#every day the wailing and gnashing of teeth

[anonymusbosch]

love to be employed and watch remarkable numbers of people in management or executive level positions be wildly incapable of things like "prioritization" or "foresight" or "organization" or "people skills" or "hiring women" or "having a backbone" or "firing people who are so bad they make other people quit"

[kanerallels]

I'm rereading Valiant (again) and truly nothing will ever hit as hard as the entirety of chapter 39

[euphoriajunkie000]

underdog. prologue

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-7 years ago- 

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“The Jian, also known as the bird who shares wings. Only possesses one wing. Unless two people lean on each other and act like one, they’re incapable of flight. They’re imperfect, incomplete creatures.”

"But, for some reason, their way of life struck me as profoundly beautiful.....It was beautiful, I felt."

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...How do you explain to a child that their parents have just been murdered...?

...A seven year old child no less...

...Do you sugar coat it...?

...Or do you tell them the horrible truth...?

...Do you lie and say that they are in a better place now…

...A place wyoue they’re flying with beautiful, white wings…

...A place wyoue angels thrive…

...Or do you say the five words that nobody ever wants to hear… 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

...No one would ever want to be the person to break the news...

...But that was okay...

...Do you know why...?

...It's because you had to experience it yourself...

ღ

My darling,

It was late at night. The moon was shining over the dark night as stripes of the luminescent light was making its way through the windows. The scenery was still. It was beautiful. Too beautiful to even be real. But not everything had to have a grim setting in a tragedy like the stories your mother would read to you. No. This was your reality. And honestly, you didn't want anything to do with it anymore.

By the time you read this, everything has changed.

The moonlight was your one and only light source as you could only see what had laid out in front of you. You were crouching behind a rather large sofa, your hands over your mouth. The screams of escaping your parent's lips were horrifying. They kept on bouncing off the walls and you already knew that those wails of pain would forever haunt your dreams. You felt your heartbeat rising faster and faster as you broke out in a cold sweat. Your eyes were practically bulging out your head as you were afraid. Afraid of what would happen if you came out of your hiding spot. Afraid of what might happen if you even let out a squeak. Afraid of the dark figure that was in your house.

I won’t be able to wake up to your beautiful smile everyday.

When it all went quiet, you turned your head to the side to see what had exactly transpired. There was a man looming over your parents. He held a knife that was dripping with thick pearls of blood. "Where is she!" he yelled. "I’m not going to let any witnesses out of this damn house if it's the last thing I do!"

Or be able to see you on your wedding day.

"Get the hell out of my house!" your father yelled. His piercing blue eyes were gazing dangerously into the murderer's eyes. If he even did have the ability to move, there was no question he would kill the murderer with his own two hands. He would do anything to protect the only family that he had.

But I hope you know that your dad and I would do anything for you.

"Don't you even dare touch my darling!" your mother snapped with tears rolling down her face.

I hope when you're older, you can find this letter.

The man let out a *tsk* sound as the knife clattered to the floor. "Whatever," he said in a dangerously low voice. But you could tell that there was an evident smirk on his face. He grabbed the shirt collar of your father and raised him up. He gnashed his teeth together and slammed your father's head to the ground. He didn’t move after that. The villain bellowed at the top of his lungs, "I’ll search every square inch of this house if I have to!” You heard the creak of the white, carpeted staircase as the murderer began walking up the stairs slowly. Once it was dead silent, you had immediately scrambled away from the sofa.

As you looked around, your throat tightened up. There on the ground were your parents. It wouldn't even matter if the ambulance had arrived because by that time, they would have already left this world.

I know it hurts to finally realize that we’re gone by the time you read this.

Your breath hitched. your mother’s beautiful, long, pink hair was laid out in a fan. Her hair and clothes were drenched in blood. Some of it had started clotting around her recent wounds. Your father's black hair that was once combed neatly was now tangled up in a rat's nest. He had stab wounds that littered his body trying to protect your mother. They were laying on the once white carpet floor as their skin tones were a sickly pale color. The red liquid was everywhere. Not only was the blood dripping down the walls, but it was splattered on the floor in a horrifying manner. But the most heart-stricken thing you saw was your parent's eyes. They looked so dull and empty to the point you couldn't bear to look at them anymore. Your mother's once sparkling sea-foam green eyes and your father's deep, ocean blue eyes were now gray. Like they had lost any emotion connected to them in the world. You saw them barely move their fingers as they both tried to cling onto the last threads of life.

But it won't matter.

YOU FELT LIKE YOU COULDN'T BREATH.

Do you know why?

The most depressing part was the fact that they didn’t have the chance to name you. When holding the infant in their arms, they had a million thoughts running in their minds that were only filled with love. They had thought of a thousand dreams of what they wanted their beautiful little girl to achieve. Too bad they didn’t have the chance to see what their child grew up to be.

It's because we’ll be with you every step of the way.

Their names and actions would forever be engraved in your memory. If only someone could stop what was going to happen to you and the adversities you would be forced to face. 

Our ghostly fingertips will forever be connected to you, heart, mind, and soul.

It truly was such a shame for them to have died such a young age and quirkless as well. No wonder you felt so helpless, you felt like you were nothing. You felt like a zero, like you were worthless. 

You are worth so much.

You. Had. Nothing. 

Don’t feel grieved by what you couldn’t save.

If you had been a bit stronger, you could have saved them from this cruel fate. Your stomach was doing flips and front handsprings. You felt like you were about to puke. You had to get out of here, fast. You didn't want to see the sickly pale corpses of your parents.

If you ever miss us, call our names.

"M-mom? D-dad?"

If you can learn to do just that, you will be okay.

You didn’t know what to do other than to drop down onto your knees and intertwin your small fingers with theirs. Your lips began trembling as clear tears were about to flow down your face.

Don’t hide away.

You tried not to cry. You didn’t deserve to.

Never hold back your tears, you're trying so hard to be strong.

But as that same action replayed in your head, you couldn't hold it back anymore. "P-please... D-don't leave me... This is a joke right...?" You gripped harder. "...so please..." You inhaled a deep breath as you snapped your head to look at the ceiling, your beautiful wide eyes letting the tears cascade down your face. "...wake...up..."

I love you.

"...Darling..?" You lowered your head towards your mother. "...Darling... are you here...?" you mother asked. Her sweet as honey voice was now dry and cracked as it wavered in the air. 

Do you know why?

"Ye-yeah, I'm here, Mom..." You said with a shaky voice. 

It’s because.

"I just- I just want to let you know that we love you so much, darling. You have always been the light of our lives. And I know you're such a bright girl. I'm just- I'm just so sad that I'm never gonna see you when you grow older..."

You.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your chest. "This can't be happening-"

are.

She lifted up her hand as she gently caressed your face and wiped your tears away. She had put on a small smile yet, it held so much pain. "Hey, hey, hey. As long as I get to see you one last time, I already know that I can finally rest happy... Be the hero you want to be... And… I love you so much..."

my.

And then, she went limp.

everything,

The perfect wings that had once adorned your body were now ripped from your body as they would forever leave a wounded battle scar. They were your wings, and then they were ripped apart from your future in a blink of an eye. There was a hole in your heart that you couldn't cover up. But one thing’s for sure, you have finally found your name; it's...

Absolute Zero.

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Bursting through the doors, you could never fathom the thought of any innocent people dying. From that day on, you wanted to be a hero. A melancholic smile appeared as you recollected your memories. You wanted to do what you couldn’t have done for your parents. You honestly didn’t know where you were going. All of that didn’t matter anymore because you just ran; with you tears overflowing until all you saw was darkness. The sting of the snow sticking onto you feet was just enough for you to stop moving.

It was such a shame that you didn’t notice the taller figure watching your every move.

As he aimed the tranquilizer at your neck, he shot it. He bounced off of the dark tree. He smiled painfully as he was pleased to say for a fact that you were unconscious. Bringing his mouth close to the communication device he only said one thing. 

“Phase 1 is complete.”

Ღ

The tall figure reached down and you in his arms. The touch of your skin was starting to get colder and colder with each passing second. He traced the features of your face with an indescribable look. He looked solemnly at you, as if he was recalling something from his past. You were only a child. He bit his lip and positioned his eyes to view the night above him. Sighing to himself, he slowly carried your unconscious body towards the center of the forest, where you were originally running into. 

The silhouette of the tall trees surrounded him. A rush of wind and snow blew through his hair, he felt a shiver run up his spine. He closed his eyes out of instinct while holding the girl closer to his chest. As he peered around through the dark night, he had come to notice a very distinct concrete square. Piercing eyes stared down at the potential gateway.

Now stepping onto a concrete square, there was a certain symbol embedded onto the surface. It was a zero with a line slashing the number diagonally, left to right. As he rested his hand directly onto the emblem, he only whispered one thing, “Code:1016.” It glowed a beautiful blue hue. Suddenly a rush of azure and green colors came to life. They blasted upwards to the sky, the colors that had mingled together could put the northern lights to shame. When the light died down, you both were gone.

