#find me at COWARDLY-CONDUCT

[gaymurdersalad]

Welcome to Gaymurdersalad! Or Freddy Fazbender’s, I don’t know, the script got soaked in mop water again.

Here you will find such an array of characters as ROTTING PUMPKIN, PACK OF CAMELS, HENRY, two PLASTIC IDIOTS, a DANGEROUS FURRY, one ORANGE CARCASS, a TWELVE GAGUE SHOTGUN, and if you ask for her, GOD HERSELF!

As for the information of their whereabouts, don’t you worry, I’ve stalked and creeped around enough to figure it out!

[ and my pronouns are ve/ver, thank you very much! @cowardly-conduct , that’s me! ]

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While I may ruthlessly disrespect these characters because they are silly and dumb, you may not, as they are attached like strings to my very real human self. As I am a mod. For this blog. God forbid.

Some Rules :

- You can use any piece of art on this blog from backgrounds to character panels provided you give credit to Gaymurdersalad or my main art account, cowardly-conduct! Fan art is also totally allowed! Please @ this blog so I can gaze lovingly at it for several days!

- I am not immune to the spare dirty joke, but keep your language within reason.

- You can ask as many asks as you like! Alas, please don’t spam some silly stuff over and over again for a gag.

- Weird asks like “[Character] is so hot” or “[Character] I have a crush on you” will not be entertained, so save me some time and don’t ask all that!

- You can give characters things if you wish. Keep ‘em within reason or I won’t make it so. Depending on what it is it may stay or go later on.

- Sure, you can mention some characters, but try not to directly insert them into the “story”. They don’t really have to be dsaf related either, I mean, this whole thang is silly, if you wanna ask Peter if he knows what Salad Fingers is, go right ahead.

———

That should be it! Have quite a decent day, and remember the company motto: EGGPLANTS AND ORANGES CAN GO IN SALADS TOO!!!

… God dammit I need to keep my papers out of Dave’s reach.

Ask Status:

Business As Usual!

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan is called to see the Commander.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,624. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: talk of addiction withdrawal.)

Chapter 21: Forgive Me

Trevelyan did not usually take her morning walk in the courtyard, so near to the infirmary, but a change of pace was often a good panacea to the boredom of routine. That was her excuse, at least.

But she was far too cowardly to actually step into the infirmary, and enquire after the Commander’s health. It wasn’t her place to ask, really, and it was better for him to rest. That was her excuse, at least.

Instead she continued walking, greeted a few of the mages she knew as they passed her by, kicked at the weeds outside the Herald’s Rest, and headed down to the lower level.

Soldiers trained here. Feet churned up dust as they pushed forward into attack; grass tore beneath heels that dug in for defense. Trevelyan skirted the clattering horde, one eye looking out, checking, just in case.

But they were under the watch of no Commander. Captains seemed to patrol the lines instead, and conducted their instruction with an admirable accuracy.

So Trevelyan wandered on, to the market just beyond. Sellers had set up, and were already doing business. Denizens of Skyhold bustled about the tables, examining the wares on offer. Being in the mountains, this was likely the only taste of commerce they got.

Trevelyan joined the crowd. Perusing the stalls might help keep her mind off things.

And there was one in particular that caught her attention: a bookseller, with an array of tomes on a pantheon of subjects, displayed elegantly on a ream of purple crushed velvet. The dwarven man behind the stall—warm-skinned with dark hair—gave her a beardy smile as she approached.

There were only so many books in Skyhold’s library. Trevelyan wondered if she might find something new here.

An Astronomer’s Illustrated Guide to the Stars, read one golden title, embossed onto blue leather. Trevelyan certainly didn’t recognise this one. The moon and Satina were even engraved into the cover! It was beautiful.

“May I look at this?” she asked the seller.

“’Course,” said the man.

Trevelyan gently opened the book. The Inquisition had literature on the stars, of course, but none illustrated so. There were the constellations she knew—the Oak, the Maiden, Sacrifice (their Tevene names included!)—but also their Elvhen and Avvar interpretations. Comprehensive indeed!

“Lovely book, isn’t it?” the seller-man commented. “You don’t get many like that.”

“It’s wonderful,” Trevelyan agreed.

“That does mean it’s a bit pricier than the rest, but it’s worth it for the quality. Most books I stock are about ten to twenty silvers; this one’s forty.”

Trevelyan stared at him, agape. “Oh.”

She hadn’t quite expected to be buying anything. She was confined to the mountains as much as these other folk. This was the only taste of commerce she got.

Besides, it wasn’t like she had any money.

Her father hadn’t wanted her to possess a (what he called) ‘running away fund’. Trevelyan had begged her parents for something, only finding success when she mentioned how poor they’d look if they sent her with nothing.

The compromise? All her money was kept in a lockbox, and Cara had the key.

Forty silvers was nothing to her parents. And Trevelyan had been doing quite as they asked, spending so much time with the Commander it had driven him to sickness. She could persuade Cara.

“I don’t have any coin on me now,” she told the seller, “but I can fetch some! Would you be able to hold this until I return?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, miss, had too many occurrences of holding things, only for people to never come back. Impacts trade.”

“Fair. Then I’ll be as quick as I can!”

Trevelyan hurried away, as promised. Out of the market, past the soldiers—she took the stairs back to the upper courtyard two at a time! (She took the ones to the Great Hall a little slower).

Catching her breath at the top, she locked eyes on the next flight that awaited, and—

“Lady Trevelyan!”

Couldn’t go anywhere in this damn castle without finding oneself summoned to conversation. Trevelyan turned. A runner, from the direction of Montilyet’s parlour, swerved towards her.

Trevelyan allowed them to approach. “How may I help you?” she asked.

They bowed. “Your Ladyship, the Ambassador wishes to see you.”

“Right now?”

“If you’re available,” said the runner. “I can tell her you’re delayed, if you wish.”

Trevelyan thought on it a moment, but shook her head. “No, no. Thank you.”

After all, she had something of an idea as to what this might be about. As urgent as the book was, this was more so. Montilyet’s open parlour door beckoned.

She answered its call. “Lady Monilyet?” she said as she entered.

Montilyet, behind her desk, stood on sight. “Oh, Lady Trevelyan! That was fast.” She stepped out to greet her properly, and asked: “How are you feeling, this morning?”

“I’m fine,” said Trevelyan, who was actually a concentrated mess of worry. “How is the Commander?”

“Better,” Montilyet reassured her, “but still recovering. However, he has asked to see you—that is why I called you here. He is waiting now”—she glanced at her parlour’s other door, that led to the War Room beyond—“but only if you are happy to see him.”

Trevelyan pushed out an uneasy breath. “Is he well enough for this?”

Lady Montilyet sighed. “He and I have different answers to that question. But, he insisted.”

“Then, all right.”

Montilyet nodded. “Please, take a seat.”

Trevelyan did as requested, choosing her usual place on the sofa. It felt odd without Lady Erridge beside her, or the Baroness sewing in her chair, or Lady Samient reclined on another.

Lady Montilyet, meanwhile, had moved for the door, and disappeared beyond. Trevelyan took this moment to prepare herself for the man that might emerge.

The door opened. She was pleasantly surprised.

The Commander stepped out of his own accord, firm on his feet, at least. His skin had its colour back, and his eyes seemed more alert. He did not wear his armour, nor his mantle—just a simple shirt and a quilted jacket, left open at the front.

He was good at masking the pain.

“Commander,” she said, standing by instinct, “how are you?”

His voice was hoarse, quiet. His reply: “How are you?”

Trevelyan forgave him the trespass of not answering, as she recognised an audible guilt in his question. “I’m well, thank you.”

He managed a little nod in response. Lady Montilyet came to his side, and directed him to a seat. The walk over was stable, but slow.

His weight sank onto the chair with a creak, evident of the heaviness of one whose body felt as lead. At least sitting seemed to settle him. Trevelyan waited until he was comfortable, to ask again:

“Commander, how are you?”

“He is better,” answered Montilyet, for him. She remained at his side, observant. “The healers said he recovered well enough in the evening to return to his own bed. Though aches and pains still linger, and will for a few days yet.”

It seemed this was enough to give the Commander courage to speak: “I am sorry you had to… witness that,” he told Trevelyan, not meeting her gaze. “Thank you, for fetching help.”

Trevelyan shifted along the sofa, to take Lady Erridge’s usual spot. She tried to catch the Commander’s eye—and, when she finally did, smiled at him. “I am glad to see you better.”

“I am sorry,” the Commander repeated. “That day… I had forgotten my medicines. I—believe Josephine told you about them?”

‘Josephine’ interjected: “It was not just that day. The healers said it was four of his last six doses that had been missed—hence why this flare was so terrible.”

Trevelyan’s next question, of how such doses had been missed in the first place, was answered before she could voice it:

“Lyrium affects memory,” the Commander explained. “I forget things, on occasion. But forgetting my medicines meant that the forgetting only worsened. One missed day, turned into two, turned into four. I’m sorry.”

Trevelyan regarded him softly. “I hope you do not mean to blame yourself, Commander.”

“It is my fault.”

She shook her head. “With things like this… lapses happen. No matter how you try or how you prepare, as with anything in life, we are still prone to stumbling. I fear if you blame yourself, it will only dissuade you from continuing this path.”

He finally looked her in the eye. “I do want to continue,” he said, voice regaining strength, “if I prove it’s possible, others may have a chance...”

Trevelyan smiled. Perhaps Baroness Touledy was not compatible with the Commander romantically, but she was not wrong that he was like-minded. Trevelyan was determined to have them make friends of one another yet.

“That is an honourable purpose, Commander,” she told him, “and I think you will succeed in it. I believe you have the fortitude.”

“Some call it sturbbornness,” Lady Montilyet commented, with a smile.

Trevelyan shared in it. “That too.”

The Commander evaded her gaze once more. “I appreciate your faith in me,” he said. He took a breath before continuing—“I, ah...”—but lost his chain of thought.

“Commander?”

He shook his head. “Forgive me. My head aches.”

Lady Montilyet’s smile dropped, and her regal demeanour returned at once.

“You had best return to your room, and take the rest of the day,” she told him. “And do not think you may work. I have had all your reports removed.”

His displeased frown was rather funny—but it soon turned to one of effort, as he pushed himself up from the seat. With a grunt, he stood. Trevelyan rose as well.

“If there is anything I may do to help,” she said, “please, do tell me.”

He smiled, albeit weakly. “Thank you. I hope you are all right.”

“I am, I promise you. Rest well, Commander.”

“Thank you.”

Satisfied, he allowed Lady Montilyet to escort him to the Hall door. They were met by a guard at the threshold, who took the Commander’s flank, and marched with him as if following his lead.

Trevelyan leant back as far as she could, to watch him go. Once gone from view, Montilyet let the door swing shut.

“I am sorry for surprising you with this,” she said as she strode back, “but the healers tell me that as soon as his mind was present yesterday, he was asking for you. He was terribly concerned that he had caused you upset.”

Technically, he had, but given that it was hardly intentional—and that the majority of the upset was her own anxiety—Trevelyan had little injury to report.

“I’m all right.”

“Indeed,” said Montilyet, arriving at her desk. “Thank you for agreeing to this. It will have settled him greatly.”

“Of course.” Trevelyan stood. “I take it all engagements between him and his suitors are cancelled for now?”

Though Lady Montilyet had begun counting coin on her desk, she paused to address Trevelyan:

“Naturally. Until he feels well enough… and, after I have informed the other Ladies.”

Ah. Time to save Lady Montilyet a job.

“They already know,” said Trevelyan. Montilyet’s eyes widened. Trevelyan quickly clarified: “It was not me who told them. They had figured it out from the rumours they had heard.”

This seemed to be accepted as an adequate explanation, and, thank the Maker, Lady Montilyet dug no further. She finished counting her coin, and with her quill, struck through an entry on a ledger.

Trevelyan would have left her to this work, but lingered. There was still something she needed to know. After a moment to build her resolve, Trevelyan crept closer to Montilyet, and asked:

“Your Ladyship, just in case, may I know—what are the signs of one of these flares? If you can tell me, that is.”

Montilyet thought a moment. “Few have happened while I have known him, but… I suppose there are commonalities. First, there is the distractedness—he always seems to lose focus, in the days before.”

Trevelyan thought of the chess match between him and Lady Samient. Not his best play. In fact, he had been rather… distracted.

“Then, of course, the irritability—more so than usual!”

The training, she had interrupted with the Baroness. It took very little for him to leap to her defence that day. Trevelyan wondered that she had not realised it before.

“And… also hunger. I worry when the cooks say he is eating well. A healer once described it to me as like the body is trying to satisfy a hunger that it can never fulfil.”

That damn crumble. Of course he’d eaten the whole thing. Trevelyan cursed herself.

“Thank you,” she told Lady Montilyet regardless. “I shall bear it in mind.”

Her mind, indeed, ran over the three almost obsessively, so that she would not forget. Eager to be away and write them down, she curtsied, opening her mouth to give a farewell and take her leave. Montilyet raised a hand.

“Wait a moment,” she instructed. “I have something to give you.”

She turned back to her desk, and collected what she had been preparing—a small purse. It jingled pleasantly as she picked it up, and offered it to Trevelyan.

“Here. Your wages, for the last week.”

Trevelyan blinked. Wages?

She took the satchel, and drew it open. Golden coin glittered within a silver sea. Maker, this couldn’t be right.

“Usually this would be the bursar’s role,” Lady Montilyet explained, “but I wished to give you this first one myself, as a personal thanks for your work.”

Trevelyan counted the coin. “But… this can’t be the right amount?”

“Seven royals is a good wage,” Montilyet told her. “Better than most.”

But Trevelyan’s head shook. “I know—it’s too much.”

A realisation came across Lady Montilyet’s face. Her open mouth closed into a soft smile.

“This is not a Circle allowance,” she explained, “this is a fair wage for fair work.”

“Are you certain?”

Lady Montilyet placed her hands on Trevelyan’s, and closed them around the purse. “This is your money, Lady Trevelyan. Spend it as frivolously or frugally as you wish. It is yours.”

Trevelyan already had an idea. “Thank you,” she said, tying the purse-strings back up tight, “thank you.”

With a low cursty and a very fond farewell, she hurried out of Lady Montilyet’s office. There was a book in the market that needed her attention!

And now, it would not even be her parents’ money with which she bought it. It was her own money. She would pay for that book, and it would belong to her, wholly and completely. They could never take it from her, claiming they were the true owners. It would be hers.

Trevelyan almost tripped over herself, running down the steps to the lower courtyard. Clutching the purse to her chest, she weaved her way through the lingering crowd of market customers, and found that velvet table.

But the book was gone.

“Do you have that book?” she asked the seller. “The astronomy one?”

She did not like the expression that took his face.

“Sorry, miss, sold it just a minute ago; I did say someone else had their eye on it, but they were keen as you.”

“Do you have no other copies?” she asked, desperate.

He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s a rare one. But, I could have another by the time I return.”

“Oh! When will that be?”

“I pass through here whenever I’m travelling between Ferelden and Orlais—should be back in about… three weeks, say? Maybe a month.”

Too long.

“I’ll be back home by then,” she told him. And she’d be returning with nothing of her own. “Thank you, anyway.”

“Wait, wait!” He scribbled something on a scrap of vellum, and offered it to her. “This is the name of the book, and the author. Show that to any bookseller worth their sovereigns where you live, and they’ll find you a copy, I’m sure.”

Trevelyan smiled, and took the slip. “Thank you.”

But it was a poor consolation prize. She trudged back towards the stairs, contemplating her misery. No pretty book. But the money was something, at least. She’d have to find somewhere to hide it, where the snakes that called themselves her ladies’ maids wouldn’t see.

Perhaps she could even set a trap.

Sure enough, when she at last arrived at her room, one of the little vipers (Cara) was turning down her bed. Trevelyan was grateful for her smock’s large and concealing pockets.

“Your Ladyship,” greeted Cara, “some things arrived for you. A letter from the Bann and Lady Trevelyan, and an Inquisition woman delivered a parcel.”

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan, “you may go.”

Cara curtsied, and made her way out. The second she was gone—with a glance back to check—Trevelyan scurried to her bed, poked a hole in the mattress beneath, and stashed her money in there. Worked well enough in the Circle.

Satisfied it was adequately hidden—though she would make sure to check every morning and every night—she worked her way to the post waiting on the table. The parcel Cara had mentioned was a rectangular sort of shape, and decently thick. The letter was a letter.

