag on for a handful of internet funny points. I get the frustration, I really do. At least three of the passengers had to shell out $250,000 a ticket for a glorified deep sea Disney ride. The CEO of OceanGate is a capitalist wackjob who has been complaining about and bypassing safety regulations for years, despite multiple warnings, and now the retrieval is taking up time and resources from multiple countries that could have been put to better use. But one of the crew members on board was also the nineteen year old son of another passenger. I doubt his involvement extended much beyond “I’m going on a fun trip with my dad.” Another was an unaffiliated researcher who joined the expedition to collect environmental samples for DNA analysis. Not everyone on board was a high-rolling corporate yuppie. (And even if they were, it’s still a pretty objectively horrific way to die.) Instead of memes, I’d rather see this prompt a discussion on the ethics and potential regulation of scientific tourism.

The above also doesn’t change the fact that this is dragging media attention away from more pressing issues, such as the sinking of the Andriana. I guess “THE TITANIC CLAIMS ANOTHER FIVE VICTIMS” is a more colorful headline than “the EU’s xenophobic migration policies have led to the deaths of hundreds of migrants seeking asylum in Italy, and an active cover up is now taking place, headed by Greek authorities.” Seeing all this energy be funneled towards dragging this tiny capsule out of the Atlantic when up to five hundred refugees - mostly women and children - were locked in the hull of a ship and left to suffer the exact same fate, while Coast Guard vessels looked on and did nothing (or even had an active role in the capsize after a botched attempt to tow it, according to some testimonies), illustrates the sway money and race have in what we pay attention to. It’s a gruesome example of inequity in action.

I had compared what happened to the Titan to the Kursk incident, but the Andriana doesn’t have the luxury of being a freak accident. Over 25,000 migrants have disappeared or drowned trying to cross the Mediterranean since 2014, with over 2,000 deaths taking place in 2022 alone. Those are staggering numbers. Protests have broken out across Greece over the past week in the wake of the tragedy, advocating for migration reform.

While these sorts of mass casualty events tend to leave us feeling disheartened and helpless, there are ways to help. Below is a link to SOS Humanity’s donation page. Reputable search and rescue organizations such as SOS Humanity or SOS Mediterranée built their mission statements around helping migrants like the ones on board the Andriana. Donate if you can, spread the word if you can’t.

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝙷𝙾𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙳

description: In which leah's rockstar girlfriend shows the england girls how to really put on a performance

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leah williamson x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously.

warnings: language, cute leah, some suggestive jokes

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y/n just posted on their story

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leahwilliamsonn just posted on her story

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y/n just posted

liked by lucybronze, keirawalsh and 8.9 million others

tagged lionesses,

y/n ready to put on a show ;)

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username1: CUTEEEEEE 😍😍

username2: I love how much the Lionesses love her - my heart 🥺🥺

username3: ❤️❤️❤️

leahwilliamsonn: always ready for you my girl <3

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y/n: my baby <3

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username4: 🥺🥺

lucybronze: excited !!!!!!

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y/n: SAME!!!!!

stanwaygeorgia: you better do 'hooked'! 😡

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y/n: 😏😏

username5: WHOOOOOO!! 👏👏👏

alessiarusso99: AHHHHHH

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ellatoone: AHHHHHH

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Lj10: AHHHHHH

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y/n: oh my children!

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username6: 🥺🥺

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username7: CUTE

username8: I don't really see the hype about her shows 🤷‍♀️

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username9: Okay????? The off you fuck! 🖕

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username10: hahahahahahah 😂

1maryearps: Gonna be a good night!

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racheldaly3: A great night!

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mbrighty04: The best night!

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y/n: ffs !

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username11: ahahahaHAHAH

username12: 😍😍😍

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y/n grinned as she sucked a deep breath through her nose, her breathing slightly out of pace from all the jumping as she slid her guitar strap over her shoulder, fixing the instrument to her.

"Okay, I know ya'll love this one." y/n grinned, she looked up at the VIP section, eyes catching that of her lover's. Leah Williamson, even now, when there were thousands screaming for her, all y/n would ever want to find was the blonde.

y/n's fingers played the familiar riff on the guitar and the crowd started their screaming again as the drums kicked in. The Lionesses in the section all cheered and began to bounce as Leah chuckled.

"Yesterday I crashed my car Because I wondered what it'd feel like Pressed my foot down on the pedal And I ran right through the stop sign." y/n sang.

Her voice had always been low, raspy and powerful. She used to hate that, but as she got older and found that no songs fit her, she found that it was best to write ones to do so.

Leah loved her voice, from the second the two met Leah would sit and listen in awe every time y/n opened her mouth, she could be recording in the studio or belting mockingly in the shower, Leah would stop and listen every time.

"Told all my friends I hate them And then I played the victim 'Cause God forbid the problem's ever me Fucked my ex just to do it Guess therapy's been useless What a waste of £250 a week." y/n continued before holding the microphone out to the crowd.

"SO HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL?" The stadium erupted, shouts and screams from everyone saying the line.

"Well." y/n hummed, the music stopping for a second before the lights flickered and the drums kicked back in as the smoke machines went wild.

"I think I'm hooked on feeling low Like morphine in my soul Kinda like when I go cold (cold, cold) I think I'm hooked on feeling down I drink until I drown Anything to black it out (out, out)

I think I'm hooked I think, I think I'm Hooked

I think I'm hooked I think, I think I'm Hooked I think I'm..."

The performance boomed as y/n sung through the chorus. Her voice strong and just louder than the screaming crowd. Her precious guitar now sat safely off her as she bounced and sang.

Her hair was slick with sweat as she lent back slightly her jaw line popping and making Leah sigh and pinch at her nose in need at how hot her lover was.

"You alright there Leah?" Georgia asks, her voice worried as Leah turned to look at her, but the blonde scoffed when she saw the shit-eating grin on Georgia's face.

"Shut up." Leah huffed as the girls around them continued to dance along.

"Blow through all of my money On cigarettes and coffee 'Cause being broke is hard at 23." y/n sang.

"I'm actually 25 now." She added in spoken words, Leah rolling her eyes at the cigarettes line which was a habit she had tried to get her lover to stop.

"Go write another sad song And play it for my poor mom Anything so she feels bad for me." y/n continues before holding the microphone out once again.

"Y/N THIS IS SO DEPRESSING." The screams ran out from the stadium, Leah wincing as she shouted with them, and Lucy's shout in her ear.

The chorus began again and the lights flashed wilder as the bass became jumpier, the crowd bobbing as they jumped with y/n who always had good stamina and a great core to sing and dance as she did.

"I think I'm hooked." y/n finished with her song. The lights cutting out as the crowd screamed as the lights came back up, y/n laughing as she waved to everyone.

y/n let out a sigh as she slid her jacket off, her strong arms coming into show from the black one-piece she was wearing which was a bit too low cut for Leah's liking.

The sleek Arsenal red flares her lover also wore were more covering than the cleavage filled top, but the tightness at the top clung to her perky ass so well Leah gulped.

The cheers got louder which caused y/n to laugh as she ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head at the whistles which were aimed her way.

"This, is for one woman only." y/n winked, nodding toward the Lionesses where the camera zoomed in on the now smirking blonde captain.

Keira chuckled next to Leah as Georgia jeered, clapping her friend on the back who rolled her eyes playfully as y/n then hummed into her microphone.

"Got time for one more ay?" She asked her band who nodded.

The tune of 'Hot Gum' began and people went wild as the lights went down and came back up as y/n danced in place, Leah wetting her lips as she watched her lover.

"I hold soft flames on my tongue And chew on them like chewing gum They burn the roof of my mouth But I won't spit it out loud right now."

y/n's voice was low and lazy, vocal fry peaking through as she tilted her body around to the beat as the crowd cheered. The lights suddenly went dark as y/n continued.

"There's an inferno in your mouth I can tell by the way you smile like it burns You press your lips together like you're kissing yourself To stop me from learning." y/n's voice continued.

Suddenly the lights had come up and y/n was no longer visible on stage, but the camera's had found her. Leah jumped at the image of her lover behind her.

y/n chuckled into the microphone and wrapped an arm around the blonde's waist and despite the fact y/n was shorter than the blonde in that moment she had all the power.

"She's a keeper, she's a believer She's on the ground, on her knees in a theatre And she put us in a car, I don't know where we are But she fell in love with a fever." y/n sings.

The crowd were screaming once more, y/n grinning at her lover as she spun around her and to her front, Leah's arms wrapping around her naturally as she lent back to sing.

"I could never leave her, I could never keep her" That's what she says to the neighborhood preacher And she put us in a car, I don't know where we are But I fell in love with the fever and I." y/n sang.

Leah couldn't help but lean down and press a small kiss to the junction where y/n's neck met her shoulder and the crowd cheered once more.

"I watch us burn and fall, the heat is ten feet tall The potential is bench pressing us into the wall And the flick of flames weaving through my teeth If the hot gum were to slip out, where would we be?" y/n sung.

The girl switched so her back was against Leah's chest as she danced with the blonde's team the group all laughing as Leah's arms hugged tightly to y/n's waist as she continued to sing.

"She's a keeper, she's a believer She's on the ground, on her knees in a theatre And she put us in a car, I don't know where we are But she fell in love with a fever." y/n sang, slipping to her knees in front of her lover.

The cheers that arose were louder than anything all night as the camera continued to film as y/n lent into a backbend her hand gripping Leah's thigh - on her good leg, tightly.

"I could never leave her, I could never keep her" That's what she says to the neighbourhood preacher And she put us in a car, I don't know where we are But I fell in love with the fever and I." y/n sang once more.

She rose to her feet as the song continued, pulling the blonde in for a kiss which Leah returned albeit a little sheepishly considering they were in front of thousands.

y/n pulled away, pecking Leah's lips once more before high-fiving Georgia and running back to stage for the last section of the song.

"If I tell you what I'm thinking promise, you won't tell yourself If you tell me what you're thinking, I swear I won't tell myself She's on the ground, she's on his knees, she's a believer She's on the ground, she didn't listen to the preacher." y/n finished with a dramatic bow.

The crowd screamed and cheered as y/n chuckled, waving to them once more as she began to thank them all and her band.

"And thank you baby, for being so good with me." y/n added into the microphone which caused Leah to chuckle. "And to the team, because you're all always hype-women for me and that slaps." y/n added.

The crowd cheered as she thanked them once more before running off-stage, sighing in relief as she chugged a bottle of ice cold water while she waited for the growing cheers of the Lionesses to get closer.

"You sure know how to put on a show mrs. skipper!" Millie called as she slammed her hands on y/n's shoulders, only to wipe the sweat which coated them onto a shouting Rachel.

LJ and Hempo both cheered as the three shared a quick shared high five, before Lotte, Beth and Niamh all did the same.

"Hmm, certainly." Leah said, folding her arms and raising a sharp brow, an unimpressed look on her face at the stunt pulled.

"Love you." y/n winked as she pressed a kiss to Leah, Alessia and Ella letting out fake gags which caused Lucy to hit them.

"Children." Keira chuckled as Georgia high-fived y/n once again as y/n sighed and sagged.

"Carry me to dressing room?" She asked Leah tiredly and the blonde nodded, swooping up the star into her arms as the Lionesses teased and cooed.