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And there he was. 1016 stood on a clear launchpad that looked to be used for astrology and rockets. The pad looked to be strikingly similar to the hues of colors that the figure had experienced only a few minutes ago. The colors had a mind of their own as they began thrashing around wildly until they cooled down into a more peaceful state. Though, it wouldn’t matter because the tensile strength of the glass was unreal because it never let the colors out.

1016 looked around in his surroundings and it never failed to take his breath away. Above him was a transparent dome which led him to see the galactic hues up close and personal. It was almost as if the barrier wasn’t there and he could have just brushed his fingertips against the stars. The floor was made of tungsten or some other metal he couldn’t identify. Tubes that were filled to the brim with all the shades of the color wheel, ranging from green, blue, and purple. They glistened and glowed with sparks of light that appeared to be stars in each individual one. Black wires were everywhere, interconnecting within each other. But the one thing that he noticed was the hospital bed that laid in the corner. There was a recurring aesthetic of galaxy colors, tubes, and glass. But that was no different. The hospital bed was big with a clear, thin cylinder surrounding it. The top and the bottom that sealed the ends of the chute were both made of connected metals with an abundance of buttons on each side. A pillow rested peacefully against the mattress accompanied by delicate, white blankets.

Suddenly a soothing voice asked,“Did you get her?”

1016 nodded his head. “Yes, I did.”

A relieved chuckle was to be heard. And there he was. There was another young man sitting on a chair looking through a grand telescope. It was enormous. A tense silence filled the air until 1016 took a deep breath. “Can’t we think of another plan… You know one that doesn’t involve her?” As soon as those words fell out of his mouth there was a dangerous aura that radiated from the teen that was now standing in front of 1016.

An airy laugh left his lips until he exploded. 

“Do you still don’t understand?!” he demanded. There was a menacing glint in his eyes. He gritted his teeth together while gripping the 1016’s wrist tightly and dragged him to a telescope. Pushing him down into the chair, he said, “Look.” As the teenager looked to the dark night, he was absolutely spell bound by what he saw. It was absolutely beautiful. Splotches of purples, blues and pinks filled the nights until they were all mushed together in a brand new color. Stars were swirling around as they brightened luminously. It was perfect, too perfect. That is, until he spotted it. It was a meteorite hurtling towards them.

 “Now do you understand?!” he yelled. He pulled 1016 away from the telescope and forced his head to look up at the sky. He pointed to the meteor and fumed, “In about a few years or so, that fucker is literally about to obliterate the entire Earth! And do you know who has to pay up for our screw ups?! Us, you idiot! And that includes me.” The male pinched the bridge of his nose until he dragged his legs to sit in his chair. An inaudible ‘sorry’ whimpered out of the once furious man. He leaned his back against the cool metal chair with his palms pressed against his eyes. “What are we going to do…?”

1016 was shocked by the sudden outburst. In all his life when working with his partner, named 1004, he had almost always kept a cool composure. Sure, he would occasionally crack a few jokes or two, but he would never blow a fuse. As a result, 1016’s stomach churned with uncertainty.

1004’s gaze was cast down. “Look, 1016,” he started to grieve. “It's been around 20,000 years since you fell from grace and when I got banished.” There was a long pause. “We did something that we weren’t supposed to do. And this, this is the punishment for our actions.” A deep breath was to be heard from 1004 as he continued. “But you know the deal. In our punishment, we’re supposed to protect this planet, but because of our actions, we had most of our powers stripped!” 1004 groaned. “I mean- if we fail to protect this planet, it’s really going to be over.”

1016 thought hard for a moment, trying his best to think of any possible answer. “Oh-! I got it!” 1016 snapped his fingers. He grabbed 1004’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I know what to do but you have to trust me.” Quickly, 1016 grabbed your body and handed you to 1004. Pushing one of the buttons of the capsule he laid you on the hospital bed. He attached a gasmask to your head. On the back were numerous ports that were connected to an abundance of the same wires he saw earlier. Gripping the black wires in his hand, 1016 plug each into a very large computer.

In a flash 1016 fingers typed at an alarmingly fast pace, his eyes never leaving the keyboard. 1004 looked over at his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing this time?”

But 1016 ignored the question of his partner. “You said that they only deleted some of our powers right? Well if you still have your time powers, I need you to stop time itself. Only for 2,000 years. This is the only way.” He looked directly at the screen that had an illuminated blue and continued. “I’m loading some data into her head. I honestly don’t know how it will work, but she’ll mentally be ancients of years old, though her physical appearance wouldn’t change. There are some things we have to alter though, understand?”

1004 nodded his head in agreement. 1016 grabbed a pen as well as a piece of blank paper. When he was done, 1016 slipped the paper to 1004. “At this exact time and place, I need you to release you. This is crucial. Like I said, you need to trust me.”

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Your eyes opened.

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You were starving. The piercing internal jab that kept on stabbing your abdomen was getting severe. Living on the streets was hard. How many years have passed? Three? No, four? You had lost count after a while. You found solace in a beaten up cardboard box. It was placed in a very dark alley as there were piles of garbage growing bigger with each passing day. You had managed to survive only on the table scraps that restaurants had no use for. Using the garbage bags as pillows, you curled into a ball on your right side and you waited for the night to engulf the city whole.

If anyone thought that the days were bad, the nights were hell in comparison. Heavy gunshots echoed between the alleyways while the air smelled like liquor. There would always be blood splattered on the concrete while drunk laughs and hiccups were heard from nearby bars. Neon signs that ranged from pink to blue and even a purple appeared everywhere if someone had just simply opened their eyes. It honestly would have been comforting knowing that the darkness wasn’t the only thing that consumed everything; if only the signs weren’t promoting sketched out night clubs.

You really did try resting your eyes but as soon as you did so, you woke up again. But no matter how much your eyes were battling the urge to close them, you couldn’t even sleep. You couldn’t take it anymore. You could survive. No. You needed to survive. You would do anything to see the next sunrise, even if you did get your hands a little dirty.

You pulled yourself together, what else could you do? Taking a deep breath, you set off to the neon lit streets. As you started walking, you ran into a boy who looked a bit older than you, not by much, however. You bumped into him, fully expecting pain to follow through, but nothing happened. In fact, he seemed quite fluffy, like an enormous teddy bear, the kind you would see in those rigged carnival games. 

“I’m so sorry!” you gasped.

But the person you ran into just smiled and waved his hand dismissively. You almost laughed because of how unreal he looked. He looked tall, though. If you had to give an estimate, your bet would be around 195 centimeters. He looked wide and friendly with his big smile touching the corners of his cheeks. It was as if the main fat animal from Studio Ghibli’s My Neighbor Totaro came to life and had sandy blonde hair.

“Are you okay?” he asked, with genuine concern overflowing from his facial expression.

Your face shamelessly heated up. He was too nice, it almost made you feel guilty for what you were about to do next. “Yeah!” you grinned. And unbeknownst to you, his face had also heated up. Although the dirt and grime was muddled in your hair, it didn’t take away from the shine in your eyes. He actually thought you looked… pretty cute, in a way. A short silence had ensued and you quickly broke the ice. “Thank you for worrying about my safety,” you expressed, but then you quickly started to run in the direction you had previously gone and lazily waved your hand. “You should go home before your parents start to worry!”

“W-Wait!” the middle schooler stuttered. “I didn’t catch your name!”

You bit your lip at the sudden words. It certainly has been a long time since you’ve had a friend. But, what if you scared them away because of the way you lived? You gulped and pushed those disgusting doubts away. You grinned, “You’ll know soon enough!” And with that, you ran, and you didn’t look back.

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Once you were alone, you sighed. You were scared that you were going to get caught. In between the dark alleys, you sighed and leaned your back against the cold cement. You opened up a wallet, a wallet that did not belong to you. You had pickpocketed that nice middle-school boy who had tried to make sure you were okay. God, you were such a scumbag. You knew it wasn’t right, but life wasn’t fair. Survival of the fittest, right? That was the phrase that you had used to single-handedly justify your poor actions. You shrugged it off, you’ll pay him back soon enough. As you looked at the contents of the wallet, you saw and identification photo and name of the same boy you had ran into and his home address, along with–

“30,000 yen!” you gulped. Oh shit. You didn’t need this much money to enable you to do what you needed to do tonight. You bit the inside of your cheek, you weren’t going to use all of his money, just enough to help you survive this night. You smiled sadly, showing remorse for your actions as tears began to well up.

“Thanks, Taishiro Toyomitsu…”

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As you navigated the grimy stairs that led to the underground tunnel, you scrunched up your nose. The air smelled of grime and dried blood. It made your stomach churn and your eyes very, very unhappy. The concrete below your feet was stained with water and mold started to form on the walls. The dull lights that illuminated the tunnel looked unstable, flickering as if they were about to burst a fuse at any second. You finally reached it, the front desk. The lady looked at you with sad eyes. Probably wondering why a young girl such as yourself would be in a place like this.