Trevelyan forwent her parents’ admonishments for now, and took up the parcel. Wrapped in brown paper, and very poorly too, she quite easily found a gap to tear into.

And revealed a blue leather beneath.

In disbelief, she tore the rest of the paper away. The book! The book of constellations! Illustrated, complete! Here. How?

She opened the cover. A note awaited her.

To Lady Trevelyan, it read, something for you, by way of apology. C.

Her heart fluttered. Buying something for herself was one thing, but having something bought for her was another. Trevelyan had never had anything so lavish bought for her—at least, in earnest. All her parents’ purchases had been begrudging.

Her hands stroked the pages—all hers, every constellation, every star—before she snapped the book shut, and held it to her chest. Apology most certainly accepted.

She would have to do something for the Commander in return. A book for him, perhaps? It would be nice for him to read, especially something other than a report, during this rest of his. She could get him a romance! A better one, than his current recommendation.

Though… such a thing might be taken the wrong way. Like a winking suggestion. But, she could always—

Her reverie was cut short, as her eyes caught the waiting letter from her parents. Sighing, Trevelyan set down her book, and picked up the letter. The seal of House Trevelyan cracked open, and revealed its contents:

To our daughter,

I am writing to remind you of your upcoming banquet, for which you shall be in attendance. I faithfully request that you comport yourself with utmost dignity and elegance. Nobles of all regions shall be in attendance, and our reputation should be kept polished in their presence. Remember to—

Trevelyan set the letter aflame in her hand, and watched it burn to nothing more than ash. She had something better to read, now.

And she knew the perfect place to read it: the battlements, that very night.

***

And Maker, it was a lovely night.

With the same flame she used to light her parent’s letter, Trevelyan illuminated the pages of her new book—careful so as to not award it the same fate—and used it to map out the stars above.

Each people had a different story for them. It reminded her of the Commander. So many different interpretations she had heard. But as with the stars, she need not adopt any for herself. She could have her own meaning, for the heavens, and for him.

She wondered how he had fared today. If he had actually taken his rest, or instead intimidated some soldier into bringing him his reports. Likely the latter.

Had everything been all right, they would have walked together again this afternoon. There was a pang in Trevelyan’s chest when she thought of it. A shame.

“Comman—oh!”

The nightwatchman’s call startled Trevelyan. But it seemed she was not the only one.

She whirled, to see the Commander in retreat. Still in his lighter clothing—though his jacket was now buttoned up against the cold—he was attempting to return the way he had come.

Trevelyan hurried to catch him. Not hard, considering his present state.

“Good evening, Commander!” she called.

He stopped and faced her, reluctant—or perhaps shy. He performed a small bow, likely all his aching muscles could manage.

“I just wished to say thank you, for the book,” she told him, smiling—brighter and more genuinely than she had for him all this time. “It was very kind of you. I had been looking at it myself this morning.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, “it was the least I could do.”

“You didn’t—oh, well.” She wouldn’t argue with his stubbornness fortitude tonight. “I shan’t keep you. I just wanted to thank you.”

He smiled, at least.

“If you were headed this way, you can pass,” she reassured. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh—if you’re sure.”

“Whatever gets you back to bed the fastest,” she joked.

He chuckled, but it soon turned to a cough. “Right. I’ll... be on my way. Good evening.”

“Good evening.”

She clutched the book close as he passed, her smile not leaving her as she watched, nor as she returned to gaze at the stars. If he were not so unwell, he could have joined her, perhaps.

That would be… nice.

[kaftan]

hi it's me lea, you don't have to publish this İ just wanted to tell you that seeing you speak on transmisogynie and having apologised really, idk, fixed something in me? having these callouts come back incessantly like waves with seemingly no amount of argument and analysis changing anything caused a certain bitterness to grow in me, but you returned to me a certain, İ don't want to say faith in humanity, but reassurance that there's ppl not only able but also willing to unlearn transmisogynie and to fight it. it's good to see that transmisogynie isn't quite as insurmountable and all-encompassing as it feels sometimes. thank you for that ❤️

Hi lea ❤️❤️ thank you dearly for sending this ask; it’s definitely worth publishing. (Quick context for newer followers: my last rodeo with the transmisogyny callout industrial complex was about two years ago, and directed against lea: at the time, I was stupid enough to give benefit of the doubt to transmisogynists where none was deserved, cowed enough by people in my circle to accept anti-kink, thought-crime-is-real rhetoric, and cowardly enough that despite my misgivings, I didn’t publicly speak up against it or reach out to lea before she deactivated her account at the time. To put it mildly, much has changed in the two years since — I got to know many more trans women, developed a political backbone, familiarized myself thoroughly with the meaning and manifestations of transmisogyny, and also, crucially, stopped being 18. Anyway, I recently came across lea again, reached out, extended a much-needed and much-overdue apology, and we are once more mutuals and friends.)

I think, like you said, there’s a lot to be gained in acknowledging that the factors responsible for people believing transmisogynistic callouts are unlearnable and not intrinsic (in my case the key was rejecting the false premise that people’s real-life moral conduct can be reliably deduced from their erotic fixations — people will argue until they’re red in the face that the leveraging of this thinking against primarily trans women is pure coincidence, and until you reject their premise, you are susceptible to their bullshit), but also, just as importantly: prioritizing friendships with trans women above any and all intracommunity transmisogyny is its own reward, on a level I find it difficult to express. “If you know you know” type thing.

Anyway, I want to also say that this ask is so, so heartening — it means the world to me that I can make some kind of measurable positive impact by putting my mouth where my politics are, and especially for you! Sending you so much love, forever. 🧡

[wearykatie]

The Journey Into the Wild Beyond

Chapter 2: Hither (Part 1)

On arrival in Prismeer, the party is dumped in Hither, one of three lands divided by thick layers of fog that make travel between them extremely difficult. This was an alien world to the player characters, and it’s my first chance to really dive into Feywild things.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I had to separate Elora from the party for this part to one, resolve the nightmare she rolled in the previous chapter, and two, to introduce a character. 

Let’s get to the nightmare first. In it, Elora is back home with her sister, Ana’leth. Ana keeps looking through Elora’s room for something Elora lost but doesn’t say what it is. It’s then she notices an ominous wardrobe at the back of the room that doesn’t belong. When Ana approaches it, it opens and four skeletal hands grab her and pull her inside. 

When Elora wakes, she’s greeted by a blue harengon (a type of rabbit folk in D&D) by the name of Alice. 

You won’t find Alice in The Wild Beyond the Witchlight because she’s a character I made specifically for this campaign. The book does provide guides who can take the party between the different lands of Prismeer but they’re a little weird. There’s a scarecrow, an oilcan, and a dandelion (meant to reference the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz). They aren’t so much guides as plot devices, they’re easy to miss if the party doesn’t go to specific areas, and I wasn’t thrilled with using a scarecrow described as being brought to life when the one of the hags imbued it with the “tormented soul” of a child.

So I exchanged three Wizard of Oz references for an Alice In Wonderland reference. Alice was enigmatic at first. Clearly knew more than she was letting on, seemed a bit mischievous, and had very vague abilities. I wanted her to be somewhat like the Cheshire Cat. She gave Elora a set of rules to play with. 

Rules are made to be bent, not broken. 

A promise made is a promise kept.

The price is in the paying, not the sum. 

The intended meaning of these would be found out later, but the first means there are no concrete rules to how things in Prismeer work unless you’re really testing the limits of that, and then you will get pushback. The second means that making a promise is equal to keeping it, if you promise someone something, it’s expected you’ll follow through. The third means that in rules of trade, as long as you’re offering something, you’re paying - monetary value doesn’t matter. 

This was kind of my replacement for the Rules of Conduct in the book which are rules Zybilna set in place and apparently enforces with some pretty twisted punishment. Like binding a thief’s scarf to his neck and then hanging him from a tree as tall as a skyscraper in undying agony for eternity. 

We will get to my Zybilna rewrites. 

Alice offered this advice, then led Elora to the rest of the party and promptly vanished into thin air. We’ll see more of her later.

The party soon found more harengons! Brigands working under the aforementioned guy who was hanged from a tree, Agdon Longscarf. The party talked and intimidated their way out of a fight and sent the brigands packing. That’s fine, there are other encounters out there.

The First and Last Random Encounter

I love random encounter tables. 

I hate running random encounters. 

My dislike comes from preparing random encounters, balancing enemies, setting up maps, and doing tons of preparation just on the off chance that maybe the party runs into that particular thing. Well, they did this time. Mud mephits. Combat went well, but it was slow as every 5e combat is, and it usually boils down to just shouting numbers at each other. 

That’s my biggest criticism with 5th edition - and yes internet, I’m aware that other games exist. Believe me, everyone who has ever dared mention D&D on the internet has been inundated with replies about how this other system is way better and far less problematic and we should really stop playing D&D because there are better games out there if we just give them a chance. I KNOW. But my 41 year old brain knows 5th edition, likes 5th edition, and isn’t likely to pick up on a new game that easily. 

What was I saying? Oh yeah, combat in D&D sucks. And I think that’s partly a scaling issue, because the more players and enemies you have the more rounds you have, and there’s not a lot of room for roleplaying while you’re trying to figure out how many d6s to roll.

But that encounter had Elora pouring an alchemy jug full of salt water onto the mud mephits to see what would happen. Because alchemist. Hmm…idea brewing. 

Early to Rise

Chapter 2 was also when Early’s player was finally able to join the game. I caught her up beforehand by running through an abbreviated version of Chapter 1 from Early’s perspective in a way that would fit with the events the rest of the party went through, but let the two stories happen in parallel without Early meeting the others until Chapter 2. No retcons for me. 

Yet. 

Early also went through the mirror portal but ended up several feet in the air. She used Featherfall to save herself, but ended up stuck in a tree dangling only inches off the ground but unable to break free. She doesn’t know how long she was like that - could be minutes, could be years. She’s the one with no sense of time. 

The party freed her, and she fit right in after they learned she was from the Magewood Academy too and was on the same quest. 

Shortly after, wells all around Hither began to erupt like geysers and the swamp-like terrain started to flood. Luckily for the party, a mobile inn happened to pass by. Oh, that’s pretty cool. What does this thing look like? How does it move about? 

*checks the book*

It’s a building that moves around on legs in the middle of a swamp. 

Wild Beyond the Witchlight writers, I know y’all read stories, you reference quite a few. Did you deliberately make an inn that would evoke images of Baba Yaga? 

So I described that horror show and somehow the players trusted that enough to get a decent night’s rest at the inn while they waited for the flood waters to recede. The innkeeper, Tsu, is an elderly druid who wants to see Zybilna return to power. 

During this downtime, Elora finally read her letter. It confirmed her worst fears - Ana had died on a mission to Falcon Hollow. This confused the players because that was an arc in Royal Flush. Ana was captured, her old teacher helped them rescue her, and everyone made it out alive. That was a couple of weeks ago in game time. Well, clearly the letter was mistaken. But, that was out of character knowledge. In character, everyone found out that Elora’s sister had just died. 

Fun Wacky Adventure Time In the Feywild! Also, Dead Siblings

Okay, so this was going to be a tough balancing act both for me and for the players. One party member is a teenager dealing with a very personal loss and she’s meant to carry on and have zany adventures and save a whole other realm. She should be curled up in a ball and crying for the rest of the game. How do you navigate around that?

Well, with friends. She’s got four friends to check on her and help her power through - one of them is a cleric with a unique perspective on death. But also, the show must go on, and K knew that, so they played Elora as kind of putting off her grief until the job was done. 

The party also got a delivery while at the inn - a gift from Titania, the Summer Queen. See, they helped one of her knights early on in Hither, and she rewarded them with a tiny acorn house. By speaking her name, they would be shrunk down and transported inside where they could take a long rest anywhere. This was an item I found in Through the Veil: Treasures of the Feywild, a book of fey-themed items recommended by a friend.

And hey, it meant I didn’t have to roll for random encounters during long rests. 

Rhin also had a dream during the night. In it, she’s witnessing a funeral she saw in her youth. A widower offered prayers to the earth to accept their beloved. Rhin also saw an elven woman dressed all in black sitting on a bench beckoning her to sit with her. The woman pointed out various other funerals happening and the ways the people conducted the ceremonies. Some were sad, some joyous, some angry, some religious. 

The woman said there was beauty in all things, even death. A skilled artist could work with the colors of death and mourning. She encouraged Rhin to recover what she lost, and as she walked away, Rhin saw that the woman’s cloak was made of raven feathers.

I’ve used dreams twice in this chapter to convey things. I know people have mixed feelings on that as a writing tool, but the nature of the things that were taken from the player characters is very personal - something they couldn’t really get clues to from other people. So, when Rhin found out her missing thing was in Hither, she got a dream or vision from the goddess of death telling her to meditate on what was missing and find it. 

Each player character would experience one or more of these dreams, and some of them delve into light horror. I really wanted the missing things to be large parts of the story that drove the player characters forward and redefined them when they got them back. 

But, that’s enough for one part. Next time, more chapter 2, more harengons, some frogs, and the first hag.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Crown's S-Rank Mission Story Event: Jude Jazza's 95k Bonus Story

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Translator Notes are marked with*** Dividers: @/natimiles

Victor: Now....this mission is to infiltrate the mansion of a trader who is conducting illegal human trafficking.

Victor: I want you to go to his mansion and find hard evidence of his involvement in human trafficking.

Victor spreads a detailed document on his desk. On it was a picture of a man who appeared to be the target.

Ellis: Oh, this guy…….

Kate: Do you know him?

Ellis: He's the one who's been clashing with Jude lately saying, "I'm a better merchant".

Jude: ….Ah. That guy, I remember him.

Ellis: If I recall correctly, last month he said, "The subordinates I have with me are stronger."

Kate: So, what happened?

Jude: Ellis sank his opponent in seconds.

(Ellis, as expected……)

Jude: It doesn't seem like much of a mission, but do we hafta take this one along too?

Jude points at me with his chin and asks Victor.

Victor: The mansion is large. Wouldn't it be easier to search if you had someone to help you?

Victor: Or is there a reason why you can't take Kate with you?

Jude: ….. I don't mind. Even if I tell ya not to come, you'll come, so at the very least, don't slow me down.

Kate: ….Understood.

It seems that the target merchant's mansion has a lot of servants coming and going.

I went undercover as a maid and Ellis as a gardener, and so we each searched for documents.

(Okay, I was able to sneak in as a maid safely……)

(Jude arranged to buy us some time by talking business with the target, so let's find the documents while we can.)

Housemaid: The new arrival, Kate..... was it? Can you go clean the master's room now that we're done here?

Kate: Yes! I’m coming!

I searched the room for a while, looking for anything suspicious, but could not find the documents.

(I don't think it's in this room...I think it's time to search another place.)

Merchant: Hmm? You must be the new maid.

Just as I was about to leave the room, the merchant came in.

Kate: Ah, yes! I just finished cleaning!

(Why are you here?! Jude should be stalling you for time!)

Merchant: I see. Then, you can take a break here.

Kate:…..Yes?

Merchant: I was just thinking of playing with a girl like you.

The man's hand reached out and forcefully grabbed my shoulder.

Kate: Oh, no, you can't be serious…….

Merchant: Did you refuse too? 

Seriously, most of the servants these days are so cowardly that they yell at you, and quit only after messing with them a little bit.

(That's the reason why there are so many servants coming and going……?!)

Merchant: If you had some money, you'd keep quiet too. Here, I'll give you this.

The man takes out a bill, shoves it into my apron pocket, and leans in close.

Kate: Stop….

(I'm scared! But if I make a fuss here, I'll ruin the mission…..!)

(Somehow, I have to get through this peacefully……)

Frustrated, I try to think of a way out, but nothing comes to mind.

At that moment, the door to the room suddenly opened.

Jude: You're so lively for the middle of the day.

Merchant: Hey…….Jude Jazza! How did you get here?

Jude: I offered ya a business meeting, but ya didn't show up at the table, so I came to pick ya up. Cry with joy.

Jude: Time is money. If you're a merchant, ya understand, right? The price for makin' me wait is high.

Merchant: That was just a slight to humiliate you! Don't come into my room without permission! Get out!

Jude: I’ll leave once I’ve collected the things I’ve forgotten. Let’s go, ya dullard princess. 

Jude brushed off the merchant's hand on my shoulder, and pulled my hand forcefully.

Kate: Jude, the documents……

Jude: Ellis found them in the barn.

Kate: Good…..!

Merchant: Wait, what do you mean "documents"?