"Shut up!" Leah called before walk off with her lover.

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y/n just posted

liked by leahwilliamsonn, stanwaygeorgia and 9.3 million others

tagged leahwilliamsonn

y/n she's a believer, she's on the ground on her knees in the theatre...

p.s. thank you london - so fucking much xxx

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username1: YOU WERE AMAZING !!!!!! 😍😍

username2: I Cried three times 😭

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username3: I CRIED AT THEIR KISS 😭

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username4: that was hot 🔥

username5: 🔥🔥🔥

ellatoone: the best night ever ! ESPECIALLY FOR LEAH ;))

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alessiarusso99: Subtle Ella

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keirawalsh: hahahahahahha - well done y/n!!

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y/n: Love you !!!

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username6: HEHehhehe

leahwilliamsonn: my girl - I - ...

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y/n: Leah.exe has stopped working

lucybronze: disappeared like Houdini 🧐

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1maryearps: Only disappeared because she's so small tho 🤷‍♀️

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y/n: count your days earps...

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1maryearps: gulp...

mbrighty04: you get well sweaty on stage mate ☺️

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racheldaly3: and needy too apparently 😏

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leahwilliamsonn: I'm not rli complaining

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y/n: ;)))

username7: Her and Leah are so cute! 🥺🥺

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username8: Right?!?!?!!!! ❤️

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leahwilliamsonn hooked on you...

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END

loved this one and really got into the performing section lmao

Songs used:

Hooked - Sam Short

Hot Gum - Sofia Isella

[ricflairdrip20]

Rough Case, Soft Served Date (Emily Prentiss x Reader)

Symposis: You and Emily indulged yourselves with some ice cream after a rough case, and silliness ensued.

You and the BAU team spent a week in Deer Lodge, Montana investigating a child abduction case that resulted in the death of 9 children. It was a really difficult case, not only because the two UnSubs who posed as a married couple did an excellent job in concealing themselves and deceiving the community by getting involved in the investigation, but because there’s a number of families that you had to inform about their child’s death.

Your team managed to capture the UnSubs, but not before stealing the life of a nine year old boy, who was abducted just a day prior from the park after being lured to helping them find their lost puppy, which they did with the other victims.

Upon arresting the UnSubs, you and Emily went to inform the mother of the latest victim. After hearing her scream her lungs out, you and your fellow agent sadly walked back to the SUV.

It was a quiet ride back to the station, and you leaned your head on the window. You sighed woefully.

“This has been the longest week of my life,” you mumbled. Emily looked at you, as if agreeing with you. You really understood each other and it was the unspoken interaction that did it.

After relaxing yourself on the plane and drowning yourself in a world of a novel about a lady who relocated to Italy for a new life who somehow found herself testifying as a witness in a murder trial.

“Hey,” your ears shot up at the sudden sound of a familiar voice you always looked forward to hearing.

“What say you and I grab some ice cream when we get back to Quantico?” For the first time in days, a big smile grew on your face.

“Sure.”

You find yourself sitting at an outdoor table with Emily at an ice cream parlor run by a sweet middle aged couple, ordering a bowl of non-dairy ice cream. You two hate dairy. For Emily, she’s lactose intolerant, for you, you simply choose not to consume it due to veganism.

You sighed sadly as you dipped your spoon into your cookie dough flavored sweet.

“Wanna talk about it?” Emily asked. You sighed again.

“This case was god-awful. These families… losing their babies who didn’t even make it to two digits. You’d think after years of doing my job, I’d get used to it. All it taught me is that there’s some really sick people out there. Really sick people. Crazy thing is, someone out there is probably committing a crime right now that requires our attention that nobody knows is happening, except for God.”

“I know, but the best thing about what we do is that we bring closures to the families and the community nationwide.” You nodded. You were so repulsed by the ugliness of this case that you almost forgot that there’s people that really appreciate your dedication to solving the crime.

“Hey,” you looked up from your bowl and before you realized it, Emily booped your nose with ice cream on her fingertip. You laughed at the silliness, forgetting the rough week the BAU had. You can always count on Emily to make your day.

[petrichor-idyllic]

@lu-thinkingstuff I accidentally deleted the original ask (and the entire fuckin fic I'd nearly finished along with it) so have a screenshot of your ask I managed to keep. Sorry.

I'm writing this as a standalone piece, but it can be read as a prequel to quite a few of my pieces if you please.

INDOCTRINATION

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. I know the request is fem!reader, but I guess this can be read as gender neutral since I don't think I used any pronous to refer to you, apart from you obviously lmao. Follows no cannon events. I am making this shit up. Can be read as a prequel to "Life before Drowning", any other of my fitting work, or as a standalone. Whatever ya want. References to the simulation sky that's in the books - if you're reading this as a movie fic, then let's pretend this is a failed WICKED experiment.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, annoying WICKED shenanigans, traumatised children, Ratman.

You met Minho when you were seven. Maybe eight.

The last few weeks had been a blur of chaos you can barely remember. With the Flare finally taking its victims in your hometown, families flocked to their last resort, donating their children to WICKED.

Most children weren't picked.

Of course, they weren't. Most children aren't immune. The occasional normal child was also plucked from the masses and swept away from the warmth of their families to the cold, white walls of WICKED's laboratories. But that was rare, and they were only ever valued as a control variable in whatever twisted experiments they took part in.

Not that you ever knew that.

The potential horrors didn't matter to most parents; yours included. Mothers and Fathers desperately passing their remaining blood to men in masks in hopes of saving their loved ones. There really wasn't much choice.

You were given even less choice as you were one of the lucky ones to be picked.

A white room became your home for several weeks. They made you forget your parents - those parents who willingly passed you into Ava Paige's custody in hopes you'd have at least a fleeting chance of survival on the infected planet.

They took your name, too. Your personality. The few memories you'd managed to develop so young. All of it; gone.

You were almost in a state of shock when they finally said you could leave your pristine tiled prison cell.

Following your capture through the endless high-tech halls and flawless clean corridors, you reach a large dining hall. Several long tables fill the room, along with the high-pitched chattering voices of children. The kids vary in age - some older, some younger, but that doesn't matter. They're all talking.

"Grab your food and find a seat." The booming, hollow voice of the balding man in a labcoat reaches your ears, and you can't even begin to process what he's saying.

"W-what?" Your voice is barely a whisper as you squeak out a response.

"Join the queue, and then find somewhere to sit. Your lunch break doesn't last long." He gives you no chance to ask anything else as he turns and walks back down the corridor. Leaving you with very little choice but to continue into the room.

Getting the food is the easy bit; a tray full of a passing excuse for food and a small cup of juice. Finding somewhere to sit is the problem. You mindlessly search for an empty seat, though your gaze mainly lingers on the masked individuals lining the room; armed and dangerous.

"Psst. Don't stare. They don't like it when you stare."

Your head snaps towards a voice. An Asian boy, about your age, leans over the table top, hand cupped around his mouth as he whisper-yells at you, like he's pretending to be subtle.

"...What?" You stare back at him as a grin creeps across his face as he sits back down.

"Those freaks? Duh? Don't stare at 'em. They'll snap at you." When you don't respond, the boy starts to sense your unease. "...You gonna sit down or what?" He vaguely gestures to the empty space on the bench across from him. It takes you a second to move, but he seems relieved when you do. "You got a name?"

"Uh, (Y/N)... I think."

"You think?" He scoffs as you struggle to get your leg over the slightly wobbly bench. You think it's wobbly, or maybe you're shaking too much; it's hard to tell.

"Well, yeah - that's not my real name, is it?" Your response leaves the boy unsure how to react. You're... not wrong.

"Huh. I guess. I'm Minho." He says with a grin. "And even if it ain't my real name, they made a good choice. It suits me, right?"

For the first time since you'd arrived, you find yourself smiling. Minho is charming, for a kid. He's already got an air of confidence about him, which is almost reassuring in this situation.

"Yeah," you giggle, "I guess it does suit you."

And that is how you met Minho. Reckless, cocky, funny, brilliant Minho. And by brilliant, I mean he is a brilliantly bad influence.

It's not like you got to see him very often - just over lunch and the rare breaks you both got at the same time. But when you did, it was always fun. You even developed a little group, mainly including Minho's friends - he has enough charisma for both of you.

The first time Minho snuck into your room, you were eleven.

It's the middle of the night, the faint sounds of footsteps from WICKED guards echoing through the small white room you reside in at nights. It's all background noise, now, you barely even notice it as you drift off to sleep.

Until the loud clattering of the vent hitting the floor makes you jump out of your skin, shooting up in bed.

"...shit." Minho murmurs as he peers into your room.

"Minho?" You whisper-yell at the sudden intrusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep." He responds, matching your tone as he attempts to clamber out of the vent and onto the safety on the floor below.

"So, you decided to break into my room?" You climb out of bed, coming to assist your best friend as he slides down your wall.

"Yeah. Figured I'd give you a visit."

You cross your arms, eyebrow cocked as you glare at your friend. "Are you insane? We're gonna get in so much trouble if you get caught." You grumble at him, swallowing your initial shock (and your small smile thanks to his presence.)

"So? What are they gonna do?" Minho dusts himself off. "Make me train more? Poke me with another needle? However shall I cope?" His sarcasm results in another eye roll from you, but you can't help but chuckle as you shove him, playfully - but warning.

"They could lock you in your room for a week." A beat passes. "Again."

"Great." He grins. "Means I get some peace. Sleep away my problems."

"You're such a dick."

"You love me, really." He flashes you another signature cocky grin.

You don't even dignify that with a response. "What exactly are we doing then? Just... hanging out in my room?"

Minho hesitates, then looks back at the vent, then you again as a sly smile slowly creeps across his face. "I think I have a better idea."

And that is how you end up crawling through a vent in the middle of the night, and following your chaotic friend through the facility. Minho is a lot calmer than you are; cracking jokes, whistling and generally being a cocky little shit. You, however, are hissing at him every thirty seconds to shut the fuck up.

Somehow, you both stumble into a vacant hall. Well, Minho dragged you through another vent and whilst he gracefully jumped down, you fell in a heap on the floor.

"Christ-" you grumble as you dust yourself off, looking around the room. It's dark, unusually so - the only light creeping in from under the locked door to the room from the buzzing halogen bulbs. "Where are we?"

Despite your low tone, Minho doesn't do much to hide his voice. "Dunno. Damn - this place is huge!" The boy chuckles to himself, dragging his hand across the wall to navigate, the sound of his words, and comfort, creeping away from your reach.

"Minho-" you say into the void, further panic swelling in your gut.

"Yo, I think I found a light switch."

Before you can object that this is a bad idea, there's a hollow click, quickly follow by a binding light.

You weren't expecting it; expecting the same dull bulbs that consume the WICKED labs. But what you get is anything but.

The entire ceiling springs to life, imitating the bright blue of the sky you haven't seen since you found yourself in WICKED's custody.

"Holy shit-" Minho gawks upwards as he stares, too, finally in your line of sight.

The fake sky is scarily realistic - the glow of the sun, the faint fluffy clouds floating across the screen. You're not even sure you could call it a screen, honestly. There's not lines, or glitches or lagging from the technology. It looks so real. Like you could reach out and feel the damp clouds through your fingers, the heat of the sun on your skin.