“May I help you?” she said.

“Yeah,” you said bitterly, but you tried your best not to show it. She didn’t do anything to you, so why should you take your anger out on her? Save it for the fight, you always remind yourself over and over again. “I’m here to compete, actually.”

“O-Oh,” the lady spluttered. “What’s your quirk?”

“You can’t turn me away,” you said apologetically. “This ring allows anyone of any age to compete. And, unfortunately, I don’t have one.”

“N-No! Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just mean that there is an entry fee of 10,000 yen! I’m just not sure if someone as young as yourself can come up with that kind of cash-”

But before the last could say anything, you slided the demanded amount of money (thanks to Taishiro) on the cheap, plastic table she was sitting behind. She counted the money and nodded for you to go in.

You gulped, half terrified for what was to come next. You were about to fight for money in an underground martial arts ring,

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Your duffle bag had already been waiting for you in the women’s locker room, you just needed to grab the bag with your belongings. You got ready in the dimly lit, unsanitized bathroom. Your long hair was tied back into a ponytail and you put on the rest of your uniform. It consisted of loose parachute pants that had hung by your hips, a sports bra, and a tight fitted black shirt. No quirks, and no armor to protect yourself, this was definitely going to be a long night. You shoved Taishiro’s wallet in your bag with the clothes you wore. You gripped your towel and your water bottle and pushed the bathroom door open. You shuffled through the packed stadium with your head feeling light. You knew that in the shady parts of the big city, people paid to see fighters dual it out in illegal rings. In addition to this, you also knew that fighters could enter by paying a rather hefty fee, but if they made a good enough show, they would also get paid a rather hefty fee. In the years you fought, you made a name for yourself. You weren’t the best by any means, but you were… respected among your peers. They were a lot older than you, and they knew that you didn’t have anything. No job, no education, no family, no quirk, and no future. During practice when you sparred against them, they didn’t hold back at all. They didn’t need to because you could get up by yourself. After a brutal beat down, they’d buy you snacks as a little token of their appreciation. And you’d graciously take it. You always did.

Now, you were watching the fight that had unfolded in front of you. You sat in the front row, the ring itself was a lot lower than where the audience sat. It was a safety precaution for if any fighter had a dangerous quirk, at least the difference in height between the ring and the stadium could offer protection. The element of the ring would change, it would offer a water based zone, earth based, you could name it all; anything to keep their patrons hooked. As you gazed below, your cheek resting on your forearm which was in turn resting on the railing. Although the cheers were so loud that you could have sworn that your ear drums would burst, you managed to block them out. You had other things to worry about. You looked at the one victor that had stood proudly. And you looked at the victim with such sadness, he was obliterated. Blood gushed from heavy hitting wounds with a black eye to match. You grimaced. That was going to be you.

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“And now!” the announcer boomed. “What you have all been waiting for. The darling of this ring! Although she may look small in stature, I promise you that she kicks one hell of a punch! Give it up for… Honeysuckle!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd and claps filled the air. You smiled ever so graciously and you waved a hand in the air, pretending that this crowd won’t know what your bloodied face will look like in the span of twenty minutes. You had to pretend. You were good at pretending. So, you pretended that everything was fine. You looked up to see your opponent's face. He was a large, muscular man. A torn up wife-beater was tightly worn on his body with black cargo pants to match. And when you looked at his face, his right eye was completely white with a nasty scar that made its way from the right side of his forehead, through his eye, and ended at the corner of his lip. And your heart dropped. You studied all of the opponents in the databases this ring had to offer. And his quirk was nothing to sneeze at. It was shock absorption. Everytime you hit, he could hit harder. Everytime you kicked, he kicked harder. This felt like a sick joke. You were only a teenager for fucks sake, a teenager living out in the streets trying to make ends meet. You were angry at the organizers of your event. You were quirkless trying to face upon a stone, cold fighting machine. Your mouth ran dry, ‘Oh shit.’

“Ready! Three! Two! One! Fight!”

The man made no hesitation to strike first. He threw a right hook at your face and you dodged, only by a millisecond to lose. You gasped, you didn’t expect him to be this fast. While he was still fixed in his position, you gathered up the strength to kick him square in the ribs. It was powerful and you could hear the audience mourn in favor of him. You looked up and he only paid you a sickening grin. He harshly gripped your foot that had kicked him and he spun you around like a rotating top. You felt the air whipping your hair carelessly until he let go. Your back had hit the wall of the ring, hard. You felt yourself coughing up blood and you saw double. However, your opponent didn’t spare you any mercy as he kicked your ribs and you have sworn you felt your spine crack. 

‘Get up!’ you pleaded with yourself.

‘Get up!’

‘Get up!’

‘Goddamnit! Get up, Absolute Zero!’

Unbeknownst to you, he had grabbed a hold of a boulder. You felt the shadow looming over you and your eyes were blown wide open. He was about to smash your skull into a pulp. ‘Are they even allowed to do this!?’ you screeched. And with every fiber of your being, you did get up. With your hands planted on the ground, you pushed your torso from the ground up and moved your legs in a windmill fashion and kicked his legs with such an unwavering force that he fell down, boulder in hand. And you did it, you did manage to get up on your feet. But, he didn’t like that at all. Unfortunately, he recovered quickly as he started to bolt at you.

“You think you’re so cocky, huh?” he spat, lifting you in the air by gripping your collar.

You must have had a death wish because before you could stop yourself, you shot back, “Yeah, a cocky brat that knows how to use mouthwash.” 

He wiped the smug grin off your face by giving you a punch square in the jaw and on your eye too. Pain coursed through your body, but you weren’t done yet. You moistened your lips and with your core strength you swung your legs and crossed them over the arm he was grabbing you with. With one fell swoop, you rotated your body on top and his back hit the floor. While on the dirt of the ring, you knew you had to act fast. In all the years you have been fighting, you knew that you couldn’t win by brute strength alone. Endless night you have been studying about the pressure points located in the bodies of humans. Everyone has a constant flow of energy that allows them to use their quirks. Once you block that energy flow, you block their quirks, temporarily. It was this small piece of knowledge that was going to make you win the battles to come. Without a second to lose, you positioned your hands in order to make a certain formation. Your pinky and ring fingers were held down by your thumbs leaving your middle in pointer fingers extended. You jabbed the pressure points located in his neck, shoulders, arms, legs, and chest. The stadium soon fell silent. As your opponent came to his senses, he groggily tried to get up, although his eyes looked tired and clouded. He tried to throw a right hook at your face, but you dodged. You grinned, his movements were significantly slowed and it felt like fighting a drunk. Slowly breathing in then out, you enacted a front handspring and finally jumped so high as to see the top of your opponent’s head and you used a hook kick that took him down from the neck where your leg made contact. He fell, and you were victorious.

Everyone applauded you and you offered them a lazy grin. This was the first fight that you weren’t beaten into a pulp. You were escorted out of the ring with a genuine smile plastered across your face. You went to the bathroom and took a hot shower and cleaned yourself up. It felt like a reward in itself. You changed into a baggy crew neck and equally baggy cargo pants as well. Your hair was still wet, but you couldn’t care less. As you looked at your complexion in the mirror, you touched your jaw gently and you hissed with pain. Although you won, you didn’t feel like a winner. You felt like a girl who had escaped getting killed on the field and was given a head splitting migraine.

Putting on your shoes and clutching your duffle bag, you left the bathroom for a final time. You met the lady at the front desk; the same location in which you had given her the entry fee. She smiled ear to ear once she saw you.

“I’m so glad that you made it out okay!” she beamed. “I watched the footage and you truly are the darling of this ring! I made a bet on you because I knew you could do it!”

“Thank you,” you smiled shyly, “I’m glad that you didn’t lose your money.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m glad that you made it out in one piece! Which reminds me!” You saw her lean down and grip a safe that was hidden from others in plain sight. She placed it on the desk and opened it using a combination. “You award for tonight!” With that, she pushed a check for 550,000 yen to you.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. “550,000 yen?” Your voice wavered, this was ten times the amount that you were supposed to earn for this one night. “I-Is this a joke?”

The lady looked at you with concern. “N-No! It’s all authentic darling. I actually spoke with some of your friends that train with you. And they say that they want you to have a better life than this.” She sighed, “Their words not mine, but they say that you aren’t very good at hiding that you are homeless. Since your first day at fighting, they were actually matching the amount of money you earned and putting a deposit in a separate account once they think the money they will give you can support you, for fighting for good, or something like that. They overheard that you had dreams of becoming a hero and they wanted to help you reach that threshold.”

