#like the betrayal exists on so many levels im. its not just that they could have seen him and chose not to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ynainna · 3 years

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In Another Life [final: pt 2.]

part summary: The inconsequent matters of falling in love with a woman he can’t.

pairing: Childe (Tartaglia) / Lumine (Traveler! Reader)

word count: 2,805

genre: angst

warnings: farewell archaic lord spoilers, some bloody descriptions

taglist: @he-y-cate @haise-r @oofjungoo

tags: angst, pining (like a lot, from childe mostly), childe is whipped but it only hurts more bc of it,

notes: Hi. I AM SO FUCKING SORRY ITS BEEN A WHOLEASS HALF YEAR!!! I LEGIT FORGOT THIS EXISTED AND IM SO AKKGHDGSHEAKJD IM SORRY GUYSSSS. It is a bit rushed doe, and I quite dislike how I wrote it and I’m sorry for that. I may just write another part to make up for it but that’s highly unlikely as you can see that in my schedule I have other plans

[ part. 1, final ]

Love.

It was a concept that Childe always thought wouldn’t apply to himself. Familial love was something he could wrap his around but the thought of falling in love with another and settling down with them always made his head do acrobatics it shouldn’t be doing.

Love, Childe snorts, is a concept human-made to satiate the empty hunger that resided in their heart.

Childe huffs, jutting his chin slightly up.

Well, he’d never worry about that. Something to cross off his future list.

Lumine is an anomaly wrapped in mystery. He’s never quite understood if it was the distance she held between them or the personality she had that made her so forlorn and melancholic. He glances sidelong, studying her in his peripheral vision.

“Hey girlie, you mind telling me how large that stomach is?” Childe cocks his head towards the pile of bowls at the edge of the countertop. Lumine looks up from her soup, indignance written clearly on her face.

“Paimon also wonders how big your stomach is! You eat so much and so wild too!” A high pitch voice pipes in, a glitter of constellations trailing behind her. Lumine whips her head to the side, face a perfect picture of betrayal, one that brings lighthearted amusement to Childe. It oddly is reminiscent of Anton when Teucer snitches on him to their Mother, which, in Childe’s very honest opinion, is understandable and the smartest choice to make. Mother is a different level of terrifying. He shudders at the memories his thoughts bring back.

“You can’t say that when you’re worse than me!”

Paimon huffs, affronted at the accusation. They argue back and forth but as Childe watches them, he feels a small amount of fondness settle. Just for a second, the ghost of Anton and Teucer replaces them. He blinks.

Huh, that was a first.

He interrupts their banter with a laugh, tinkling like a wind chime. He leans forward and rests his chin in his palm as they both stare at him in slight surprise. “You never did answer my question.”

Childe dodges the punch thrown at him in the heat of Lumine’s fury with a laugh that echoed down the busy streets of Liyue, a backdrop, an accompaniment to the busying advertisements of both local and foreign merchants alike.

Lunch ends in light-hearted anger.

The realization hits him in one of the many mornings Childe spends pestering Lumine when he sees it: Lumine reminds him of the sun.

It’s not that far off, to think about it, he muses, lips curling as he watches her swat at hilichurls and abyss mages alike as if they were flies, a bug underneath her feet, unworthy of her attention. Which is fair, considering the rumored prowess people whispered and glorified about.

The odd thing though, is that for a sun, she is quite dim to put it mildly. Perhaps a better way to put it in words was that she was misplaced or even missing parts of her that have not been found or recovered from the ruins that befell due to certain events in her life.

He sits on a rock, elbow on his thigh and chin in the heel of his palm, eyes never straying from Lumine. It’s a bit like watching a stage performance of the traditional dancers in Liyue, dressed in silk robes and cloths, performing in the matters of elegance and beauty. But, he supposes, replace the silks and techniques with the blood of her enemies and her swordplay, it would just be a stage performance all on its own.

The corner of Childe’s lips quirk up in wistfulness. He always had been the hands on type but he supposes, he can sit back just this once and watch a once in a lifetime opportunity of watching Lumine fight, he has a feeling few rarely see it and even fewer would remember solely because she leaves very few alive and breathing in her wake. Never cruel, he notes, merciful for a quick death, never prolonging their pain more than she is.

Other harbingers would think of it as a weakness, pathetic but harbingers are cruel and Lumine is not. Perhaps that’s all there is.

He bursts out laughing, his face glowing as he watches Lumine stomp to him, yelling at him to go away and to stop stalking her. He follows them back to Liyue anyway, laughing and fond as he goes despite the constant threats Lumine throws at him to deter him.

He wonders if this is what it feels like to have a traveling companion, he muses wistfully.

He brushes off his wistfulness by the time they arrive at Liyue Harbor to get dinner, but a whisper of “what if?” still lingers despite all his tries at it, so he just ignores the presence of its annoyance. They get dinner at Third Round Knockout, Childe’s treat for antagonizing and teasing them the whole day (or their whole stay so far, even).

“The sun is beautiful isn’t it?” Childe asks, his eyes dazed with a fond smile carved on his face as he looks over Lumine’s shoulder to watch the Sun set on the horizons of the normally azure seas that are gradually shifting hues to a palette of orange, purple, indigo, and blue. It paints quite a beautiful sight that would leave one sighing in awe or even satisfaction and gratification of a day well done. Lumine looks up from her meal and makes a face, making Childe bark out a laugh.

Paimon’s face scrunches up, her eyes squinting as she looked at the harbinger that sat across from them with a suspicious look in her eyes. “Why are you staring at something that hurts to look at in the eyes?”

Lumine tilts her head towards her companion as if to say, “Exactly what she’s saying,” but her eyes say “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He huffs out a breath through his nostrils, glistering eyes dancing around with mirth and amusement .

Eyes mischievous and lips quirked in fondness, his chin on the palm of his hand, he leans forward to rest his elbow on the table. Staring straight in amber orbs for a few seconds before shrugging, his eyes wandering to the street beside them. Busybodies rushing through the crowd to beat the lunch rush and merchants and stores yelling out promotions.

Nothing out of the norm at all, but in the corner of his eyes he spots an odd scene. Childe purses his lips before shrugging, “People often want the things that would be untouchable, do they not?”

He turns his head to look at Lumine in the eyes and is met with a curious shine, her head angled to the side as she regards him. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Lumine ducks her head to focus back on her meal, a small smile at the corner of her lips.

The antique urn disappears from the shop by the next day and when it reaches the ears of the Northland Bank, Childe only huffs out a laugh, eyes twinkling with dry amusement.

“Don’t leave such a luxurious object unlocked and unguarded, it only asks for trouble. Humans inherently love what they cannot have, it's in our nature and we can't quite change that.”

Childe dreams later that night, and wakes with a shoulder heavier than before, carrying a weight it didn’t quite show until it now. His back bends with the knowledge of times his wishes remained unfulfilled.

Life is cruel, he thinks, to give them so much chances but not enough to satiate the hunger and the desperation that festers like a parasite that brings only infection to a perfect state of mind with the single minded purpose to wreak havoc.

He breathes out a heavy sigh. He tilts his head and lets his eyes flutter to a close.

"Do you think if we met differently it wouldn't be this hard?"

Lumine blinks, lowering her sword to the side as she peers at him. She tilts her head to study him, eyes wary as she starts to relax her form.

"I wouldn't know, Childe-"

"Ajax," He corrects, his heart burning at the thought that their relationship had hit an all-time low to be regarded so distantly.

"Ajax," Lumine sighs, eyes fluttering close as if the correction from his alias to his name had no importance when the problem of his many names gave the boundaries of each identity. She's letting it blend into one and Childe doesn't know how to feel about that. The stirring in his gut feels like the beginnings of grief.

"I know of different planets and different lives but I've never traveled to parallels. There's a difference." When he's silent, she tilts her head, regarding him silently.

"Beside the point, would it?"

Her lips curl into a sad smile.

Childe closes his eyes and lets the anger and the grief roll onto him before he shakily sighs. He smiles wryly at her, azure eyes slowly draining the life it once held.

"Stupid question, I know."

The Golden House is a disaster he couldn’t even feel regret for because it is his duty and even the love and keeper of the keys to his glacier hearts could not stop him.

(He doesn’t know if he should regret or feel guilty for not loving her enough to stop.)

“It wouldn’t change.” Childe pauses, standing still at the exit.

When Childe doesn’t respond, Lumine sighs heavily. She looks up towards the ceiling, gazing up at the intricate designs carved, trying to keep the grief out of her voice and to force nonchalance. Her eyes flutter to a close as she breathes in shakily.

“It wouldn’t change,” Lumine repeats, a firm tone at each syllable as if trying to ground herself and believe in the words she utters.

“I could never have gotten so close to a man who in another life would turn his back on me, discarding of the relationship between us.”Her stare on the back of his head is heavy and heated.

How could you? Her eyes ask. Childe closes his eyes before pushing the doors open with a large push.

You know why, goes unsaid, disappearing with the sound of the howling gales as the seal of Osial starts to break.

As he walks through the rain, he ignores the tightness of his throat, his bleeding cracked lips, and the stinging in the corner of his eyes.The sound of a click, soft and burdensome.

Mama always did say he was a crybaby.

Childe could live a thousand different lives and look at a million different suns and think there’s never one that was ever like her. He looks and he looks and what he finds is not what he seeks.

He raises his hand against the sun, letting the small rays of sunlight peek through for a shy greeting.

I wonder, would the world be kind enough just to give us a little time. This time, in this life.

Childe closes his eyes as he dives into his memories, a wry smile forming at the image of Lumine.

Her eyes have never looked so mournful at that moment.

She never did see the fact that he knew. He knew in all the lives that they’ve lived, this life was the closest they ever got to a happy ending and perhaps it had been the light but he’d like to think the longing in her eyes is that she, too, thought so and wished for a simple moment with him.

He ached for a reprieve from millenniums of yearning, hoping for a soft touch from the one he would love the most, the only one who would keep his heart in the palm of their hands.

He looks up and breathes.

The sun is quite beautiful today.

Lumine does not love quite easily, not as easy as her brother often makes it out to be but perhaps to his credit, that was a time where she had loved freely because she lived with the knowledge that if she were to be gifted heartbreak at her doorstep, her brother would be beside her, a solid stable and immovable beside her. He would be fixed, strong, and steady as he anchored himself to let his baby sister grieve.

But he is not here.

Paimon is there, but she’s not quite the same and she doesn’t expect her to be because despite all the love she holds for her companion, she doesn’t quite fit a candle to Aether just yet and maybe it’s because a few months going into a year is barely a worthy comparison to eons of living with the brother she adores and loves her whole heart. Or maybe it’s because she doesn’t quite have as much capacity nor ability to give love as much as she once did. After all, if she were to give, there would be no one else to restore what she would lose in the transaction as the inevitable parting and heartbreak would arrive.

Odd, how reluctant she is to give love to the companion who had held fast to and for Lumine but she was so very risky and open about giving affections to the Harbinger.

Perhaps the grief and heartbreak she feels (the very same that is wreaking havoc in the guarded territories of her fairly fragile heart) is karma telling her she had chosen wrong.

That she had given the crown to the wrong heir.

Lumine shuts her eyes and heaves, shoulders shaking as she curls inwardly and moans like a mother that had lost her cubs due to her inability to protect.

She grieves.

And she grieves.

And does not move on, despite her tries.

She breathes in ghosts like it is the oxygen she breathes and eats the broken shells and wrecked corpses like it is her last meal because she dare not part.

“It’s you.” Lumine looks up from her book, her eyes dazed as she peers through her reading glasses at the voice. What she finds makes her book drop to the floor, shutting with a loud snap that doesn’t startle either of them.