You look at Minho, who looks at you at the same time. Both of you have no words; how could you? But your silence and exchanges looks say everything words could - what the actual fuck is this?

"...this is.." Minho starts, losing himself quickly.

"..beautiful." You finish for him.

"I was gonna say freaky." He responds, earning a chuckle from you as you wander into the middle of the room. "Hey, there's other buttons-" He says, gesturing to the control panel on the wall that he originally assumed was a light switch.

With the click of his fingers, dark clouds start to fill the fake-sky, creating a dimmer, more stormy atmosphere. But there's no rain. Just clouds.

Those seem to be the only two weather modes as Minho keeps switching between the two. Cloudy and sunny. It's definitely not quite advanced enough to imitate the real thing.

"Look- there's a time monitor." Minho mumbles as he moves a slider. The sky dims, as bright sunset colours fill the ceiling before it creeps into dusk, and then into a series of bright stars.

Minho's goofy grin says enough as he moves away from the controls, joining you in the middle of the room. You barely even notice him until he's crouching the lie on the floor.

"What are you doing?" You raise an eyebrow at him as he moves to lay on his back, looking up.

"Star-gazing, duh. What does it look like?" He says as he smiles at you, before gesturing for you to join him.

"We're gonna get caught-"

"Will you relax?" He chuckles, leaning up on his arms. "When are we ever gonna get a chance to do this for real? Might aswell enjoy it whilst we have the chance."

"It's fake." You cross your arms defiantly.

"Still pretty. Still better than our boring white rooms." He retorts. "C'mon."

You sighs, but relent as you move to lay next to him.

He's right. It really is pretty. The mimic stars sparkle and flutter, and suddenly the labs and the experiments feel worlds away, even if your escape is an extention of your captives skills.

Minho suddenly starts chuckling.

"What? What's so funny?" You say, turning your head to look at him.

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just thinkin' that if Thomas was here, he'd probably be telling us about all those star thingies."

"...star thingies?"

"Yeah. You know? Those... stars that are, like, in a pattern."

"...constellations?" You can't help the amused smile creeping across your face at your friends ignorance.

"Yeah- those. They got names don't they?" Minho turns to look at you. "Thomas is such a dork. He'd know all of them."

You shake your head as you look back up at the ceiling, but Minho keeps looking at you.

"We should tell the others." You say, not noticing his gaze.

"What?"

"About this room. Newt and Sonya would love this."

"I thought you didn't want to get caught?" He chuckles and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah- but this is cool. They should see it."

A beat passes as Minho continues to look at you. "Nah."

"Nah?" You look at him, surprised by this. He's rebellious and fiery and is normally the first to drag everyone into schemes and fun despite the risks.

"Nah... this is... ours." He says, smiling softly at you, before he shifts slightly to slips his fingers between yours, looking back up. "Just ours."

And that's what it became.

At least once a week, you and Minho would sneak around and into this secret special room. You'd spend hours talking and messing around, and somehow, you didn't get caught. Or maybe some of the kinder WICKED people were turning a blind eye to two kids enjoying themselves.

Who knows.

It was like this for about a year. Maybe a year and a half.

But, things took a turn.

Minho was starting to revieve praise for his athleticism. He became one of the most physically capable subjects, and it was impossible to get him away from a rigged-up treadmill. So, by the end of the day, he was exhausted. Too tired to be crawling around vents with you.

You were thirteen, maybe fourteen when Minho ended up crawling though your vents again.

Hearing the familiar noise, you're out of your bed before he's even here, your bare feet already on the cold floor as he appears.

"Minho-?"

"I know. I know." He grumbles. "I'm sorry." He says, before you can even get so much as a word in, and it leaves you stunned.

"For what?"

"For like... not being here. For neglecting you, I guess." He shrugs as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Neglect-?" You cut yourself off. "Dude, they've been working you to the bone. You don't have to apologise."

He sighs, seemingly of relief. "Yeah, well, I still feel like a dick. You're my best friend."

"Well, you're here now." You attempt to reassure him. "We can go back to the sky room."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I was thinking we could go exploring." He flashes that damn grin at you again.

"...exploring?" You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

"Yeah. Yanno- like me, Newt and Thomas used to do."

"I never joined in with that."

"Well- you should've. And we were exploring when we found the sky room, so you're no so innocent." He chuckles, and you can't help but admit he's right. Yet, he continues at your hesitation. "Look, we found that room by chance. Surely there's more cool and interesting things to find. I'm getting bored of looking at the same fake sky everyday."

Something in that comment stings. You'd never gotten bored of that pretend sky. Maybe because you'd always been with him - and you could never get bored of him.

"C'mon." He drags out the syllable. "One night of exploration. Just one. Who knows how far they'll be making me run from now on. Better take the chance whilst you have it."

You playfully shove him at this. "...fine. One time only. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiles. "Let's go."

So, once again, you find yourself creeping around the sleeping facility with your far too confident best friend.

Though, when Minho reaches a locked door, you would've never expected him to slip an excess card out of his shoe, swiping it into the card reader.

"What? Where did you get that?" You hiss, wide-eyed and stunned.

"Some dumb lab-coat dude left it on the side. So, I picked it up. Finders, keepers." He says as he pushes the door open.

Sneaky around is one thing, finding hidden rooms through vents - but stealing an ID card is something else. You're literally never going to see each other again if you get caught. Not that you get chance to voice your concerns as Minho walks into the room.

This sinking feeling creeps into your gut, yet, you can't find it in yourself to tell Minho. What if he really is starting to find you boring? Being whiney to him about this would only confirm that. You don't need him getting closer with someone else, especially not the flocks of girls in the dining hall who have started taking interest in the boy since he started his physical training.

Okay. Maybe this is creeping beyond friendship. It was years ago, but you're always thinking about the way he held your hand the first time you found that room. How it was just yours. Your special place, just for the two of you. And he doesn't want to go there anymore?

You've never felt so insecure.

So, you keep quiet.

The first room is full of labelled chemicals you don't understand.

The second is full of strange, clouded tubes, with slimy, creatures with metal arms. Even Minho was eager to leave that one - to remain ignorant for his own bliss, pulling you along once you stop to stare into the tubes. You suspect Thomas mentioned something to him. Thomas has always been Ava's favourite.

Though, the third is far less scary. It's a office - well, more like a small library with a computer and a desk. Filing cabinets liter the walls with endless documents.

Minho lets out a low whistle. "A computer." He grins, casually sliding into the office chair as he starts fiddling with the computer. Having most of the common sense in this friendship, you've assumed that the computer is password locked.

Which is confirmed by Minho's hushed cursing.

So, you start looking through the documents in the drawers. A lot of them are medical files and general testing that you don't really understand.

Though, a few documents contain blueprints and titles such as "the Maze Trails" and "The Scorch Trails". They're detailed and confusing.

"Minho-" you gets his attention, passing him the notes as he's distracted from the computer, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he looks through them.

He doesn't get much time to comment as you find another interesting drawer; labelled "Subjects."

Flicking through a few, you recognise the pictures of the people you've spent the last few years with. Teresa. Thomas. Gally.

You stumble upon Minho's- grinning at his awful mugshot style photo. A7. The Leader. They've already got him marked down pretty faithfully.

Though, something consistent through all the documents is the phrase "status: Immune." Something about that stands out to you, for some reason.

That is until you reach Newt's file.

Staus: Nonimmune. Control Variable.

Nonimmune?

Nonimmune.

"Uh, Minho-?"

"These maps are insane." He mumbles, still examining the blueprints. "Do you reckon these are those big plans Thomas is always yapping about?" He picks his head up to look at you, noticing your face drop, concern written throughout your features. "What? What is it?"

"...we're all immune to the Flare, right? That's why they're testing us. To find a cure?" You don't even look up at him.

"Yeah..? Why else would we be here?" His grin is there, same as always, but now it's uneasy and uncertain. You look at him, before walking over and slapping Newt's file onto the table.

It takes him a moment to catch on, but when he does, his face drops, and he just looks at you.

Before any words are exchanged, footsteps can be heard from down a corridor.

"Shit-" you both scramble, collecting all the papers and stuffing them in whatever drawer they came from (or whichever is closest.)

It's a mad dash to get out of the room - adrenaline and fear coursing through you both. You didn't even find your own file.

Are you immune? Could the Flare get you?

Little do you know, Minho is internally freaking out over the same thing.

In your panic, your silence evades you, which alerts whatever guard was prowling the building.

"Quick! Up here!" Minho commands as he struggles to open a vent, giving you a leg up before yanking himself up the wall and diving in.

You don't even know where you're crawling to, you're just trying to rush away. But, eventually, it goes quiet, only the sounds of yours and Minho's panting in the small vent system.

"We have to tell Newt." You say, managing to turn in the small space to face him. Minho hesitates for a moment, but nods.

Of course you have to tell him.

"Yeah, at lunch, tomorrow. We'll tell him. But right now, we have to get back to our rooms. They'll be checking." You nod in agreement. "Let's get you back first."

Minho has a far better memory than you, leading you back to the safety of the room before he turns to navigate the way back to his.

"Minho-" you say, turning to look at him once your feet hut the floor, a sense of dread overwhelming you.

"..yeah?"

You can only look at him. There's so much you want to say, but none of it want to come out. Some deep gut feeling screams at you that this is the end, but you tell yourself you're being silly.

His blank expression pushes you to talk, though.

"Just.. be careful."

He offers a warm smile, but rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. See you at lunch tomorrow."

Your attempt to mimic his expression falls flat as he shimmies back into the vent and on his way.

You didn't know how accurate your instincts would be.

The next day, you make your way to the lunch hall. You're late- your lab testing ended up being longer than possible. But when you enter the dining hall, Minho's absence is quickly noted.

Though, you do spot Newt. Maybe Minho's running has gone overtime, again?

"Newt-" you shout him, jogging across the hall. "Have you seen Minho? We need to talk to you."

Newt doesn't even have to say anything as he glances at Thomas, whose eyes are burning into the table in front of him. There's some sense of desperation in Newt's expression, mixed with grief and regret, but like he can't say anything.

It makes your stomach flip and your heart stop as you open your mouth to speak, but you don't get any sound out.

"(Y/N)." Janson's annoying voice sends a chill down your spine as you turn to look at him. Two guards stand by his sides, his forced grimace doesn't reach his cold, unforgiving gaze. "I need a word."

Janson gestures for you to walk with him and you swallow a lump in your throat. Your first instinct is to run. Like Minho thought you. But in a room full of people? It's not like your quiet escapades in the middle of the night.

Your feet are like concrete as you force yourself to walk towards him.

Janson walks in front of you, the guards behind you. You're trapped, and even if you did run, that wouldn't change anything as he leads you into a room. It's a room you're familiar with.

It's where you have one-on-one progress conversations with Janson to discuss how you're doing. Minho spent more time in here than you ever did, but that doesn't mean the confines space doesn't fill you with anxiety, even in normal circumstances.

You take your place in the cold chair as Janson sits across from you, the slab of metal that is meant to be a table keeping you separated feels like a godsend. Though, not much of one with the guards breathing down your neck.