As the lady babbled on and on, your voice began to crack and you couldn’t hold back your tears any longer. The years of busting your ass trying to survive off in the streets, even opting to sleep in public restrooms for safety—it was all going to end today. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You could say thank you.”

You heard a familiar voice and you whipped your head to see your friends who you fought with standing at the end of the tunnel. You gripped the check in your hand and you raced toward the people you could have called your family. You jumped and hugged everyone that was there. Your hug was filled with gratitude and love for the people there. Heartbeats mingled into one unwavering rhythm.

“Why would you guys do this?” you asked with such happiness in your eyes.

“Because!” one of your friends said. “You’re too damn young and too damn kind to be living like this. You deserve the whole world for making it out this far.” He looked at you with tired eyes that had seen the world for decades now. “We all want to see you thrive, and smile like there’s not a care in the world. We all want you to make it to U.A. and become a hero!”

Now, you were just a mess. Ugly crying was to be heard along with sniffles and smiles along the way. “I don’t know what to say other than…

Thank you!”

As you ran outside of the underground tunnel, you heard one of your friends joke around and say, “If we don’t see you on the big screens, we want our money back!”

You laughed and waved. “Don’t worry! I’ll be sure to give it back with added interest!”

Ღ

As you gazed at the high-end houses that stood neatly next to each other, you walked and looked at the addresses that could potentially match the one you were looking for. Then you saw him. For what you could assume to be his bedroom light, you could have sworn the boy you had met earlier had walked briskly past the window. It looked as if he was pacing back and forth frantically. Your shoes pattered against the sidewalk until you reached the front door of his house. His room was on the second floor and you cursed. Although you were good at hand to hand combat, you weren’t good at climbing people’s walls Rapunzel style. You were, unfortunately, not Flynn Rider. As you scaled the wall silently, as to not wake up any of the neighbors, you managed to find a resting stop under the presumed Taishiros window sill which was a minor roof that jutted out from the main body of the house. As you stood up on your tippy toes, you saw Taishiro pacing back and forth in a hurry. It looked like he was on the phone with his mom.

“I-I don’t know where I put it! I’m so screwed!”

The pit of guilt in your stomach just sank lower. God, you were just a selfish jackass weren’t you. Shaking your head, to get rid of those thoughts, you carefully opened his window once you saw his retreating figure head to another room. And carefully placed his wallet on the window sill. You heard his footsteps come closer and closer and you began to panic. You lost your balance and fell onto the ground. Thank god a rose bush was there to help the fall, not. You groaned but then as soon as you remembered your current situation, you ran as fast as you could into the moonlight.

ღ

“You know what, I think my teacher likes me, maybe she’ll be more lenient-” but Taishiro’s voice stopped to a halt. He looked at his window. He… He never remembered opening it up at this hour. “Hold on, I’ll call you back…” he said hesitantly and hung up the phone before the person on the other end could say anything. As he started to walk closer and closer to the window, he found the wallet he had been looking for, the wallet that made him nearly lose his mind over.

Opening the wallet, he saw a note tucked in the clear, plastic protector allocated for his middle school ID photo. It read:

“hey! absolute zero here! i just wanted to say that you lost your wallet somewhere and thank god there was an address along with your shining face :D here’s my number if you wanna talk (xxx)-xxx-xxxx”

Taishiro’s face burst into flames and he looked outside to see if you were there. You weren’t, but nonetheless, he grinned. As he counted the money in his wallet once more, he noticed the extra wadded up 1000 yen bill that was to be seen between the stacks of 10,000 yen bills. And he gave a boisterous laugh that echoed in the halls of his home.

Word count: 6775

[hotvintagepoll]

I (an excited fool) keep voting in the dracula polls as soon as I’ve read the day’s emails— I weigh what’s in my head against each contender, I consult the text, and I vote wisely with my heart. And then WITHOUT FAIL someone comes along and outlines a vision that’s even BETTER than mine (this is also my first time reading dracula so many of you Know Things I don’t) and I’m left wailing, gnashing my teeth, and wishing I could change my vote 😭😭😭😭

You’d think I’d learn but I just get SO EXCITED every time!!!!

Ok but you're actually doing this the way I intended! I had in my mind from the start someone reading the email then coming straight to the polls. These are for you buddy.

[agent-troi]

god mulder and scully on the park bench is just soooo🥺 he’s talking about leaving and she wants him to transfer to quantico so they can spend more time together bc he’s her best friend and she doesn’t want to not spend every second of every day with him

and “they don’t want us working together, scully, and right now that’s the only reason i can think of to stay” sgshdgskdjsjddkn i am wailing and gnashing my teeth

she’s so desperate to autopsy a smelly sewer body just so she can keep working with him!!

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 26

Do you ever write a chapter and just...hate it?

That was this chapter and I've been working and reworking it over and over again and this morning it finally clicked what I was missing and so I hope you enjoy this chapter more than I do, because I have beef with this chapter.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

“So,” I began, trying my best not to fidget, “How do you find Berdusk?” 

The Lady Allara seemed to be a timid creature, we had been walking along the grounds for at least an hour and conversation was dreadfully, painfully slow. Some might be surprised to know that her conversation skills were inferior to that of orcs. 

“Oh, it’s quite nice.” She replied, blinking her wide eyes at me. She had an uncanny gaze that never strayed from my face. I could never tell if she was pleased when she looked at me, or simply frightened out of her mind, either way her wide, globulous eyes and her open mouth smile never was not on me.

There truly was no time to be amused by anything, but I couldn’t help but think that Drun would find her just as unsettling as I, and there was some warm comfort in that. Despite the distance and not knowing his condition, I still felt him near me. He was in my every waking thought and motivated every breath I took. He would return to me, that I was determined, and in the meantime I forced myself to believe that all was well and that what I was doing was enough.

I looked behind me and bit back the sigh I wanted to release when I locked eyes with the guards who followed us close behind. 

Earlier that day, Commander Gideon had only just left before those same guards  had returned with the servants to prepare me for the day. Since then, they had not left my sight, even within the privacy of my own room. It took much wailing and gnashing of teeth to convince them to let me bathe without one of them watching me. The absolute perverts.

“Do you miss Triel?” I asked Allara. “You’ve been gone almost a fortnight, is that correct?”

She shrugged, “I’m content to go where father takes me.”

Odd answer. I looked over at her again. Her expression was vacant of most any emotion. She didn’t look anywhere but me, in fact I don’t think she had looked out at the gardens once.

“My mother started this garden, you know.” I changed the subject. “She brought seeds from her homeland, isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes, quite.” She neither blinked nor looked away from me, not even once. 

I swallowed thickly. “My lady, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly.” She said, “And you?”

I narrowed my eyes while I looked back at the guards, “The same, I suppose.” I said vacantly. They wouldn’t give away anything. Even if they knew, they’re helmets concealed too much of their face to even help.

“How about some tea?” I asked. I needed to distract myself from her and a drink and something sweet to eat from the kitchen seemed like a good idea.

“Whatever you wish, my lord.” She said, “That sounds perfectly splendid.”

“Do you like tea?”

“Oh yes.” She bowed her head.

“Hmmm.” I nodded softly. I clasped my hands behind my back as I led her and the two guards behind us back into the interior of the Great Hall. I glanced back one last time to the gardens, appreciating the work that had been done to keep my mother’s plants alive. Someday, Drun would see it, I vowed.

The kitchens were pleasantly warm and quite busy when we entered. The head cook glanced up and nodded sagely when I walked in. They were used to my brothers and I coming in after our studies to enjoy a sweet treat with some tea. It was a safe space amongst so few of them and the cook was always kind even though I had never seen them speak a word in all my time knowing them.

They moved quickly to set two seats for myself and Allara to rest and then placed a setting for each of us to receive tea. A kettle was already beginning to boil.

“My lord, what a surprise!” I turned and gasped when I saw in the corner the large shadowy shape of a Dragonborn. How had I not seen them there? Doxxah was carrying a tray of baked goods, steam still rising from them.

“Doxxah! Wonderful to see you.” I said. I gestured for Lady Allara to take a seat, which she obliged with no objection. I stepped away, closer to my old friend.

“Likewise my lord, though a bit unexpected.” Doxxah gave a knowing stare. “Would you care to help me?”

I glanced at my fiance, who sat contentedly on her chair, her feet swinging slightly back and forth. From my distance it even seemed she had more of a natural smile on her face as she held her cup of tea. I turned back to Doxxah and nodded, “I would be honoured to help.”

 “How is the Lady Allara?” Doxxah’s voice was soft, not carrying above the sounds of the kitchen in use. We both glanced over at her, but the girl did not seem to notice the conversation being about her.

“Odd.” I said. “But not unkind.”

They nodded in acknowledgement. “And how is your paramour?”

“I do not know.” I answered. I glanced at the guards standing at the door. “I am…a bit stuck.”

They nodded. “Take heart, my lord, things will work out.” They placed a clawed hand upon my shoulder and winked. “You have many who are eager to see you happy.”