In front of her sits Childe, bruised and bloody with torn leather clothes but still him. Her eyes trace his features with careful precision, lingering on his lips, ignoring the hint of red in the corner. Childe’s azure eyes brighten at the small discernable “huh” that she breathes out, touched with disbelief, tinged with a pinch of hysteria.

Childe smiles and leans forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he forces her to look directly in his eyes due to proximity. “Life always did make us meet, never one life we never met in and never a life we ended together. Do you think this life may be different, pretty girl?”

Dusk settles behind them, the twinkling of the stars lights up the sky. It is but a gentle moment, a gift from the fate spinners. A moment of reprieve, the touch of a loved one’s skin. A minute to satiate the longing that has hungered for countless centuries.

A shy touch of fingertips, grazing against one another like a feather. I’ve loved you for so long that I started to wonder how it would feel to even touch you, to have just a moment, their touch whispers, their yearning going unsaid but understood between them.

Her eyes are crescent moons.

His lips curl into a soft, loving smile.

They breathe and bask in their reprieve from an eternity of torment.

Truly, a moment of amnesty.

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midnightsnace · 3 years

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A Thousand Worlds

Summary: Fix it fic of sorts after the trauma that was episode 6 of the Loki series. Loki is in pain after discovering Mobius doesn’t remember him. He’s been living in apocalypses to avoid capture by this new TVA until he formulates a plan to get his Mobius back.

Rating: T for later chapters

Emotional angst.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

“And so that’s where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds.”

The ends of a thousand worlds. The words of his accomplice echoed through the god’s mind as he fiddled with the straps of his worn and tattered holster. The fluorescent above him flickered with every gust of wind that battled against the sides of the building that Loki was crouched down in. He slid his long legs out against the tiled floor in front of him and sat with his head propped against the wall. He sighed. Loki tapped his foot on the door of the space he was hiding in to close it, drowning out the cries of fear from the people outside in their final hours of life. There he sat waiting for the tempad to charge. Alone. Living in another world where every person he met would be dead by the end of the day. Another world where Mobius didn’t exist. His Mobius.

Was this what it was like? For her? To never be able to stay in one place for more than a day? To always see the same faces riddled with fear as they awaited their painful fate? To only know destruction, screaming, fires, earthquakes, the literal gates of hel? To be utterly alone with your only desire to live in the hope that one day your glorious purpose would be fulfilled?

Glorious purpose.

Loki scoffed. The god didn’t know what his purpose was anymore. Taking down the TVA was a complete failure. The chances for fixing the mess they started seemed impossible now as branches grew and new timelines erupted, with endless TVAs to monitor every universe. At least, that’s what Loki assumed. He knew next to nothing about what they had unleashed. It wasn’t the same TVA. Different hunters, different analysts, different ruler. Many he recognized, but they were still different people. They weren’t the same. She wasn’t the real B. He wasn’t his Mobius. And Loki was at a complete loss on how to find them again.

The first tempad he stole only brought him back to the place he snatched it from. The same Time Variance Authority where Mobius didn’t remember him and not a single file existed for Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, God of Outcasts, God of Lies. Even when he dragged the analyst through the timedoor into the roxxcart parking lot to access his memories, nothing existed of him. No laughter over silly metaphors, mischief at pompeii, not even the memory of their first encounter in the elevator. It was like they never met. This led to Loki wasting away their days hopping from one disaster to the next until his brain racked up a solution. The TVA never once did follow him. Why would they? No one remembered his brilliant discovery about the apocalypses. He could run free. But as the days whittled by, the hope Loki had began to fade into nothingness.

For awhile he kept track of the places he went and the time that had passed.

Day 1 - I finally stole a tempad and left that dreadful place. I came here first. Hoping I’d see you. But I guess that’s not how time travel works in apocalypses. No trace we were ever here. The storm reminded me of my brother. I hope to see him again one day. Now that I know we could have been friends. Everything was eventually going to be okay.

Day 24 - I’ve been sitting in a coffee shop awaiting the earthquake of 2098. Met a lovely redhead with the most peculiar of tattoos. But alas! Little does she know this friendship could never blossom in the wake of death!

Day 37 - I miss him. My brother. The pain that solitude brings makes me think of home more often. How ironic that the very place that caused me the most pain I miss. But anything is better than this. So today I visited home right before its destruction. I saw my brother. I saw Thor from afar. Oh how I wish I could have talked to him somehow and tell him i’m sorry for being such an ass.

Being there brought back memories of the silly metaphor he made using Mobius’ lunch. The corners of Loki’s mouth crept into a smile at the thought. But that smile faded away in the next second and was replaced with tears.

Day 56 - I went to Pompeii again. I stood in the shadows. I tried to picture your expressions of skepticism at my insane ideas. I tried to picture how your face lit up with pride and joy when you realized I was right. I wish I could have stayed longer but I never can anywhere I go.

He whistled like a bird before he exited through the time door.

By day 125 he had lost his will to live again. It was their fourth visit to Lamentis-1. Perhaps it was a mistake on his part to journey here once more and feel both the pains of betrayal and heartache at the prospect of never seeing Mobius again. The second time they had visited Lamentis, the god decided to stay until the very last second with the false hope that maybe him facing death would create a nexus event. His mobius would come find him and save him at the last second. But the time door never came. Maybe it was because he knew there was a chance to escape and he could take it. Or maybe it was because there were so many time branches no one would care to fix a world that was about to end.

“You were always meant to be alone.”

And so this time Loki threw the tempad to the ground and waited. He watched as the lethal disaster unfolded before his eyes once more, ready to die. Alone. Alone with no one to assure him everything will be alright in the face of death. Not a single soul would know he was gone. No one would care.

But at the last second they saw something on the tempad that made them change their mind. A glimmer of hope.

Any hope Loki had, a glorious purpose he had left to fulfill, it was in finding Mobius. It was the only desire left that fueled him to keep existing. He was all that mattered. His only friend. The only person left among the universes who trusted him and saw beyond his flaws. The only person left who hadn’t betrayed the fragile levels of trust the god could give. He was his hope that one day, he wouldn’t have to be alone.

And so he found himself walking the streets of New York in the summer of 2197, on the brink of some disaster he knew nothing about. Not a single idea when it would happen, where it would occur, and what he was doomed to witness. He saw something that could potentially lead him to his destination. The tempad had given him an alert for an aura match - two of the same people in one place. An oddity. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

They weren’t just any entity either. They were registered hunters in the TVA database. Which meant one had to be from another universe.

And he knew the TVA would be coming for them.

He had to get there first.

Loki speed walked down the sidewalk frantically scanning his surroundings for any clue as to what was happening. He couldn’t read any signs of fear or confusion on the faces of those who passed him. He didn’t know how much time he had.

Upon hearing shouts of anger, Loki broke out into a run across the street towards the source, dodging every dystopian vehicle that nearly collided with him in the process. It was coming from the roof of the parking tower. With a snap of his magic, Loki teleported himself to the top, hiding behind a parked vehicle to assess what he was working with.

There were two agents standing about 10 feet away who looked nearly identical, one waving her arms frantically while the other looked on stoically, possibly from shock, with a pruning stick in hand. Loki locked eyes on the tempad fastened to the belt of the frantic one. Then he glanced at the one in the other hunter’s hand.

Well shit.

Now he had to figure out which agent had jumped from the other timeline. He quickly flashed himself closer to the two, but not before one caught on that someone was there.

“I was given orders by a man to…what was that?” one of the hunters asked.

Loki crouched down farther on the other side of the wall. He reached for a dagger, ready to pounce once their suspicions subsided. They listened intently to the words from the first hunter for the first clue on who to attack.

“He sent me here to grab this,” the hunter pulled up someone on her tempad, “entity and leave. Those were the orders given to me. So if you’ll excuse me.”

The other hunter planted herself in front of her clone. “I can’t let you do that. Not until you’ve told me everything I want to know. How are you me? How is this possible?”

The first hunter was from an alternate timeline. Loki took that as his cue. But before he could sneak behind the hunter, he was shot backwards by a blast of energy from a ring of light.

Out from the ring stepped a peculiar man with graying hair who was wearing blue robes and an assymetrical cloak that sparked the curiosity of the confused hunter. Within a split second, the portal closed behind him. Loki laid very still on the concrete and held his breath in the hopes that the man would believe him to be dead.

“You know I can tell when someone is playing dead.”

Loki grimaced and winced as he heaved himself off the ground. He came face to face with the strange man, his hand lingering in the air where he placed the pocket for his dagger.

“You.” was all the man said.

“Am I supposed to know you?” the god questioned.

“You always manage to show up in New York again at the most in-opportune times.” The man raised his hands and Loki mimicked his movements, summoning his daggers in place.

“I’m gonna assume we’ve met before sir, perhaps in the future? I don’t know! And i’m terribly sorry about New York! Look let me explain…” they lowered their hands in their attempt to make peace with the angry man in front of him.

“Dr. Strange.” He kept his fist in the air, golden sparks flying from whatever spell he had in mind to attack the prince with. “And until you prove otherwise Im going to assume you are here for hostile reasons.”

Loki blinked. Well he’s kind of not wrong, they thought.

“Well I’m afraid I can’t prove anything else.” and with that the god blasted the sorcerer into the nearest column with their magic and teleported across the space.

Loki noticed that one of the hunters had disappeared. He assumed she had returned to the TVA. The other was charging towards him fast. He whipped out his daggers to face his attacker, but suddenly his feet were dragged out from under him and he hit the concrete hard. He was being dragged backwards, body scrapping against the concrete. So fast, that the god could barely think about what was happening to him.

When he came to his senses he cut the magic ropes with his powers and rolled across the ground. So he was dealing with another magic user, this “Dr. Strange.” Loki teleported again before he was up on his feet to where he was standing directly behind the hunter.

“D-11…” Dr. Strange said with a hint of caution in his tone.

So this was the man Hunter D-11 was working for. Before the hunter could turn around to face them, Loki snatched the tempad off her belt and snapped himself to the furthest side of the building. Dr. Strange reacted quickly and stood his ground in front of Loki, prepared to attack again.

“Loki, perhaps we can work out some type of deal. What is it that you want? Maybe I can help you. Maybe we can reach a compromise.”

Offer him a deal? Nah.

“I’m done trusting people I’ve just met. All they ever do is stab me in the back.” he conjured the time door behind him.

Strange titled his head. “You do realize we can follow you right straight back to the TVA?”

Loki turned to face him and D-11. “You’ll never find me. You won’t know the first place to look.” The time door closed with Loki inside of it, before the two even had a chance to reach their hands out to follow the god.

…….

And that’s how Loki had ended up here. At Roxxcart again, waiting for the new tempad to charge up before hopping through timelines again.

He breathed in deeply as he felt the bubble of excitement, relief, and happiness build in his chest for the first time in months at the prospect of achieving his goal. Being reunited with the only one who mattered: Mobius. His Mobius.

But as he released his breath in a sigh, his chest tightened again and worry clouded his mind. What if this didn’t work? What if this was just another dead end? What if this was just another one of the countless TVAs that might exist in the vast multiverse?

At first, all Loki felt was sadness and regret in the days following Sylvie’s betrayal. But now all he felt was anger boiling deep inside him. That same unwelcome feeling he experienced after discovering his father lied to him. The feeling that harbored in the abyss of Thanos’ chambers. The feeling that never left his soul until Mobius looked him in the eyes and assured him that he didn’t have to be the villain in his story.

She had taken everything from him and he was afraid he couldn’t wash away the resentment this time. He wanted desperately to feel anything besides the pain he had known for the past year.

He needed to feel love again.

“He cares about you.”

Loki couldn’t wait any longer. He picked up the tempad and tapped the time door request for the TVA home base. He drew in a shaky breath as he paused in front of the portal.

This was it.

He was either about to be reunited with his greatest source of happiness, or find himself hiding in apocalypses again for months as he searched for another plan.