Jude: Incriminatin’ documents provin' that ya were involved in human traffickin'. My condolences.*

Merchant: You guys were in on it!? It's cowardly to use a honey trap to attract my attention in order to get that.

(……I don't remember doing that.)

Merchant: Shit, if that happens, you'll be along for the ride too! Jude Jazza!! 

The merchant went to the window and pulled the cord that was hanging down.

Immediately, the sound of a loud bell rang out in the mansion.

Kate: What did you do…..?!

Jude: Shit, that burnin' smell...

Merchant: Ha-ha-ha! This is a fire generator.…..The entire mansion is on fire!

Merchant: I was prepared to erase evidence left in the mansion in case of an emergency.

Merchant: I'd rather die here with you than get caught anyway!

Kate: Oh my god…..!

Merchant: Come to think of it, I didn't like you from the first time I met you. Jude!

Merchant: The business partner I had my eye on for money already had you— ugh!

The merchant man was about to say something, but was knocked out by Jude's uppercut…..

Jude: I don't give a shit what he thinks or how he got into crime. Run away.

Kate: It's no good here either. We can't get through with the flames.

Jude: Then, we'll hafta go out the window.

Jude opens the hallway window and looks out.

Kate: Window……we’re on the 4th floor!

Jude: If we follow the rain pipe, we can get down. If we fall, the trees below will cushion the impact.

Kate: ……

The pipe that’s visible through the window is deteriorated, and doesn’t appear durable enough to support two people.

Kate: Jude, please go out here. I’ll look for another exit.

Jude: Another exit? Ya know somethin'?

Kate: I can't…… be sure! So, Jude, please go out here!

Kate: You won’t break the rain drain by yourself Jude.

Even as we were conversing, the flames seemed to be growing stronger, and a loud explosion could be heard somewhere.

Jude: Spit it out quickly before we burn to a crisp…….

The flames were so intense that I knew there was no time for arguments.

Kate: ….. When I was researching this mansion in advance.

Kate: I noticed that there was an unnatural protruding space underground.

Kate: I thought there might be something in the direction of the protrusion, so I followed it…..

Kate: I noticed that there was a detached outbuilding a little further away from the mansion.

Jude: Detached….Oh, that.

Jude looks at the building outside the window.

Kate: Yes. The couple who used to own the mansion had a child.

Kate: But the child was born with fair skin and was sensitive to the sun, and apparently lived in an outbuilding with few windows!

Kate: Maybe there is a hidden underground passage between the outbuilding and the mansion!

Jude: Really.

Jude turns on his heel and heads toward the stairs.

Kate: What, are you going to look for it?! But there's no proof, right?

Jude: In that case, ya should just run down the rain pipe. I'm goin'.

Then Jude and I ran through the burning mansion and managed to reach the basement.

Kate: The unnatural space was in this room.

Jude: ……..

Jude starts banging on the wall with a serious look on his face.

Jude: The walls are thin here. There's a space over there.

Kate: I knew it ......! I'll look for a hammer or something!

Jude: No need.

When Jude throws a roundhouse kick, the basement wall is blown away. And beyond that, there was an underground passage.

(It's amazing how you can break through a wall with a kick…..)

Jude:……It's somethin' you often find in aristocratic mansions. They’ll dig underground and make somethin' like this.

Jude looked astonished as he lit a cigarette with a practiced motion.

Without putting the cigarette in his mouth, he held it out toward the underground passage.

Then, the cigarette smoke trailed into the passage from the back of the hallway.

Jude: …..Thankfully, there's some air. Looks like there's an exit on the other side.

Kate: Let’s go! 

As the two of us proceed through the dimly lit underground passage……

As I stared, the passageway led to the annex.

Kate: Good! We made it out!

We exit the villa and take a breath. Looking toward the mansion, I was horrified to see flames rising so high.

(If we hadn't found the underground passage, we might have died….)

Kate: Oh……I’m sorry.

Jude: ….. I don't know what you're apologizin' for.

Kate: Even though the documents had already been found and the mission had been completed, you still came to the room to look for me, Jude.

Jude: .....That merchant was a womanizer. I had a feelin’ he'd catch ya easily. 

Kate: Perhaps that's why you hesitated to let me accompany you on your first mission?

Jude: Because it would slow us down.

Kate: …….. Plus, we had to flee the fire...... I'm sorry.

Jude: Haha, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, bowin' your head.

Jude: It's true that you were involved in a fire because of your lack of sense.

Jude: But, I guess it was a credit to ya for findin' the underground passage?

I thought I saw Jude faintly smile and my eyes were drawn to him.

(It's not every day that I get a smile like this.)

(I feel like Jude’s acknowledged me....... I'm so happy!)

Jude: Let’s go home, princess.

Kate: Yes! ……ssk.

Kate: ….Jude, could you please go home first?

Jude: Huh?

Kate: I was so busy that I didn't notice it before, but I think I sprained my leg.

Jude: You're so stupidly clumsy, ya know that? Damn, you're a handful, princess.

With a troublesome expression on his face, Jude approached me and squatted on the spot.

Kate: Um….?

Jude: Get on 'fore I change my mind.

Kate: Are you sure?

Jude: The mission won't be completed without your report. It'll be a nuisance if ya don’t come home early.

Kate: Oh, thank you very much....

When I gently climbed onto his back, Jude stood up strong.

Then, he began to walk carefully, without any danger.

Jude's warmth made me so happy, I couldn't help but laugh, and Jude heard it.

Jude: What are you laughing at? I'll drop ya.

Kate: No, please don't!

I hurriedly clung to Jude to avoid being dropped.

Jude: You’re heavy. Should I just throw ya into the river?

Kate: I won't let you go Jude, so then I'll take you with me Jude. 

Jude: After being attacked by fire, now it’s a water attack. It’s all because of you. 

Despite his grumbling and complaining, Jude carried me securely on his back so he didn’t drop me.

(It was a difficult mission, but I'm glad I did my best.)

Even though I'm being swayed back and forth between coldness and kindness, I can't take my eyes off Jude.

(I want Jude to recognize me more... so I'll keep trying from now on.)

***Thanks to further clarification, the translation has been updated to just use the term “honey trap” when the merchant speaks to Jude, versus what I previously rendered as “bait and switch honeytrap”.

*This was changed from “black” to incriminating.

[Master List]

[myastrouniverse]

April/2024🌝♐️I notice Sag people are always at their best in a fight.

🚑▪️🌽 America has turned into an island of broken addicts. I think in order to survive the rat race, you have to find something to keep you motivated. I may not be able to live my life, but I can always find something to live for. In other words, do what you can with what you have. What else have you got?

🌞 Λ 🎸 I have self confidence issues I hide behind a Leo rising. I’m like the cowardly lion roaring…”full of sound and fury, signifying”…🤡💩

🌝🔺 ♂️I thought I saw you limping in the hallway wearing a Fonzie coat. I know it’s just psych ops fucking with me. I know the ghost of you and it’s gone. I sometimes imagine it’s back, but that is just my imagination.

🌝🔺 ♆︎ I appreciate anyone’s concern for my mental health. I certainly feel on edge. If this helps, NOTHING shocks me anymore. NOTHING. If existence completely deteriorates and I am left floating through the vastness of space, it would probably be LESS SHOCKING; than the shit I have already been through. Try me. I can if necessary, find a healthy way to process my emotions. It’s difficult on occasion, but I do make an effort to function in society. I would benefit by hearing any news or being approached with any important news by someone I know, like Tara. Tonya really needs her own handlers. She is a Sag, and she is a mutha fucking crazy ass fighter. She really scares me these days. Tara shouldn’t have to deal with her. I would hang with Tara more, if Tonya wasn’t so difficult to deal with. You know Harley Quinn from suicide squad? Picture her looking twenty years older with NO TEETH. That is Tonya.

🌞🔺🦚 My scalp/jaw area is feeling almost completely normal. I don’t have a fucking cyber crystal skull. That was that stupid fucking jar of monoatomic gold that insane doctor, poured into my scalp. She was wearing a tattoo of blue flowers running down her shoulder to her elbow on her left arm, I believe. That bitch was a psychopath murderer. How does anyone fucking get that evil? She was from Peace Health hospital. She needs to be in jail for conducting experimental surgeries on the vulnerable without their consent and then trying to hide their bodies in the mental ward.

🌝 < ☊ Yeah, it’s difficult to be alone but I’d rather be alone than around crazy people and no one is passing my reality checks.

🌝 < ☿︎ I am getting sort of tired of looking for messages within the messages. It’s going to lead me right into the abyss if I keep playing into the games. Is this really entertaining?

The Temptations - Just My Imagination

Krzysztof Gil — Stardust (oil on canvas, 2024)

[sneakysmediacorner]

just finished dostoyevsky's the double!

First of all, great audiobook - after devouring as many as i did last year, i've started to really appreciate when an audiobook's narrator can properly tune in to the novel's tone and imbue their narration with just the right amount of emotion and exaggeration. the double's narrator did a fantastic job of making yakov petrovich sound pathetic and uncertain, and of conveying the other characters' confidence and contempt towards him.

what struck me most about the double is that i think i was able to put my finger on something i've felt about dostoyevsky's works before - the way he sort of... Goes There. he often chooses to portray sort of a worst case scenario for anxious, socially graceless, unconfident people. his characters inhabit a world that truly is out to get them, and are surrounded by characters who will misconstrue everything they say. if golyadkin thinks someone is scheming against him and acts accordingly, it will always turn out they were actually being completely honest, and will be confused and outraged at his insinuations. if he approaches someone with the assumption they are acting in good faith, they will always turn out to have indeed been scheming against him.

the double indulges in a very specific nightmare of someone who doesn't know what the rules of social conduct are. i myself have often felt this particular dread - that of going into an interaction convinced that confidence is everything, that if you just act like you know what you should be doing then everyone will believe you - and then getting the feeling that everyone around you knows you're bluffing, and finds you pitiful and embarrassing. golyadkin constantly tries to wink and nudge at his interlocutors, to imply something in the hopes they'll follow along. but they never do, and they don't even have the decency to pretend they understand his meaning in order not to embarrass themselves! no, instead they keep a straight face and ask golyadkin what it is, exactly, that he means? every character except our hero has the confidence and self-assuredness to call his bluff or demand explanation - but when things are being insinuated to golyadkin, he is the one feeling foolish and confused.

i was particularly struck by two exchanges - one between golatkin and his doctor early on in the novel, and another between goliatkin and petrushka, towards the end. in the first, golyadkin desperately tries to explain something, clear his name of some accusation, but is clearly unwilling to name the offense, and so resorts to vague allusions to certain persons and certain events. his doctor, annoyed and maybe confused with this style of speaking, refuses to try to understand who and what golyadkin might be referring to, and gently dismisses him. in the second exchange, petrushka is taking leave of golyadkin with no explanation or justification whatsoever, and golyadkin's shy questions are answered with vague insinuations - but whereas the doctor had enough self-assuredness to refuse to stoop down to the level of golyadkin's cowardly speech, golyadkin himself is the one trying to match petrushka's tone. petrushka also keeps peppering these "we all know"'s into his answers, which gives off an extremely patronising impression. this all paints golyadkin as not only a coward, but someone who so lacks confidence in his own understanding of social situations - confidence in his own perception of reality, even! - that he will bow down to whatever his interolcutor is saying, even if said person is someone inifnitely inferior to him in terms of social rank.

as a socially anxious and generally socially confused person, this image of the world - where everyone else seems to know what's going on, how to behave, where everyone seems to have the confidence to live their truth straighforwardly, but you are forever unsure and prone to embarrassing yourself due to not reading the room well enough - is so painfully familiar to me. i've said before that dostoyevsky is the most personal writer i've ever encountered, and from reading the double i certainly get the impression that he must have known some of the same anxieties i and many others experience decades after he lived. it makes for a really incredible reading experience.

i also wonder if it might be a reflection of the time and place dostoyevsky was writing in - i don't know about petersburg specifically, but 19th century russia must have been a confusing and difficult place to navigate when it came to social customs. i would imagine there was a lot of tension with the old aristocratic customs coexisting with new, industrial ways of organising society, with growing social unrest and discontent, with increasing influences from the west. there are mentions of changing times and new standards scattered throughout the book, so i imagine there is something to that. i would also imagine the kind of social anxieties i read into the book to be complicated even further by the rigid, multilayered rank system of 19th century russia, which sought to categorise social rank with an unprecedented amount of detail.

[erabundus]

@momijiba &&. said... ❛ thank you for holding my hand and staying with me last night, i vaguely remember what i did... and i want to apologize to you for my behaviour ❜ kazuha had the urge to grab ren's hand and intertwine their hands together and just sit there in each others company. but he wasn't sure if he should as he felt like he hurt ren. he didn't even know why he decided to drink so much sake in one go. and he wouldn't do it again. but what happened has happened and he knew he had to own up for it. kazuha's eyes studied ren's flawless face and tried searching for any shape of resentment or any indication that he would walk out of his life.

the  gratitude  and  sorrow  were met  with  silence.  ren  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  pinning  the  ronin  beneath  piercing  gaze.  his  jaw  clenched,  teeth  grinding  in  dissatisfaction  —  he  had  hoped  kazuha  would  (  in  resurfacing  from  his  drunken  state  )  simply  FORGET  the  chaos  of  the  night  prior.  perhaps  it  was  a  wish  born  of  cowardly  sentiment;  the  wanderer  was  oft  one  to  advocate  for  facing  the  consequences  whatever  action  wrought.  yet  in  this  particular  circumstance,  he  thought  it  would  be  easier  to  let  the  matter  slide  —  allow  it  to  fade,  in  a  blur  of  frustration  and  alcohol  and  unfortunate  decisions  all  around.  ren  was  not  an  innocent  party;  he  deserved  no  apology. just as his own blood had been ( metaphorically ) spilled, blood stained his own hands in turn.

he  didn't  want  to  talk  about  it.  he  didn't  want  to  think  about  why  witnessing  kazuha  drape  himself  over  someone  else,  even  in  an  alcohol-induced  stupor,  managed  to  invoke  such  a  SHAMEFUL  reaction.  it  wasn't  anger,  he  had  come  to  realize  —  and  that  was  the  most  mortifying  thing  about  it,  wasn't  it?  anger  would  have  been  easy  to  RATIONALIZE.  anger  was  a  safe  feeling  —  empowering,  demanding  of  respect.

...  he  was  SCARED.  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  until  even  kazuha's  near  endless  patience  with  his  imperfections  reached  its  end.  he  merely  wondered  if  that  day  had  come  earlier  than  expected.

❝  you  don't  need  to  thank  me.  ❞  ren's  tone  was  clipped;  curt.  wasn't  that  sort  of  behavior  EXPECTED  from  one's  partner?  it  was  akin  to  expressing  gratitude  for  breathing.  (  that  breathing  wasn't  necessary  for  the  likes  of  him  notwithstanding.  )   ❝  you  don't  need  to  apologize,  either.  ❞  with  any  luck,  that  would  have  been  the  end  of  it  —  yet  he  could  tell  from  the  desperate  look  splayed  across  his  human's  countenance  it  most  certainly  wasn't.  if  he  didn't  nip  this  in  the  bud,  he  could  only  imagine  it  would  continue  to  eat  kazuha  alive.  seeing  the  ronin  dart  about  as  though  walking  upon  eggshells,  head  clouded  by  some  imaginary  resentment  simply  wouldn't  do. it wasn't healthy, wasn't conductive for either of their sakes.

the  wanderer  spun,  brisk  steps  clearing  the  distance  between  them.   ❝  stop  thinking  so  loud.  ❞   ren  hissed  —  the  (  odd  )  demand  punctuated  by  a  hand  darting  out  to  grab  kazuha's  own.  ❝  don't  tell  me  you're  still  wracked  with  uncertainty?  you  know  how  i  feel  about  REPEATING  myself.  ❞  yet  fierce  tone  aside,  his  features  were  soon  to  smooth  out  —  allowing  for  a  gentler  look  to  be  displayed  upon  doll-like  visage.  i'm  not  good.  he  wanted  to  say.  i'm  not  kind.  i'm not human. but  you  still  find  a  reason  to  love  me,  anyway  —  do  you  have  any  idea  what  i  would  do  for  you? yet once again, FEAR commanded his actions and smothered the words before they could escape him. perhaps it was for the best.