I bowed my head, “I know that, I am grateful.”

“There’s a but in there.” They said.

“But what if even after everything, my happiness can never be mine?”

“Hmmm, an honest question.” They reached for the last tray they had that had rows of steaming cinnamon rolls. I reached and pulled them from the tray and onto the serving plates on the table next to us. “Truly I am not the right person for this question, for I am ever the optimist. If you are not happy, my lord, then that is not your ending. Do not settle until then.”

“But what if he’s gone?” I breathed. I wasn’t certain if they could even hear me. To utter my greatest fear aloud, that Drunrag might be dead without my knowing, haunted me. I was suddenly shivering where I stood.

“Oh my young lord.” Doxxah lifted a plate with a roll on it and placed it into my hand. “Do not dwell on what we do not know. Take heart and in the meantime, warm your stomach with what is good. I have to be going, but I am always nearby.” They bared their teeth in a friendly, but also quite ferocious grin directed at the guards. They lifted their stack of trays and waved to the cook who was already working on a different dish before they made their way out of the kitchen.

I sighed. I supposed Doxxah was right. I had no way of knowing and thinking about it so obsessively made no difference. I needed to follow through on my plan. 

If I’m not happy, then it’s not the end. Not yet.

Lady Allara didn’t react as if I had even stepped away when I sidled into the seat next to her and placed a plate with her own cinnamon roll in front of her. “For you.” I said. 

Her eyes locked onto me, a sudden passing expression of fear on her gaze. “You are very kind.” She said, her voice was lower than normal, more mellow and somber. “I’m sorry.” she whispered.

“Sorry?” I asked. “Whatever for?”

She looked down into the bottom of her cup. “Our parents aren’t very honest people, are they?”

I drew my hands back from the table and onto my lap. “Allara, is there something you know that I don’t?”

Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t meet my eyes. 

“Whatever you can do, don’t play their game.” She finally met my gaze. There was hate and rage in those eyes, her demure appearance shed away to reveal a creature filled with spite and revenge.  “My father and your father…they each hold each other in a chokehold of secrets. There would be no reason for a wedding if those secrets were conveniently revealed.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How might one go about that?” 

The doors suddenly burst open and I jumped, I spun in my seat and looked down at my uneaten pastry.

“There you are!” The Duke of Triel exclaimed, my father just at his heels. “We thought you two would be in the garden. We had to search all over to find you.” His voice was jovial, but when I spared a stare I caught a sharpness in his stare as he closed the distance between himself and his daughter.

“I should have known you’d show her your favourite haunts, son.” My father smirked, but it was not a kind one. “But at this hour? It is only an hour before suppertime.”

“My daughter tends to have an upset stomach if she’s consumed too many sweets before a meal. She’s probably got some shaking in her. Ah yes, there it is. Come my love.” The Duke of Triel spoke quickly as he ushered towards the young woman and pulled her away from her seat. I watched as her eyes met mine. There was nothing vacant or uncanny in them. They were alert and locked onto me and then, the duke’s hands were on her and she was dragged away and soon out of my sight.

Did they truly think I was an idiot to not see what was happening here? I looked over to my father, glaring.

“Any particular reason you’re so displeased with me today, son?” He asked dryly, “Or is it the same as usual?”

“What are you doing to her?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” My father asked. All innocence in his tone. 

I rose to my feet. “You’re both up to something, and we’re being used as your pawns. I won’t accept such dishonesty, especially from you. It’s time we stop following in the steps of our forefathers. Look where it got you. Where it got our whole family. If I am to take your place as Duke, I will set the precedent now that this will not continue.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure what you’re seeing that’s making you so upset, son. I expect a bit more congenial attitude at supper. And you better be dressed.” Was my father’s only response before he turned and walked out.

I slumped back into my chair and looked down at my tea and cinnamon roll, both still warm. I took a bite and felt the hot buttery bread soften and melt in my mouth, cinnamon pervading any other flavor. I suddenly felt hot tears on my face. 

“Drun.” I said under my breath, burying my face into my hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing without you.”

I should have hurried back to my quarters to dress for supper, but I held back for as long as I could. I savored each bite of the pastry, and then slowly sucking the icing and cinnamon off of my fingers. I imagined another world where Drunrag was sitting next to me, sitting on his hands as he expectantly watched me try something Doxxah taught him how to bake. I showered him with praises and let him lick the sugar on my lips before kissing me deeply. 

My stomach twisted at the sight of it all. If only it could be so blissful. More tears spilled over.

“Brother.” 

I raised my head and Selhar had taken Allara’s empty seat. His eyes were wide with concern. 

“I’m fine.” I said, “Just thinking too much.” I sat up straight and wiped my hands clean. “Will you be at supper?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just for you and Allara and the Duke. Father insisted on privacy.” He dropped his bottom lip. “Whose pastry is this?” He suddenly asked, a touch of his young childhood whine snuck into his voice as he looked down at the roll before him.

“Yours, if you want it.” I sniffed and wiped my nose. “Lady Allara was meant to eat it, but she had somewhere else to be.”

“But I think this might be yours.” He said, sliding out a small slip of paper from beneath the plate. In small, loopy script was written, “Altan.”

Selhar kept an eye on me as I unfolded the slip, but his mouth was already full of the warm roll. 

Altan,

I don’t know if I will ever have the presence of mind to give this to you, but you must know the truth from my side. You and I are victims of dishonorable men who happen to be our fathers. Neither of us want this marriage, I’m aware. So let us help one another. 

My father, the Duke of Triel, is the father of at least five illegitimate children. There may be more. I have in here included the names of those I was able to track down. Since my father discovered my knowledge of them, he has kept me drugged so that I will not reveal his secret. But you may be able to do something with this information.

Lastly, even when I am under the influence of the herbs my father forces on me, I am still aware of many things. I’ve heard our fathers speak about the underground guild known as the Red Hunters. I have always understood them to be a neutral force that is swayed by whatever is the stronger power. At this time, the Red Hunters and your father’s partnership is built upon a common enemy: the orcs that reside in the Fields of the Dead. The Red Hunters are promised a share of those lands after the orcs have been cleansed and your father intends to use the rest to expand the Trade routes that exist beyond Triel and Berdusk. Perhaps a bargain can be struck if you can offer something greater.

Should we both remain in the chains our fathers built for us, please know that I will not hold any ill will towards you.

Yours, 

Allara

I passed the note to Selhar and rose to my feet. “See if you can get this to who it needs to. I have to go.” I reached for his head and tussled it lightly. I didn’t dare say anything else with the present company, but I met his stare and we each shared a nervous smile. “And take a sweet to Robin. He’d like that.”

Things would be alright, I thought to myself, I still had my brothers to look after. Drunrag haunted my every thought, but I had to be realistic. My brothers were just as important and I would not abandon them.

The dining hall was vacant of any guests except for myself, Allara, The Duke of Triel and my own father, the Duke of Berdusk. It was a small, intimate dinner arrangement that only took up one end of a very elongated table. I wished that Selhar and Robin could be there, if only to distract me from the uncomfortable stare I would get from the three other guests.

Allara’s expression had returned to its vacant, empty stare and she answered everything with the same politeness and poise that I was familiar with. I searched for some sign of that trembling, human girl beneath, but whatever the Duke had done to her had suppressed her completely. I eyed the Duke cautiously as he sat across and to the right of me.

In a rare act of humbleness, my father had left the head of the table vacant to sit next to me on my right and across from the Duke of Triel. It certainly gave the appearance of two happy families preparing for a joyous wedding amongst friends.

It was just so far from that when we all knew that Allara and I were being used as toys in a game that we never were explained the rules to. And one of us wasn’t even given the presence of mind to fight back.

The food in front of me was decadent and elaborate, I envisioned the cook when I had seen them earlier that day, bustling from one end of the kitchen to the other. It was a wonder they managed to make it all on their own. But the passing thought that I kept coming to was fear that maybe if I took a bite, I too, would end up just like Allara, caught in a web that put me exactly where my father wanted me to be. Compliant, pleasant, obedient to his every desire.

“Something the matter?” My father asked under his breath. 

I looked over to him, blinking.

“You haven’t taken a single bite.”

Certainly words like that ease one’s worries when they believe they’re about to be poisoned. I felt my stomach as it twisted and I took a spoonful up to my lips and prayed silently to the gods that I would somehow be spared. Oh gods, spare me.

I waited for the inevitable to happen as I slowly chewed and swallowed the warm food. My father didn’t glance over in my direction as I held my breath and waited.

Nothing happened, thank gods.

“So, Altan.” The Duke Triel asked. “Your father and I took some time to discuss wedding dates. We believe sooner is better than later. What with kidnappings and other dangers about, we believe it’s best to heighten security and quicken the pace.”

“Is this something that can be negotiated?” I asked.