"...Where's Minho?" You manage to croak, attempting to mimic your missing friends confidence.

"He's been dealt with." Janson says, and your blood runs cold.

"What- what does that mean?"

"I'm sure you already know what that means. From your adventures last night." The world stops.

You knew.

You knew it was a bad idea and your own insecurities led you to keeping your mouth shut and hiding away from your concerns. What? Because of a stupid crush? Your own feelings of inadequacy have led to Minho's demise. And it's soul-crushing.

"I-I don't understand." You words falter, any false confidence quickly shattering.

"It's a shame. Really. It is." Janson nods as he leans forward, his elbows on the table. "We let yours and Subject A7's strange relationship slide because it was showing promising results. New waves in the Killzone we were examining. I knew we should've stopped it." He sighs. "...and now, you know too much."

"Where is he?" You spit, fists clenched, unused adrenaline causing you to tremble.

"I told you." Janson hisses. "You already know. But don't worry. You're not going to remember any of this." Janson nods towards the guards.

"What-" your words catch at a sharp sting in the side of your neck as one of the masked-men injects a burning liquid into you. You gasp, grasping the side of your neck. "What have you done?"

Your words slur slightly as a dull buzz fizzles into your vision, your head feeling light.

"My job." Janson leans back as he watches you sway in your seat. "What was always going to happen."

You can't even respond as your limp body slips out of the seat, and your consciousness leaves you before you even hit the floor.

WHOOP WHOOP. 1K BABYYYYY.

I guess this is my 1k follower post - and it's angst. That's typical of me. Sorry for the massive gap since I last posted something, but everyone's support has given me a drive to write. Well, at least finish writing this. Sorry if its not everything you wanted, but I've always felt there's something so much sadder about not getting that chance to say goodbye to someone, and things fizzing out instead of a bang.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :)

[scoobydoodean]

Random thought. It’s weird to me how Dean sews a narrative in episodes like 1.11 Scarecrow and 2.15 Tall Tales that Sam is super sensitive and empathetic toward people to the degree that it’s like. A gift. And then in season 6 it’s sucked out of the land of Dean Myths and made more textual, using soulless Sam enjoying badgering witnesses in contrast to newly re-souled Sam in 6.12 being kind to their witnesses and Dean taking particular note of that.

Maybe part of it is that Sam’s empathy voice sometimes comes off as phony when it isn’t intended to be and it’s just not Jared’s strong suit. But even in the Pilot, it was written into the text for Sam to give one of their witnesses a hard time—and this was a man whose wife drowned their two children in a bathtub then killed herself.

I mean—I guess it’s possible that Dean isn’t necessarily saying Sam is genuinely empathetic in 1.11 and 2.15. Because what he actually says in 1.11 is:

“You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it.” Which could actually suggest Dean thinks Sam fakes sincerity extremely well. And in 2.15, he’s mocking Sam, but I think there’s a stronger case that the latter is Dean mocking what he sees as Sam genuinely over-empathizing with a victim. In this same episode though, we see Sam unable to stop himself from laughing when they encounter another victim of The Trickster’s pranks.

[tlou-reid]

hello and happy birthday!!

Could you do cream soda (non alcoholic drinks) + Spencer Reid- that sounds like the cutest fluff and as a writer myself I can picture this really well!!

Have a great day love 🥰🫶

join my birthday celebration!! - thank you honey <3

cream soda: “it’s okay to cry.”

you could see the way spencer was feeling from the minute he stepped onto the jet. his shoulders were slumped forward and his gaze never the left the ground. he didn't speak as he made his way to the chair in the furthest corner, and quickly put his headphones on, effectively drowning out the chatter from the rest of the team.

you knew cases that involved children bothered him, especially when it was a nerdy, sort of underdog child. whether they were a victim or even an unsub, it messed with spencer. it showed him different versions of himself, in his eyes.

you also knew that spencer needed some time on his own when he felt this way. he needed time to reflect, to see how he turned out, to know that he did his best everyday and that he was in control of that.

so, you took a seat on the long couch on the jet and put on your own headphones, reaching for a file to start working on paperwork. spencer was within eyesight, close enough that you would hear him if he wanted to talk, but he still had his distance.

you didn't approach him until the entire team had left. you made eye contact with him a lot, even making silly faces, just as a way to let him know you were there, but you didn't want to pry in front of everyone.

but you couldn't help yourself from reaching for his hand as the elevator door closed, falling to your floor in the parking garage. you didn't have to ask him if he wanted to go to your place or his. yours was closer, so you were going there. you two made some small talk on the drive, but primarily listened to the orchestral radio station.

"you know you're safe here," you reminded him as you both stood by the door, kicking off your work shoes and throwing your go-bags on the floor by the door. "i know," spencer sighed, clearly holding back on his emotions. "we can talk, if you want, or we can go shower and go to bed." you knew giving him options would make him feel more secure. "we can talk, i guess," he prompted, making his way to the couch. when you sat next to him, he did not hesitate to pull you close, needing the security of your touch.

"the case?" you questioned, making sure you were on the same page. you felt him nod against your shoulder. "i know the ones with kids are hard." this was true for the entire team, a blanket statement to get him to open up. you heard him sniffle as he buried himself closer to you.

"hey, hey, hey," you cooed, running your hands gently through his hair, "it's okay to cry, spence." you reminded him before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. he nodded against your shoulder, and you could feel the stream of tears falling from his eyes. what started as a drizzle ended in a downpour. his body racked with sobs. you tried to steady his body as much as possible, feeling him shake like a chihuahua.

you held him close, cooing things like "i got you", "it's gonna be alright", and "i love you, spence," as you rubbed circles into his back. it took a few minutes, but he calmed down eventually. "i-i'm sorry," he stuttered as he sat himself up, "i just hate seeing those kids end up like that." you nodded, unsticking stray hairs from where his tears feel, and pushing them behind his ear. "you never have to be sorry, spencer. you're human. we have emotions and we cry, it's okay." he nodded at your words, pulling you close again.

[mentallyisekaid]

「 ✦ Fatui Harbingers x Signora's Sister! Reader, PART 3.5✦ 」

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5 Part 3 [Part 3.5]

It's highly recommended to read the parts in order, otherwise few things will make sense!

A/N ~ I ACTUALLY GOT A CHAPTER OUT. Anyway, the next one might take... another while. I've got other stuff going on and life can be kinda chaotic sometimes. Hope you enjoy this one, though :')

Warnings: I'm not sure what to list here; slightly angsty stuff maybe, I also feel like Dottore & Pantalone are a warning of their own

Word count: 2.9k

---

More often than not, family wasn't the manifestation of perfect, unconditional love that you could foolishly rely on. Something... that would never harm you. Because this was, in the end, just what humans were like - so easily blinded by things like greed, anger and envy that they were bound to end up hurting those around them.

You'd learned this yourself a long time ago, and witnessing it again hardly should have swayed you anymore. But what it did was bring up memories; a hurtful echo that even time couldn't drown.

And this mission only served to remind you of what a 'lovely' thing blood relations could be...

"Who are they?" you finally asked, breaking the pointless silence.

Inside the cabin Dottore and Pantalone had led you into, you'd faced a young mother and her two children. Judging by how they looked, the three were undoubtedly victims of unjust fate, yet somehow unfazed even as Harbingers waltzed into their home. A certain dignity in their eyes never faded...

Then again, this was just what Snezhnayans were like.

"Well, these people here are yours to handle, miss 12th. If you please." The Doctor's words were somehow vague, and Pantalone's expression, too, implied that such a roundabout answer was probably not the entire truth.

Since it wasn't clear what anyone expected you to do, you could only test the waters.

With a somewhat polite smile on your lips, you addressed the residents. "Hello, ma'am. Hello, little ones~"

No response. Somehow unsurprising, seeing as you were a Harbinger; one half of Snezhnaya feared you, the other despised you.

And yet, they went and got involved with the Fatui anyway. How stupid!

You glanced at Pantalone. The Banker seemed oddly delighted about the situation, hence, it likely had something to do with Mora. Then again, this man always did seem like he was enjoying himself thoroughly.

As for Dottore, he was the silently measuring these people with his gaze, a sinful smile on his lips. You decided not to decipher what his thoughts on the matter were, or what, pray tell, was this corrupt heretic even doing on a field mission...

Their questionable work ethics were beyond your remit anyway.

"Now then," you sighed, "what are we sensible people dealing with here, and why won't anyone tell me?"

The woman gave a derisive scoff, finally speaking.

"Ha, it looks like Pantalone and company brought along yet another recruit this time - but she's just a little girl!~ How amusing."

"Careful there, I'm definitely old enough... And, by title, a full-fledged Harbinger. So," your smile was innocent yet subtly menacing, "...let's not get too uncivil now; we wouldn't want to upset your children."

Or maybe you don't actually care about them at all?

The young siblings stood firmly by their mother's side, observing you with lilac eyes as cold yet fragile as hoarfrost.

They're so brave. But perhaps brave for the wrong person, much like I once was. In that sense, I probably shouldn't be the one to meddle in whatever it is that's going on here... I want my paycheck, though.

Pantalone and Dottore had watched your interaction with amused curiosity while lingering near the doorway, wanting to see just how their little Harbinger would behave on her first mission.

But one slightly vexed look from you, and they deemed it best to give the situation a little push forward.

As the two men walked forward, stopping on each of your sides, both of them placed a praiseful hand on your shoulder. You hadn't actually done anything yet, but welcomed this with a content smile regardless~ These affectionate gestures hardly went unnoticed by anyone in the room, yet only a fool would have dared to make a comment about it!

"Now then, Dominika," Pantalone addressed the woman with a complacent smile. "It's high time to pay off your debt, don't you think?

A debt?

"Oh, I'm certain she agrees." Dottore commented. "Of course, there are alternative means of paying back. I could offer plenty."

You sighed. Pity those who had to do business with these two!

But this 'Dominika' woman seemed unbothered...

"Then, Lord Regrator," the lady commented, her voice as sharp as ice. "I ask that you show at least some decency. I don't have the whole sum gathered yet, so do wait for a month longer, as I'm certain that someone like you is not so short on Mora that you should have the heart to harass me like this."

Well, at least she had backbone? Though, it seemed to cover up something utterly immoral.

Pantalone entwined his fingers, the numerous silver rings decorating them clinking presumptuously.

"But, my friend, surely you realize that what you owe the Northland Bank is at least three times the amount I'm now here to collect. You've had plenty of time to pay back, too. Moreover, I surmise you have quite a profitable job? After all, when taking such monumental loans from us - 3 million Mora, to be exact - you must have been well prepared to return it. With interest, naturally~"

Ah, so that was it.

Yet, it made you frown. 3 million Mora? Something fishy was going on here!

You chuckled, patting his shoulder. "But, dear Pantalone..."

The log cabin - not even a house - was thoroughly ramshackle, it was freezing cold inside and there was an unpleasant, moldy smell in the air. And those two children looked so malnourished and sickly that it was hard to believe they'd had a proper meal or felt the warmth of a home in years, if ever.

...so then, where had all that money gone?

You gazed at the siblings, a sister and a brother, who stood by their mother's side, clearly not entirely oblivious despite of their young age yet devoted to shield their parent's crimes.