And he would do it. He would search through a thousand worlds to find him.

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 3 years

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Hunchback of Notre Dame (One-Shot)

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It's a lesson as old as time itself really, never judge a book by its cover, never judge a beast by its claws, thousands of iterations all equal to the very same principle.

But there are people who refuse to take such principles to heart, and would in fact rather spread principles in direct opposition.

Werecreatures have never had a very good reputation, from the animal-like designs to the depictions of their kind as unkind and ruthless. So trying to find a place to stay was much more difficult than it should have been.

"Four travelers for safe passage into the mindscape," a voice shrouded by a cloak muttered, waving down another werecreature, this one holding a bundle in its arms.

The bundle was crying, as though aware of the horrific events that would occur just beyond that gate.

"We've been tricked!"

"Judge Doyle!"

The werecreature holding the bundled skittered away on the eight spindly appendages protruding from it's back, paying no mind to the sound of footsteps against stone rapidly gaining in it.

Until it hit the ground with a sickening crack, and went stock still, the bundle falling to the ground like a rock.

Doyle had always been a cruel man. He'd trained his own son, Patton, to fear him, and to in turn fear that which opposed him.

And it was Doyle who had found the spider's body.

It was Doyle who took the bundle from the still and cold arms of its mother.

And it was Doyle who attempted to drown the eight-eyed and multi-limbed child that resided within.

"STOP!" Doyle only gave momentary pause at his son's call.

"What are you doing?." Patton said as he reached the bottom of the steps.

"Sending this creature to the dark side, right where it belongs," Doyle said coldly.

"You've killed an innocent person, and you believe the best course of action is to add the blood of a child to your crimes? What would Thomas think. . ." Patton said.

That had struck a nerve, the bundle was moved from the well.

"And what do you suggest I do?." Doyle snapped, thinking he'd stumped the man in front of him.

"Care for it, you've raised one son, what's another?" Patton said, raising an eyebrow.

"Me? Saddled with this- this-" Doyle paused for a few moments.

"Very well, we'll keep him in the old bell tower, by your village," Doyle said.

And he christened the child Virgil.

Virgil grew up lonely, terrified of even the slightest idea of leaving his tower.

His tower covered with bells and cobwebs and a table at the center with wooden constructs of the other denizens of the mindscape.

He grew up with no memory of his family other than those fed to him by Doyle. False memories of betrayal.

He grew up looking into the mirror and seeing eight eyes staring him back, each a cruel and sharp reminder of his inability to exist outside of that tower.

Patton had tried his best to undo such conditioning, but rarely was Patton allowed into the tower.

Today was a day Virgil remembered well, a festival of delight and chaos.

The Feast of Fools.

Patton had tried desperately to convince Virgil to attend, but Virgil was firmly locked under Doyle's heel, the spider caught in it's own web.

That is, for a moment.

One conversation at the dinner table, a recitation of the alphabet punctuated by far to many hisses and clicks, and Virgil was ready to flee.

He stitched up his own cloak, pulled it over his head, and ran out.

It was terrifying. His ears rang and his eyes burned like ash.

And then it all seemed to stop as he fell through cloth, instead punctuated by a gasp.

And then he was face to face with the most beautiful man he'd ever seen in his life. Eyes of golden yellow, hair of a deep brown, and scales of emerald. He was gorgeous, and he was holding Virgil's face as though it were a priceless glass treasure.

"I-Im sorry I-" Virgil stammered.

"Nonono, it's alright, you poor thing, you dont look very adept to sunlight do you?" He spoke softly, almost as if he though Virgil might flee if he were to loud.

Virgil shook his head slightly.

"Itll be fun, you should join the crowd, the light's much less likely to hit you there," and Virgil felt a soft kiss on his forehead before he rejoined the festivities.

And then came the main festival, someone he didnt recognize talked upstage and sang. Dark blue and purple hair like a galaxy bouncing around their face.

"Come one! Come all! Make an entrance to entrance- see the mystery and romance~" they purred as they backed toward the curtains.

"Come one! Come all! Hurry hurry heres your chance- see the finest man in France, dance Janus dance!" And then they were gone, replaced by the man Virgil had met before, now dressed in yellow and black cloth, his hair hidden under a hat.

Virgil flinched as Janus got closer and closer to where Doyle was watching the stage, wrapping a golden scarf around his neck as though Janus planned to choke him.

And then Virgil lost track of what was happening, until he was on stage, and he heard gasping.

He froze, he could almost feel Doyle's gaze from the other end of the stage.

And then the screams and gasping stopped, to be replaced with laughter. A crown was placed on Virgil's head, a cape fitted over the spindly legs sticking out from his back.

He smiled, the first genuine smile he'd had in decades.

Squelch

Virgil wasnt sure where the tomato had come from. Only that more were following, and suddenly ropes were tugging at his limbs,he tried to fight them off, tried calling for his father.

But Doyle only smiled and looked away. His guardsman, a man dressed in white and gold armor, green eyes wide with shock, made a single move toward Virgil, but was held back.

And then everything stopped, he felt hands against the ropes, heard Doyle call for someone to get down.

And then he was once again face to face with Janus.

"I'm so sorry. . . No one deserves this. . ." Janus said quietly before standing up, a hand firmly around Virgil's arm as he regained his own balance.

"You mistreat this poor man the same way you mistreat us all! You would call him a son and yet what freedom has he known! Compared to your only other son! What justice has been served as their spirits are crushed under the heels of men like you!." Janus snarled. Virgil saw a slight movement from the bell tower, likely Patton hiding behind a pillar before Doyle could catch his eyes.

"Silence." Was Doyle's only response.

"JUSTICE!" Janus called. Doyle pointed toward his guards, then toward Janus.

"Oh dear. . . Well let's see theres-" Janus pointed to each of the advancing guards and muttered under his breath "-ten of you, and one of me, oh what's a poor snake to do?" Janus pulled a yellow cloth from his dress and began to cry into it, before sneezing. . . And disappearing off stage.

Vitgil watched with intrigue as Janus led the guards throughout the square before disappearing into the building that made up the lower half of his bell tower.

Doyle beckoned for his head guard to follow him, before turning his eyes to Virgil.

And thus began Virgil's tearful walk back to the top of the tower.

His chest ached, he thought of Janus' hands caressing his face, of those eyes and scales and the way his lips quirked in a fashion that couldve been read as a sneer, were it not for the fact that his eyes looked as though they'd witnessed a miracle.

Virgil heard singing from the lower level of the tower, and upon further investigation, discovered that Janus had even more talents than Virgil had first thought.

So finally, he resolved to help him.

"Theres guards at every entrance, how exactly do you expect us to do this?" Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

"No one said we had to use a door," Virgil said with a sly grin.

"Hold on," he said, he felt Janus' arms around his waist, it was awkward, Janus had to have been almost two feet taller than he was.

Virgil reached one of his webs, pulled, and jumped off of the tower, Janus tried his best not to scream as they fell.

They said their goodbyes and Virgil pushed the necklace Janus had given him under his hoodie, he couldnt have it discovered, he'd rather die than be the reason Janus got hurt.

Which was why he'd decided to pin Roman to a wall when he came up the stairs.

"Woah woah woah- hey- I'm not here for him I promise! I helped him declare sanctuary!" Roman whisper-yelled.

"Then why are you here now." Virgil snarled.

"Just- tell him I'm sorry, and tell him I hope he's safe," Roman said.

Virgil paused for a moment before letting Roman down.

"You know. . . Janus is lucky to have you. . ." Roman said as he trodded down the stairs.

Things only seemed to get worse from there, Virgil could hardly breath as smoke rose from the ground, the crackling of fire mixing with the screams of the were-creatures who refused to give away Janus' location.

Until Janus showed up at Virgil's tower himself, this time carrying Roman's body in his arms.

"He was shot. . . Almost through the heart. . ." Janus said quietly. Virgil nodded and gathered up cobwebs to make bandages. He wished he couldve made fresh ones, but it had been many years since he'd stopped being able to use that ability.

"He can stay with me- you need to run, fast," Virgil said, shooing Janus away. Janus pressed one last kiss on Roman's lips before fleeing.

And soon Roman himself was on the run alongside Virgil. Both on a mission to keep Janus and his people from a gruesome death at Doyle's hands.

Virgil wasn't exactly sure what he'd been expecting from the Court of Miracles, but it certainly wasnt the same galaxy-haired catboy from the stage prancing around in front of a set of gallows gleefully calling out the supposed misdeeds of Virgil and Roman, before declaring their imminent deaths on the charge of complete innocence.

"Stop! These arent enemies! They're our friends!" And then came Janus from the crowd.

Everything happened all to quickly after that. Screaming and racing around trying to escape as their plans came crashing at Doyle's feet.

And then Virgil found himself chained to a tower.

And watching Janus standing on a pyre, straw littering his feet, flames kicking up around him.

And Virgil only felt one emotion, rage.

Chains were pointless. Chains were stifling and unnecessary and Virgil wanted nothing to do with them. He only wanted Janus safe and in his arms.

So it was quite the disappointment when he discovered Janus' lack of breath.

"You killed him. . ." Virgil muttered as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I had to. . . I only wish it had happened before he'd done such damage to you. . ." Doyle muttered. Virgil noticed a knife being brought towards him in the shadows on the walls.

That blade wouldve looked so much better in Doyle's heart. But fire worked quite well to.

Virgil had been afraid if the sun for quite some time, afraid of anything to do with the outside. But it was much easier to get through when he had his hands intertwined with both Janus and Roman's, and when he wasnt stifled by a fear of his own face.

----------------------------------------------

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#cori writes #ts patton #ts virgil #ts sides #ts roman #ts janus #tw abuse #tw murder #tw child abuse #tw fear #tw fire #tw genocide #disney aus #anaroceit #romantic anaroceit #roceit #anxceit #prinxiety

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the-scottish-costume-guy · 4 years

Text

JK Rowling, transphobia and a hopefully helpful post.

A few days ago I posted on my Facebook (yes I have one sue me) debunking some of the things Rowling has been saying on twitter. Since she made a statement I felt the need to make another one... but this time Im sharing it here. Please note this is long, it is fairly opinionated in places but her statements have felt so insidious I want to share something in depth. If you are cis I implore you to read, but I understand this is long and a lot of people wont want to. No judgement.