❝  don't  insult  me.  ❞   the  wanderer  said  softly,  pressing  his  lips  to  kazuha's  knuckles.  ❝  don't  ever  doubt  my  devotion  to  you.  i  said  i  would  take  responsibility  for  your  life.  i  wouldn't  make  that  claim  if  i  didn't  mean  it.  ❞

[bakugosbratx]

Baby Eyes | Mafia Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Some non-con, blood, murder, Mafia Bakugo, Fem! Reader, bdsm, sexual intercourse, size kink, degrading, orgasm denial, Stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, etc.

Words: 2,896

A/N: thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate. It is really fun doing this collaboration with you. Daisy’s Event

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @milkthistletea @idfkwtfgof click here to see my other works

Vegas.

Many dream of this city. The gambling, the drinks, the money, the night life. It has it all. Your dreams and worse nightmares can be made here all within a single night. The world may be cruel, but Vegas is even crueler. At least, it is for Y/N.

Your pistol was held tight in your trembling little hand. You have not been properly trained for this moment since in your late teens. The weapon felt foreign to the touch. You are now in your twenties and you are usually not doing this line of work, but since you wanted to disturb your significant other while he was working, he handed you the gun for you to handle.

“Since you want to be such a fucking cry baby, here.” He growled, shoving the pistol into your pounding chest. You gasped.

“S-Sir, I—“ You stammered, using the name he loved to be called by you. You would help it lessen your punishment, but the man did not budge.

“Don’t keep me waiting, brat. Finish this piece of shit off swiftly and quit your damn crying.”

You watched as he left into the city lights of Vegas before turning your attention back to the male before you. The man begged for mercy beneath you and your mouth feels dry.

“P-Please, ma’am. I-I have a w-wife and t-three beautiful c-children. I’ll g-give you your m-money next week. I-I promise.” The fearful man stammered amongst the abandoned dark alleyway. You have heard this speech by many like him when Katsuki brought you on his missions. It should just fall on deaf ears, but tears still brimmed your eyes as memories flooded back to the forefront of your damaged mind.

These memories are the reason you are in this predicament. You begged and squealed, running towards Katsuki and hanging onto his arm when he directed you to stay in the car. You two could have been gone by now, but you decided to intervene. Now you are here, about to commit another murder.

Your father was in this same position a few years ago. Begging for mercy before Katsuki slaughtered him right in front of you. Your cries still echo this alleyway during late, breezy nights. People think you have been disposed of as well. That is what eventually happened to the remainder of your family, but you are just under a new identity.

The barrel of the gun digs deeper into the victim’s temple. You attempt to find your strength to pull the trigger. You need to before Katsuki returns. He does not like waiting and you really are pushing what is left of his buttons today.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper out, closing your sorrow filled eyes and pressing down on the trigger. The feeling of blood splattering amongst your cold skin brought back even more unwanted memories. Falling to your knees, you began to cry hysterically in front of the fallen corpse.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you after a few moments. Katsuki has been watching the whole time and you know it. This is what made the experience even worse. You know his judgment is coming. He gave you a task and although you succeeded, it isn’t good enough. He hates your emotional ways. ‘Baby eyes’ as he would say. Always crying over something or someone.

A big calloused hand entangling into your hair with a deep sigh following. You could not look up at him. You hate him right now. You need to, at least, but the feeling of his large fingers stroking your scalp delivered comfort. A comfort he gives and takes away on a whim.

“Took you long enough.” Katsuki grumbled. You gaze up at him with a pitiful look he knows all too well. There was a certain aura to you that changed when your mind drifted to that night. The night he murdered your family right in front of you and all you could do is watch in terror.

“I-I’m sorry.” You muttered out, already accepting that Katsuki is annoyed with you. This is not your first murder and sure will not be your last. He has groomed you long enough for you to know your role.

Katsuki kicked the man’s head with his large foot so he could see the man’s pleading face. Katsuki is cruel in that way. He loved seeing his victim’s expressions in their final moments. Especially when his beautiful woman killed them.

Digging into the man’s pockets, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and black leather wallet to review what was contained inside it. The little cash the man held is now in Katsuki’s possession.

“Marlboro Reds,” Katsuki commented as he slipped the cigarette in between his moist lips and lit it up, “nice.”

Turning around to face you after letting the nicotine enter his system, he looks down at you. Grabbing your chin, you are forced to meet his gaze. You tremble under his touch.

“What did I say about that crying shit?” Katsuki recalls one of your many lectures.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, a little too loud for your own good. Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed together, not pleased with your tone. His hand found a way to your neck, giving you a nice squeeze as he guides you up to your feet.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki growls, his red orbs shooting venom into you. Your arm is now tight into his grip as he leads you to the parked all black Lamborghini.

You climb into the passenger seat while Katsuki climbs into the driver’s. You used the napkins in the glove compartment to clean up your soiled face. Katsuki is already on his second cigarette as he drives to the mansion you both share. Considering how fed up he is with you and your antics, you are surprised that half of the box is not gone by now. You know you are in for it once you arrive home.

Katsuki pulled up to the house after some time. Your tears did not pause once the whole way there which only agitated Katsuki even more. He did not say a word as you know to follow the tall man inside. Straight up the spiral marble staircase to the master bedroom, you begin undressing as Katsuki does not appreciate the mess in his living space. Along with the fact you are always to be naked within the bedroom. That rule was set once you turned eighteen years of age.

You sat on the edge of the bed, not enjoying the look in Katsuki’s angry eyes. His muscular arms folded against his chest as he leaned against the wall, glaring into you. You feel small — as usual — within his presence. He is making sure you remember your place.

“What the hell were you thinking out there, Y/N?” Katsuki begins after moments have passed.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumbled, twiddling your thumbs in your bare lap. Your insides are curling with each passing second. You are not sure why you did what you did, honestly. You have seen numerous people plead for forgiveness at Katsuki’s feet, but Katsuki is always going to be a merciless man. Your body acted before your brain could compute. You just wanted to save him. Salvage your loved ones death in some way, shape, or form, but it can never be done.

“You have to give me a better excuse than that. This little rebellion you're on lately isn’t doing nothing but getting you into heaps of trouble.”

“It’s not a rebellion!” You snap back, tears still spilling from your orbs. “You killed my family, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, used to this statement coming from you. “Here we go again.” He scoffs with a tsk following shortly after. “We’ve been over this, Y/N. Your father sold you and your family out for cash. If anything, you should be fucking grateful I even let you live.”

“Grateful?” You repeat in disbelief, a half hearted chuckle escaping your lips. Maybe it was because Katsuki let you take another life, maybe your parents' spirits are coming through, or maybe you’re just so fed up with him, but a sudden burst of confidence runs through you.

You stand up, strolling over to the man before you. His jaw is clenching as he examines each cowardly step you take towards him. You glare up to the man before you, quivering before his mighty presence.

“You killed my family, Katsuki,” you repeat through gritted teeth and clenched fists, “I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki challenged, his profound amused smirk appearing. The look in your glossy irises said all the words you didn’t have the courage to speak. “Good thing I really don’t give a fuck about your forgiveness, princess.”

Katsuki’s words soaked into your veins like venom. His smug looks always made you want to beat it off of him. Ever since you have met him. You both know you have no match against him. He will always win. Always.

You have been stuck with him since you were fifteen years old. You two never had any relationship or any sexual conduct until you were the legal age of eighteen. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fall for him over the years. He is all you know and Katsuki grew to like you over the years. Though he trained you to be the woman he wants you to be for him, you do throw a tantrum or two when needed.

“I hate you.” You sniveled.

“Sure you do. Let’s clean up that pretty face of yours so I can stuff it, eh?” Katsuki chuckled, cupping your chin with one hand so he can wipe your nose with a handkerchief with the other. You attempted to break loose of his firm grasp, but the male was not even phased.

“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me.” You admit allowed, still keeping the same angry tone within your words.

Katsuki arched his eyebrow, releasing your face from his grip and discarding the used cloth into the waste bin. “Considering the show you put on out there tonight, you’re lucky I’m not doing worse to you. I can always make that pretty ass of yours bruised too if you’d like?”

You immediately shake your head no. Your bottom is still a bit sore from two weeks ago when Katsuki put you over his knee. You are just now able to sit normal again. You do not need to go back to that.

“No, sir.” You stutter out, backing away from him and putting your hands behind your back. Katsuki is already pouring himself some whiskey into a whiskey glass that you make sure is always waiting on his dresser. He always enjoys a good drink after a long mission.

You take his black suit jacket off of him like expected and lay it on the dirty laundry hamper. Katsuki is already sitting on the bed, sipping on his alcoholic beverage, waiting for you to get to work. Kneeling before him, you begin unzipping his slacks and tugging down his underwear to reveal his erected cock. You take a moment to contemplate your future actions. You really did not want his dick in your mouth, but like Katsuki said before, you do not have a choice in the matter.

Your train of thought is derailed when Katsuki tugs on your hair. “Isn’t going to suck itself, brat. Get to work.”

Mentally groaning, your tongue swipes his length before placing kisses on the tip. Slowly, you begin taking in inch—by—inch. Saliva slid down his cock by the time you had it in your throat. Choking noises fed Katsuki’s already inflated ego.

“Can’t talk much with my cock down your throat, huh?” He teased, taking another sip of his whiskey. “For someone who claimed they didn’t want my cock to begin with, you sure are deep throating it rather quickly.”

You ignored his usual insults as you came up for air. You let out small coughs then go in for more, every vein being pleased with your tongue as you take it all in. Katsuki groans in pleasure as you pick up the speed. His cock is coated in your saliva as you did not slow down once to catch air. It wasn’t worth the ego boost he would feel from knowing he is too big for you.

Katsuki’s whiskey went unfinished as he could not focus on drinking it. Cum soon fills your hollow cheeks and down your throat as he releases into you. Not a drop was missed as you milked his cock. You were rewarded with a head pat.

“On the bed,” Katsuki instructs, “all fours.”

“Do I have to?” You whine. Katsuki vigorously grabs your chin, staring down into you. The room is dark, but his crimson eyes seemed to glow.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on this fucking bed and shut your Goddamn mouth.” Katsuki hisses, sending chills down your spine. You do as you are told like he taught you. Arching your back, your ass is now in his perfect viewing. Katsuki’s clothes discarded to the hardwood floor below, his dick already erected at the sight of you.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Katsuki asked, rhetorically. He spreads you open more for his personal view. “Yeah, that’s it.” He comments, overviewing all of you. One of his hands stroked his cock while the other pressed on your begging clit. You let out a soft moan, hoping he didn’t hear.

Placing his hands on your hips, he drags you closer to him. Leveling you with his cock, the tip slowly slips into your entrance then proceeding to pick up full speed. Your cunt swallows all of him, hugging his cock with each rhythmic thrust. You can feel your tight walls get stretched by his girth with each entry he makes, not even giving you time to get used to his size as he exits to repeat the same process. No matter how many times you two have sex, you will never get used to Katsuki’s length and size.

“Katsuki—“ You sob in pleasure and in pain.

“Shut it, slut. You’re going to take all of my fucking cock and like it. I’m going to fuck the brat out of you tonight.” Katsuki demands, pressing down on your spine so your ass is more perked up for him to smack periodically. Your cries and moans are muffled into the European satin sheets below. You grip onto them for support as Katsuki does not slow down once.

Your pussy pulsates with each thrust. It was about to give out on you and cum all over his cock. Though you did not want to give him the satisfaction, your cunt had other plans as it became tighter around Katsuki’s length.

“Aw, is someone going to cum?” Katsuki coo’s condescendingly, beginning to go agonizingly slow.

You lift your head to beg for sweet release. “Please let me cum, sir. Pretty please. I need to oh so badly.” You sobbed. His silence made your insides do flips. His slow strokes did not once stop and his nails dug into your thighs.

“No.” Katsuki finally denies as he knows you cannot take anymore. You gasp, your heart stopping for a split second.

“Katsuki, please.” You hiccuped. “I really need to.”

“Should’ve thought about that before throwing a tantrum today. Good girls get to cum.” Katsuki shrugged, using his long muscular arm to push your head back into the mattress. “Now shut the hell up while I fuck you senseless.”

Just like Katsuki stated, he fucked you until his high was met. Of course, he did not make it easy as he was about to bust, he would go slower to edge himself. He wanted this to be a punishment to remember. The whole time, you behaved and did not cum. No matter how many times Katsuki tried to get you to slip, you refused.

“C’mon and cum, brat. Y’know you wanna.” Katsuki would tease with immaturity. All you could say was incoherent “no thank you’s.” A soft rub on your ass was telling you that you passed his test.

Countless minutes, maybe even hours, have passed until Katsuki decided he was ready to release himself. “You can cum now.” He finally grants. You did not get to even process his words as your pussy released onto his cock. Babbles of pleasure and gratitude escaped from your lips.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” Katsuki praises, his cock now removed from you. You whine at the hollowness you felt.

“Lay on your back.” He instructs, doing his best to keep it together. You follow his request and switch over to your back. “Play with your tits.”

Your fingers grab onto your sensitive nipples, swirling on them before giving them a nice little pinch. Katsuki stood over you, stroking his cock that is covered in his pre-cum.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” Katsuki praised once more, analyzing your lewd faces as your fingers played with your breast.

“Mm, cover me with your cum.” You encouraged, rubbing your thighs together and pushing your breast closer to one another. Katsuki became feral as cum squirted onto your chest and stomach. Just the sight of you is making Katsuki forget today ever happened.

Just like always, baby eyes.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (188/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball,  which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made  on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before  66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

     [19 April, Age 850.  Toki Toki City.]  

The Time Vault was a palatial structure built in the center of the Time Nest.  An enormous tree was growing on top of the dome in the center of the Vault.   It was within the dome that the Scroll of Eternity was stored.   This document contained the record of all of history.   Despite being a singular scroll, there were simultaneously many hundreds of scrolls in the Time Vault.   These were contained in a network of cabinets that lined the entire wall of the dome.   The roots of the tree could be found clinging to the walls, as if they were drawing sustenance from the scrolls.    

The rest of the dome served as a large atrium where the Supreme Kai of Time conducted her business.   An octagonal table stood in the center of the atrium, and several platforms along the edge of the room surrounded this table.    It was at one of these platforms that Trunks was monitoring for any activity among the scrolls.  

Luffa entered the Time Vault and descended the wide staircase into the atrium, and passed the table to reach the platform just as Trunks turned to report to the Supreme Kai of Time.

"It's strange," Trunks said.   "I don't see any changes in the Scroll yet.  But then, maybe Demigra gave up."

Chronoa was about to reply to Trunks' optimistic suggestion, and another voice began to speak instead.    

"Heh heh heh... Don't be foolish."

The three of them turned and looked up to find Demigra floating among the roots at the top of the dome.   Dressed in blue finery, the ancient wizard looked down upon them and brandished his bone scepter as though ready to attack.    Below, Luffa and Trunks braced themselves for a fight, but they all knew that this was only an image of Demigra, and not the real thing.  

"Still using your mirages, Demigra?" Luffa said defiantly.  "Then you're still trapped in the Crack of Time.   Or maybe you've already broken free, and you're too cowardly to come here in person."

"Cheeky as ever, I see," Demigra scoffed.   "I'm assuming you've heard about me from the Supreme Kai of Time, no doubt.   I have waited seventy-five million years for this.    Are you insane?  I'll never give up."

"Bold words, Demigra," Trunks said.    "But that's all you've got!   We stopped you from manipulating Majin Buu, and there's no one else strong enough to threaten us."

"Hmph... Do you really think so?" Demigra chuckled.   Then he began to laugh maniacally, and then he vanished completely.  

Luffa waited a moment to be certain the mirage of Demigra was truly gone, then approached Trunks to ask a question.   "You weren't bluffing, were you?   Is there really no one stronger for him to use for altering history?"

"As far as I know," Trunks said.  "I haven't studied the much history beyond the Majin Buu crisis, but you fought Buu yourself.   It's hard to imagine anything tougher than that, and you handled it brilliantly."

"I'm not so sure about that," Luffa said.  

"I never expected you to be the modest type, Luffa," Trunks said.    "But I mean it, you really did great in that fight--"

"No, that's not what I meant," Luffa said.  "I'm saying that I'm not sure Buu is--"

Before she could finish, the Supreme Kai of Time made a terrified shriek, and they both looked over to find her pointing at the display on the platform.    

"What's wrong?" Luffa asked.  

"Did Demigra come back?" Trunks asked.  

"This... this is horrible!" Chronoa wailed.  "Demigra's gone to that time period?!"

"What time period?" Trunks asked.   "Was it a dangerous era or something?"

"Dangerous?!  Dangerous?!"  She looked back at Luffa in disbelief.    "He wants to know if it was dangerous!"