And you of all people had no right to condemn them for that.

The two Harbingers were observing you keenly, shrewd smiles on their faces, almost as if expecting you to do something unfavorable for the Fatui.

I swear, Pierro and his infinite need to test anyone and everyone!

Well, this certainly wasn't the time to question anyone's loyalties. You wanted to disclose this particular matter anyway...

"You don't have the money, then?" you questioned Dominika, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, and you don't even need it, so you damn cretins better leave us alone," she spat with such disrespect and malice that even the Balladeer would have been impressed.

"There's no need for such a violent tone-"

"Violent?" Dominika chuckled darkly. "The Fatui are the only true violence Snezhnaya has ever seen."

"Tut-tut," you scolded her. "The Fatui do NOT wish to harm the people, nor will they do so without a reason. If one of us has harmed you just for the sake of being cruel, I shall see myself that they are punished tenfold..."

"However," you looked at the kids, then at back their mother, "ma'am herself is not so innocent either, it seems?"

She threw you a nasty look. "You dare accuse me-"

"Then, does Dominika suggest the money just vanished into thin air?"

"I-I know! I can tell you," the little boy, no older than six, suddenly exclaimed. For their sake, it was better that at least somebody was smart enough to talk.

Guilt flashed in the mother's eyes before she raised her hand in a hasty attempt to silence her child. But before she could, Pantalone had moved swiftly to grab her arm, an ominous smile on his lips.

"Now, now, Dominika..."

Yet, someone was quick to follow their mother's lead. The girl was surely only eleven or so, but the look in her eyes was fierce as she slapped the back of her brother's head.

"Don't forget our promise, Lazár," she reprimanded the boy. "No tattletaling."

"I'm sorry, Liliya..."

You fixed 'Liliya' a warning look, though it quickly softened - the brave yet somehow lost look in her eyes reminded you a bit of yourself. But she desperately needed a reality check. No child should feel the need to cover up their parents' sins...

The girl didn't flinch as you cupped her cheek with your cold hand. This made you smile a bit.

"Liliya, was it? You don't have to protect your mother, you know. What has she done to deserve such devotion?"

"..."

Sighing, you turned to her brother.

"Does your mommy have... a lot of Mora?"

"Maybe..."

"And she uses that Mora to take care of you and your sister? To buy you food, warm clothes and... toys?"

Lazár tilted his head. "Mama gets us bread from the city."

"And what else does she buy?" Dottore asked with a subtle smirk on his lips, clearly in the know of everything relevant but insistent on letting you figure it out yourself.

The boy frowned as he searched for the right words (or wondered whether he should've kept his mouth shut after all).

"...Golden cans! There's nothing inside, though. You have to pay a lot of Mora to get them... Then the misters come, and take those. Liliya says they smell like foreigners - spices and the ocean. Mama gets big bags of Mora from them. But we're not supposed to know, so we don't really... know," he finally finished.

Canned knowledge? All the way in Snezhnaya?

You glanced at the Doctor, but he only gave you an amused look and shook his head, implying that he wasn't involved in this - not this time, at least.

Something still felt off, though.

"Even so, Dominika... your debt equals millions of Mora. It's clear that loan hasn't been used to take care of your family. I'm not judging you for smuggling foreign goods, per se. But then, on my travels I've also become quite familiar with Sumeru's market, and even canned knowledge isn't that expensive."

You sighed, "Well, forbidden knowledge, perhaps. Do enlighten me?"

Dottore broke his. "Marvellous, it seem Y/N truly is as knowledgeable in this particular matter as the Director claimed. I wonder why that is, hm?"

Another story, another time.

"But for what reason does she smuggle, if not to get money to feed her children?" Pantalone smiled.

Liliya had been quiet since earlier. She shrugged and spoke in an emotionless tone, "Mama has different family in a different land. They're important people. Dangerous people. I don't know. That's probably where the Mora goes, too."

"Ah, is that so?" You smiled darkly. What a disloyal woman.

The girl hesitated. "For them, she... runs all kinds of errands. But that money, too, just goes... poof."

Pantalone nodded. "Yes, Dominika here is quite the magician~"

Dottore clicked his tongue. "I suppose you would know."

"Let's try to behave ourselves..."

But really, the issue at hand was practically clear by now.

Smiling at the kids, you patted their heads and gave them two apples from under your cloak.

"Here, have some snacks as a 'thank you'... Liliya, take your brother to play outside for a bit, okay?"

Liliya just shrugged nonchalantly, taking Lazár's hand and leading him out of the cabin.

It was quiet for a while.

You stared at Dominika with a frown.

Dottore and Pantalone smiled ominously.

"You're a Snezhnayan," you pointed out, "yet your own kin is worth this little to you?"

The woman shrugged. "I do what I know I have the right to. There's nothing unholy about that."

"What about your children?"

"I never asked for them. Their father was a wretch. Hasn't my world, my Snezhnaya, already been cruel enough to me? And only a fool would to go out of their way to selflessly take care of children that life is going to treat unkindly regardless." She smiled darkly. "Plenty of people in this cold land have been on their own since childhood. I know I was, yet here I am, because I learned to survive."

Again, you could only judge a person so far.

You nodded. "I see. I'm not a saint, either. I... was not loved by my parents, either. I'm not sure if I can love like that, either."

"However," you paused for a bit, gazing out of the window at Liliya and Lazár who were busy building a snowman, "as someone who serves the Archon of Love, there is one sin I cannot overlook... a parent forsaking their child."

A wistful smile curved your lips, "For as much as Liliya and Lazár are your children, they are the Tsaritsa's children as well. And she loves all her children fiercely~"

Dominika was silent. Perhaps because she did not care. Perhaps because she did.

Regardless, the time of her retribution was nigh. And, in the end, it was also for a reason much simpler than the 'crime' of being an unloving mother...

She didn't have Pantalone's money, and that was that.

The Banker walked to stand by your side, softly brushing your cheek with the back of his gloved hand. The rings felt cold, yet the touch was somehow... incredibly warm.

"What does Y/N wish to do with those children, then?"

You smiled.

"The House of the Hearth is no heaven... but it's better for Liliya and Lazár there than out on the streets by themselves. And despite what ignorant people say, Arlecchino is not a monster - I'll personally ask her to look after these two."

And I will look out for them as well, so that they will never have to make the same mistakes I did.

Sudden anger flashed in Dominika's lifeless eyes. She took a quick step forward with her hand raised threateningly. "You witch-"

...I dare you.

But Dottore had already pulled you back a bit, a few centimeters behind him.

You smiled.

"I'm quite capable of protecting myself, Doctor~"

"Quite, but it's her I was shielding. That's a scary gaze you have there, Y/N, and as much as I'd enjoy observing just how violent you can be, Pierro specifically asked us to fetch this woman with all her limbs still attached."

You pouted. " I wasn't going to-" Not too much, at least!

Zandik chuckled, patting your head. "Yes, yes, I believe you~"

The woman didn't speak another word nor struggle when a couple of Fatui agents came in and restrained her - who knows if this was proof of the dignity of a Snezhnayan, or the lack thereof.

Dottore injected her with something that dimmed the last flicker of a flame still glowing in those dull eyes.

You frowned at this.

"Just a mild sedative, don't worry," said the Doctor and you dared not question it further - though you probably should have...

---

After Dominika was gone, and Liliya and Lazár had been sent on their way to the House of the Hearth, Snezhnaya's sun had reached its zenith.

You stood outside in the snow, a hand shielding your eyes from the cold, pale yellow rays.

Pantalone had since remained inside the cabin with his subordinates, likely discussing the distraint of the property - not that it was worth much anything.

Celestia knows where Dottore had gone...

A hollow ache was left in your chest.

Was it resentment, melancholy, indifference, all of the above, or perhaps something else that you just couldn't admit to feeling - regardless, it was there.

But who would you have shed a tear for? It would've just frozen in this frigid weather anyway.

"Shall we head back, dear?" Pantalone's soft voice came from next to you. Dottore had disappeared and then appeared again, now standing on your other side, humming to himself while resting a hand on your shoulder.

Back...

"I think I'll stay behind for a bit. I've got an errand to run nearby." Your voice was devoid of any emotion, faltering ever so slightly.

It wasn't a lie, but at most, a half-truth. You really just wanted some time to clear your head - just a little more to pull yourself together, so that your Harbingers wouldn't discover too big of a crack in your defences.

Being vulnerable was quite scary.

"No, no, that won't do at all." Pantalone looked down at you sternly yet gently. "I couldn't possibly agree to leave our little Y/N here in such a state."

"I'm fine."

"Y/N is very strong, after all."

He leaned closed, his breath fanning across your cheek.

"But I do find there is a certain irresistible charm about strong people who think they need to be tough all the time. It makes their broken parts appear all the more beautiful~"

You frowned. "Um... I-I see. Is that so, huh..."

Dottore sighed, wrapping his outer cloak around yours.

"In any case, Pierro would be quite displeased if we were to tell him that we diligently finished the job, but lost our precious little Harbinger somewhere in Snezhnaya..."

His comment actually made you chuckle a bit, along with the fact that this impossible duo seemed more than ready to (gently) drag you back to the Headquarters if you really tried to stay.

"Heh~"

The Doctor suddenly leaned closer, lifting his mask to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. Uncharacteristic, and a bit weird? Well, not really, since it appeared this really was one of his "gentler" segments. What instead stole your attention were those strikingly red eyes...

It was the first time you'd seen his face fully uncovered.

You didn't know how to feel about that. You didn't know how too feel about a lot things these days.

And, maybe... that was okay.

"Shall we go home, then?" The Doctor held your hand.

"Little Harbinger?~" Pantalone also held your hand.

You smiled. 'Home' was perhaps not the right term. Not yet, at least. But in that moment, it didn't really matter. Sometimes just trusting someone, even if not completely, was enough.

And so...

"Mm, let's go home~"

[piratemadi]

hi :) this is certainly a question out of nowhere but i’ve been rewatching black sails and i just got to the part with max & drowning the cat and i feel like i’m MISSING smth djdnjd i can see the metaphor for fixing the cause not the symptoms but idk is there smth more do u think?? wld love to hear what u think if u can :-)))

this ask is 4 months old but ty for sending it :* but literally max's greatest counterrevolutionary moment like her drowning the cat isn't just abt fixing the "cause" of the problem it's pinpointing an innocent suffering animal as the "cause" of the problem as opposed to the cause being the cruelty of the father. max isn't actually interested in solving problems systemically even tho she's well aware of their existence (& even has a reasonably good understanding of them!) bc she's a deeply pessimistic, misanthropic, & faithless person as a result of what she's been thru. she does not believe the father (whether that refers to richard guthrie's father or to her own father or the empire as father) can be or will be changed or destroyed. so the solution is to kill the cat, because it's small & easy to kill.

it's interesting bc when you think of the resistance portrayed by the show you don't see the pitiable & weak. yes we have women & children involved but the pirates & the maroons are not easy victims! i think what max more directly means here in her conversation with marion guthrie is to kill the spirit of the resistance. remember what destroys the revolution isn't public executions or mass re-enslavement, it's the strategic dismantling of the most powerful factions & their relationships with one another. she is killing the most innocent & beautiful thing about the revolution, which is the will towards unqualified liberation, solidarity, & hope.

in another way tho & this is what makes it so delicious max is also talking abt herself. she is without reservation the most physically defenseless main cast member & she is repeatedly punished for that fact. she's killing the cat in the bahamas but she's also killing a part of herself! this is what max does it's a trademark part of her character she kills parts of herself so that other parts may survive. in this conversation she is amputating a part of herself that she realizes will not survive an alliance with guthrie. so she kills it on her own terms.

the sad thing is that it's never going to work. the will to revolution is never going to truly die. suffering will always go on. max will always have to retreat farther & farther. there will always be more sacrifices to make. because the truth is that this kind of system functions on suffering the empire runs on misery & inshallah people will always resist it. people will always fight for their survival, homes, families, & to live & die in dignity. so she will keep drowning the cat & it will keep coming back. truly the greatest character ever written

[tenderleavesbob]

Link was going to be sick.