Jk Rowling’s latest statement is a mess of valid concerns and fear mongering. At this point there can be no claim she doesn’t know what shes talking about - she herself has said shes been researching this for years. She throws in token acknowledgements to “real” trans people while framing the rest of her statements as concern for confused teens.So first things first - and something that might not be popular with some of my trans friends. I agree that teenagers should not be able to medically transition. It is a choice that should be made when the brain is fully mature. Hormone blockers are something I trust - and that are reversible. I have seen enough detransitioned people hurting to feel like we do need to be careful - especially with children who are trying to find themselves. I dont know about other people but during my teens I was coming to the crushing realisation that I wasn’t special. I was learning that no matter how well I painted someone else did it better, no matter how badly I hurt someone had it worse - I was learning about the wonderful mediocrity of life, and having anything that made me stand out gave a brief reprieve from learning to be okay with all these things. For me to be fair it was dying my hair outrageous colours and dressing in black leather during 30 degree summer heat - but its still something we cant forget. I KNOW a lot of kids claiming to be trans are - and I dont want to keep that from them, however I dont want to cause harm to the kids that are wrong. Continuing on, I’d like to address her comments about TERFS. Terfs are Self Described Trans-exclusionary-radical-feminists and the term does get thrown around a little too liberally at times. Terf is not and never will be a slur. No more than “White” is. It is about a group of people who have taken it open themselves to segregate another group - and calling that what it is, is not a crime. The reason Terf and transphobe have become synonomic is because the ‘radical feminists’ that subscribe to this have lost focus on nearly all other issues of feminism and sit squarely on “dropping the T” from the lgbt community and “keeping men out of womens bathrooms.” Terfs are overwhelmingly women - this is sadly simply a fact. Terfs are reviled because of how much it feels like a betrayal to the community. A group that fights for rights - except ours. A group that wants equality - except for us. Its different to the conservatives who hate us all equally - with Terfs we are singled out. Terfs are not, as Rowling claims, inclusionary to Trans-men. I’ve been met with a combination of pity, loathing, mockery and revulsion by people within this group. I’ve been told that I shouldn’t let homophobia push me into transitioning - only for all correspondence to abruptly drop when I mention Im marrying another man. I’ve been told my old body was beautiful - only for stunned silence when I agree. I was beautiful - I was curvy, I was a dancer and had a body to match - but I wasn’t Me. When their usual arguments against me fail - I’m met with hate. Im called anti-woman, traitor, homophobic. I even have some such comments saved on my blog. I have yet to meet a Terf who was pro-trans-man. Rowling claims that had she had the ability, as a confused teen, she may have sought to transition. I hate to tell her but she did have the ability and trans people didn’t pop into existence in the twenty-first century. I’m actually looking to do my dissertation topic in my final year on lgbt presentation throughout history - and in my overeager way I’ve already started researching. James Barry has been becoming a common name for years - a transgender surgeon who died in 1865. If Barry was able to at least socially transition from 1790 to 1860, I am fairly sure Rowling could have in 1980 - over a century later. Rowling also claims that groups of friends in schools all suddenly identify as trans at the same time. Speaking from my school experience - the queer kids group together. We seek out others like us, and we take strength from each others bravery to come out - often around the same time. We almost get a rush of resolve when one of our group musters the courage and strength, and some of us use that rush to bite the bullet ourselves. Its one of the beautiful ways the lgbt community is here for one another - and the influx of people identifying as trans is partially a factor of more people knowing the name of their feelings. Survivor bias will ignore the trans people through history without the knowledge or means to transition - and will claim they were never trans at all. Her initial statements about charities worry me in particular. As I said last time - we know sex is real, we just dont really like to be defined by it. She is worried that we’re going to “rebrand medicine” and ignores that medications for years have had warnings in their leaflets about “If you are or become pregnant” regardless of if the person receiving it has a dick or a vagina. We dont advocate for ignoring the differences in how people respond to heart attacks - and I for one would like research to be done on how hormones effect that. I dont actually know if I would respond more like a cis gender woman or a cis gender man if I were to have a heart attack or a stroke. But where possible we do want to change the language around some of these things. I have had a double mastectomy, but some Cis-men have these as well. This is not a gendered term. Why should a period be called anything else? Why call it a “womens problem.” I and Im sure many other trans people, support the research into how different medical and mental issues affect different sexes. I just think that should be extended further - and we know it should, as some medical issues affect people of different ethnicities in different ways and we don’t know how. I am truly sorry that Rowling has experienced abuse and assault of any nature. I am truly sorry that she has felt unsafe. But her feelings do not invalidate others experiences. Of the trans people I know, a saddening number have been assaulted, have been abused and in particular have experienced these things domestically. There is much work to be done on this in the UK. There are nearly no mens shelters for sufferers of violence to my knowledge. I, a trans man who have experienced some of these things in my teen years, would Not want to be around cisgender women even if I could be. A cis woman was responsible for much of the pain I personally suffered - and in fact one of the acts of violence she carried out against me was directly after I came out as trans to her. Trans women, even if they could go to male shelters, should not have to be surrounded by a group that put them in danger - in a place that is detrimental to them physically and mentally and is frankly degrading. The belief that allowing trans women into shelters for those escaping abuse is dangerous is sad. To be so afraid is deserving of pity. To let fear blind you to the suffering of others - to think its better that a trans woman face homelessness or a return to an abusive household because you personally would sleep better at night is the kind of passive evil we should be aware of in this day and age. It comes from choosing to see the word “trans” before “person.” Its from choosing to see a persons genitals before their humanity. Trans people are not dangerous - and cause no greater risk than any other demographic. Her claims that she can empathise with this fear are empty. A gender recognition certificate is not a ticket into womens bathrooms. Funnily enough you dont actually require a piece of paper to go almost anywhere. I do not have a gender recognition certificate and use male bathrooms, can enter male spaces as I please. All a gender recognition certificate does is change the letter on your birth certificate. It doesn’t even affect other forms of identification - my passport, my student id, my drivers license all already say male. I am not sure why so many people have chosen this as their hill to die on because its the least relevant thing to them on the planet. How often have any of you seen another persons birth certificate? Rowling says she and other ‘gender critical’ (a terf dogwhistle) people are concerned for trans youth. Well… she can take her condescending concern and direct it to matters that are relevant to her. Trans people want to be left alone. Its a simple request, and yet people endlessly seem to trip over the dirt level bar.

#transgender #jk rowling #terf #transphobia #lgbt #uk politics #I'm prob gonna get shit for this arent I

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spirit-of-the-void · 4 years

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Ebony and Ivory- Bonus Vergil Ending

Author’s notes: So. This took me a really long time to write, and...well...I dont really know what to say about that. To be honest, the V ending got a lot of complaints, and it really tore down my motivation and confidence for this fic, for writing in general. Not to mention I was trying to get my life together for the beginning of this year, but the virus shit kind of ruined everything so im just...dead for the most part. Shit sucks, I’m tired, but...I felt bad about never giving this ending, so i did my best to make it something worth reading for you all. Im sorry it took so long, im sorry i never write or post anymore. Im just really doing my best to get through each day, and im really grateful for those of you who stuck around, and those who didnt

Heres to, hopefully, more writing in the future.

Bonus Chapter

Vergil’s alternate ending

So lost in the gravity of the moment, minds addled and fogged with sadness, pain, and rage...neither man heard you.

The Outsider didn’t notice you snap out of the pocket Void he held you in, didn’t hear the shattering of obsidian and the distant howl of a thousand voices screaming their denial, their sheer despair at your choice. After all, this place was a part of you--The void wanted it too, ached and craved and begged for his punishment. The man who caused you so much pain, left abandoned and alone to suffer all the agonies a world could offer. Surely this could not be, surely you weren’t making this choice, willingly embracing this agony in all its absolute brilliance?

It hurt, it hurt. The pain was so fresh and alive, it rattled through your bones and spread like boiling, freezing water through every joint and tendon. Memory had always been your burden, from the moment you entered the Void to every fresh breath of it you drew to fight being swallowed whole by the inky abyss. And now those memories were like brands, searing into your skin and leaving scars so deep that they were numb. The burn didn’t stop, and neither would the images that came with them.

Images of your baby. Your son--Nero.

The instant you relieved that moment, saw his tiny form peppered with a tuft of white hair upon a shivering head you screamed, thrashing against the obsidian hands holding you back. One by one they shattered, shards drifting into absolute nothingness like dust floating on the breeze. More and more they came, trying to wipe it all away. And still...you writhed, shouted, held onto every moment, every pain. The guilt was more agonizing than anything else, sending your limbs trembling and mouth open in a soundless cry to join the ever shrieking masses. You left him, you forgot him. Your flesh and blood, your son left on a doorstep alone to grow up feeling abandoned and neglected.

No amount of power could change what had happened to your mind, to your body bleeding out on a sidewalk. Strength was just a fleeting concept then, a whispered promise of brighter futures than your soul was made to endure. When that agony returned, when the tragedy of that day struck it left you shattering and broken, glass upon the ground begging to be picked up again. You weren’t like that anymore.

Strength was no longer an empty promise, it was something real and tangible. You could hold it in your hands, cradle it and nurture it with everything you had. It existed in the laughter of friends, in the feeling of holding a loved one’s hand, deep breaths of ocean air and memories made in that place of tragedy that were so bright. For so long now ignorance had been your enemy, snatching away so much happiness and leaving you wanting. Losing V, the Outsider’s betrayal, this--if only you had known, if only things could change. If only. You were tired of those two words, the taste of them now foul and bitter like poison shoved down your throat. There it choked, spat out with more force than ever thought capable. No more ignorance, no more hiding from that deep, aching pain and regret--you knew now, and by the Void itself you would die before not knowing again.

It felt like hours had passed before the hands finally stopped coming, a gasp escaping your lips like you had been held under the ocean’s weight the whole time. Finally, a breach. You crested over that familiar surface of water, falling upward until the familiar glow of the Void finally met your eyes. Obsidian hands managed to break your fall, eyes swimming with dizziness and tears while everything sank into the very core. Vergil, your love, abandoning you, the order, the pregnancy, Nero--everything. This was the make or break moment, the time to sink or swim. You lay on the cold ground for some time, treading the waters of your own mind and trying not to drown while the Foresight screamed in unbearable pain. You would not break. You would not break. You would not break.

You wanted to remember, wanted to remember everything. There were so many things that had to be said, apologies to be made, love to give. You wanted to weep at the feet of your son, to beg and plead for forgiveness and tell him how absolutely loved he was from the very start. To make up for lost time, to change everything without the fear of shattering apart. The past could not be fixed, mistakes were now written in stone. But you knew that didn’t have to mean the future had to be bleak. You remembered now--That deep feeling of love, meeting Vergil that first time and pouring everything into him. His betrayal had stung to your very core, had left your past self weeping along in a cold cell. But...that love wasn’t gone. It didn’t justify Vergil’s actions, but you knew now. No longer ignorant, having been so close and deeply in love with the human part of him he rarely showed. V, the broken man who wanted nothing more to be protected and loved.

Now you knew both sides of the man you loved, and you didn’t want to lose that again.

Clarity seeped through the pain, weaving together the pieces left behind and keeping you solid. A wheeze escaped your lungs, sounds fading in and out as you struggled to rise from the ground. The Outsider’s voice, Vergil’s, the Void. Promises of punishing the son of Sparda, of leaving him still loving you while V was here to keep you happy and ignorant. Denial scraped along the already-battered walls of your head, gaze lifting just enough to see a blurry vision on the precipice of the endless sky. There the Outsider held Vergil up by his collar, framed by an endless glow without stars and no sun. Neither had noticed you, so lost in the Void’s howl and in the Outsider’s chiding promise. It made your teeth grind, head swimming with desperation and the unrivaled need to stop this, to stop everything. No more--no more pain, no more suffering, no more punishments.

You dragged yourself, body trembling uncontrollably as the Foresight battled every inch of it. A fail safe, meant to protect you from memories that might bring about shattering. Right now it definitely wasn’t helping, but that didn’t mean you would stop. The hard ground of the debris scraped your legs as you went, but they were practically numbed by everything else. Whale oil rising like bile in your throat, eyes black and reflecting the Void’s glow like obsidian crystals. Your tears glistened, dew on their surface, falling steadily through the harsh, wheezing breaths. Clearer now, clearer every second. Vergil stared sightless ahead, eyes glazed and empty as he accepted the Outsider’s fate. His look of defeat shook you, made every cell scream out in denial and sorrow. Both of you were so young, so foolish, so desperate, so headstrong, so hurt--not anymore, not. Any. More.

“Vergil Sparda, this is your punishment for hurting my child.”

Enough. We’ve all had enough.

The Outsider jolted when you reached out, grasping the back of his jacket with shaking fists and pulling yourself upright. What a sight you must have been--body riddled in scratches from dragging yourself, pale and shaking while the wind whipped your hair into a senseless mess. The deity immediately gasped, dropping Vergil’s limp form in shock and leaving him sitting on the edge of the debris, jolted back into sense. For a brief moment, your eyes met. Agonized, horror-filled blue staring into the glistening black, reflecting so many emotions, apologies, and regrets. When he was like this, his expressions reminded you so much of V. You knew what he was seeing, feeling, remembering. Seeing what his choices wrought, the tragedy and despair left in the wake of an arrogant child’s selfishness and fear. And that’s what he looked like now--unabashed vulnerability, tears in his eyes threatening to drip down already-wet cheeks. That past was done, it was gone and left in the rubble of memories that longer mattered.