Luffa looked back at the Kai, then to Trunks, and shrugged her shoulders.   "Well, is it?" she asked.

Chronoa sighed and forced herself to calm down.    "Ignorance sure is bliss, isn't it...? All right, then.   How about I explain it to you?"

There was a dramatic pause as the Supreme Kai of Time collected herself.   Luffa relaxed slightly, as she expected an elaborate discussion of temporal phenomena.  Instead, Chronoa took a deep breath, then shouted at them right away.

"It's the time period, when Beerus, the fuh-reaking God of Destruction went to Earth!"

"Beerus?" Luffa asked.

"The God of Destruction?" Trunks simply held his hand up to his chin thoughtfully.   "Is Beerus that powerful?"

Chronoa glared at both of them.   "Lord Beerus," she shouted.  

"Sorry," Trunks said.  "But is Lord Beerus really strong or something?"

Chronoa didn't bother to answer.   Instead, she grabbed Trunks by the arm and began to physically drag him to the octagonal table.   As she passed Luffa, she grabbed her with her other arm and pulled them both.    

"Hey!" Luffa said.

"Just go and stop him!" Chronoa pleaded.  "Quickly!  You have to hurry!  If Lord Beerus turns against us... He'll... he'll destroy everything   All of history!"

There was no arguing with Chronoa, and the only way to console her fears was to pick up the affected Scroll and travel back to the altered history.   And so Luffa did, as quickly as possible.

*******

     [18 August, Age 778.  Earth.]  

Luffa arrived in West City, in front of the Capsule Corporation estate.  She had expected a major battle.   Instead, she found a party.  

"Oh my.   Are you one of Vegeta's friends?"

A blonde Earthwoman wearing denim jeans and a tube top approached Luffa from the main entrance.   She was carrying a watering can in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.  

Luffa looked at her for a moment and then nodded.  "Uh, yeah!" Luffa said.   "What gave it away?"

"Well, when my grandson Trunks was born, he had a fuzzy tail just like yours," the woman explained.   "At first, I thought that was unusual, but Bulma told me that Vegeta used to have one before it got cut off years ago.   So you must be one of his relatives from outer space?"

"Something like that," Luffa said.   "Is Vegeta around?  I have some... business with him."

"Oh, he was holed up in the Gravity Room," she said, "but I saw him join the party a little while ago.   It's so nice of him to finally socialize a little.  You should join us!  It's my daughter Bulma's birthday, you know!   She's forty-five years old.   Oh... wait.   No, that's right, she told me not to say that in front of the guests.  She's such a sensitive girl sometimes.    Anyway, she's 'thirty-eight' years old today."

Luffa regarded Bulma's mother more closely this time.   She had no frame of reference for Earthling aging patterns, but she would have guessed Bulma and her mother were about the same age.  

"Well, I don't want to intrude on a private ceremony," Luffa said.

"Don't worry about a thing!" Bulma's mother said.  "I only stepped out for a moment to water the garden.   You know, there's a lot of handsome young men there, and I'm sure they won't mind having a sophisticated lady like you to talk to."

"Uh... right," Luffa said.  

As Bulma's mother led her through the building to the rear exit, Luffa was already scanning for unusual ki signatures in the vicinity.   She located Vegeta immediately, along with several others she had met in past Time Patrol missions: Son Gohan, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, Majin Buu, Son Goten, and the other version of Trunks.    There was no sign of Demigra, or anyone under the influence of his demonic magic.   Nor could Luffa sense anyone powerful enough to fit the reputation of Beerus.

As they reached the party itself, Luffa excused herself and headed for the buffet table.   Bulma's mother was easily distracted, and made no attempt to introduce Luffa to the others, which suited Luffa's purposes.  While Luffa had met several of the guests before, none of them knew her at all, due to those encounters being excised from history.   She was a stranger here, though not so strange that she seemed to draw much attention.  

It suddenly occurred to  Luffa that there was one person in West City who would recognize her.  She had recently determined that her old friend Keda had somehow become stranded in Son Goku's era, and that she had taken up residence in West City.   Luffa couldn't sense Keda's presence at the moment, but it was a safe bet that Keda would sense Luffa, if the mission called for Luffa to use her full strength.   But there would be nothing accomplished by contacting Keda here and now.  If all went well, this entire segment of time would be altered and corrected, and anyone native to this era would remember none of Luffa's actions here.  

No, if Luffa wanted to visit Keda, she would have to do it decades further in the future, when Keda was an old woman.   It was a decision Luffa was still wrestling with.   She forced herself to set the matter aside and focus on the mission at hand.  

"All right," Luffa said as she began filling her plate with appetizers.   "I'm here.   Most of the strongest warriors on the planet are here.   But nobody's fighting.  Where's the problem, Trunks?"  

There was no answer.  

"Trunks?" Luffa repeated.   "Can you hear me?   Trunks?"

"Are you talking to me, lady?"

She looked around to find a young boy of about twelve or thirteen.   He had a bowl haircut of fine lavender hair, and he was dressed in blue overalls and a black T-shirt.    It was Trunks, but not the one she had left in the Time Nest.   That Trunks--the Time Patroller-- had lost his father to Dr. Gero's androids, and he had altered history to ensure that this version--the little boy in overalls-- could grow up in a world free of Gero's vendetta.  

At times, Luffa was surprised by how well she was able to keep these things straight in her head.  

"Oh, sorry," Luffa said.  "I was just thinking out loud."

"Are you a Saiyan?" the young Trunks asked.  

"That's right," Luffa said.  

"Do you know my dad?" Trunks asked.  

"Uh, not very well, but yeah, I know him," Luffa said.  

"Oh, then you must be with those other two guys who showed up a while ago," Trunks said.  

"Other two guys?" Luffa asked.  

"Yeah, over there," Trunks said.  He raised his arm and pointed to a cluster of tables nearby.   At one of them were a pair of aliens sampling the local cuisine.   One was a felinoid, but unlike any Luffa had encountered before.  His purple skin was completely devoid of hair.  The other alien was a humanoid with pale blue skin and white hair, not unlike the demon witch Towa, whom Luffa had recently defeated.  But this man didn't have pointed ears, so it was unlikely that he was one of Towa's species.  

Luffa could sense no ki from either of them.   It was as if they weren't even alive.  

"Oh, those two.  They're friends of your old man?" Luffa asked.   "Then I should go and pay my respects."  

As she moved away from the buffet table, she felt a tug on the left leg of her yellow pants.

"Wait, hold on a second," Trunks said.   "You're a girl, right?"

Luffa looked at him skeptically.   "Last time I checked," she said.   "What about it?"

"It's just... do you have any advice?"

"About what?" Luffa asked.  

"About girls."

"Kid, I'm kind of busy," Luffa said.  

"Well, I've got this girlfriend, sort of," Trunks said, "and I don't really know what to do with her."

He gestured in another direction, not as subtly as he probably thought he was being, and Luffa saw three Earthling children lurking near some bushes.   The tallest of these was a girl with long black hair wearing what looked like military surplus gear.  

"How old are you?" Luffa asked.  

"Thirteen," Trunks said.  

"Don't you think you're a little young to be dating?" Luffa asked.  

"We're not dating," Trunks said.  "She's just my girlfriend, that's all."

"Can she cook?" Luffa asked.

"I dunno," Trunks said.

"Can you cook?" Luffa asked.

"Does the microwave count?"

"No."

"Oh.   Well, no," Trunks said.  

"Well, one of you needs to learn," Luffa said.   "There's more to it than that, but that's enough to start you off.   That ought to keep you busy for a while."

She walked off, leaving young Trunks' romantic life hanging in the balance.  

"Thirteen," Luffa muttered to herself.   "Can you believe--?   Oh, wait."

She had forgotten that she wasn't getting any response from the Time Nest.   Luffa balanced her buffet plate in one hand while she reached for the communicator in her left ear, only to find that it wasn't there.  

"Aw, crap!" she grumbled.   Chronoa had been in such a hurry to send her on the mission that Luffa had never bothered to put the earpiece in.  

"Just as well," she mumbled.  "It keeps getting lost or destroyed anyway.   And it's not like I have anything to report.  What was she so worried about in the first place?"

By this time, most of the guests had gathered around a stage for a gambling tournament.  The two aliens whom Trunks had pointed out were sitting alone, and no one else noticed when Luffa approached them.  

"Excuse me," she said.   "Would either of you be Lord Beerus?"

"I am he," said the felinoid.  He regarded Luffa for a moment and his left eye widened with interest.  

Luffa gripped her plate securely as she genuflected.   "Then I'm honored to make your acquaintance, my lord," she said reverently.   "My name is Luffa."

"Well met," Beerus said.  "I didn't know Saiyans were capable of that sort of tact."

She rose to her full height and smiled.  "Well, I've always been an unusual kind of Saiyan," she said.   "My parents were mercenaries by trade, and they taught me that good manners get you better clients."

Beerus gestured to the table.   "Why don't you join us?" he said.  "I thought I had already met all the Saiyans on this planet, but it seems there was one more."

Luffa bowed her head graciously and pulled up a chair.   "I'm an off-worlder, actually," she said.   "And I just arrived a few minutes ago.   Vegeta is a... distant relative of mine.   I came to pay my respects."

"There, you see, Whis?" Beerus said to the tall blue man.   "There's still hope for my premonition yet."

Whis dabbed a napkin gently over the corners of his mouth before answering.  "Faint hope at best, Lord Beerus," he sighed.

"Premonition?" Luffa asked.  

"Yes, I've already asked the others," Beerus said, "and they couldn't tell me anything about it, but perhaps you know something they don't."   He leaned over the table and pointed one of his clawed fingers at her as he asked: "What can you tell me about the Super Saiyan God?"

Luffa was about to answer him until she heard the word 'god'.   Instead, she simply repeated the name.   "Super Saiyan God?" she asked.  

"That's right," Beerus said.   "Judging by your puzzled expression, it seems you've never heard of it either."

"Are you talking about Yamoshi?" Luffa finally said.  

Beerus' eyes widened with excitement.   "Ah, now we're getting somewhere!  And you said this trip was a waste of time, Whis."  

"That's not quite how I put it," Whis said evenly, "but one name does not a premonition fulfill, my lord."

"Oh, we'll just see about that," Beerus said as he shot Whis a dirty look.   "So tell us, Luffa, where can we find this Yamoshi fellow?"

"He's been dead for thousands of years," Luffa said.   "I only brought him up because he's known as the God Saiyan in my people's folklore."

"Thousands of years?" Whis said.  "My, Lord Beerus, you really did oversleep this time."

"Keep out of this, Whis!" Beerus grumbled.  

"Can you tell me about this premonition you had?" Luffa asked.  "Maybe we can sort this out together."

"Very well, it's really quite simple," Beerus said.   "Thirty-nine years ago, a very talented Seer foretold that an arch-rival worthy of me would appear.   I took a nap to await his arrival, and while I slept, I dreamt of a battle with that fated warrior, and he was called a Super Saiyan God."

"Tell her about the pop star who was supposed to move to your planet, Lord Beerus," Whis suggested.   "That prophesy might be linked to the others as well."

"That will be all, Whis," Beerus muttered.    

"I believe you," Luffa said.   "At least the premonition part, anyway.   A friend of mine was a fortune teller.  She once helped me during  a war, predicting which planets the enemy would attack, and when.   It wasn't a perfect system, but she was accurate enough.   I'm not sure what I would have done without her..."

"Yes, fascinating," Beerus said.  "But it seems you find the substance of the prophecy to be far-fetched.   Am I right?" he asked expectantly.  

Luffa fought to suppress the urge to panic.  In the short time she had known Chronoa, Luffa had never known her to exaggerate, and the Kai spoke of Beerus with great dread.   Luffa only knew the name from various myths and legends.  It was said the God of Destruction could annihilate anything just by touching it.  The fact that he had no discernible power level only made his enigmatic glare that much more intimidating.  

But this was nothing new, she told herself.  She had not always been the Legendary Super Saiyan.   Growing up, it had not been unusual to encounter beings with greater power.  The key was to be as polite and as truthful with them as possible.  They would only attack you if you presented yourself as a threat or a nuisance.  Beerus was far beyond any alien client she had ever dealt with, but the same principle seemed to apply.

The only catch was that Beerus seemed to want a Saiyan to threaten him.  It seemed rude to even suggest such a thing, but he had been the one to bring it up.

"It's... it's an exciting prospect," Luffa said, choosing her words carefully.   "You're saying there's a Saiyan out there who could challenge your power?   Well, maybe Yamoshi could have pulled that off... I'd sure like to see a fight like that."

"You're certain he's dead?" Beerus asked.  

Luffa nodded.  "The story goes that he was a martyr.  The Saiyans of that age were unspeakably wicked, bereft of honor.   But Yamoshi was different.   He knew that corruption could only breed weakness in the Saiyan race."

"As you said before," Whis interjected.  "Well-mannered mercenaries get better clients."

"Exactly," Luffa said.   "Better clients mean better assignments, which lead to bigger and tougher battles.   Sure, you could cheat your customers, cut corners, take shortcuts.   You might make a profit that way, but you won't get stronger from it."  

"And yet," Beerus said, "you make it sound as though Yamoshi failed to defeat these wicked Saiyans."

"Yamoshi was strong," Luffa said, "but he knew he couldn't take on the entire Saiyan race all by himself.   Somehow, he and his five disciples developed a technique to increase his power, but it only worked when all six of them were joined together.  He became so powerful that he could wipe out whole armies of Saiyans, but the technique would wear off very quickly, so he had to be careful about picking his battles.  That was how he came to be known as the God Saiyan.   His attacks were quick and unstoppable and completely unpredictable, and then he'd just vanish.   It was like the wrath of an angry god... or so they said."

"Interesting.  Then another Saiyan could recreate the technique he developed," Beerus suggested.  

"Possibly," Luffa said.   "But it was lost when Yamoshi died.   Just as he was on the verge of wiping out the most evil of the Saiyans, he lost that extra power, and he was cut off from his followers, so he had no way to get it back.  But Yamoshi was a man of conviction, and he saw the battle through to the bitter end.   His disciples must have known the secret, but they were only five, and they needed six to make it work.   And so, the technique was useless to them, and it was forgotten within a few generations.   Yamoshi became a legend, like the Super Saiyan..."

"Yes, I've already seen what a mere Super Saiyan can do," Beerus said.   "Son Goku arranged a demonstration for me earlier.  Impressive by mortal standards, but hardly what I had in mind."

Luffa inhaled sharply.   "Kakarot fought you?" she asked.  

Beerus shrugged.   "If you want to call it that.  It wasn't much of a battle, though I respect the audacity of his challenge."

So did Luffa.  While she had been sitting here trying to imagine a Saiyan fighting a God of Desctruction, Son Goku had already tried it for himself.  

"Well, that settles that," Luffa said.   "I've heard of you, Lord Beerus, but the stories were mostly about you being invincible and all-powerful.   They used to say the same things about me, though, so I never was sure how I'd stack up against you in a fight.   I didn't even know you had a physical form until today."

"Not what you expected, eh?" Beerus asked.  

"I don't mind saying, I'm pretty nervous not being able to sense your power," Luffa said.  "They said no one could sense Yamoshi coming either.   Maybe he really was on your level..."

"If only he were still alive to prove it," Whis said.   "Unfortunately, Lord Beerus, your premonition is beginning to sound more like a ghost story.   Yamoshi must have haunted you while you slept."

"Maybe not," Luffa said.   "You're looking for a Super Saiyan God.   Yamoshi may have been a one-time thing, but Super Saiyans show up a lot more often.   And that's not a technique with a time limit.     You just..." She waved her hands around the sides of her head.   "And you can hold the transformation as long as you want, or until you get too tired to keep it up."

"Then you believe the Super Saiyan God can exist," Beerus said.  "It's just a matter of discovering the means to become one, is that right?"

"I'm not sure... But I do believe in legends," Luffa said.  "Not just the events they describe, but the implications they have for our own lives.  The story of Yamoshi carries a warning for all Saiyans: Conduct your lives with respect, or a mighty warrior may rise up and strike you down.   But it's also promise to all Saiyans: One day you might become that mighty warrior.  Your being here, Lord Beerus, well that sounds like an omen to me."

"There, you see, Whis?" Beerus said with a smile.  "She gets it."

"You may have found a kindred spirit, Lord Beerus," Whis replied, "but that doesn't get you any closer to the Super Saiyan God than when you started.  Correct me if I'm wrong, Luffa, but you've already admitted that you have no idea how Yamoshi's technique worked, or if it could be recreated at all."