Oh Goddess. Oh, Hylia. By the Three. Anyone who would listen. 

Please. No.

His legs trembled under him as he walked past the chained traitors. Many of the traitors returned to normal when Ghirahim’s magic died, but not all. Some truly believed in Ganon’s cause or just hated Hyrule or who knew what their stupid reason was. They were traitors and murderers, and right then, Link hated them all.

Link walked past the traitors, past the loyal soldiers who were unable to look at him as he passed, past the weeping and grieving and shocked warriors. Not even during the war had any of them seen anything like this.

For the first time since the war ended, Link found himself grateful that Tune and Mask had gone home. He couldn’t imagine either of them being here for this.

He walked to the edge of the pit and looked down. The stench struck him first, and it took every ounce of discipline not to gag. He clenched his fists and felt his magic burn like dragon fire inside him.

“All of the traitors have been caught and the fort cleared out, Captain,” Lieutenant Pelin said quietly, stepping beside him. He was an older man, steady, and Link was desperately grateful that he was there. Several feet behind them, Link heard one of the Knights throwing up.

“And all of the…” Link faltered for a moment. There were too many words he could use, and none of them felt appropriate. Bodies. Sacrifices. Children. “Victims. Is this all of them?”

Pelin nodded. He looked gray. He gestured toward the pit. “They. The bastards sacrificed them all here, Captain.”

War orphans. Homeless. Without families. Far too easy for them to go missing and have no one report it. How long had this been going on? Link wondered, forcing himself to look again at the pit. To not look away. They deserved his attention now since he didn’t give it to them in life.

“And they thought that this would bring Ganon back?” Link asked quietly. His hatred and contempt didn’t slip through. Link didn’t dare let it.

“Yes, Captain.” Pelin bowed his head, and Link heard him whisper prayers to the Goddesses.

When Ghirahim enchanted Link’s soldiers to turn against him and his, he called upon his own god. Lana said that Ghirahim’s dark god had been the cause of this mess so very long ago. Demise, Ghirahim and Lana had called him.

That was the only god there in that dark, bloody pit. Link clenched his fists and felt his rage roar to life inside him. His magic thrummed like a second heartbeat. The Triforce burned like a brand on the back of his hand.

There were so many innocent children. Lost children without names, without families. Their deaths witnessed by traitors and the Goddesses alone.

“Captain?” Pelin asked, stepping backward. Link growled and yanked out his sword. It wasn’t the Master Sword, but it had carried him through many a battle, and the steel lit white with Link’s magic now.

Thunder rumbled above them. The soldiers’ tears quieted, replaced by distressed murmuring. Link swore he could feel the thunder in his bone, feel the rising storm in his blood.

Link raised his sword. Lightning crackled above him. His soldiers began shouting. The traitors began screaming. “Farore!” he called. “Please, hear me!”

Rain began to fall. Link’s eyes burned. He felt like he was drowning. 

Fi had told him how to do certain sword techniques and how some of them had been used to defeat a dark god so long ago. He had never asked for the dark god’s name. He wished he had.

“Lady Farore!” Link screamed. “Goddess of Courage! Help me!”

He didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He didn’t know what exactly he wanted Her help with. It didn’t matter. Farore responded to Her champion’s wild prayers.

Lightning split the sky. Link raised his sword high and caught it, just like Fi had taught him. He swung the sword down and the lightning hit the pit like a hammer from the Goddesses themselves.

The light was too bright for anyone to see what truly happened. Pelin whispered to him later that it was like the world exploded.

When Link’s vision returned, he found himself on his knees, weeping, burns going all the way up his left arm. The pit, the fortress, the sacrifices… Everything was gone. The land had been wiped clean. Only stone remained.

“Captain, Captain, your arm… We need to… Captain!”

His sword was in pieces in front of him. Good. Let it, and the souls of those lost children, rest in Farore’s eternal embrace.

Uncaring of his burns, Link buried his face in his hands and cried.

[tobiasdrake]

Thinking about redemption yesterday got me thinking about fallen heroes today, and how rare it is to see a character initially painted as a hero be driven to heinousness for legitimate reasons.

Often times, if a hero goes bad, it's because of an external force corrupting their mind. Or it's a misunderstanding and they were secretly still good all along. Or they were just having a rough day and they'll be good again in five minutes.

We rarely see get to see heroes go sour purely on their own merits. Maybe because their values weren't so benign as they'd seemed when pushed to a natural conclusion. Maybe because they expected too much of themselves or of others. Or maybe personal experience taught them to believe something else.

Whatever the case, as often as writers will attempt to examine the transformative power of better angels, we rarely get to see the transformative power of worse devils.

Which brings me to....

Sayaka Miki is a character that holds a special place in my heart, not for overcoming her flaws but for being consumed by them. She's a cautionary tale into the perils of righteousness.

I need to preface this by bringing up that the characters of Madoka Magica are children. They're irrational, judgmental, ignorant of risk, and quick to throw themselves into horrible mistakes with absolute confidence. Because they're children. That's how this works. The villain of the series is a psychological predator who feeds on the impulsivity and poor judgment of youth, grooming them into self-destruction.

The entire system of Magical Girls exists to give these children enough rope to hang themselves with and then to kick the ladder out from under them. That is the plot, with Sayaka being the primary means by which the show demonstrates the complete journey from rope to ladder.

I just. I need you to understand that even at her worst, Sayaka is a victim of predatory incentives and calculated coercions meant to cultivate her worst traits while stripping her of hopes and dreams. To drown her in mistakes she could never take back. She didn't have the life experience to know better. That's why her predator targets children.

Sayaka's rope is woven from virtuous self-image. It's not immediately apparent when we meet her, but Sayaka's fatal flaw is ego. Her moral compass is wound extremely tight, and it's only later that we realize it's wound around her neck.

Like many children, Sayaka is trying on an identity moreso than expressing her inner self. She wants to be altruistic. She wants to be selfless. She wants to be a true hero. She wants to live by nothing more than high-minded ideals, expecting no reward for her efforts (but receiving it all the same).

She wants to be the kind of person that Mami was.

But she has no idea who Mami was. She wasn't there to see Mami fracture. To see her break down in vulnerability and express the isolating misery she lives in.

Sayaka didn't see that. She only saw how cool Mami looked when she was killing Witches. So when she tries on an identity, she's specifically trying on the identity of Mami - blissfully unaware that her interpretation of Mami was nothing but a mask. She is emulating the behavior of a victim already consumed by the predatory incentives she's accepting.

Sayaka was doomed from the moment she made her wish.

Once again, the show does a brilliant job of concealing this at first. Right off the bat, it's easy for Sayaka to be the hero. She saves both her BFFs Madoka and Hitomi from a Witch in her debut adventure, before being immediately thrust into a moral argument that's super easy for her to win.

This is what a hero looks like! Should we stand by and let monsters eat people YES/NO

Sayaka says no. Sayaka says letting monsters eat people is bad. Solid Bioware-level moral dilemma she's got here. Sayaka won +10 Paragon points for the choices she picked out of this conversation tree, lemme tell you!

Moments like this work to disguise what's going on here with Sayaka. Obviously Sayaka's making good choices and doing the right thing when the alternative is Kyoko going "Want me to break your crush's limbs so he needs you for life support?" That's awful, so since Sayaka's against it then that means she must be right. Right?

Kyoko is the devil. Sayaka is the paragon.

But this is a story about nuanced and complex people. Sayaka isn't that person. Sayaka likes the idea of being that person. She's being dishonest - With herself, with others around her, and with the universe.

She's trying on an identity, not fully understanding who she really is or what her limitations are.

Incidentally, so is Kyoko, which is what makes their Yin and Yang dichotomy so potent. Having never been tested like this before, Sayaka is more selfish than she truly understands - While Kyoko, damaged by trauma, is more selfless than she wants to believe.

The thing Sayaka doesn't quite grasp is that, to an extent, it's okay to be selfish. It's okay to want things for yourself. Again, the identity she's trying to live up to was a lie to begin with. She only saw the mask; Never the humanity underneath. So she fails to recognize her own humanity; Her own needs and wants and desires.

She imprisons her own mind in a cage of altruism.

Sayaka is warned multiple times against spending her wish on another person. But she doesn't understand the perils of it. She lacks the necessary perspective to grasp the level of sacrifice she's making. (Because she is a child. I cannot stress this point enough.)

When she makes her wish, Sayaka wants her sacrifice reciprocated. She wants to be rewarded. But she doesn't want to want that. She wants to be the selfless hero for Kyosuke. To silently grant him a miracle because it's the right thing to do for her friend. But she expects, without consciously thinking about it, that the universe will deliver her nice things because she is good.

But life doesn't work like that. It doesn't give you things you aren't willing to reach for. Sayaka said she just wanted him to be happy. She just wanted to help people. She just wanted to dedicate her life to virtue and altruism, with no wants or needs or desires of her own.

Kyoko was being cruel and unfeeling when she suggested crippling Kyosuke; She was trying to express a mask of selfishness, the same way Sayaka's been trying to express a mask of selflessness. But she wasn't the only person telling Sayaka that it was a mistake to do this. She's just the only person who said it after the fact.

So the universe calls her bluff. While Sayaka waits for her sacrifices to be rewarded, fracturing more and more from learning what those sacrifices truly entail, someone else claims her prize. The work gets harder, not just physically but emotionally. And she only gets what she asked for. Nothing more.

This is what a hero looks like. She wanted to be Mami.

Remind me. What was Mami's reward for her sacrifices?

Oh. Yeah. That's right.

The thing of it is, there is a reward for a Magical Girl's sacrifices. There is a prize you're meant to receive for the unjust hardships and self-destruction that you're volunteering to undertake.

It's the fucking wish.

That she, in her righteousness, gave away.

Sayaka's rope is woven from virtuous self-image. Her fatal flaw is ego. She was undone by arrogance expressed in ignorance, not of glory the way we often think of egotistic people, but of righteousness. She held herself to a standard no reasonable person could ever live up to, and it crushed her as it came crashing down.

And yet, she was a victim all the same. Because she was walked, hand-in-hand, to that pier by a predator. Children are meant to learn from their mistakes. Not to die for them.