Here, now...that mattered.

“Y/N…!” The Outsider rasped in horror, griping both your shoulders as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket without letting go. It caused him to crouch to your level, expression filled with panic and shock as he continued on horrified, “You shouldn’t be here, you still...still--How did you manage to--”

You couldn’t explain, couldn’t give him the chance to send you back again. You choked on a shuddering breath, arms reaching up around his neck and pulling closer into the only embrace you had ever shared with the deity. The one who gave you life, saved you from the abyss and spent the past few years trying not to let you break--his methods were not the right ones to take, lingering in cruelty and the very pain he knew too. How could you expect a creature who knew nothing but the empty, mindless howl of the Void to know anything of comfort and affection? He had no one to teach him mercy, to remind him of what humanity was like. To let go, no more pain of betrayal, no more anger.

He froze when you rested your face on his neck, body held against his as wind whipped around you both mercilessly. There was no warmth, not physically--but his chill was a comfort all its own, a familiarity that kept you from shattering and calmed the Foresight into a low hum.

“N...no more…” Your voice was so tiny, a broken sob against his frozen skin as you squeezed tighter, “Please...please...No more.”

The Outsider swallowed hard, body still rigid as his hands very gently settled on your back. Like he was holding glass thinner than paper, on the verge of breaking. He grit his teeth, you could hear the grinding of his jaw from this close.

“You’re suffering,” He managed to rasp out, voice shaking with restrained emotion as one hand threaded through your hair, “My child, my only precious flower--you remember don’t you? You remember what he--”

I remember. I remember remember remember. And I never want to stop.

“I don’t care…!” Your body shook harder, voice taking on the hard edge of resolve even while tears swam in your vision again. The memories hadn’t stopped, they refused to cease in their brutal assault. Vergil never coming to save you, the pain of being shot, giving birth alone and soaked to the bone. Blood on the sand, your son’s wail on the wind. His face, his tiny hands… You sucked in a shaking breath, heart aching as a broken whimper slipped from your lips, “Please...don’t take him from me...I can’t lose it again…”

I want to know him. I want to know Nero as my son. I want to know Vergil as my everything.

You didn’t want this pain to be a reminder anymore. You wanted to make new memories with your child, to make up for all the mistakes and everything he lost. To go on without knowing, to live in ignorance as his friend and listen to him speak of the sorrow that came with being abandoned...you would rather die. Guilt was not a stranger, and you knew it was possible to grow and heal from it again. Because you weren’t that broken soul in the Void anymore, having tasted what a happy life could truly be like at the very core of your being. A perfect word would have been Vergil coming to save you back then, stealing you away to a quiet place to give birth and raise your child together as better people, to move on. But this world was far from perfect, and that was okay. To learn, to move on and grow from what happened seemed too good to be true, but it was all you wanted, all you had.

Vergil stared at you with absolute agony, those tears managing to trickle out against his will down sharp cheeks. You loved remembering him, those special first moments. Getting to hold his hand, a first kiss, that night...it had been everything, bringing familiarity to the time you had been with V. Of course the poet felt so right, so deeply familiar and necessary--your body remembered him, saw the black-haired human in every tender, vulnerable moment with Vergil. Getting to have them both was such a blessing, to learn that part of your soulmate so intimately and without restraint. He held so much back, drowned out by fear and pride that continued to choke his happiness. Things could change, they had to.

The Outsider sucked in a sharp breath at your words, hands shaking where they gripped the back of your blouse. You could teach him too, could help him remember what empathy felt like underneath the howling Void.

The cold has numbed you, but it doesn’t have to be that way.

“I...I could return V to you…” The Outsider whispered, staring over your head into the empty abyss as the wind continued to howl for everything you had lost, “That man, he...he hurt you, broke--You. I almost lost my only child, the only gift this wretched place allowed me.”

In a way, the deity was a child too, not understanding his own emotion and lashing out in kind. All this nonsense had been born in how much he cared for you, so much that the idea of losing you scared him into cruelty. It wasn’t right, he hurt you and the people close to you in the process. It couldn’t continue like this anymore, not on the path of revenge and tragedy.

You let out a soft breath, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to push back the tears. Your pain wasn’t helping him see clearly, nor was it aiding you in any way. It had to end, this ceaseless cycle—The Outsider needed to understand that you could handle this, that you could grow and stand on your own feet while carrying the weight of these memories around on your shoulders.

“I know what that feels like,” You whimpered, breaths attempting to slow but still hitching with each swallowed sob. That fear he felt, the panic...you felt that all and more, “Please, father...don’t make me lose my child again.”

You felt him suck in a shuddering breath, eyes a glassy black as they stared over your shoulder into the abyss. In all the time you knew the Outsider, he had never shown emotion like this. Muscles locked to the point of shaking lightly with strain, air pressed through his nostrils like he was afraid opening his mouth would release an unwilling scream of denial. Because you knew deep down, knew he could understand your desire to keep these memories. Seeing you lose Nero had to hurt him too, bringing on the unwilling fear of experiencing the same thing once you almost slipped away. He had tried the only way he knew how, and now…that fear was caging you in, born of desperation and panic that kept the entire ocean at bay in the hopes of saving you from drowning. But he could never stop it from trickling through, not for long.

You delicately ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the wind send the short locks tossing back and forth. He felt so...human, real and solid. You were willing to bet he wasn’t always the God of this place, that his vulnerability and immaturity had roots in something deeply human. He froze sharply at the contact, hands squeezing the fabric of your blouse so tightly you wondered if it had started tearing.

“If I could take you away from this place, I…” You whispered, eyes closing softly as your body battled exhaustion, “The Void has made you cold, father. I just...I cannot let these feelings go.”

You leaned back just enough to stare at the Outsider’s face, obsidian meeting obsidian and reading each other’s faces. His eyes were wide with unrestrained desperation and sorrow, echoing so many years spent in this miserable place without the sun. You placed both hands gingerly on his cheeks, thumbs stroking along his high cheekbones as if waiting for tears to be shed.

“Father,” You whispered, voice aching with so many things better left unsaid as you stared at him steady and imploring, “Ignorance won’t protect us anymore.”

You hear Vergil suck in a breath at that, air dragged through teeth clenched so hard they might crack. The Outsider’s reaction was no different, those obsidian eyes wide and face a blank mask of shock and regret that showed no signs of fading. You knew what he was thinking, knew that desperate horror of watching you come so close to shattering, to becoming one with that deep, endless abyss. He was not used to fear, he was not used to being afraid. And that was something you could understand, something you wished so terribly to ease in any way you could. But this pain was so necessary, the deepest ache in your chest that gripped with icy fingers and refused to let go--shattering or not, painful or not...the memories were yours, and you wanted to keep them. You owed this to yourself, to Vergil, and especially to Nero. There were so many things you wanted to say to your son, and those things needed to happen above all else.

There was a pause of silence between you all while the Outsider froze in place, seeming lost in thought as his endless gaze seemed to bore into your own. The only thing that broke the tense air was the howling winds from all around, even the moaning chorus of suffering voices seeming to quiet as they waited for the Outsider’s choice. If he decided against you, there would be a fight that could not be won, a fight that would more than likely end with you shattering from the stress already on your body. That was a risk the Outsider couldn’t afford to take, even with all the powers he held over you. The deep burn of foresight, icy veins of the Void’s magic as it traveled through your body--every breath was given to you by this ancient being, every bit of life you now carried each and every day. Without him, you would have never met Vergil, and for that you would always be grateful.

The Outsider did not move for a very long time, only leaning back after his black eyes finally blinked at you. His hands slowly lowered from your form, falling back limply to his sides as he looked away, something akin to regret flashing across his face. Exhaustion and acceptance followed like close companions, his eyes so very tired as the man rose to his feet, leaving you kneeling on the floor before him with a pleading expression on your face. For a moment, he could only stare down at you with more sorrow than one creature should carry, the chilled winds of the Void making his hair blow wildly in several directions. He looked more ancient than ever, the years spent in this wretched place more than showing on a face that was far too young to look so lost. The Outsider stared at you as if prepared to lose you forever, and that was the moment you realized he had finally made his choice.

“...I only wanted to keep you safe,” He spoke so softly, tone feather-light and echoing through the space as if he had screamed it out to the chorus of the Void. He rested one shaking hand upon your hair, eyes closing as his voice became ragged and somehow even softer, “I did not wish...to see you end.”

You nodded once, fresh tears dripping from your black eyes and onto the debris underneath you. The pain of his betrayal, every place you had traveled to, the lost memories and empty dreams...He didn’t know what else to do to keep you from shattering, fueled by desperation and that cruelty he knew so well. You didn’t want to hold onto it any more, these deep feelings of anger and regret that threatened so strongly to overtake you. They were nothing more than a burden now, and inexcusable weight that clung to your shoulders with sharp, unyielding claws. They had been your companions for far too long, and now...now they needed to leave.

You gripped the Outsider’s wrist tenderly with both hands, turning his palm over so you could press a kiss to it. He sucked in a sharp breath at the action, listening quietly as you replied in that hoarse, ragged tone, “I know...and I will be safe...I will,” Your black eyes raised, the color finally slipping back into your normal tone, the whites returning and glistening with tears, “Let me remember the people I love.”

You could see the lingering hesitation even as the Outsider pulled his hand away, eyes downcast and body stepping back toward the precipice. His gaze lingered for a moment on the form of Vergil, seeing the way he looked at you in absolute agony, the tears slipping down the sharp line of his jaw and the shattered expression in his eyes. There was remaining resentment there in those obsidian orbs, but he clenched his jaw and said nothing to the Son of Sparda. If you had to guess, the Deity knew that the only words that could get through the half-breed’s thick skull would have to be yours, and he wasn’t about to interfere with that again. So he paused only to look back at you again, face slipping back into his usual, neutral expression before you watched him disappear into a cloud of obsidian crystal shards without another word. You could understand that he needed time again, needed to process everything before addressing it again.

He didn’t take away the gifts he had given you, at the very least. But the burn of Foresight was now gone, leaving only the familiar chill of the Void as it seeped through your limbs. For a minute you could only wheeze, trying to get the chaotic storm of emotions in check and feeling Vergil’s gaze linger on you with its familiar intensity. There were so many things between you now since the trials, since you attacked him in the Qliphoth. Those memories from Fortuna, of your first love and traveling together around the city--they mingled with every terrible, unspeakable event that took place after, all the terror and suffering that threatened to cloud out all the wonderful things. At the forefront was the guilt, the aching regret about what happened to Nero, of leaving him on the orphanage steps. It tore you up inside like razor blades, so very painful and absolutely unyielding.

You slowly rose to your feet, turning towards the Son of Sparda with small steps and watching as his gaze lowered toward the ground. He didn’t dare look up at you as you approached, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths and hands shaking at his side. Vergil had never looked this way to you before, so lost and filled with absolute emotion. It reminded you of how V had acted in the Qliphoth tree, the desperate pleas and the guilty torment of knowing that he would have to leave you at the end of his mission. God, you were so grateful for getting a chance to know that side of him, to love his human half in its entirety before it eventually returned. Those moments were so precious, to witness the vulnerable things he tucked away behind all that anger and pride...All Vergil had wanted was someone to save him, to be loved and cherished like any other person wanted too. And you had more than enough love to give, leaving no room for anger or grudges left behind from past mistakes.