"You're right, um... Lord Whis?   I'm sorry, I'm not clear on the hierarchy here," Luffa said.

"Just call him 'Whis'," Beerus said.   "He's difficult enough as it is without anyone calling him 'Lord'."

"Well, you're right, Whis," Luffa went on.  "I am just speculating.   But I've seen a lot of amazing things in my time.  Hell, I'm making small talk with the God of Destruction."  

She paused to glance back at the others.   Vegeta was struggling to relax in a deck chair.   Gohan was embroiled in the same game as the rest of the guests.   Goten and Trunks were playing catch with a ball.   There was no sign of Son Goku, but if he had truly lost a fight with Beerus, then she supposed he was probably recovering at home.

"Lately, I've been finding that my people have a lot more potential than I ever gave them credit for," she said.  "I think that dream you had must have given you the same insight.   Give us Saiyans a chance, Lord Beerus.   I think you won't be disappointed."

"Hmm... well those are very reassuring words," Beerus said, "but in the end that's all they are.  The fact remains that there's no sign of a Super Saiyan God on this planet, at least not today.     This party has been a pleasant diversion, but that seems to be all the Earth has to offer me.  Though I will say that their cuisine has been truly delightful.   Perhaps a return visit would be in order..."

"Speaking of cuisine, Lord Beerus," Whis said, "have you tried the pudding yet?"

Beerus' large ears twitched with interest.  "Pudding, you say?"

"It's a dessert made up of a viscous fluid," Whis explained.  "I believe the flavor was 'French vanilla.'   Very remarkable."

"You had me at 'dessert'," Beerus said.  He began to lick his lips excitedly.  "Where might I find this 'pudding'?"

Whis stood up and gestured in the general direction of the food carts that had set up for the party.   "I believe they were over this way," he said.   "Oh yes, I see them now.   It looks like that pink fellow has them all."

Luffa followed them, mostly because she didn't want to appear rude by leaving without Beerus' approval.  And Chronoa had been extremely concerned about this mission, specifically because of Beerus, and so it seemed sensible to keep an eye on him until another lead presented itself.  

"Doesn't really add up, though," she said to herself.   From what she had seen, Beerus was actually quite even-tempered.  He was even something of a gourmet.  She wondered if Chronoa just didn't get along with Beerus because he didn't like her questionable cooking.   That was no reason to involve the Time Patrol, though.

Luffa was so lost in thought that she almost didn't notice the argument breaking out over the pudding.  

"No!  All pudding for Buu!"

She had forgotten that Majin Buu was one of the guests at this party.  While the Majin was no longer destroying whole cities, he still seemed to harbor some anti-social tendencies.  He now sat alone at a table, with a tray holding every single serving of pudding, enough for at least a dozen guests.   Apparently he planned to eat them all himself.   Luffa found this idea revolting.   At the very least, he should have gotten some meat to dip in the pudding.   Eating that much of it by itself was just tacky.

And to his credit, Beerus didn't care what Buu did with the rest of the tray, so long as he got a single serving for himself.  But Buu was in no mood to share, and he seemed to have no idea whom he was dealing with.   There were tales of Beerus the Destroyer wiping out entire solar systems over minor grievances. Majin Buu, apparently, had never heard these stories.

And so, when Luffa reached out and snatched the glass from the tray, she considered it an act of mercy more than anything else.  

"Here you go, sir," Luffa said as she handed the glass to Beerus.   This irritated Majin Buu, but she made sure to position herself between them so he would have to go through her to do anything about it.   "Please, forgive my... friend's... attitude.  I think he may have had too much to drink."

Beerus was so fixated on the dessert that he seemed to have already forgotten Buu's transgression. But Luffa had not.  

"That pudding belonged to Buu!" Majin Buu whined.  

"If you have a problem," Luffa said, "you can take it up with me.   Honestly, I was sort of hoping for another crack at you, Buu.  I guess Demigra couldn't resist possessing you one more time..."

But there was no sign of demonic influence.  Buu was visibly upset, but his eyes lacked any of the red color found in Demigra's other victims, and there was no purple fog rising up from his body.  If Demigra had done anything to Majin Buu this time, it was too subtle to tell.

"Mean lady take Buu's food!" Buu squealed.   "Buu turn you into candy instead!"

"Wait," Luffa said.   "If you're not under his spell, then who--?"

She turned to check on Beerus, who had spooned a glob of pudding out of the glass, and now held it up to his mouth.   Then she noticed the ball, the same one Goten and Trunks had been playing with.  Without warning, it suddenly took on a life of its own, veering wildly off its trajectory and striking Beerus' hand with such force that he dropped the glass and the spoon.  

Now Vegeta had taken notice of the situation.   Judging by the look on his face, Luffa realized that he was the only other person at this party who understood who and what Beerus was.   While he stammered a hasty apology, Luffa looked at the errant ball, which had finally come to rest on a nearby hedge.  

It was glowing with an energy that looked like purple smoke.   It was the same power that she had expected to find in Majin Buu.  

Demigra had outmaneuvered her.

"Now," Beerus said angrily.   "Now, I'm mad!"

With that outburst, the God of Destruction's body erupted with energy, bathing the entire property in a violet glow.   Beerus would destroy them all.  And there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

 NEXT: Divine Intervention

[tracle0]

Locate_words.mp3

Tagged by the wonderful @albatris thank you kindly thank you wonderfully thank you beautifully I hope you have a pleasent. Morning? Morning when you read this, probably. 

Gotta find fire, click, window and break

Fire

Light spells didn’t come from their god. The thought was quiet, watching the impossible display with objective consideration. Anyone who could conduct magic could conduct light. Perhaps the Firefly hadn’t given up on them. Perhaps it had heard them beg for help. Or perhaps they had been quick to assume their magic was gone, too cowardly to test their hypothesis.

Perhaps illusions still hummed in their bones.

A slight cheat but (: 

Click

They made a feeble attempt to reach the door from where they stood – a very clearly impossible feat, given that the bowl they were washing in was against the far wall. When the chair at the table finally scraped back, they tried not to let their grin grow too smug, watching as Olly heaved himself up and headed for the door, dark words muttered under his breath. “Love you.”

“You are the bane of my life.” They turned back to their job, smile turning soft, listening as he unlatched the lock and swung the door open, then clicked his tongue, “Speaking of which. What do you want?”

“Wow,” a dry, familiar voice said, and their hands froze, clutching the shirt tightly. “I come all this way to see you, and you greet me with what do you want? Hi to you too. I’m suddenly remembering why I stay away.”

O l i v e r !

Window

As if able to read the concern in the air, Sam started to point out the small signs of life, leading them for the last time. There – that chimney was smoking; someone had lit a fire inside. It smelt like pine wood was burning. There – listen! Someone was playing a whistle, their window open, the notes drifting into the street, cheerful despite the dark. There – a thin strip of light from behind a curtain, flashing as they passed. Possibly a servant to some god, trying to entertain themselves with the same lights that had recently saved their lives. There. There. There. Sonder was still alive. They had made it in time for the city to survive.

Hey look TSS wasn’t all for nothing! They succeeded!

Break

“Rigorously tested,” they picked out. “Right.”

“You weren’t?” She paused, met their eyes again. “Oh. Right. Self-addition.”

“And aren’t you glad I was there?”

“You were living with an infected person,” Andy said, intending the comment to be only for himself, then noticing the others glance his way. “Maybe you were carrying the spores the whole time. Maybe everywhere is going to have an outbreak and it’ll be your fault.”

“Isn’t that the dream?” No note of worry crept into their voice. “Civilisation bought to its knees by my hand. I wish.”

In which Atlas is highly irresponsible, and if I knew them irl, I would give them a good bap. But plot. 

Tagging mmm @joyful-soul-collector @petrolstationflowers @scmalarky @polyacery if you would like smile? to find beat, clasp, tremble and bloom

[angelicmichael]

God is a woman

(Fem!Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: After being stranded a few days before Halloween, Reader resorts to going into the forest to look for help and instead runs into our favorite blonde antichrist and instantly becomes infatuated.

Words: 5.5k+

Warnings: This fic gets rlly fucking dark and this is lowkey dark! Michael, very detailed sacrifice scene in the beginning, stepping on someone’s neck, manipulation, neck bruises. No smut but LOTS of sexual tension hehe.

A/N: I’ve never written anything this dark before so I’m lowkey nervous to post 👉🏻👈🏻 also this is my first wlw fic! 🥳 plz reblog or heart if you enjoyed and let me know if you wanna be on the taglist! I saw a prompt about where a main character hates Halloween so that inspired me to write this. Also, romance doesn’t rlly happen until the second half of the fic so I guess this could be considered slow burn haha.

It was exactly three days away from Halloween night. In the past, you and your friends always had a ‘get together’ right before Halloween but by the looks of things; you weren’t going to make it. On the car ride over to your friends you had gotten lost, and when you stopped to look up directions on your phone - your phone died. And then.. as if the night couldn’t get any worse, your car refused to start either. You were fucked, in the middle of fucking nowhere, scared out of your mind.

So now - here you were. Lost and left only with the choice to test out your survival skills. You went into the forest to try to go find help or maybe find a house.. After all, you heard rumors about how teenagers would often go into these woods to conduct rituals, but those were just rumours.. right? Those rumors were especially prevalent near Halloween and it was only a mere three days away. It was nearing on midnight too which only seemed to make things even more creepy and set you even more on edge.

The gentle breeze that shook the trees and the brush almost made it sound like as if you were being followed. Everytime you swore you heard footsteps behind you - you would see nothing execpt a nearly black, dark green landscape instead. Shadows started to dance in your peripheral vision, you felt as if you were going crazy. You breathing quickened and you took faster steps, wanting desperately to find any signs of life or to run into another main road.

The sound of your heavy breaths and the leaves crunching under your feet seemed to be the only thing that occupied your senses; until you saw a light. In fact, it wasn’t one light but several little lights - you counted about ten of them. They seemed to be spaced out strategically, it almost looked like a circle but the shape seemed to be more intricate than that. The flames stayed low to the ground, and as you cautiously took steps closer and closer, it was easy to tell that the flames were attached to small white candles.

It wasn’t until you slowly crept forward when you noticed that in between the candles were several hooded figures. You couldn’t make out faces or any distinct details, but you could tell the robes that were a silky red satin, and that all the figures appeared to be holding hands around the odd circular shape with.. something that almost resembled a body in the middle of the circle.

You brushed that thought off about quickly as it had came; there was no way that could be a human body.. right?

You took a silent deep breath before taking more quiet steps toward the mysterious individuals.

You finally stopped venturing forward and settled on leaning on a tall tree that was only a couple feet away from the group; just close enough to see what was happening but - still concealed by the leaves so that they couldn’t see you.. unless you made a sound of course.

You jaw dropped once you realized your suspicion was right, it really was a fucking body that the group seemed to be huddled over. Trying to breathe quietly was now more a struggle and you could feel your body start to shake like a leaf once you started to get a horrible idea of what was happening here.

The genders of the small congregation was mixed but, the leader - the one who previously had sat in the center or tip of the ‘circle’ and had now sat crouched next to the civilians body - was female.

There was no denying how beautiful she was. Her hair fell to about her shoulders in perfect golden ringlets, it was as if she had curled her hair but it seemed to looked natural - like it had just happened to naturally fall down her shoulders in that way. Her eyes were a light crystal blue and were framed with thick black eyelashes which were angled down; staring at the body that lay in front of her. And finally, another unforgettable feature she had were her lips. Her lips were full and you couldn’t stop yourself from daydreaming about how soft and plump they looked until you were brought back into reality - when you saw this woman grab a dagger that was lying next to the random civilian.

This random person; whom you knew was random because unlike the other members of this odd ‘cult’, they wore normal street clothes - like how you did. This made your blood run cold, you could be next. What made you different from this person who - by the looks of it - was about to be killed in cold blood? Absolutely nothing.

You knew it was cowardly to just hide and watch but you felt terrified, and in denial. This person was tied up with their hands and ankles bound with some kind of cloth, along with a cloth gag around their mouth. Although they looked to be unconscious - so maybe the woman was grabbing the dagger to free them? You could only hope.

You couldn’t help but think back to the rumours that always seem to float around this time of year about a local satanic cult, but those were just rumours.. stupid fucking rumours. And you were just paranoid because of the fact that it was literally midnight and you were stranded.

You tried to shake away these irrational thoughts as you remained at the tree; holding your breath as you watched the woman hold up the knife. She let out a slight giggle, and you swore for a second she almost looked childish - the way her eyes lit up and how the corners of her mouth turned in a small closed mouth smile. For a second she looked genuinely happy and excited, and then she did the unthinkable.

All it took was three seconds for her to plunge the knife right into the center of the persons chest cavity, blood instantly spurted out from the mans chest and if he wasn’t dead ealier.. He certainly was now. she ran the knife up a bit in his chest before quickly throwing the knife out of the way, somewhere in the forest. She quickly plunged her hand into the persons chest with no hesitation - it was obvious by the way her armed moved that it was as if she was searching for something or a certain organ?

Your reaction was immeadite, you couldn’t help but to gasp and let go of the tree in shock - shaking harder than ever. But yet; you still stood and watched. Like a idiot. You could slowly feel your body succumb to shock and you knew you only had so much time to move and get the hell out of there before you passed out but you felt frozen in place. You couldn’t bring yourself to move your legs or any other part of you. Maybe it was some kind of fucked up fate or destiny that you were meant to be here and witness this.

You flinched at the awful squishing sounds that omitted from this woman’s victims body, it was clear to you now what she was looking for in the chest.

The heart.

You started to shake with fear as you watched her forcibly rip the heart out of the chest cavity and away from the blood vessels that previously connected it to the body. Blood continued to ooze off of it as she slowly raised it up closer, and closer to her. She wore a sly smirk but her eyes seemed to be turning darker and darker; which made it impossible to read her emotions but for some reason; you felt if you could see her eyes - that they would still hold the same wonder and excitement you saw in them ealier.

That thought made you dizzy.

“Ave satanas”. She spoke.

Her voice was clear and smooth, the murder and this horrific dissection didn’t seem to disturb or affect her in any way, or any of the members that were witnesses.

The rest of the members watched her as diligently as you did, their eyes daring to not leave her body for a second. They also repeated her sick mantra.

She swiftly raised the heart up to her lips and took a bite, blood instantly staining her porcelain skin and cascading down her mouth and neck. Her eyes rolled back into her head - her entire pupil was now pitch black, even the whites of her eyes seemed to turn black as well.

This image was almost seductive to watch. Your not sure if this was your way of discovering you had a blood kink, or if it was the way she bit into the heart.. or maybe it was how content she looked after the bite.

But, you knew that this was fucked up and that if you wanted to make it out alive - you had to leave NOW. It was a human heart, she was a fucking murderer and possibly a cult leader at the very least. It didn’t matter if she looked like Aphrodite - she was a fucking killer and you would be next if you didn’t start to think logically.

You turned to leave; your intention was to walk away as quietly as possible but as soon as you moved your legs - it only took a couple seconds for you to break out into a clumsy sprint. Very clumsy.

It felt as if your heart had temporarily left your chest when you tripped (a stupid tree branch had fallen onto the pathway), and you felt scared out of your mind. Your breathing turned heavy and erratic as you opted to lie on forest floor; too terrified to get up.

You weren’t that far away at all from the tree you were previsoily standing at, you knew there was a good chance they had heard you fall.

You could hear hushed voices.

“Did you hear that”? You heard a male voice ask and immeaditly you heard a quiet chorus of voices that seemed to affirm his suspicion.

You listened as he offered to go look but a female voice spoke up again.. for some reason you felt as if it was the woman you saw ealier and you don’t know if that excited you or scared the shit out of you.

“No.. I’ll go”. She replied.

You heard a subtle rustling of clothes and a distant crunching of leaves as she approached and your heart leapt in your throat. You couldn’t breathe. You screwed your eyes shut; fighting every single instinct you had that was screaming at you to stand up and run for your life. The earth underneath you seemed to grow extensively more uncomfterable, the rocks, mud, dirt and the scratchy grass made your urge to leave even more stronger.

For a second; this state of being uncomfterable made you forget about the predicament you were in and how a literal cult leader was approaching you. It wasn’t until you smelt something new; a slight musky scent with a hint of floral that you knew she was nearby even though you couldn’t hear footsteps anymore.