I felt a harsh boot jam into my foot below the table. I didn’t flinch or look away from the Duke of Triel.

“Well…is there a reason you would like to wait?” He asked.

“Oh yes, you see. I don’t think marrying so quickly is a competent choice on either of your parts. If such dangers are causing risk to myself and my betrothed, then such dangers also exist for our people. Until we can assure competent security and my kidnapper is brought before me, the wedding will not happen.”

“Son.” My father’s voice was tightlipped and forced. “This is not the time nor place.”

“Is it not?” I asked. “I was under the impression that you expected me to become the next Duke, what with all of those council meetings I was forced to attend. Should I not be thinking about the greater good for our people, and yours?” I nodded to the Triels. “I doubt a single council member would disagree that safety is our upmost priority, not secrecy. The people will want to celebrate this wedding, and I will have that for them, especially after so many years they’ve spent grieving the loss of our Duchess. But if you had wished me to be submissive as before, perhaps you should have expressed your intentions differently.”

Neither Duke spoke, which let me continue, “And seeing how between myself and Alarra, I seem to be the only cognizant one present in a conversation, I suppose the decision is left up to me, isn’t it my betrothed?” I asked sweetly. 

“Whatever you wish, my lord.” She responded with her saccharine tongue. “I am happy to be by your side.”

I grinned. “See?”

“She has not been well, my lord.” Her father replied.

“That’s apparent.” I sniffed with contempt. “I promise the both of you, that whatever secrets you have hidden so deep beneath your fine coats and thick necks, I will expose the both of you, unless you promise me my kidnapper returned to me alive.”

“An empty threat son.” My father said, “End the theatrics now.”

I turned sharply to face him. “Is it? You don’t know what I know. Two can play this game father, and you were such a good teacher.” I said, my grin widening. I rose to my feet. “But the game will end and when it does, I hope your names are sent straight to the nine hells.”

I didn’t wait to be excused, nor did I look back to see their faces.  Half of the battle was convincing them that I was worth being feared, intimidated by and carrying the confidence to not care what they thought. 

I stepped out into the hall and let out a deep breath. I predicted that things would likely get worse before they got better, but I was determined to see this through.

I was followed back to my chambers with an extra guard in tow. I glanced back at them and winked before stepping into my room and hearing one of them following in behind me. 

I was surprised to find Robin asleep on my bed. His face had sticky bits of frosting on his cheek. He looked peaceful. I let out a sigh. There would be no rest for me, not yet.

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list!

@eltrolodecadadia

@sizzlinghideoutcoffee

@carjis

[edoro]

Every day I check ao3 and see that there are no new Thistle fics and no one else has written my personal extremely specific Thistle csa headcanons and I fall to the ground wailing as I rend my garments and gnash my teeth in grief

[crypty]

i bet on losing dogs

I wanna feel it

Stebbins had walked for days, placing one foot in front of the other, counting one, two on his right and left foot. His neck and shoulder ached as he glared sullenly at his feet, his traitor feet that ached. He kept his face as blank as he could, even as the second to last gunshot rang out. He drowned out the wails of Garraty. It always was going to be the two of them.

I bet on losing dogs

He was a rabbit. Small and doomed and chased by gnashing teeth and an endless hunger. Hunger, hunger, desire. Wanting. What did a rabbit want? Rabbits wanted to run. He had an odd desire to reach for Garraty, to hold his hand

I always want you when I'm finally fine

Days. It had been days. Days of too - sweet jam rotting his teeth, days of paste bubbling in the summer heat, days of tepid and stale water. His knees popped on every bend, his shoulders burned. It hurt to continue but he was made to walk.

How you'd be over me looking in my eyes when I come

Garraty pulled ahead. Stebbins almost missed the company. He saw Garraty stumble and, for a moment, Stebbins held his breath. Would this be it? No, surely it wouldn't be over here. Not like this. Garraty pulled himself up and kept walking.

Someone to watch me die

He wasn't the rabbit after all. What would he be after he ends the race. The last dog gets to live, gets to mate. Anything a dog could want, to continue his bloodline. But Stebbins was no dog, nor a rabbit, he was a boy. He wanted more. He wanted his dad. He wanted his dad to be the panting wretch in front of the gun.

Someone to watch me die

Stebbins let himself fall to his knees. "It's time to sit now", those words floated around his head. Who said that? Which of the 98 damned boys said that? Garraty was illuminated in the rising sun. For a moment, the world was beautiful.

I bet on losing dogs

[coldpintglass]

For the ship Bingo (tysm for using my bingo board btw <3)

Saw your blog header and have to ask for Jarcus(Jesse Lingard/Marcus Rashford)

THE BOYS!!!! 

First, thank YOU for making a ship bingo just for us footblr shippers! Ahah it’s much nicer than the generic one. 

I have to say I have such enormous soft spots for both of these guys, especially Rashford. Together they are sooooooo funny and such a joy to watch, one of those friendships that so effortless. 

Touch more thoughts on them:

Absolutely platonic, I can’t see either of these guys together romantically/sexually but that’s because never have I seen a footballer friendship scream SIBLINGS more. These two are absolutely brothers, thick as thieves together 💖🥺

On that note please watch this short video that makes me laugh every time I see it. Jesse is such a menace!!!! (Affectionate) 

Coming up through one of the biggest clubs in the world (Man U) is going to do a number on you, I think both of them have navigated it exceptionally well (eh, bar a few bits but I digress!!!) and this has probably made them even closer. Especially on the international scene, they’re both so bloody young!!!! Exceptional talents and to keep a level head through it, Jesus, it’s so be commended. 

I wasn’t aware of Jesse having to be a young carer for his siblings/deal with his mums depression (chronic illness) at a young age. Him and Rashford (with his own challenging childhood with food insecurity/single mum doing her damn best but holy shit the woman worked so hard) mirror each other beautifully, having to grapple with some of the most difficult challenges at a young age. That shit is TOUGH and no emphathy/sympathy from someone whose not been through that will every quite be the same as someone who HAS been through it. And this is before getting to the fucking vile racism both of these guys have faced.  Especially Rashford after the penalty incident in the Euros 2020 final (PS: Gareth if I see you it’s on SIGHT for what you put Sancho, Saka and Rashford through). 

What hasn’t been said about Rashford? A sincere and wonderful role model, he’s saved lives with his campaigns and put his neck on the line for equality. He is absolutely an hero but still that lovely young man. Ah, could spend all day waxing lyrically about him. Lingard seems like a great lad too (bar drink driving lol) and these two clearly care about much more than themselves. 

Finally:

Shallow woman point coming: these two are both so hot LMAO, absolutely delicious. Their fashion sense is sooOOOOOOOo WOOF WOOWF WOOF BARK BARK BARK LINGARD IN GLASSES?????? I AM GNASHING MY TEETH AND WAILING. MEN WHO DRESS WELL WILL BE A WEAKNESS FOR EVER XXX

I have a very vanilla fantasy of going for a long dog walk with Rashford were we hold hands. He’s just 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 AHHHHHH makes me feel like a teenage girl I can’t help it ahahah

Their accents when they’re arguing blend into an utterly euphoric hilarious noise 

The way Lingard teases Rashford despite being older is too fucking funny

WHY WEREN’T THEY AT THE 2024 EUROS GARETH?????

[shelli-gator]

Weeping and wailing and gnashing my teeth over steam engines

Like they are truly beautiful magnificent machines they are ALIVE they BREATHE they eat they drink they sing for us as they take us from point A to B. They look after us when we look after them. The more love and work put into them, the more they give back.

And it's so easy to see how the Rev Awdry could look at them one day and anthropomorphize them- crews do it all the time. They are grand and alive and so full of personality and every engine feels UNIQUE, BECAUSE THEY ARE-

I'm preaching to the choir here. Anyway. Crying over trains. I'm fine.

[eelfuneral]

I deleted my last post about autism being dismissed as “trendy” by ableist trolls because it was being grossly misunderstood and co-opted by a very hateful community here on Tumblr that I dislike and want zero association with.

For the record, my post was me expressing frustration with non-autistic people accusing autistic people of faking because they a) don’t fit the neurotypical stereotype, and b) they think that the diagnosis is some kind of teen trend that makes you “cool”. I was trying to point out how ridiculous this notion was since outside of niche online communities where most people are neurodivergent anyways, autism is still very stigmatized and there’s no “clout” to be had. “Faking it” would bring about severe social consequences that most people couldn’t handle, so I would argue that there aren’t as many “fakers” as angry NTs seem to think there are. Hypochondriacs certainly exist, but accusing strangers on the internet of being hypochondriacs because they make silly TikToks joking about their autism is not it.