When he spoke, his voice came out low and hoarse, its tone and cadence barely managing to whisper over the Void’s howl, “Why...Why did you choose to remember? He...He could have made you happy, could have given you back the man who knew how to cherish you. But you...you…”

You ignored the question, sliding both hands through his slicked back, white hair and lingering there for a few moments while he breathed faster. Tension was there in his trembling shoulders, in the way those icy blue eyes stared down at the ground and refused to look away. You could feel it now, those walls he kept up for so long bending under the weight of regret, of truth and long desired affections. What point was there in fighting things now? At the end of the day he could no longer hide what he wanted anymore, could no longer hide behind the shield of indifference or spite. All that could possibly remain now was guilt and regret, of self loathing that had seeded itself deep inside since the moment his mother had died. Vergil had so many reasons to hate himself, for things that weren’t even his fault, and for things that didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was leaving those mistakes behind, remembering the good things and striving to do better.

He had that ability inside of him, you knew he did. The ability to change, to atone for his sins.

“Why?” Vergil continued to ask, breathing growing more and more ragged as you lowered yourself in front of his hunched form, both hands cupping his chilled cheeks and forcing his tormented gaze to rise up to meet you. There was agony in its depths, denial and confusion that made your heart ache so terribly, “All I’ve ever done is hurt you…! I...hurt everyone, took from everyone--V could have given you everything you wanted, without the things that make me who I am.”

You rested your forehead against his, tears forming on your lashes like dew drops and dripping in crystalline droplets onto his thighs. You could feel it when his breath hitched again, sounding like he tried so hard not to cry.

“...We don’t have to hurt anymore,” You whispered, voice soft and just as ragged as his own. Both hands rested on his chest, smoothing over the lines of his vest and feeling his heart race through the fabric, “That man who made me so happy is a part of you, Vergil...It was that same part of you that brought me so much happiness in Fortuna, that you buried under the fear of vulnerability. You made mistakes, we both did...All I want now is to move on from them, to be happy with you, with Nero--we owe that to him after all he’s endured.”

You felt his jaw clench at the mention of Nero, knowing exactly what went through his head. Your child, shivering in the cold and wailing for parents who were both gone, a little boy growing up thinking that he had no family, that they abandoned him without a second thought--then as an adult, having his arm ripped off by the man he learns to be his father, left bleeding on the garage floor in pain. Years and years of not knowing, of aching to learn who his family was, then one strolls in and literally takes a whole limb. The agony that must have caused, and now...now there was still more to learn, the truth hovering so close and the boy didn’t even know it. All those things had been mistakes, yes, but it was Vergil who had to own up to them, who had to learn and try to do better. And that had to be the hardest part, to learn from one’s mistakes and not sink into the pit of self-loathing to cope.

You let out a slow breath, trying to gather your words through the storm of guilt and emotions that still carried from the regained memories. Each breath felt like ice, words coming out hoarse yet firm as you told the son of Sparda, “You...You have to let those things go, Vergil, you have to talk to your son...Please...please. Please don’t leave us again, learn from what has happened and do better.”

We both can do better. For all of us.

You heard him swallow audibly, hands clenched into fists at his side as Vergil fought every ounce of instinct he had built up over the years. To hide his emotions away, to swallow them down and feel nothing but resentment and anger like it would somehow protect him. Self loathing was at its core, the final wall of his defenses once everything was gone. At the end of the day you knew that Vergil needed to learn how to be happy, to live with the things he had done and make reparations for them as best he could. Protecting others, doing things for the sake of good and not greed...those parts of him were real and tangible, you had held them in your arms once, kissed them with tender lips. They had been true and filled with so much emotion, and they wouldn’t just go away at a swipe of the Yamato.

Vergil finally looked up to meet your gaze, the faintest hint of tears clinging to his grey lashes as you swiped them away with your thumb. It was still so odd to see so much emotion on his face, torment obvious and out in the open.

“...How can you still love me after all of that?” He whispered incredulously at the look you wore, one of deep adoring and exhaustion as you continued to cup his cheeks, “I...I don’t understand. I don’t deserve it.”

His words made your heart ache terribly, thudding away in your chest like a caged bird trying to be free. Vergil’s was pounding too, closer to hard fists on steel walls of a person trying so desperately to escape a deep agony.

You stared into his eyes as steadily as you could, voice coming out soft and reassuring as you explained, “Because love isn’t about deserving it or not, it’s about feeling emotion... and acknowledging it without running away,” You reached down, threading your fingers with the trembling digits of his own and giving a light squeeze, “Vergil Sparda is meant to be mine, and I don’t want anything else but that...I want to be with the one I was made for, and...that person is you.”

You broke me, and I broke you...I think we’re done breaking each other, aren’t we?

All that was left was to pick up the pieces.

You were shocked when Vergil’s arms pulled you against him hard, wrapped around your waist and squeezing as he buried his face against your shoulder. You could feel his ever breath, hear it rattle and shake with rasping sobs that had ached so desperately to be free this whole time. God, it felt good to finally be held by him again, every precious memory returned and emotions so very raw. You could feel them now, everything he had bottled up inside pouring out like water from a shattered glass. How it must have felt to finally acknowledge so many years of repressed emotion, to embrace someone without the heavy shackles of pride or hesitation. You embraced him back with accepting arms, eyes squeezing shut at the relief that came with being with the one you loved again. Whole and complete, just as tender as when he was V yet somehow more bittersweet.

This was everything you had craved without even knowing it.

You pressed kiss after kiss to his neck and shoulder, breaths slowing and the hollow ache in your heart finally fading at his touch. He was so strong, body holding fast against yours and the lines of it so very familiar. The storm inside was familiar too, you an anchor for the son of Sparda when he needed it most.

“...I…” Vergil whispered after some time, voice low and hesitant as he swallowed back some of his emotion. You could feel his arms squeeze tighter, face pressed to your neck as he admitted, “I...I love you...Even back then, when I left, you...I thought about you the entire time I was on the ferry, yet I just...just…”

Forgot. That was the Outsider’s doing, wiping Vergil’s memory so that when you returned he could be punished without any complications. You let out a soft breath, leaning back to touch your forehead to his once again just as the portal started forming underneath you--crystalline hands curled upwards, gently wrapping around your forms as the Void’s hollow wailing grew louder and louder. As if saying goodbye, crying out in mourning for something that it felt like it was losing. Even if he wasn’t visible, you could feel the Outsider watching you both, his trepidation like a tangible force that filled the empty skies of the Void like thick, hovering storm clouds. He was afraid for you, he was lonely and alone. But you would not be leaving for good--even with the dark memories it carried, the empty blackness was a part of you, and so was the black-eyed God who resided there. You would return again someday, after having a chance to heal.