The sharp, blowing pain you felt on the back of your neck threw you off guard so much that you couldn’t help but let out a soft scream - choking on air, your lungs grasping for more of that sweet delectable oxygen. You thought you were dying at first but you quickly realizing that she was stepping on your neck. You could feel her body weight shift as she crouched down, closer so that she could talk to you.

“Your not a very good actress. I know your not dead; I can hear your heart beat.. pathetic”. The woman above you mused, you could hear it in her voice how she was smiling.

You continued to wheeze for air desperately and you let out a weak, “please”! And miraculously, you felt her shoe slightly let up. Just enough so that you could breath but the agonizing shooting pain still remained.

“Please?! That’s all you have to say for yourself? Use your words. Beg”. Her voice stayed cool and confident as she spoke.

Meanwhile you could feel tears at the edge of your eyes as you gasped at the relief of finally being able to breath properly again. Your voice came out as rough and you stuttered at first as you struggled to find the right words.

“P-please, I just need help. I’m stranded - I only came out here to look for help. I don’t want any trouble”. You said.

You tried to push yourself back up - to see if she would let you atleast sit back up but you felt the pressure remain, even come back a little more forceful than before.

“Why should I let you go? You really think I didn’t notice you the second you started watching? You didn’t just happen to stumble upon us - you watched for a solid fifteen minutes”. Her voice held rage and fire as she started to speak, however by the end of her statement she maintained to retain her cool tone.

However there was a hint of urgency in her voice, as if she knew that her members would be coming back any second to see what was taking their dear beloved leader so long.

This entire time you were looking at her shoes - and the forest floor. You crained your neck in a way that was awkwardly painful just so that you could make eye contact with her before you spoke. Sure enough, it was the same woman who you had watched eat the human heart of the poor civilian ealier. The same.. undeniably gorgeous woman.

Most of her forefront was still stained a messy daunting red, most notably from her lips down to her chest. You also noticed how some of the ends of her hair was also dipped a messy matching red.

“Look - I couldn’t help it. When I saw you, I had to stay”. You replied dumbly as you continued to make eye contact; praying that she would pick up on your cue of what you meant.

You knew how fucking stupid it was to even try to flirt with her when she had the perfect opportunity to kill you. Out of all the stupid stunts you had pulled off in your life this had to be the worst - you didn’t even know if she was gay. Fuck, you didn’t even know her name but to be honest - you didn’t really care. You were simply enchanted and enthralled by her presence alone.

You two continued to make eye contact until you could hear the voices of the congregation start to grow louder and louder.. she didn’t looked exactly panicked by this but she looked bothered and annoyed.

You felt the pain on your neck subside as she retracted back her foot; standing up as she turned around and quickly left. You took that as your cue to get the fuck out of there, and that she wasn’t going to hurt you.

You laid on the forest floor for a couple minutes as you gathered your bearings and mustered up the strength to stand up, and attempt to find a way back home away from this hellish nightmare.

~

That horrid night of your run in with the satanists not only plagued your dreams to turn into nightmares, but it also become your go to story to tell at parties.

You knew telling ‘rumours’ of a satanic cult (espically around Halloween) was incredibly cheesy and you doubted anyone really believed you, but it always made people laugh and kept them intrigued. Hence why you were at currently at your own party on Halloween night, telling the same story yet again but worded a bit

The party you decided to throw remained somewhere in the middle between a casual friendly house party, and a frat party. This left you (and your friends) with a cup of alcohol in hand, in a somewhat revealing angel costume. You wore a silky white dress along with a cheap pair of angel wings and a halo to go along with it; along with makeup to match. Right now you just happened to be conversing amongst some acquaintances but more and more people seemed to be filing through into the house; people you didn’t know.

You knew you were just borderline tipsy because you couldn’t help but laugh at every line that this person whom you were talking too was saying but they seemed to look amused too.

“No way that happened”! The person you were talked too replied.

“Yes way! Why do you think I’m wearing this scarf? The number she left on my neck wouldn’t exactly go with the rest of my outfit”. You said with a small giggle at the half truth you told.

That definitely wasn’t a lie. When that woman had stepped on your neck she left a trmendous amount of bruising on your neck. Your neck was painted dark blues and purples, the real tone of your skin barely peeking through. Luckily you were able to pin wearing scarves on just the cold weather, and no one really think twice or seemed to question you over it.

You took another sip of the beverage you held, preparing to tell more of your notorious story before you heard the doorbell ring. You excused yourself as you walked through the dense crowd, wondering who the hell it was.

All of your dearest friends and everyone else that was invited was already here.. you could feel fear and anxiety start to nag at you but nevertheless you quickly opened the door without a second thought.

And you were speechless.

It was her. The woman who was the main character of the horror story you were previously telling stood in front of you, and she looked pissed.

You immeaditly felt in shock as you stepped outside with her and shut the door. You would’ve invited her inside but who knows what the hell her intentions were; you knew what she was capable of.

“How did you find me”?! You asked, the words came out as if you were angry but you really weren’t - just in shock and a bit scared.

She looked amused when you said this, like she could almost laugh but she just smirked at you instead.

“You made it too easy. It was common knowledge you were throwing a party this weekend, all I had to tell them that I was some relative of yours and I got your address just like that. Do you like my outfit”? She mused, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she did a quick spin for you.

It was obvious she was attempting to dress as the devil, she wore a headband that had small devil horns on them along with a beautiful red dress that clung tightly to her skin, showing off the best parts of her body. She also wore a black cape on with two metals clasps on either side with a chain connecting them; she looked beautiful. Although this did nothing to the fact of how confused and mildly annoyed you were at her appearance.

“I know your not here for the party. What do you want? If you wanted to just see me, or find another victim - this is not the place or time to do it” You said.

You two stood outside by the front door, the air was just cold enough to make you want to go back inside but not to the point where you were uncomfterable. The sounds of halloween filled your sense, the vague smell of pumpkin and the sound of kids roaming the neighborhood for candy was a comforting distraction. However it wasn’t enough for you to forget about the woman standing in front of you. She lost her smirk and amused look completely before she replied to you.

“Who exactly do you think you are to know what my wants are needs are? And what makes you qualified to fulfill them?” She asked and you stood there.. utterly speechless.

She took a step toward you and looked at you directly in the eyes - clearly not intimidated or scared of you at all. It was almost as if she was teasing you; taunting you.

You felt so fucking stupid, you didn’t have a good answer to her question. In fact you don’t really know why you even asked her that. You took a deep breath and even though she was a mere foot or two away from you; you refused to back up and look as if you were intimidated.

“It’s just, I don’t even know your name. I don’t know the first thing about you or how you even found about this party. I just.. don’t know what your intentions are”. You stated dumbly.

You had no expectations or guess for what she would do next but you felt your soul leave your body for a split second as she advanced toward you even closer - almost like she was going to kiss you only for her to just brush up past you and open your front door. She got so close to you to the point where you felt her soft blonde hair brush up against your face for a moment.

“I can’t talk to you about it out here”. She stated and grabbed your hand, pulling you inside behind her. You held onto her hand as walked you into the house, not even letting you shut the door which stayed open ajar.

You couldn’t help but blush at how soft and smooth her hand felt, yet the feeling also made you shudder since her hand seemed to be ice cold.

You were worried about getting weird looks from people about holding another girls hand but everyone seemed to preoccupied to notice, or merely just didn’t care.

She led you into one of the first rooms that was visible from the front door, clearly not caring whether it was a bedroom, bathroom or some other kind of room. She quickly opened the door and closed it after nearly pushing you in. Almost immeaditly she pulled off her headband and took her heels off, throwing them carelessly in the room as she rolled her eyes.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to wear that shit anymore”. She said with a slight chuckle.

“Why dress up then if you hate it?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Because I had to look the part in order to come to this party to get to you. Anyone not dressed up on Halloween always looks suspicious, I thought you knew that”. She answered.

You blushed at her first sentence but out of being shy you decided to ignore that part, assuming she was probably referring to something else - there was no way she would’ve came all the way here just for the sake of asking you on a date. The thought was stupid and irrational.

“You could’ve just dressed up in your satanist outfit, you did look beautiful in it”. You said.

As soon as the words came out of your mouth you felt stupid for even admitting that you thought of her as attractive let alone beautiful.

“Beautiful? Even with blood dripping down my neck you think I looked beautiful”. The second part was said as if it were a statement.

She took a couple steps toward you, putting her fingers lightly on your cheek as she gently pushed her thumb under your chin - forcing you to look up at her. It didn’t hurt by any means but it definetly felt uncomfterable. You waited for her to make a move; either to kiss you or say something but she did neither. She merely stared at you. To break the suffocating silence you spoke.

“You know, you never answered my question ealier”. You said as she still held her face gently on your face. She looked at you as if she was studying you, observing - waiting for you to do something.

“The one about why I came here? I already told you - I came for you. I’ve heard all of the crazy bullshit rumours you’ve been telling - and if you were anyone else I would’ve just slit your throat and sacrificed you by now but.. I think I’ve already tainted your beauty enough with those delicious bruises I left on your neck”. She said, she eyes traveling down to the scarf that you wore that covered the bruises.

You felt beyond bewildered and as if the air had been completely knocked out of you once again. The fact that she was trying to gaslight you into thinking that what you saw that night wasn’t even real was the most shocking. The next was how she commented on your beauty, was she returning back your feelings or was she just trying to lead you on before she murdered you? Under your own roof? You wouldn’t put it past her.

“Take it off”. She spoke, her hand that was on your face slowly traveled down to the end of your scarf, giving it a gentle tug.

You gave her a slight smirk, you figured you might as well flirt - who knows how this night was going to end after all.

“Your not even going to buy me dinner first”? You teased.

Your hands gently started to unwind the scarf that you had tightly wrapped around your neck and she watched intensively, almost like she was in a trance.

“Sorry angel but I’m not really the type who likes to go on dates, or let alone has the time or patience for them”. She said, making eye contact with you again.

A darkness gleamed in her eyes but you still tried to stand your ground and not let her intimidate you.

You threw the scarf on the floor. You still were fully clothed but you couldn’t help but feel naked and exposed, your embarrassing bruises on full display. She pushed your chin up and got even closer. Taking a finger and very lightly traced the outline of one of the more prominent bruises. It didn’t hurt but you felt on edge, and scared at the fact that your neck was on full display for basically a cannibal. What was stopping her from pulling out a knife or doing something crazy such as biting into your throat?

The idea of your life ending so suddenly with this woman you didn’t even know the name of made your heart start to beat rapidly, and you felt sick.. anxious.. you needed to get out of this room but you stayed put.

It was almost as if she could sense this and she drew her hand back, as you lowered your head back down in its normal position.

“You look divine, beautiful isn’t even the right adjective to describe your beauty. You would put a real angel to shame with your looks”. She said. For a second, you completely forgot it was Halloween or that you were even in a costume to begin with.

She only strayed a inch again away from your face now. She slowly approached closer and closer, you felt her cold hands gently grab at your waist - and you couldn’t help but jump just slightly at the suddenness of it. You couldn’t help but breathe faster when you felt her nose gently bump against yours - knowing what was about to happen.

“Are you okay”? She asked you, barely whispering.

You swore you could almost taste her breath and feel her lips moving at how close she was. Close but yet not close enough.

You wanted this; you wanted nothing more than to close the gap between you two but you also knew deep down this was wrong. This woman was a murderer, she didn’t deserve love.. right?

Everyone deserves compassion and acceptance - sure. You could offer her that but you knew certainly it wasn’t your place to forgive her for her acts but.. after all that’s not why you were currently in the posistion that you were in. You weren’t about to kiss her because you felt sorry for her, it’s because you felt hopelessly drawn to a woman you barely even met. A woman you didn’t know the name of.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, you knew she was dangerous but yet.. that almost made you want her more.

It felt wrong to speak out loud so you merely nodded your head very slightly, the posistion you were in made it hard to move but you were still able to move your head a little bit. You doubted her eyes were open to see your movement but you were hoping maybe she felt you move instead; and that was when you heard her soft sultry voice ask you,

“Can I kiss you”?

You swiftly wrapped your arms around the back of her neck and you moved in a inch closer, just enough so that the distance between you two was finally closed.

The kiss was wet, and short lived. The taste of her lipstick lingered as you pulled away rather reluctantly. The way how her lips lingered on yours told you that she didn’t want to stop but you knew you should pull away; this chaos had to stop.

This was a dangerous fucking game you were playing, what were you thinking? That you would somehow be different and that she would decide to spare you for some reason? You removed your hands from her shoulders as you awkwardly stumbled back. Your heart started to race and you could feel yourself start to turn backwards, getting ready to open the door and just dip. You could never explain how you feel, how would she understand? More importantly - why would she care?

Just as you felt your feet move to turn your heard her voice, it was soft yet still held onto her confidence that her voice typically held but.. she sounded a bit defeated.

“Your scared”. She stated.

You froze as you took a deep breath, now facing the door with your back facing her.

“Scared of what?” Your words hung in the air for a few dense, quiet moments.

Scared of what she would say, yet scared of the thick silenceness that seemed to be your only other option. You decided to muster up the courage spontaneously to turn around and face her and that’s exactly when she answered your question.

“Of me. Your scared of me. I can hear your heartbeat, I can tell your terrified of me”. She stated.

Her words felt like they cut you as if she had thrown knives at you; you immeaditly felt embarrassed for how you felt, the urge to just leave was stronger than ever but you had a feeling she wouldn’t just let you go so easy.

The mention of her hearing your heartbeat seemed to fly right over your head, you didn’t give it a second thought.

You wanted to move to leave, or to hug her but you did neither. You stood frozen, as you felt tears start to well up in eyes and run hotly down your cheeks.

I’m sorry. I-I don’t want to be scared of you but it’s not fair for you to assume that I can just ignore what I saw”. You answered.

Taking another deep breath you looked up and met her eyes, she looked at you curiously - still as if she was studying you.

She took steps toward you, up until her hand gently rested on your cheek and you couldn’t help but foolishly lean into it ever so slightly.

“Baby, I’m not expecting you to ignore it - all I want is for you to keep quiet about it. I can’t have the entire town thinking I’m a satanist anymore darling”.

You wanted to argue but you merely giggled and smiled.

“That’s understandable. Speaking of.. your hobby.. shouldn’t you be elsewhere on Halloween? Like at some elaborate death ritual or some kind of Halloween ceremony”? You asked.

You felt completely shocked when you felt her hand suddenly pull away and you felt her tongue lick a stripe directly from your chin up to your cheek, licking up your precious tears. She kissed the side of your mouth before pulling away.

“Halloween was never my favorite holiday. My job.. requires a lot out of me. Some of which you’ve seen but celebrating a holiday that practically mocks who I am and makes it into entertainment just isn’t my style”. She explained.

“Then who are you”?

She gave you a smirk, and just as you heard a crack of thunder (or lighting, it was impossible to tell) you swore you saw her crystal blue eyes turn a jet black, before returning to their typical appearance. You swore maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you or maybe a trick of the light.. you supposed you would never know.

She wore a shit eating grin as if she wanted to say ‘if only you knew’. She swiftly walked past you once again and opened to the door to let herself out;

“Call me Mikey”.

The door slammed shut and there you stood, feeling defeated, hopeless but determined. Determined to find her again, even if all you had to go off was a appearance and a nickname.

You were going to be this woman’s girlfriend whether or not it killed you.

[heartslogos]

mafia!verse - the red hood

Everyone jokes that the Red Hood is the laziest monicker, that Jason Todd just picked it up and ran with it because he couldn’t think of anything else. Or couldn’t get anything else to stick.

It lacks the poetry of the Nightwing. Or the simple terror of the Bat. It’s missing a certain theatrical flare like that of the Prince or the Oracle.

However, as much as everyone pokes fun of the Red Hood’s title, there is an undeniable truth to it. Calling the Red Hood the Red Hood is equivalent to saying a gun is a gun, a monster is a monster, and a killer is a killer. You can’t look at the Red Hood after hearing the name and think you’ve gotten the wrong man.

The fact of the matter is, unless you are of the Wayne family itself, then the only reason you’d have to laugh at the name is because you’d be using that laughter to disguise the disquiet in your stomach; the crawling, creeping dread; the acidic churning that makes your skin pimple and your hair stick to you with sweat; the cold clamminess of your hands and the shortness of your breath.

The fact of the matter is this —

The Red Hood got the name because he wears a red zip up hooded jacket underneath his leather riding jacket, and a red motorcycle helmet.