Seeing people complain about the TikTok "fakers" and accusing people who make lighthearted jokes about or who don't despise every single aspect of their autism of being dishonest or watering down autism is heartbreaking. A lot of autistics (myself included) deal with our struggles through humor or look for potential positives to our neurotype, but that doesn't mean that we are somehow denying the difficulty of being autistic. We live with the disabling aspects of it every day (and hell, a lot of autistics struggle far more than I do), and no, it is not always fun, but most of us don't want to post about every daily struggle that we face. A lot of us laugh together that so we don't cry. Disabilities are disabling, and autism can be extremely disabling, but we don't have to constantly be wailing and gnashing our teeth about it on social media to be "real" autistics.

I hate that I have to clarify this, but I suppose that this is the "piss on the poor" website, after all.

[littletail]

Hissy Fit

Gajeel rubbed his face as he contemplated how to handle this situation. He was a tried-and-true Caregiver, proud of what he does and damn good at it too. But if there was one thing he didn’t know how to handle that tried his patience every single time, it was a temper tantrum.

Especially when the Little in question had been so good for him the entire day prior and it seemed like seemingly nothing set him off.

The third problem was that this Little wasn’t known for his tantrums. He was normally pretty relaxed when he wasn’t giddy and excited for as long as Gajeel had known him. He didn’t even think the other was capable of such a fit.

But here he was. The one eyed redhead in question was on his belly on the floor, wailing and shouting while kicking his legs in the air while his face was bright red and soaked from the tears pouring out of his good eye.

“Alright, kid, that’s enough of that,” Gajeel scooped him up off the floor.

“NO!”

Gajeel winced at the volume. ‘No,’ had quickly become Cobra’s favorite word once the fit started, and he was no easier to handle now. He thrashed and kicked while Gajeel fought to keep him in his arms, because he knew that if he dropped the Little Slayer, he’d have to deal with whatever fit Cobra threw over that, and the first one was bad enough.

“Keep this up, and you’re getting the naughty corner!” Gajeel warned.

“No! NO NO NO!”

“I tried to warn you,” the Caregiver said, then carried the still thrashing Little to the chair facing the wall. The moment he let go, Cobra dashed off.

“Goddammit!” Gajeel hissed. He was suspicious that Cobra would try to escape, but he hadn’t anticipated something that fast nor so soon.

He tracked Cobra down, and found him scrambling to crawl under the bed. Gajeel grabbed him by his ankles, which prompted another shrill wail as he fought to escape, only for Gajeel to drag him out and pull him up until he was standing. Keeping a firm grip on Cobra’s shoulders, he made the Little Slayer face him.

“What have you been throwing a fit over all morning?” Gajeel asked, “I can’t help you until I know.”

Cobra growled, baring his teeth and gnashing his jaws at Gajeel. It’d actually look pretty intimidating if Cobra’s face wasn’t red and tear stained and he wasn’t in his snake patterned shirt with a pacifier clipped to it.

But regardless, it was still a show of disrespect that Gajeel couldn’t let slide lest Cobra start doing it more often.

He carried Cobra out to the corner again, sitting him down. This time, he didn’t let go until he was certain Cobra wouldn’t move.

“Thirty minutes. You know better than to cause problems and you especially know better than to growl at me for just trying to help you.”

Cobra let out another shout, but fortunately, didn’t move from the chair. He just gripped his head in his hands and kept sobbing.

Once the time was up, he went back to find Cobra resting his forehead against the wall, tracing his finger along the bumps in the paint, then slowly picked him up so as to not startle him and send him spiraling into another fit.

He sat down on the couch, cradling Cobra close to his chest as he pondered what to do with him. Calming him down was easier said than done since Gajeel didn’t know what set him off to begin with and nothing worked so far. It also didn’t help that Gajeel wasn’t knowledgeable enough to know what usually works for Cobra, as he had only taken in the Little a few months prior and this had never been a problem before.

Cobra wriggled in Gajeel’s grasp for a solid few minutes before giving up and going limp. He buried his face into the Caregiver’s chest, whining and sobbing.

“Are you ready to tell me what the deal is now?”

Cobra let out a shrill whine, gripping the other’s shirt and even trying to bite and tear at it.

“Oi,” Gajeel held up the pacifier to Cobra’s mouth. The Little paused to stare at it, before opening his mouth with a quiet, ‘Ah.’ Gajeel slipped the pacifier in and watched as Cobra nursed it. While Cobra was far from calm, judging by the tears still rolling down his cheek, he was getting somewhere.

“Deep breaths, kid,” Gajeel instructed. Cobra shakily inhaled, easing up slightly.

“Alright. Now, I know you’re upset, but I need you to settle down and tell me what’s the matter. Why are you pitching such a fit today?”

“I-I wa-want.. m-m-my sn-snakey!” the Little wailed.

That’s what the Little was fussing over? Or was it because he was exhausted from throwing a fit that he now just wanted the toy to calm down? Gajeel placed Cobra down and he ran back into the same bedroom. Gajeel followed him again and once again caught him crawling under the bed. Instead of pulling him out this time, Gajeel knelt down, spotting Cobra hugging the plush snake to his chest. It must have fallen under the bed, which made why he tried to dive under there before make sense.

“Is that better? You gonna stop with the hissy fit now?” he asked.

Cobra let out a quiet noise.

Gajeel reached in, gently pulling Cobra out of hiding before placing him on the bed and tucking him in. Fortunately, he didn’t fuss when Gajeel wiped his face with a tissue, drying his eye and cleaning his nose.

Cobra curled up under the blanket, keeping his snake held against his chest. He slipped his thumb into his mouth, only for Gajeel to replace it with his pacifier. The Caregiver stayed with him until his breathing evened out and he was softly snoring.

At least he didn’t have to worry about Cobra fussing over a nap. Hopefully, he’ll be in a better mindset once he wakes up.

Gajeel was taken out of his work by rustling in the kitchen. When he went to investigate, he spotted Cobra rummaging through the freezer while the snake was sitting on the dining table.

“What are you looking for?” Gajeel asked, causing Cobra to flinch. He slowly closed the door and looked at the Caregiver sheepishly. His face was still red and slightly puffy. 

“Um.. ice cream..?” he grinned weakly. Looked like he was bigger than before, but still pretty Little.

“Don’t have any,” Gajeel sat the Little down at the table. “You’re getting a proper lunch.”

“But my throat hurts..”

“Then I’ll give you some broth,” Gajeel said. 

Cobra made a face, obviously wanting to argue, but also not wanting to go back into timeout. Eventually, the latter won out and he just sighed and rested his chin on the table.

“Are you finally able to tell me what set you off earlier?” Gajeel asked, putting the bowl down in front of Cobra.

“Mmm..” Cobra grabbed the bowl and pulled it closer. He looked as if even he wasn’t entirely sure. “I.. felt bad..” 

“Why did you feel bad?”

“Mmm… I dunno..” he admitted with a shrug, before ducking his head in his shoulders. He looked guilty.

“Hey, kid, look at me,” Gajeel said. It took Cobra a moment to work up the courage to do so, but once he did, he met Gajeel’s gaze.

“Don’t feel bad about your fit, alright?” Gajeel said, “You’re a Little and it’s to be expected. Neither of us knows what caused it, and maybe neither of us will, but what matters is that you’re feeling better now.”

“Mhm..”

“If you feel yourself getting worked up again, I want you to come to me so we can work through it together, alright?” Gajeel said. 

Cobra slowly nodded, then hesitated before asking, “Does.. this mean you’re not.. mad..?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I wasn’t.. good..”

“Yeah, but you were disciplined for it already and all’s been forgiven. Littles act up, they push back, and they test rules sometimes, but that’s just what they do. I’m not going to expect you to be perfectly behaved all the time. That’d just be unfair to you. Do you understand?”

Cobra nodded, a lot less hesitantly this time.

“Now, can you eat by yourself, or do you need me to help?”

Cobra slowly lifted the spoon, then sipped from it. He let out a content noise as it soothed his throat.

“Once we’re done with lunch, how about we head out to the park later. Sound good?”

“Yes, please!”

[lettersfromgod]

"Thus says The Lord God: Behold, the time has come; the time has come for Me to open My mouth, once again. Yet not as in the former manner, nor as at the first; but in fiery anger, in devastating monologues of fierce rebuke, unrelenting diatribes of judgment and woe, setting a whole generation ablaze!… There shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Yea, I shall speak through the Sent, and they shall pronounce My judgment! - Upon all the cities of men, upon the waste places, upon the towns and villages! Upon every religion of man, upon every idol, upon every false image of the Gentiles, upon every god of every land, upon everything high and lifted up! Upon all who reject Messiah; yes, even upon those who have marred His image before the people shall My discipline be most severe! - Until the glory of man is turned backward, and the pride of man is bowed down, and the arrogance of man is utterly humiliated, as it is written. And behold I, yes I, The Only Lord of Hosts, shall heed the voice of a man in that day. And woe to all who come against them!"