[armandsfangs]

Gremlin Armand in a warehouse drenched in blood and drunk on it with a pile of drained corpses in the background rotting away. Drowning his sorrows as he thinks of a way to get things in order and get Daniel back into his life.

"I deserve this..." he strokes the face of a shaking victim. "If only you could understand that your sacrifice-" He freezes as he senses something approaching.

A door flies off its hinges and crashes nearby.

"Hey asshole!" Daniel marches in, eyes gleaming. "Did you save any for me?"

Armand's eyes widen, round and lamplike in the gloom. For a moment, it's like he's frozen between fight or flight.

Then the human in his grasp squeals.

With his gaze still fixed on Daniel, his slender fingers slash across the human's neck. Blood dribbles out of the wound as it gasps in pain. Wordlessly, Armand shoves the writhing human to the filthy floor in front of Daniel. He watches, pupils dilated, as Daniel seizes it by the arm and takes a long drink from its bleeding neck until its body slumps over, lifeless. Daniel licks his lips, and the flash of his long fangs stirs the groggy blood in Armand's veins.

"Are you here to take revenge, fledgeling?" He spits out the last word.

Daniel snorts. "Revenge? Why would I do that? You did me a favor, boss." He smirks at Armand's tremulous expression. "Even if it was about 40 years late."

Armand doesn't move from his gargoyle position atop the stinking pile of bodies even as Daniel closes the distance. He hisses. "You were always too naïve. You still don't see the nature of the curse."

"I see more than you think. I see everything that matters right here." Surprisingly gentle fingers run through blood-matted hair. Round orange eyes blink up at Daniel.

Then Daniel yelps as Armand's fangs sink into his hand. "You fucking asshole!"

Armand smirks, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. It lasts for about half a second before Daniel tackles him and they wrestle in a bloody flailing heap, laughing like children.

When the dust settles, and they're lying next to each other, giddy and out of breath, maybe one of them whispers, "I missed you."

(Wow that turned out longer than I thought, thanks so much for inspiring me, anon!)

[flowerandblood]

Sweet kiss, sweet blood (1)

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, profanation, mention of the murders ]

[description: A centuries-old vampire lives in Victorian England, bored and discouraged. His old friend sends him a letter, inviting him to his new country house. Aemond arrives there to rest. Next to the property, there is a small chapel, visited by the faithful. It turns out that at night, a young lady prays in it. Slow burn, sexual tension, profanation, murder, blood drinking.]

I owe the idea for this wonderful series to: @qyburnsghost

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He had no idea when he began to feel that life was boring him. As he thought about it, he realized that it had been happening slowly, over the years. Year after year, he began to lose interest in the things that used to occupy him.

People came and went like flowers that sprout in the spring and wither in the fall. The indifference he felt made him feel comfortable. He felt like a black, cold hole, like a damp cellar under a house where little children are afraid to go down.

It didn't bother him. He fed on human blood, but tried not to kill his victims, unless he had to. He figured that their lives were short enough already.

At first he was out of control and couldn't remember what he was doing. He would wake up lying around dead bodies, with horror written on their faces, bitten and bloodstained. It was a terrible sight, and he usually vomited when he saw it. Then he got used to it.

He remembered clearly the night when he had been turned into a vampire. His nephew injured him during a saber duel, depriving him of one eye. The woman who treated him told him that she could make him take revenge on him.

That he will be invincible.

Drowning in pain and grief, he agreed before he thought what he was doing. The pain he felt when she bited him was indescribable. Then she bited her own wrist and kissed him, forcing him to drink her own blood.

It was over.

Alys was his lover and companion for many years afterwards. She didn't mind his antics. In killing she was even more brutal than him. He had a feeling that she was enjoying it.

She once told him that her first victim was her childhood rapist and abuser, a family friend.

She confessed to him that a person changes after something like that, and even centuries can't make you forget it.

Eventually, however, their paths parted. Her elaborate feasts intertwined with orgies and drinking the blood of virgins began to tire him. He could not bear to look at it anymore. From her perspective human lives didn't matter. She trampled them like snails that happened to get in her way, sucking the life out of them.

He, which he found absurd, did not lose the faith in God that his mother had instilled in him. When Alys wasn't looking he would take out the little Bible that his mother had given him as a gift and pray. To his amusement, the Bible did not burn in his hands, the angels did not cast him down to the abyss, although sometimes he begged for it.

He didn't go outside on sunny days, unless he had to. After his transformation his skin was as thin as parchment, and although it regenerated on its own, exposure to sunlight caused him burning pain and discomfort.

When he was forced to leave his residence for some important business he wore his top hat, black, leather gloves and a long coat, even if it was summer.

He was never hot.

His skin always felt chilled or frozen.

After he parted ways with Alys he began traveling the country alone, exploring its countryside, staying in abandoned houses, feeding on animal blood when necessary. He needed no food or drink, not even sleep, though he liked to take naps under the stars, as he had when he was human.

One day, when he returned to his tenement house which he rented with the money of a man he had killed long ago − although not willingly, because the old man had a heart attack when he bited him − he found a letter lying on his floor.

He picked it up and looked at the seal. He already knew who the sender was. He opened the envelope, unfolded a piece of paper, and began to read.

"My dearest friend,

I heard you came back to your hometown. I am glad and I hope you are in good health. I've taken up a splendid new mansion in a wonderful country estate that I'm sure you'll love. The mansion is massive, and I feel lonely without company, which I don't count as random people who live nearby. I invite you to my place, so that we can reminisce about the old times and relax together. On the other side of the card I am sending you the exact address.

Greetings, Ser Criston"

Aemond sighed, as he put the letter back in the envelope, setting his top hat on the shelf above him, slowly unbuttoning his coat. The last few weeks and months had blurred into one, he had lost complete control of the flow of time.

He didn't make new friends, especially with people, because it didn't make sense. At first he tried, even had affairs with human women, but before he knew it they were getting old and starting families, and he was moving on. In his eyes, human life flew at several times faster.

Criston had been a vampire for less than he was, turned by someone against his will. He was the servant of one of the world's oldest vampire beasts.

His master was killed and he regained his freedom.

Because of what he had been through and the terror he had known, unlike other beings of their kind, he did not kill as willingly and often, trying to appreciate the value of someone's life.

They established a close, almost brotherly relationship, but their paths diverged several years ago.

He thought a change of scenery would do him good.

He ordered a carriage for the next morning to leave before sunrise. He had been dozing all day, the curtains of the carriage he kept closed to keep out the light.

He arrived late at night. He gave the coachman a few gold coins and set off through the dark, unsettling park. The moon was high above and a thick, summer fog was spreading around him.

He passed what he thought was an old chapel and stopped for a moment. He thought he saw faint candlelight there, but he wasn't sure. He decided it didn't matter and continued on his way to the noble manor on the other side of the park.

Criston greeted him at the entrance with open arms. Aemond's face, as always, was stony and expressionless, but deep down he was glad to see him.

They passed into the living room, rich in old paintings and furniture, with a large bearskin spread on the creaky wooden floor. Indeed, the interiors made a great impression. Criston poured them wine which they drank only for pleasure.

“It may look like a shack from the outside, but it's an amazing place on the inside. I bought this property for cash from an investor nearby. Nobody wanted to renovate such a place even for such money.” He grunted, as he was shown around the rooms that seemed endless.

"And the chapel?" He asked suddenly, surprising his companion who raised his eyebrows, as if he didn't quite understand the question. Then he began to nod, as if he had remembered something and agreed with him.

“Yes, the family that lived here had a chapel that is just behind the park. As far as I know, the locals use it sometimes to come to pray so as not to have to walk five kilometers to the nearest church.” He grunted as he moved on, showing him the room he was supposed to sleep in.

The bedroom was large, with a big, ornate oak bed with an elegant, four-poster spread out in front of them, a secretary by the window, a huge, wooden neoclassical wardrobe on the right, faded wallpaper with floral motifs on the walls.

"Someone was there right now." He said indifferently, walking over to the window.

The view was perfect over the park. Beyond it he saw the small chapel building. He studied the chapel intently, but no longer saw any light coming from her windows. He thought that maybe he was just imagining it.

"Truly? Well, I don't mind. I won't set my foot there." Criston grunted, inviting him back downstairs.

They spent the night talking about the years that they had spent in seclusion, about their experiences and thoughts. Aemond thought it was a good thing that he had come to see him. He felt a little less dead, as if he had awakened from a lethargy.

When day came, he drew the curtains and lay in bed, reading a book, not wanting to go anywhere. He decided that perhaps after dark he would go for a walk around the places that Criston had told him about. The countryside was said to be calming and thought-provoking, or so he said.

He went right after sunset to the park, crossing the shore of the lake nearby. He saw a pair of swans swimming across it, and for some reason he smiled to himself. He thought that no matter what atrocities he did, no one could change the course of nature. He envied these animals the blissful ignorance they lived in.

He walked several kilometers on foot, making a great circle. By the time he made his way back through the same park to the mansion. It was completely dark and the sky was brightening again with the moon.

He glanced involuntarily at the chapel he was passing and stopped. Again, there was barely visible, warm light from her windows. He noticed that her front door was ajar.

He thought he wanted to pray.

He walked in that direction, stepping inside noiselessly. He surveyed the small room with several rows of benches and an altar and froze. In the front row, in one of the pews sat a small, delicate figure. Next to her stood a single candle which she must have brought with her. She was kneeling, bent over, not even noticing him.

Her small, slender fingers were intertwined, placed in front of her, a prayer book above them. Her eyes were closed, apparently absorbed in fervent prayer. With her black hair down, white nightgown and ruby scarf draped over her shoulders, with a warm halo of light around her head, she looked like a saint. He stared at the sight, unable to move.

Suddenly she shivered, as if she felt a sudden chill, and looked around involuntarily. When she saw him her eyes widened in horror.

She rose quickly, covering herself with a shawl, the sound stuck in her throat. Standing up, she nearly knocked over the candle that was standing next to her. Her movement brought her scent to his nostrils. He had to clench his mouth and fists to keep from throwing himself at her.

He heard her swallow hard, recovering from her initial shock, calming down slightly, though still looking at him fearfully. She didn't know what to do. He suspected that she was afraid he would rape her.

He looked down, trying to control himself. He walked over to the last bench in the row next to hers, sitting down there. He pulled his Bible out of the inside pocket of his coat, opened it in front of him and began to read.

The girl, seeing this, slowly began to relax. She pursed her lips, looking around anxiously, apparently debating whether to leave or stay. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her body tremble, saw the silhouette of her soft thighs through the material of her nightgown.

Her face and eyes were light and gentle, dark lashes and eyebrows framing her face pleasantly. Her full, pink lips turned red with horror, he could feel her blood rushing to her rosy cheeks. He tried not to think about the beating of her heart, which was pounding like a bell in his ears, and about her restless racing pulse.

Surprised, he found himself experiencing dissonance and two extreme feelings at once. Thirst was one thing, but the unbearable tightness in his pants and the heat in his lower abdomen were something he hasn't felt in years.

As she sat back in her seat, her back to him, he squeezed his eye shut, trying to control himself. He tried to divert his attention from her neck and focus on the Gospel he held in front of him.

They sat in complete silence, the only sound in the background was the quiet turning of their pages once in a while. After a few minutes he shuddered when he heard her stand up.