“I know,” You whispered to Vergil, feeling the Void’s howl ringing sharply in your ears as it started to fall away, “It’s over now, that pain is over. Let’s go home, and see our son.”

~~~

~Four Months Later~

You could tell it was still in the early hours of the morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains of your bedroom in orange, pink colored hues. Warm--everything felt warm now, safe and comforting as you had sought for so long. More than anything, things felt correct, like every missing piece of your puzzle had finally fallen into place. Absolute in its entirety, perfected in its security. The way light air billowed through the windows, making curtains drift in a slow dance of dark blue fabric in the direction of your bed--Vergil’s arm wrapped around your form, his steady heartbeat under your ear and the warmth he shared with your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt peace like this, a rightness that seemed to fill up your form like honeyed milk and bringing with it a sleepy peacefulness that made it incredibly difficult to rise for the day. Then again, you were a better morning person than the son of Sparda, who would no doubt awaken surly and annoyed as he usually did.

So many things had happened in the past few months since you returned from the Void, so many things and so many emotions to work through. You had fallen onto the sand with Vergil by your side, Nero and the others rushing out to meet you in relief and worry at the way you both looked--even more so when you collapsed upon the white haired boy and sobbed, refusing to let go as apology after apology had burst from your lips. Eventually Vergil was able to coax you into letting go, and then...well, you had to tell Nero everything. Every regained memory, every terrible tragedy and all the things you so desperately wanted to say sorry for. He had to know how much he was loved, that you so terribly wanted to stay with him but circumstances never allowed. He listened to it all in wide eyed shock, but you had the feeling that he could sense for a long time that there was something that tied you both together, something neither of you could understand until now.

You were telling the truth, and he couldn’t very well deny that. His best friend had been his mother all along, and that was a lot to take in. He was struggling with the knowledge, but not as much as the fact that he wasn’t abandoned for being a half demon, that his mother went through so much terrible tragedy and died on the steps of Fortuna’s orphanage. All those years of searching and filling himself with questions and resentment, all of it for nothing. His mother had come back eventually, and that whole time he thought himself the older one, like he was meant to protect her like a little sister. Things had become such a mess, weaved together in chaotic knots that took a solid hour to weave with Kyrie there to support Nero while he absorbed it all. You were shocked to see that this info was somehow a relief to him, and even more so when he embraced you like a mother as if it was somehow the easiest thing in the world...like he had wanted nothing more.

Mind you, Nico was in absolute shock about all of this--she kept staring in slack jawed awed at you and Vergil, unable to wrap her head around any of it. You, one of her closest friends, had given birth to a punk like Nero? How the hell was such a thing supposed to make sense?

Naturally, the very next thing Nero did was punch Vergil square in the jaw.

Both you and Dante had to hold the hot-tempered devil hunter back as he shouted curses at his father, railing into him for everything he had done to you and all the pain he caused. All his childhood questioning, all the pain--if Vergil hadn’t been such a dick so much suffering could have been avoided. You protested in between that things were fine, that it was in the past, but the son of Sparda didn’t say a word, didn’t fight back for once. Her merely sat on the ground where he had landed after the blow, rubbing his jaw with one hand and staring blankly at the ground. He was trying so hard, you could tell--sorrow lingered in the depths of his icy blue eyes, mingling with self-loathing as Nero reiterated back all the terrible things he had done and what a terrible person it made him. You wanted to stop him, but...Nero deserved to speak his mind, and Vergil had reparations to make.

After some firm discussions on the matter, you and Vergil agreed that it would be best to stay at Devil May Cry while things settled down, to find an outlet for the son of Sparda that would actually let him help people. Kyrie and Nico were both disappointed that you’d be moving, as were the children, but...right now was a sensitive time for Vergil, one where you were too nervous to let him be around things that would only make him feel worse. Until his head was sorted out, Fortuna was too much of a terrible memory for you both to literally live in the location of, and staying at Devil May Cry would be for the best until that was sorted out.

Regardless, the next few months passed somewhat peacefully. You and Vergil joined Devil May Cry, and set about fixing Redgrave City and rescuing any survivors still trapped inside. There were buildings to be fixed, roads that needed repairing, and broken families that needed to come back together. You knew this would be hard on Vergil too, but it was absolutely necessary that he try to make up for all the terrible things he had done. Every life taken in his pursuit of power would weigh on him for a while, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon, but...this did help. It was a while before the son of Sparda wasn’t listless anymore, that you could get more emotion from him that wasn’t guilt or regret. Mind you, Dante being irritating did help with that, but even he was worried the first few months when he would taunt Vergil and get nothing but sadness from his brother.

The surly man had been through too much trauma, seen too much. Having you by his side was his only anchor for a long time.

Which led back to present day, you wrapping a leg around his waist and letting out a heavy sigh of impatience when Vergil still slept soundly. You would think that someone like him, all pride and silly rules, would be much better about getting up in the morning. Instead, he was somehow worse than Dante, all annoyed grunts and exhausted stares as he dragged himself downstairs for a cup of coffee or tea. At least Dante would come down sleepy but cheerful, usually around noon or one o'clock in search of day old pizza. You knew trying to wake the son of Sparda up would not be an easy task, but you knew that there would be missions today that needed preparations--Nero and Nico would be joining you, after all, and there was nothing more exciting than the idea of spending time with your son.

You hummed softly, slowly rising from where you lay against his side and sitting up on Vergil’s lap with mischief in your gaze. It was surprising--he had taken months to get used to sleeping next to you without jolting awake in defensive positions, and even longer to get used to you touching him. So the fact that you could now settle your entire weight on his waist and place your hands on his chest was a pleasant show of how far he had come. Christ, he was such a beautiful man--those grey lashes were resting against his cheeks, face peaceful and calm in rest with messy hair and kissable lips. You could have stared at the hard line of his jaw for hours, wanting nothing more than to nibble it with your teeth and smooch for hours on end. Such a hard urge to resist, especially considering that he definitely should have been awake right now to start getting ready.

He stirred a little bit when you leaned forward, kissing a slow line from his shoulders and neck to that jaw you had been admiring so much. He was so very warm, and hard by the feeling of him pressing against your ass. It would be fairly hard to stay asleep with you rubbing on him like that, worshiping his chest with your mouth and hands while he stirred just a little bit more. There was no denying that low, rumbling hum of sound that came from his chest, peaceful expression shifting into something far grumpier as he stretched out under your hips. Reminiscent of a mighty panther waking with a low growl, eyes still not opening even as you leaned your face against his neck and gently bit where a vein pulsed steadily under the skin.

You weren’t surprised by the low rumble of his voice under your ear, sounding incredibly tired and slightly grumpy as he groused, “I thought you agreed only to awaken me early for emergencies, brat.”

There had been some sort of agreement--but you were a little too distracted to remember it, tongue sliding up his warmed skin with a soft purr of, “But it is an emergency, my heart...I’ll simply perish without your help.”

You were being a bit cheeky this morning, feeling a surge of mischief and glee when his hips couldn’t help but shift slightly underneath yours. That pressure had to be a bit constricting on his cock right about now, but you weren’t getting much of a reaction out of him yet--he never did fall for your dramatic claims.

“Oh?” Vergil murmured, eyes still not opening as you bit down on his left earlobe, heartbeat quickening in your chest as he continued on, “Will you now? You certainly have a lot of energy for someone close to perishing.”

That last word turned into a bit of a grunt when you purposely rubbed yourself against his cock, feeling its hard length shift and squeeze between your bodies. To be honest, this was probably doing you in more than him, that firm pressure on your clit making you moan breathily and lean against his form like a cat in heat. Your panties did nothing to sully the friction, arousal making its home in your abdomen and pooling warmth down into your core like melting honey. Vergil was certainly able to catch your mood, letting out an amused rumble of sound when you breathed heavily against his neck, rutting against his cock again with absolutely no shame. Honestly, a past version of you might have been embarrassed to act like this, especially with someone as prideful as the Son of Sparda. But you well enough by this point that he wasn’t phased by your unabashed desire--rather he enjoyed when you gave him this kind of attention, like it stroked his ego.

It definitely did.

“Vergil…” You whined, wrapping both arms around his neck and pressing your entire body against his when he purposely tilted his head to the side as if feigning sleep, “Don’t be mean--I let you sleep longer today that I did yesterday.”

He chuckled lightly at that, finally cracking one eye open to stare at you in his typical, superior sort of way. Honestly, you were a bit dazed for a moment at how handsome he was, white hair a tousled mess on his pillow and lips curving into a bemused little smirk at the desperate expression on your face. Vergil had a special way of looking absolutely, arrogantly smug, especially when he knew how badly you wanted it. But he was also weak to your pleading, and even more so with you all over him and looking so very tempting in just a tank top and some panties--he’d be a foolish man to refuse you in even the most dire situations, although he had to get his fun in somewhere.

The half-demon clicked his tongue, head tilting back and eyes closing again as he replied to you in a purposely sleepy tone, “Maybe you should ask me nicely, doll, and I’ll think about indulging you.”

You bit your lip, knowing full well he wasn’t about to walk around aroused for the better part of the morning, especially not with work to do and especially not while meeting with your son. But it would be silly of you to call him on that bluff, especially since he was prideful enough to prove you wrong just for the hell of it. And quite frankly, you’d lose out far more than him with such a foolish game.

A sigh left your lips, body falling limply against his in a show of defeat, “...Please?” You murmured softly, chin resting on his chest as you stared at him imploringly, “Please, Vergil?”

His smirk widened at that, showing his pearly white teeth in accompaniment with his equally smug reply, “You could always try calling me ‘sir’ just to sweeten it a bit, brat.”

“Now you’re just pushing it.”

It warmed you thoroughly when your huffed reply made the half-breed laugh, the sound sleepy and smooth as he finally yielded and wrapped both arms around your form. It felt so good to be held by him, your body made to fit against the hard lines of his own. the sensation only grew deeper when he rolled over to press you into the bed, mouth catching your lips in a deep kiss and hands holding him up on either side of your head. Whatever grumpiness that plagued him upon waking faded away with your tongue stroking over his, breaths mingly and hips pressed against each other in a slow grind. You’d be hard pressed to miss his desire now, especially with him rutting it against your wet heat in those slow, deep presses that made your breath catch in desperation. Christ, you were needy--and he absolutely adored that about you, wanted to indulge every chance he got, even if it meant teasing you a bit first.

You were panting when his mouth slipped to your jaw, a growl in his throat while he kissed a line down to your chest and lingered there for a moment. You practically trembled when one hand tugged up your tank top, those kissable lips latching onto one nipple and making your hips rise at the slow, purposeful suction he gave. Christ, his tongue...he was merciless this morning, absolutely ruthless. The half breed swirled the wet appendage over the sensitive bud in his mouth, making you whimper and fist his hair with both hands. So sensitive in the morning, becoming a writhing mess under his ministrations in a matter of seconds. He let out a satisfied hum, blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as he released your breast with a hollow pop, moving onto the next.

You were already drenched by that point, anymore foreplay absolutely not needed, but that wasn’t stopping Vergil. He would willingly draw this out hours if you had it, bringing you to the edge of orgasm over and over again without satisfaction, until you were sobbing with need. And then he would be the opposite other days, literally making you come over and over until you were begging to stop, until the overstimulation was too much. Unfortunately, today offered very little time with all the plans in mind, so he could only get his fun in short intervals. Honestly, you could have taken two of him with how aroused just the morning wanting had made you, and that was plainly obvious when the half-breed tugged your panties down your legs, tossing them to somewhere in your room.

You practically sobbed with need as he plunged his fingers into your sheath, the slide easy and wet as he tested your resistance, finding absolutely none. Your toes curled into the bed sheets, head tilted back as he kissed along your neck and jaw with those fingers working below. Curling inside, searching for any sweet points and making slick, lewd sounds with every thrust. You could only squirm, at his mercy and trembling with a building orgasm in your lower half. God, why were you always so sensitive? He had just barely started and you felt already inches away from coming on his fingers, hips rising to meet him as a desperate moan left your parted lips. No wonder he could overstimulate you so god damn easily--without edging you would just orgasm easily without much work at all.

“Ahhh...ahhh...g-god, please--” You whimpered against his neck, hips rolling against his hand as you squeezed your eyes shut, “Vergil...Vergil I’m so--”

“Already?” The son of Sparda murmured, stilling his fingers and chuckling at that half-choked sound of desperation you made in response, “I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that, doll.”

You weren’t really in the mood to be prideful today, his teasing barely registering with you as the feeling of that orgasm started to dull. It was so very disappointing when his digits left your throbbing insides, a trail of slick following them as proof of your arousal. That might have been a bit embarrassing if you had any shame left, but that wasn’t really the case after everything you had been through with this man. The son of Sparda seemed pleased, icy blue eyes lingering on his fingers before drawing them into his mouth, tasting your essence as he leaned back to gaze over your form with a hint of adoration in their depths. The way Vergil looked at you, lingering on each scar and left over wound from battles past...it made you heart only ache more, body desperate for his affections and warming further as you stared back with a pleading expression of your own.

Luckily enough for you, Vergil seemed to be far more merciful today, placing both hands on your thighs and pushing them back and apart. You bit your lip, knees up to your chest and held there right where your legs bent with his strong hands. So exposed, spread nicely for him and ready to be taken. The half-breed gave you a look that told you not to move your limbs in the slightest, letting go so he could pull down the thin, cotton dress pants hiding his length from your eyes. You could have moaned when the hard appendage slipped free, precum already beading on the tip smeared away by his thumb and looking so damn perfect for you and you alone. God, he was beautiful everywhere, cock lengthy enough to press deep inside and thick enough to spread you without hurting too much. And with how aroused you were, it would be absolutely painless, your body practically aching to suck him inside and feel each stroke along your inner walls.

Vergil didn’t seem keen on waiting any longer either, pressing the tip against your folds and sucking in a breath as he stroked over your clit for a few seconds, just savoring the wet warmth. You were trembling, toes curling with anticipation and heart pounding quickly in your chest when he finally pressed it against your throbbing entrance, Vergil gritting his teeth at the way your body molded around his length. A perfect fit, his cock slipping easily inside and buried deep in a matter of seconds. Your eyes rolled back a bit in your skull at the feeling of his tip brushing your cervix, filling you up entirely and leaving not a single inch that wasn’t being touch by him. You had no doubt that he could feel your every breath, every shift of muscle as you fought the urge to rut against him as the desperation grew higher.