The fact of the matter is this —

The Red Hood used to have a different jacket and a different helmet. But the man got annoyed with having to walk around with visible stains of the jacket, so he switched to using red ones. The man got so irritated by having to chip away at the dried blood on his helmet and having the blood leave residue that he switched to a red one.

The fact of the matter is this —

The Red Hood likes his fights to be conducted in person, where no one can doubt or mistranslate his intention. The Red Hood wields fist, knife, knuckle, and every sort of instrument in between like a prophet about to deliver divine scripture: with utmost certainty, pride, and giddy reverence.

Joke about the monicker all you want. At the end of the day it remains indisputable that the monicker is one earned out of simple, plain fact stemming from visible, tangible, recordable truth. His monicker is not poetry about his gait and his countenance, it isn’t a title meant to psyche you out, and it isn’t a title made to paint some grander image.

It’s just a truth.

The Red Hood, tonight, paces the length and breadth of the open spaces between packing containers leaving bloody boot tracks as his clean up crew searches the place top to bottom for any last survivor, any piece of evidence, anything for their boss to get his teeth into.

Shannteel glances up from her phone, hesitating before clearing her throat in the near dead quiet.

The Red Hood doesn’t stop pacing. “What.”

“Richard Grayson was spotted entering the Iceberg lounge. It’s probably the Lucky Hand,” she says as the Red Hood adjusts his gloves, swiping blood off of the enforced knuckles.

“Fuck,” Hood spits, “Fine. Let Dickie bird have’m. I want the main players, not the cowardly shits who sat back and watched. If you’re going to betray the Wayne family you’d better go in swinging and not waiting for death. You make a choice you hold to it and commit, none of that indecisive shit. What else?”

“We’ve got a lock on the Sprang — “

“Don’t care about the Sprang,” Hood snaps, “Grayson can have’m too. We already told the Sprang what’s up.”

“But that was before — “

“Shannteel.” The Red Hood stops pacing, turning his body to face her. “Before today I’d already gone to personally tell the Sprang where to shove it if they didn’t get their shit in line. I like to think I was very, very clear about that. And they still had the guts to let this happen today on their turf. You think I’m going to go back there? No. I already told them off. I don’t do encore performances or second chances. If I go there I’m wiping them out.” Hood snarls under his breath. “No. If Dick doesn’t pick them up then the old man will. The Sprang are still useful. I’m not dealing with them. What else?”

“Carlisle’s gone to ground, but we’ve found where he’s hidden his family.”

Hood is still in contemplation.

“I don’t like going after family,” he says slowly. “If you’re gonna go after someone you go after them. Not their kids or their spouse or the dog or whatever.”

Shannteel waits.

“But. They went after my family.”

“They did.”

“I don’t like making exceptions to my rules.”

“I know, sir.”

“But god damn if this wasn’t the one to make — no. Let Damian hunt that dog. He’s better at that sort of hostage shit. Who else?”

Shannteel hesitates.

“Who. Else.”

“Sullivan,” Shannteel says, “But they’ve run back to the Falcones.”

Hood yells to the ceiling. “The Falcones are in on this shit? Are you kidding? How many times do they have to get their faces ground into the dirt before they get a goddamn clue? Alright. Fine. Saddle up. We’re paying Mario a fuckin’ midnight visit.”

Shannteel whistles, sharp and high, and gestures at everyone to pack up. She pulls Jin aside.

“Take charge of about ten cleaners,” she tells the man, “And pull in ten enforcers. Finish handling this place and be ready to come to the next.”

Jin raises an eyebrow. “Falcone?”

“We’ll see. I don’t think the Falcone are going to actually back the Sullivans after this. Mario’s barely hanging on as it is. This might be his chance to lose some deadweight.” Shannteel shrugs. “Keep me updated if you find anything.”

Jin nods, eyes flicking back to the Red Hood as the man strides across the warehouse towards where he’d left his motorcycle.

“Same to you. Good luck.”

Shannteel nods, hurrying to follow after their boss, quickly sliding her own helmet back on and securing it.

By the time she’s on her own bike the Hood is revving the engine on his, impatient and full of energy. She’s barely got hers started and he’s already peeling off into the night.

Shannteel watches him for a moment and turns up towards the dark orange and black sky. It’s going to be a long, long night.

[conservativetranny]

2020 blog update

Hello. No idea if any of you ‘remember’ me but I do seem to have a fair few followers on here. I managed to access the login information for this account and it is safe to say this blog is dead. I denounce everything I stood for on this stupid shit. 

I’m writing this because it’s what the blog deserves. Not looking to be dramatic, not looking for sympathy, in fact I think i’ll get a bit of backlash for this but bring it on. 

The past and the present- a summary

I had this blog when I was 14, unfortunately way too young to have a social media presence (one which carried any responsibility like this one anyway). No matter what age I said I was, no matter how I portrayed myself or how you, my followers interpreted me, I was a sad young trans guy desperately hoping to look big, cool, masculine and stoic, and that manifested in the most toxic way possible. 

I’m 17 now, still very very young, and after developments in my life, especially pursuing my medical transition and becoming happy within myself, I no longer hold such toxic beliefs as I once did. I am happier with myself and no longer feel the need to sacrifice others’ dignity, respect, and unfortunately sometimes on this blog, privacy, for my own. I was a very insecure, stubborn, and ignorant teenager, who dealt with a lot of denial. I’m not blaming the way I treated people online on other factors, but of course external factors came into play. I was dealing with bullying and insecurity, with parental problems, and with loneliness and depression. I seeked some sort of community, and I wanted to push myself away from the ‘weak’ trans community (the way I viewed it at the time). I wasn’t in denial personally, with the fact that I was trans (being gay is a different story- I was in complete denial with the fact that I’m gay), more just with the way other people viewed me (I will expand on this). I could elaborate on the way in which I viewed other people and the way that projected onto my conduction online, but it is a complex and confusing story. I have completely changed my viewpoint on trans ‘discourse’, I am open minded, I am close friends with people I would have turned my ignorant nose up at years ago. I am so proud to say that I am a completely different person now. I grow every day, it seems, and I can assure that I will never return to this ignorant mindset.

Growth

With experience, I have grown too. Obviously, from 14-17 i have become more mature. I have different experiences now as well, for example, I don’t bind often at all really anymore, because its more comfortable and can sometimes make me more dysphoric to know I am binding. I’m bringing this up because I bet you back when I was active on this blog, I would’ve laughed at the more mature, tolerant me, and probably went on a tyrade about how I was a fake trans guy or less of a man for not binding. I often wonder what ‘old me’ would think of ‘new me’. Now obviously, three years isn’t a hell of a big difference, but to a 17 come 18 year old it is. I understand I am not an adult yet, but I’ve always taken pride in conducting myself with a sense of maturity and articulacy, and for this post and platform especially I feel it is appropriate.

The Truscum Mindset

Back when I ran this blog, I was in an echo chamber of like minded people, which didn’t help my ideological development. I watched youtubers like Blaire White and Kalvin Garrah, who I thought gave me a balanced, moderate, and fair opinion which is clear is not the case. Back then I would’ve scoffed at the idea of Blaire and Kalvin and other similar people as being radical or a gateway, but I urge you, if you feel you are slipping to obsession with those ideologies, to seek to widen your opinions and associations. I understand it’s a fairly niche discourse topic, but for me it opened a wider rabbit hole into the alt right. From wanting to fit into the lgbt and wider communities as a masculine male, this opened up the black hole of the alt right, I browsed (now deleted) subreddits and 4chan boards, and forums that put me in a very negative and dangerous place. If you’d like me to make a post elaborating on this, I am more than happy to, but this post is to address conservativetranny.

Denial and owning up to responsibility

Back in 2017/18, I was very much in denial of certain aspects of myself, especially my sexuality. I am gay. I thought that this was, and especially as a trans guy, a demasculating quality. I still deal with those feelings sometimes, as a lot of young gay guys do, but thankfully it does not manifest itself as toxic as it once did. I just wanted to portray myself online as how I thought I wanted to be viewed-I didn’t want to be viewed like ‘any other trans guy’. I wanted to be different, but now I can appreciate individuality and I can also embrace being trans as well.

I used to think that having alt views was the coolest thing ever, which contributed to my slip into the alt right, something on which I’ll elaborate on in later posts. I am now an advocate for deradicalisation, and being rational, truly rational. I’m also an advocate for maturity and owning up to your mistakes.

I have hurt people, especially in my personal life, throughout my time as a stupid, thoughtless immature teenager and i am sorry, from the bottom of my heart, for that. I now respect the hell out of those people and unfortunately, but definitely rightfully so, they have lost their respect for me. I don’t blame them, because as I said, up until very recently I was a horrible, toxic person. With maturity, in the past half a year I have been able to own up to my mistakes and I am now taking responsibility for that. No excuses, because I was a shitty person. Of course there is a line between excuses and justification, and I hope those which are reading this can distinguish and appreciate this difference.

Self Hatred and Truscum

Back when I ran this blog, it was very easy to tell I was self hating. Everything I wrote on here, pretty much, was hateful except for the odd two posts that were about something unrelated to my ideology. I was extremely dysphoric and in a bad place when I wrote these things and certainly projected my insecurities onto others. I wanted to find a community of different thinking people that would accept me, and this community was certainly the wrong turn. I had a feeling that it was wrong at the time, but I was too naive and cowardly to own up to it and seek a way out. I kind of just naturally fell out of it, a a lot of things happened in my personal life in late 2018 that forced me out of trans discourse and into much more toxic places like the alt right and true crime fandoms, and I think I’ve only recently ‘found myself’ in the past year or so. I might make a post on self growth on the future as I intend to keep this blog to elaborate and voice my opinions on deradicalisation and highlight the importance of owning up and self awareness.

Don’t fall into the rabbithole

I’m not too acquainted with trans discourse anymore, so I’m out of the loop on this one, but I’d imagine that there’s still ‘transmed vs tucute’ ideas. Kalvin Garrah’s community comes to mind, I haven’t watched his videos ‘as a fan’, if that makes sense, for a while now but I am aware he has a large fanbase of young trans teens that were in a similar mindset to where I was back when I ran this blog. I would love for this post to reach his opposers and supporters for that matter, as a means to show them that they don’t have to fall into this cycle of hate which can be very damaging. I used to be an avid fan of Kalvin, and Blaire White, amongst others. I watched exclusively their content alone and formed my opinions around theirs. If you’re doing that now, I urge you to consider other people when you do. Think about the people like Brennan Beckwith, people who were severely impacted and hurt by hateful rhetoric. Those people are human too, and with maturity you will learn that people with different experiences and views are, at the end of the day, the same as you, and they have feelings as well .I’m going to make a post in the future about Kalvin Garrah, certainly, but maybe Blaire White as well.

Why now?

You may be wondering why this post is being made now of all times, and that is a question that has every right to be asked. I feel as if this timing is right because I finally possess the level of maturity needed to own up to my mistakes and tell you that I was wrong and it was certainly wrong to post those opinions and mistakes online for all to see, and put people in my real life on blast like I did.

I had completely forgotten about this blog, and forgot about the rude and ignorant words I had written towards the people in my real life, until chance had it that I was in contact with one of the people mentioned in this post. [https://conservativetranny.tumblr.com/post/169351517511/no-one-pretends-to-be-trans]

I’m not going to go into the nuances of the conversation we had, but it turns out they had, for a while and definitely rightfully so been hurt by the fact that I had mentioned them, by name, in this post. And while I’d of course still like to keep these people anonymous and will not sacrifice their anonymity in order to tell a story or ‘save myself’, this post is quite funny to read back on as I am good friends with the people referred to as ‘P’ and ‘Shadow’ now.

This is the end of this post, as I feel I have said everything I have wanted to say regarding my previous conduct on this blog. I’m going to change my name on this blog and my bio as I do intend on further posts in the future. I’m not sure how many people, if any, this post will reach, but I’m satisfied I have written this anyway. I certainly do plan on writing future posts but I’m not exactly sure how to formulate them. But thank you so much for reading this far, and if you have, I appreciate it.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

After three incredible dates with a straight-identified woman, she ghosted me. I felt blindsided. Everything had been going well… or so I thought. She seemed genuinely interested in me and our last date ended with an hour-long make-out session!

When I asked our mutual friend, who introduced us, what happened, she told me bluntly, “Yeah, she was freaked out by the fact that you were bi.” Apparently, she was also too cowardly to tell me herself (or to at least make up a reason why she didn’t want to speak to me again).

I was shocked. On our multiple dates, she didn’t seem uncomfortable when I openly discussed my bisexuality. She even spoke about her time sexually exploring at Wellesley College, when she hooked up with other women.

In the weeks following the date, I thought to myself: if a woman who studied queer theory at one of the most progressive colleges in the United States couldn’t date me because of my bisexuality, then who the hell would ever date me?

Sadly, the woman I briefly dated is not alone in her beliefs. In a survey of over 1,000 women, conducted by Glamour in 2016, 63% of women said they wouldn’t date a man who’s had sex with another man. (This isn’t just men who identify as bi. This includes all men who’ve experimented with another man, even if it only happened once!) Still, 47% of women said they've been attracted to another woman, and 31% of women have had a sexual experience with another woman.

It seems that many women, even while acknowledging their own sexual fluidity, don’t want to date men who are sexually fluid.

In January of 2019, a new study, published in the Journal of Bisexuality, examined how bi individuals are perceived, both romantically and sexually, by straight women, straight men, and gay men. The study also explored if bi folks are perceived as being more masculine or more feminine than their straight counterparts.

The researchers recruited 224 heterosexual women, 120 heterosexual men, and 96 gay men to participate in the study. The participants were then asked to review fake Tinder-like profiles of men and women, where nothing would change besides the profile’s sexual orientation. (More specifically, profiles would have the same picture, bio, age, etc., only the person in the profile openly identified as either bisexual, heterosexual, or gay at random.)

Participants then received five statements and were asked to rate them on a 7-point scale from strongly disagree to strongly agree: “I find this person sexually attractive;” “I would like to go on a date with this person;” “I could find this person romantically attractive;” “I would like to have sex with this person;” and finally, participants were asked to rate how masculine/feminine they found the profile ranging from very masculine to very feminine.

First, the results indicated that straight women perceive bi men as being less romantically and sexually attractive than straight men. Second, straight women also reported that they were less likely to date and have sex with a bi guy. Lastly, bi men were perceived as being significantly more feminine than straight men.

While the researchers expected straight women to rate bi men as less romantically attractive, which has been supported by past research, lead author Neil Gleason, MA, found it surprising that the women surveyed rated bi men to be less sexually attractive.

“I'm not sure if this is tapping into stereotypes not addressed by previous research or if it is due to the tendencies of women's sexuality,” Gleason tells bi.org. “More specifically, that women tend to place greater emphasis on social and personal characteristics compared to men, when assessing sexual partners.”

A plethora of research has indicated that straight women prefer men with “traditional masculine qualities.” Thus, sexual attractiveness could also be influenced by the fact that these women rated bi men as being significantly more feminine appearing than straight men.

Gay men, on the other hand, didn’t hold any attraction prejudices against bi men. There were no significant differences in gay men’s rating of attractiveness and masculinity/femininity between gay, straight, and bi men. While this may indicate progress within the gay community, implying that gay men are beginning to believe less negative stereotypes about bi guys, the researchers were cautious with that interpretation of the results.

The gay men in the study were recruited from Facebook interest groups, such as groups for gay men in a certain city, or for gay men with particular sexual or extracurricular interests.

“Therefore, the group isn't necessarily representative of the wider community of gay men, so it's unwise to apply these results to the general population of gay men,” Gleason said.

Further research would have to look at how gay men respond to questions about bi men with a more diverse and representative sample of gay men.

Still, personally, I know that I fair much better dating gay men than I do straight women. In fact, the woman I went on three dates with was the last straight person I dated, and that was over three years ago.

This all begs the question, how can we, as bi men, find someone who wants to date us? The answer, I’ve found, is dating other bi people and/or gender non-conforming folks. With apps, it’s so much easier to date other bi/GNC folks now. In fact, on most apps, you can even filter by bi people.

Gleason summed it all up when he explained:

This and other studies suggest that there are still prevalent negative attitudes and stereotypes toward dating bisexual individuals, which unfortunately might mean more left-swiping or inconsiderate messages when you use these dating applications, especially for bi men. Our study didn't include bi-identified individuals, but other research has suggested that bi folks may have more ‘luck’ dating one another, likely due to shared experiences of stigma and misunderstanding, and less of a need to explain one's sexuality.

So, if you find yourself continuously struggling while dating straight and gay folks, the answer is get out there and find yourself another bi person!