She hesitated for a moment as she was about to grab her prayer book. A mighty shudder went through him when he heard her soft, gentle voice.

"Would you like me to leave you a candle to read, sir?" She asked uncertainly.

Only now did he realize that ordinary people did not read in the dark. He decided that in order not to arouse suspicion he had to agree.

"Yes, if it's not a problem for you, miss." He said low and cold, looking at her intensely. He couldn't take his eye off her.

After a moment she looked at him, and he felt a bead of sweat trickling down his neck. His fangs sharpened as needles, his manhood pulsed hard in his pants. He gripped his Bible so tightly that he felt like he was about to crumple it.

He had never been so desperate.

The girl approached him hesitantly, lowering her eyes humbly, tightening the strong red material around her body, holding a prayer book to her chest.

It wasn't until she came closer that he noticed a tiny cross hung around her neck. He thought he couldn't protect her from anything.

She placed her candle in front of him, and he watched the graceful movement of her hand, her delicate, soft fingers. He swallowed hard as she pulled away, considering it a personal feat that she was still alive.

"Good night." She whispered, and he said nothing, staring straight ahead with a stony face.

She missed him, her scent more intense this time, filling his lungs again. He covered his face with his hand as he waited for her to leave. Hearing her go away, he exhaled loudly, squeezing his eye shut.

He tried to fool himself into thinking that he would never come here again, leaving her alone, letting her live in peace. He knew deep down that he wouldn't be able to rest until he had tried her in every possible way.

Until he suck into her lips, bit into her neck, drank the juices between her thighs. Distraught, he thought that this girl would be his ruin.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes

If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

I already did something a bit like this for Jesper, I didn’t think we’d have to be back here again but here we go:

NINA ZENIK IS NOT JUST COMEDIC RELIEF.

Spoilers for the whole series ahead, also warning for discussing Nina’s trauma (and a bit of Matthias’ as well but not in much detail)

Nina has no recollection of what her life looked like before she taken from her home at about 3 and raised in the military of an abusive government to become a child soldier under a compulsory draft for all Grisha in Ravka. When she was around fourteen Nina and a group of other children also being raised to be child soldiers were abducted by the Darkling and held captive at Keramzin, where we know little of what they underwent. This abusive government had so greatly manipulated Nina that by the time she was rescued and the compulsory draft against her people was lifted, her patriotism had become so intense that she begged (remember she was still a child at this time) to be sent on military missions where she would convince other Grisha to join the army. And on one of these missions, when Nina was sixteen, she was taken captive by Drüskelle; by an order of Witch-hunters purposefully constructed for the destruction of her people. And so terrified of implicating and endangering her compatriots she was, Nina did not cry for help.

Nina was held in a cage beneath the deck of a ship with several other Grisha, presumably for a minimum of two weeks, and treated like an animal. During those two weeks the Grisha on the ship were rarely fed, were rarely given access to clean water (Nina begging Matthias to bring them water ends up being what saved her life), were given nowhere to relieve themselves, underwent theats, violence, and dehumanisation, and travelled that entire time with the knowledge that when they reached their destination they would be put on trial and sentenced to death. Almost upon their arrival to Fjerda, the ship feel victim to a massive storm. If it weren’t for the jagged edge of the cup Matthias had given her that Nina used to cut through her bonds, she would have drowned to death in a cage. As it was, she was one of two survivors from the entire vessel and her singular companion was a Drüskelle. Nina and Matthias had to rely on each other, on someone part of the very thing they each identified as their abuser, not only to swim to shore, but to survive for weeks on end afterwards as they travelled across the ice. And in that time, Nina was able to find something in Matthias that she thought was impossible.

Matthias was like her. Matthias had gone through something so similar, and yet so horrifyingly different to her, and where Nina had come to hate and fear his people out of necessity he had come to hate and fear hers through the death of his family followed by years of manipulation and abuse at the hands of his government as it raised him to become a child soldier. And Nina and Matthias were able to look at each other, at 16 and 17 in the most horrendous hellish experience they could have fathomed, and learn who each other truly were. And they knew it would be harder for Matthias, they knew the things he had done - even though he admitted to himself he had never wanted to do them - were going to be so much harder to accept and to unlearn and to move away from. But they had a chance.

And then Nina, believing she had no other options left when Grisha were threatening to kill Matthias, betrayed him - and in doing so, she knew full well, was forced to betray herself. She fought for his freedom for a year, staying in Kerch when she could have just gone home, endangering her life and getting herself in debt to a gang leader in her attempts to save him, knowing all the while that Matthias would not forgive her and would, she now believed, never have the chance to undo all the hatred that had been forged upon him and learn to be the boy he could have been without the abuse of Jarl Brum. And when she finally managed to help him escape, the first thing he did was try to choke her to death.

Nina, now 17, travelled back not just to the country she was to be killed in and that she was shipwrecked and stranded in, but to the very place where her death sentence would have been held: The Ice Court. She was part of the crew that broke in and out of the most fortified prison in the world, and whilst she was there she learnt the Drüskelle leader, who had killed hundreds of her people and abused Matthias for years on end, whom she believed had drowned on the shipwreck a year ago was not only still alive but had also begun to experiment on her people with an impossibly addictive and life-endangering drug to use them as slaves in his army - in his words “these creatures were made to be weapons”. Only minutes after learning this she believes Matthias has betrayed her and that she will be the next victim of the drug, only for him to attack Jarl Brum, save her life, and vow that he will do everything in his power to learn how to change, and that he will protect her for the rest of their lives.

But upon their escape of the Ice Court, Nina (still seventeen) realised that she and her friends were trapped by the Drüskelle and had no options left but to be taken captive and/or killed (I’m mostly putting the and/or there for Kuwei, I expect the others would’ve been killed where they stood). So Nina turned around and took the drug, unbelievably addictive and life-endangering after a single exposure, so that she would have enough power to save her friends’ lives. She spent the following weeks/months horrendously ill, battled addiction for months on end following it, suffered the fear of her closest friend being kidnapped and knowing she was unable to help, and for long periods of time basically waiting for the drug to kill her. Nina survived, but then she had new problems to contend with. She found that the drug had altered her Grisha power, something not only that she had defined herself by her entire life but also what she had been taught was why she was valued. Nina felt that she was no longer part of the world she grew up in and relied upon, but over time as Matthias unlearned everything he’d been through and began to plan to change a nation’s thinking, Nina learned to accept, use, and love her newfound power.

They had such a chance, they had so much ahead of them, they could have done so much together. And then Matthias was shot and killed by a Drüskelle child soldier (I think he was 14?) who was being manipulated and abused the same way he once was whilst Matthias tried to convince him to change his mind, and then he died in Nina’s arms. Matthias was 18. Nina was 17.

NINA IS IN FOUR BOOKS. WHAT I’VE SAID SO FAR IS ONLY FROM TWO OF THEM.

It has been a long time since I read KoS/RoW and also I’ve been going on for way too long so this is going to be in a nutshell but here we go: Nina was sent on another mission to Fjerda by the Ravkan government, to give her the opportunity to bury Matthias at home and to gather intelligence on the country. She begins to develop feelings for Hanne, a Grisha heartrender hiding their abilities in order to survive, only to discover that Hanne is JARL BRUM’S CHILD. She meets the Drüskelle who killed Matthias and endangers herself on a daily basis living with the Brum family hiding who she really is. And as the situation only gets more and more complicated and the intelligence she’s gathering only starts running deeper and deeper, Nina ends up stuck with the Fjerdan government IN the Ice Court, hiding who she is and her abilities, alongside Hanne doing the same, FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE.

And yet through everything Nina continues to be unbelievably strong, in every sense of the word, she is compassionate and wonderful and brave and yes, she’s quick-witted and flirty and she loves a good joke but that isn’t all she is, that’s a testament to her ability to maintain herself and her core of who she is after going through so much.

PLEASE, I AM BEGGING YOU, STOP REDUCING NINA ZENIK TO COMEDIC RELIEF. NINA IS FUNNY AND FLIRTY AND SHE LOVES JOKES, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN THAT’S ALL SHE IS

[anastasiareyreed]

russia be like: we did it → Ukraine did it → it happened by itself.

and the world swallows it.

every time someone, sitting thousands of km from Ukraine, in safety and comfort, starts spreading theories in which "not everything is so clear-cut" and "it is not known who is guilty and who is lying", I lose faith in humanity.

nine years ago, russia said that it was not russian troops that invaded Ukraine. today the whole world knows that it was the russians, and the russians do not even deny it anymore.

last year, russia said that it would not launch a full-scale invasion, but we can all see that russia lied. again.

russia justified the invasion by "denazification of Ukrainians", although it is the russians who are known for the phrase "we can repeat" addressing to the Germans in relation to World War II. it is the russians who created the cult of the leader, spread their Z V swastika all over the world and promote the greatness of war.

russia justified the invasion as a "preemptive strike" so that Ukraine would not join NATO and NATO would not attack russia. although there were already NATO member countries on the border with russia. another cheap lie.

russia justified the invasion by the fact that in Ukraine "the russian-speaking population is oppressed". although even our president spoke russian before the invasion.

meanwhile, russian state channels simply say that Ukrainians annoy them, so Ukrainians must be destroyed.

russia said that it would not shell civilians, but russia began the invasion by shelling houses in the middle of the night and dropping bombs on sleeping civilians. on all of us.

russia said that its targets are only military facilities, but russia destroys entire cities and villages along with the population, killing Ukrainians every day.

since the beginning of the war, only Ukrainians have suffered. russians forcibly take Ukrainian children to the territory of russia, where the children are subjected to physical and psychological violence. with hard efforts, Ukraine managed to return a few, but currently about 30,000 Ukrainian children (only those who could be counted) are still in russia.

first the russians drowned the Ukrainians, and then they began a massive shelling of the flooded cities in order to kill those who survived and those who came to the rescue.

this is a full-scale invasion of russia on the territory of Ukraine. Ukrainians are dying. Ukraine's ecology is suffering. the russians openly declare that all of Ukraine must be destroyed. they talk about it every day on state channels, their politicians call for the extermination of Ukrainians.

russians set up torture chambers for Ukrainians, execute Ukrainians, cut off the heads, hands and legs of our people, rape children, film all of this and show off. the whole Tumblr would not be enough to list all the tragedies that russia has caused and for which we cry every day, commemorate the victims every day, mourn every day.

now the russians blew up the dam and flooded dozens of Ukrainian towns and villages. these are terrible consequences for Ukraine first of all. then for the world and environment. but not for russia.

and while the Ukrainians were left alone with another russian war crime, with a crime against humanity, against the environment, russia simply says "it's not us" and people still believe it, and russia gets away with a tragic crime again.

please be sensible, russia has been at war with all its neighbors, russia is still at war in Syria, russia has been shelling Syrians even when there was an earthquake! now that russia caused the flood in Ukraine, russians are shelling Ukrainians, trying to finish off the wounded and those who did not manage to evacuate.

russia is evil and russia always lies. these are long proven facts, and if you have never delved into the topic of russian wars before, listen to the victims, listen to those whose lives russia is trying to take away.

everything is very simple right now — take the side of Ukraine. of Syria. support good.