📖 Excerpt from: "Judgment and Woe" - https://www.thevolumesoftruth.com/Judgment_and_Woe

▶ Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G70FSwFw9mI&list=PL6D1BC949E9840878&index=46

[niobiumao3]

Okay broader episode thoughts (spoilers etc).

Hunter's senses actually being like...useful in practical ways. SENSING THE EARTHQUAKE AND TSUNAMI. Space ranger!!!! He's one of those characters who needs a writer to give a fuck about his abilities to remember to write them correctly and, well, that's been lacking. He's not the first character to suffer this problem. Nice to see it finally being properly used.

The idea of the Batch settling in with a group of refugees--this is the most obvious and natural thing ever, and it's a good narrative about the war. You could make the various 'scared of clones!!!" arguments if you wanted but I suspect in truth they're all too different looking to suffer that like Rex or Cody might. No one here is going to ask them about their situation; they have their own Situations to not talk about. Everyone's on the same page: the Empire and the Republic before it took everything from us; we're not going to survive without one another. Which is kind of the show's theme but I appreciate this episode as a microcosm of it outside the macrocosm of the political/war/intrigue plot. At the end of the day, where could they go to raise Omega and learn what it's like to exist? Somewhere like this.

Which is another thing--Tech off-handedly mentioning how they had NO socialization outside other clones, and basically no childhoods, was a glimpse into an interesting idea: as clones they'te in general are fine at surviving as mercenaries, but when it comes to Just Living, they have been robbed of literally EVERY social skill. Even Hunter, arguably the one who would manage the best at that, is treading lightly and uncertain. Sure, they have great practical skills. and could easily learn trades or whatever, but living with neighbors? Managing simple disagreements in a city council?? These are foreign concepts to them. Tech would be like 'obviously you can't put that tree there, it will damage the foundation.' 'it's my property I do what I want.' 'the tree is unaware of property lines, and as such you are obligated to make a correct decision for it'. (Jesus he would be a fucking nightmare on an HOA.) It's such a fun idea which I know the show isn't going to address but I'm loving the possibilities.

I can't decide where I am on the 'Cid's vid feed was forced' vs. 'Cid is just worried about losing access to them and cranky' thing. I don't really want her to betray them. I'm here for 'one of her associates does' because let's be real she has a lot of shady, ne'er-do-well liasions hanging around who would happily do so and have no doubt noticed the trio of not-clones and their child sidekick.

It feels like a deep fake video from her is a bit less likely in terms of the show's overall writing, though. Which makes me sad because it does probably mean she's going to turn on them. And, meh. I prefer her being shown as practical, if self-serving. She has to know the Empire would only kill her to keep it all quiet. So what does she gain by drawing their attention with a tip? Literally nothing.

I guess we'll see. Next week is the equivalent of War Mantle from last Season I'm sure--i.e. big ol' cliffhanger which leaves us wailing and gnashing our teeth. I might do what I did then and not watch until the following week so I can do all episodes at once. (This happened to me accidentally with The Crossing and I don't know how you all survived I'd have been like NO THE SHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH for 7 days. Sorry Tech Omega is right.)

[narratingvoice]

hi i just want to say i LOVE your narrating in the game its actually so fun and cool

anyways hava great day :D

Thank you so much! I appreciate each and every one of you who takes the time out to send me a kind word. I did have a great day and I hope you did to. In fact, today was so good that I got out a thousand whole words for one of my WIPs, and I only sat there in abject confusion trying to remember the word "disgruntled" for like an hour. Usually I spend a lot more time wailing and gnashing teeth trying to extract the words from my mind.

Every day I'm glad I decided to narrate the game myself instead of hiring a professional voiceover artist. Sure, someone with more experience than me might sound more polished, but I don't think anyone would be able to give the script the right tone down to my exact specifications. The layers of nuance, the subtle shifts in voice tone, I needed it to be perfect, and thus I had to do it myself. After all, I am called the Narrator, not merely the Author. It's the role I was made to play. Would the game have reached such wide acclaim without me? I doubt it. Thank you once again for enjoying my narration.

[riflewounds]

Whumptober, day 29 | What Doesn't Kill Me... (sleep deprivation)

His hands jittered and he couldn't sit still. He couldn't quell that need to move, mind running at a thousand miles an hour while nothing was happening.

Staring out of the window in twelve-hour shifts. Watching over a freight yard, looking for any signs of cop presence. And it was a little difficult with his mind wandering to places he usually reserved for downtime.

And for once, Durant wouldn't be opposed to Fuchs running his dirty fucking hands over his body. Sneaking under his clothes. Touching him in the hottest ways--

Jesus fucking Christ, no. No. What the hell was he thinking?!

He couldn't deny the heat rushing to his cheeks, and... other parts of himself.

He wished, he fucking wished he could occupy himself in some way, not just... have to sit in a window, looking down at a dead-silent shipyard. 

How long's he been awake?

He couldn't tell, but his gut suggested it's been more than thirty-six hours.

Whoa. A day and a half in a row, spent wide awake. Granted, he couldn't have possibly accomplished this without copious amounts of coffee, and... meth. A lot of meth. Shit he bought off that Tommy Wiseau-looking ass. What's his name? Ray?

And where's he gone, anyway?

Well that... didn't matter anymore now, did it?

None of the containers had shifted. No new boats on the horizon, no cars pulling into the lot, no movement down in the 'yard.

He messed around with his fingers, rubbed his fingers together to do something while the seconds dragged on.

Even with the rifle in his arms (some old Winchester, fitted with a sixteen-power scope) he still fiddled with his fingers, he pawed at the bolt, fiddled with the little piece of hardened steel it had for a handle.

Maybe he could take pot-shots at the seagulls down there, fucking sandwich-stealing feathered terrorists.

But he kept his eyes peeled for the yard activity instead. Removing one or two gulls wouldn't help anyone, and he'd waste precious ammo.

Wasn't easy to get thirty rounds of .308 to feed this thing. Three full magazines of the precious brass, full-metal jacket teeth ready to shred and maim.

He tapped his fingers against the wooden stock, he played with the trigger, pulled until he hit the safety (fuckin' pinnacle of gun safety right here) and then he let go of it, only to repeat the whole process mere seconds later. 

His gums itched and crawled, as if an ant colony burrowed under the firm flesh, and the only thing that seemed to help was gnashing his teeth together, grinding side to side

Durant had to stop himself each time he noticed himself doing it. His teeth weren't the greatest, even if they were pretty much intact (going ten-odd years without a dentist visit would do that to even the most mineralized of teeth), and smoking some two packs a day wasn't helping either.

He even felt the beat of his own heart in his teeth, a feeling he knew, but deeply hated. But at least he could tell his heart was going far too fast. Even when he sat still (or as still as he could, among the shivers and constant fidgeting he couldn't stop), even then he was twitching with every beat, all hundred and sixty of them per minute, if he guessed right.

How much longer will he have to sit here?

Too long, he mused. Even fifteen minutes felt like days in his state. An hour felt like a week. Ten hours - a year.

Durant hated to admit it, but he was losing his mind, doing nothing. Where was the thrill of the chase he so craved? Where was the adrenaline? Where were those fuckers who wanted his boss' shipments?! Even though the rifle in his hands didn't belong to him, wasn't a part of him, it screeched and wailed with a bloodthirsty fervor, it wanted to bite and maim and kill!

The gunman sucked in a tight breath. He's too high, nearly overdosed on meth, trying to keep himself from going utterly nuts.

And all the caffeine wasn't helping.

He stared at his hand. Still trembling. Still twitching with every beat of his heart, just like the rest of him.

Bite it, puppy. Feel it between your teeth. Chew with your sharp molars.

Suddenly, the door behind his back clicked and Durant nearly jumped out of his seat. 

Silhouette in the doorway. A man. Familiar shape, he knew that jacket. "Fuchs?" 

"Time's up, we have to go," the man uttered, motioning with his hand. A quick little wave towards the door. "And grab the rifle."

And as his boss turned on his heel to leave, Durant got up. There was that whine again, escaping with the lungful of air he involuntarily exhaled.

Finally. Finally he could rip and tear (let the doped-up rabid dog run free), kill at his master's Fuchs' command!

The rifle in his arms itched with excitement, vibrated with insatiable bloodlust and he rested it against his shoulder, frigid metal resting against the fabric of his shirt.

Oh he couldn't wait.

But he could tell the high wouldn't last forever, Durant could already feel the meth begin to wane. Soft licks of a brewing headache.

He wasn't new to this, he knew there was a crash coming, and with how much he took, he'd be out of commission for three days. Just sleeping. And when he wakes, his whole body will be sore, and achy, and he'll wish for death before Fuchs interferes. Pumps him full of different uppers, to make the crash a little less horrible.

Puppy, you know this won't last forever. With his claws so deep in your flesh, you're nothing but a puppet.

Durant stopped for a moment, resting his face against the wall.

Nothing but a loyal gun by his side, an obedient pet. Where's your pride, puppy?

Gone.