“G-god, please…” You whimpered, shuddering when he leaned over your form and pressed both hands to your legs again to press them back. The movement shifted his cock inside, burying it just a bit deeper and making you gulp in a quick breath of air, “F-fuck...fuck…”

“So crass, my doll,” Vergil hissed, voice breathless as he leaned down to nip at your neck again, “You’re absolutely drenched...you must have really worked yourself up this morning.”

That was certainly an understatement. When he slid his cock out of your throbbing sheath it was a wet slide, plunging back in with a wet sound that seemed overly loud in the quiet of your bedroom. A choked whimper left your lips at the pace he began to set, wasting no time in being gentle with you with how obviously you wanted it. Your hands blindly reached for him in the mess of sensations scattering your thoughts, one wrapped around his neck and the other burying itself in his hair as your lips pressed hard together in the next instant. Vergil always kissed you the same way when you made love, like he was starving and you were the first meal he was allowed in so many years. You could only hang on as his cock plunged in and out below, roughly pressing your hips into the bed as each breath mingled desperately between your molding lips and tongues. Desperate, mindless, both seeking pleasure from each other as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was. Vergil felt like home, felt correct in the best way possible. Body to body, legs wrapping around his waist now as he fucked you into the mattress--one hand cupped your warming cheeks, the other bracing himself upwards so he didn’t crush you with his weight. Each soft sound of pleasure that came from his lips was like music, panting gasps or subdued moans that strained with each thrust into your sheath. You loved looking at his face, seeing him come undone with pleasure and lose all composure as he shared his body with you, became vulnerable with you.

You were so close now, his hips grinding against your clit with each thrust. It was quite the sensation, feeling his cock bumping your cervix every time he buried himself deep inside and feeling so very filled to the brim. The growing orgasm was coming much faster than you thought it would, your body still just as sensitive and absolutely trembling as it pushed for that pleasure like your life depended on it. Christ, how would you be able to work after this? He was so easily making a mess out of you, and something about that was absolutely tantalizing. Not that he was any better--you could already tell he was getting close too, the son of Sparda burying his face against your neck and body tense as he ground himself inside of you with a desperation that was starting to match your own.

“Y/N...fuck…” He hissed, voice low and breathless as he pressed his mouth to your skin, words slightly muffled as he moaned, “You feel so good, I can’t--fuck--”

You couldn’t even form a reply other than a wordless moan of your own, head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm started to crest. It throbbed through your insides, hips jolting upwards as a half sobbed cry of release left your lips and your body clenched around him like a vise. The half-breed grit his teeth, the tightening around his cock sending him to his own peak shortly after. His hips stuttered in their thrusts, a hoarse groan muffled against your skin as he buried himself deep to fill you up with his load. You could have melted at the feeling of him spilling inside, body going limp with satisfaction and toes curling into the mattress as you rode out the storm of pleasant sensations. Warm, thick, and so very deep--making love to him felt so perfect, and getting to have him again and again was more than you ever thought you’d be allowed. Bad memories, pain, suffering...they couldn’t have been further from you both at that moment, quietly coming down from your orgasms in the safety of your bedroom.

You don’t know how much time passed with you there, Vergil’s body pressed to your own but careful not to crush you with his weight. The throb of pleasure was quieting now into a warm glow, limbs limp and body deliciously spent as you let out a soft, contented sigh. An ideal way to spend your day involved staying like this with him for hours, maybe longer, and getting to enjoy each other as much as you wanted. That wasn’t likely today, but it still felt nice to lie there for a few moments, sharing warmth and listening to both heartbeats slow to something far more tame. Your fingers idly traced patterns on his relaxing back muscles, your other hand in his hair and gently stroking the slightly damp locks out of his face. You could feel him melt under your touch, breathing evening out considerably and eyes closing as he savored the comfort of your affections for just a bit longer.

He never wanted to stop feeling them. And neither did you.

You expected him to pull back as he always did, to kiss you on the lips and remark upon how you should probably start getting ready. Instead, you were surprised when he let out a soft breath, tone low and uncharacteristically gentle as he wrapped both arms around your spent form.

“I love you,” He murmured, stroking one hand up into your hair and pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, “Thank you...for loving me, for...choosing me.”

Your breath caught at his words, that familiar pang of emotions squeezing your heart as you recognized the vulnerability and hesitation in his tone. Even after four months, you could feel how each past mistake weighed upon the son of Sparda, making him feel undeserving of you, undeserving of anything. No doubt Nero’s constant reminders weren’t helping with that, nor did the Outsider’s trials all that time ago. You wished that there was more that could be done to ease his pain, but knew that the only way that he could change for the better was to embrace the mistakes and do better in the future. He was, after all, half human.

So you wrapped both arms around his neck, heart beating faster in your chest as you pressed your face to his silvery-white hair and smiled softly, voice absolutely truthful in your reply to the son of Sparda.

“I love you too--and I will always choose you.”

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chyuans · 3 years

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hello , hello ! first of all , i’m super excited to be here even if i’m like 10 hrs LATE ( gmt timezone things ) i’m noe , a gay they / them at the age of 19 , and this privileged lil disappointment of a jock boy is gonna be filling the position of kong_01 . despite the rumours ? yuanjun’s actually not nearly as bad as some of the people he’ll be meeting here >:) but you’ll get to know more about that below ! if you’d like to plot just light up that HEART , or add me on disc*rd which i’ll give out in im’s , where i’m infinitely faster . if i’m not gaming . no tw’s under the cut .

* backstory. > many people know of yuanjun, but few people truly know him. he's the famous kong families’ son, heir to the kong legacy, now forward position for south korea men’s national hockey team - which brought forth a ton of international fame from back home and amongst hockey lovers worldwide. while his talent is undeniable, he is long overshadowed by his families’ accomplishments, forever reminded that he’d never be the perfect son they’d hoped for, and no one ever lets him forget it.

> being the child of business tycoons who’s art business seemed to never be on the decline, tended to lend itself to an unconventional, pretty lonely childhood.

> although jun no longer wants to dabble in the stupid shit he probably did as a teen, and escape from their home in a childish fit of rage and make the lives of the various nannies that tended to him while his parents were off being great hell, he still wonders sometimes whether this profession is what he would’ve wanted if he’d just not wanted to spite his parents. he loves hockey - that fact is undeniable. he thanks the nanny who took him there once out of necessity to stop his whining, and he fell in love with it almost instantly. but he also questions whether he gravitated to it because it was something he could throw himself into wholeheartedly to fill a void.

> he's very open to different types of people, and after being scouted at 19 and having a massive shift both in culture and identity as he then begun to travel worldwide, he’s a tiny bit more wordly now than he was back then. he's much more concerned about who you are underneath than superficial appearances, which means developing relationships are few and far between, because a lot of people do approach him because of his fame/fortune. he's unjudgemental to the point where his friends worry about his naivety and how easily he trusts people, but he's absolutely not dumb, just very well versed on telling good people from the bad.

> jun may even come across as naïve, but he's very aware of that perception is nearly important as reality. he's not extroverted in a way that demands conversation, but he knows how to talk to anyone from any background even if its just to maintain pleasantries. after competing in various competitions and versing players from canada to japan, he's become much more sharp and ambitious, a guy who very rarely lets distractions take their course. perhaps it’s with this that his family loathe his choices all the more, with his appetite, he was born with the skills required to run a business - pity he never took to anything of the creative sort.

> working in a fast, stressful, highly coveted job such as pro-sports is a full time job and then some; jun doesn't spend much time not working on it. outside of his schedule, he likes bettering his stamina at the gym and eating healthy. he likes being surrounded by authentic people or nobody at all. he’s not one for trying new things and having new experiences due to time management, tending to stick to a schedule.

> he gets a lot of bad press though, which is beginning to weigh a little heavy on him. doubly now the murder has people talking. from being accused of performance-enhancing pills, various personality scandals, to being linked with ‘dating’ (see: ruining the image of) idols and chaebol’s alike. right now, he’s currently battling a lot of unwanted publicity because of a misunderstood interaction online against a wealthy sweetheart that went sour.

> while jun might be generally unsympathetic and analytical when it comes to developing relationships with people that’ll last long-term, he's a bleeding heart when it comes to kids who may have experienced the same lonely upbringing as he did, without the financial gains. right now he spends sunday’s teaching a bunch of local foster home kids how to skate, and is trying to fund a couple of sports scholarships for those who show promise under a fake name, just generally being a good ‘ole guy.

> his family do not approve of his job, ofc. in fact neither of his parents have ever attended any of his matches to this day, and are only on semi-decent terms with him because jun begrudgingly is still tied by name to the business and shows his face at events for all of 30 minutes until he physically can no longer maintain pleasantries. his celebrity image perhaps is one thing they can manipulate, and even then, jun could get into scandals galore and still be doing his job. good press, bad press, it has the kong’s family name at the forefront of peoples’ minds, which always brings forth revenue.

> pros: could be a lot worse considering his upbringing, collected, and level-headed most of the time. wicked good at sports, and keeps a cool head in a tough situation. ambitious, curious, a little reckless. eager to prove himself, rich? and very endeared to people/places he finds fascinating. which are many. knows where the good, authentic chinese cuisine is. hardworking and very interested in the idea of Progress.

> cons: the most private person alive, will not divulge any palatable information about himself or his feelings. devil's advocate always. will put himself and others at an arm’s length the second he feels (disgusted noises) e-emotions (love, namely). gets bored easily. paranoid, leads with the head more than the heart. friends > > > family. a little self-involved, never fucking sleeps - will be that neighbour you can hear padding around above your apartment at 3.05 am like it’s mid-day, aaaaand Loves Winning Above All Else

* personality & relationships.

> like many others, jun has his fair share of surface-level friends. he’s quick to be interested in people, to get to know them better, but it's difficult for him to get closer than that after a childhood of being picked up and dropped by those who looked over him - which kinda has left him with abandonment issues.

> he’s a curator of neat things that aren’t too overtly complex, and that includes friendships. so if you have something unusual about you, whether it's a talent or a way of thinking, he would be inclined to get to know you better. also, he has a lot of leverage with his job. being friends with a sports star slash million dollar trust fund baby who can get you free shit never hurts, just don’t befriend him for the perks, yanno?

> jun is very dedicated to his vision of things, and can sometimes be very obstinate in the way he a) wants them to be done b) doesn't accept other options, think steve jobs. he's very mercurial and can be nice one minute but isn't afraid to switch to hardass boss to get things done and did. > he is insanely competitive and his strive is drawn out by always wanting to be on top. truly first child material. that's the kind of guy he is, with standards that do not reflect his passive side too well, which sometimes can get him into some “personality” scandals. he is driven, motivated, always looking for ways to be winning.

> i'm sure someone is bound to hate him, he’s probably got a few accounts online dedicated to a steady stream of shit-talking, given his cutthroat status or holding many hockey cups.

> jun doesn’t think too much about his sexuality - he'd probably best be labelled as pan, but leans towards those who identify as women? because of his current placement in a workspace, and with a cultural identity, that both don’t often lend themselves to lgbtq+ rights, i doubt he’d ever make that public.

> he works amongst some of the fittest people in the world, he knows how to appreciate beautiful bodies, but he's not about to discriminate. he's tragically a committaphobe and isn't interested in anything long-term right now, although i think it'd be funny if someone tried. he's very open for flings and one-night stands and even a friends with benefits sort of set up.

* wc’s. > bring me his baby bro and sis. i command u. i have many thoughts > somebody who maybe gets in on his foster-kid situation? idk maybe they have a perception of jun being what he is in the articles they read of him, but they see him and are like <3_<3 he actually real Nice huh. i see this being romantic but it could bloom a really nice, wholesome friendship too. > enemies. not gonna lie, he doesn’t vibe with rich kids w / a stick up their ass, especially since a lot of the people he works with aren’t from exorbitant families. people who loathe him for declining to take over his families’ business? like the boy can’t even name more than 3 artists off of the top of his head? > fwb except neither of them know what “just friends” mean. > i would love if jun had a confidante. a best friend, a partner in crime, a total bromance 'cause i can never get enough of those. whatever label you ‘wanna put on it. wiping up each other’s messes. maybe a Betrayal in the works > again, gonna be a wc, but i would love a “rival” of jun's on a similar level (or bigger) that’s entirely fabricated based off of trashy articles or a misunderstood interaction online. bonus points if they’re an absolute sweetheart, well loved by most people, and generally the antithesis of jun with his multiple drug/personality rumours, which in contrast, make him seem like the bad guy.

> party buddy. this guy hasn’t touched alcohol/cigarettes/any other stimulants since he was underage and wanted to rebel. the word “relax” does not exist in his vocabulary. Help

#cheong.intro

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

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The Morana-Andstone Letters

Prologue: What We Choose To Forget

Word Count: 1.6K+

Author’s Note: Oopsies, I dropped some Harry Potter fanfiction onto my blog... Guess it’s staying here. Yeah, I decided to branch out a little, and as a proud Gryffindor and after seeing a photo of Tom Holland looking handsome I just had to write this. It’s an old idea I had back in the day but never wrote, so here you go!

Warning: none.

In war, only the victorious come back as heroes, and the only ones remembered are the heroes and the villain who headed the war against goodness, against just practice and peace. Everything and everyone else sort of fades away into the grey, lost to the story they contributed to. You don’t find them in paintings on the walls, in memorials for the dead, they aren’t a part of the history students learn.

They become nothing, but in some cases, maybe that’s for the best.

For you see, there’s a fine line between good and evil, and in times of war that line becomes so blurred that sometimes people do bad things, horrible things, for good reason. Heinous acts, in the midst of war, become survival: betrayal, deceit, murder. It’s no longer about moral codes or what’s right and wrong: in war one decides whether to be a martyr or selfish.

You choose whether to live with regret or die without, and everyone from the Battle of Hogwarts who survived is weighed down by some level of guilt, of self-hatred. Because good people died in their stead, because they chose to be selfish.

Traces of the criminals who tried to destroy the peace of the wizarding world were wiped from the mainstream consumption, leaving only what authors offered in course textbooks and the heroes recounted in their memoirs. The act was put in place by Minister Granger-Weasley, the first muggle-born to hold the position, in hopes it would allow the public to heal, to move forward. Portraits of the Fallen Fifty were hung in Hogwarts, the souls of those lost captured in paintings for the students to remember who had died for their right to be in those hallowed halls, and for families to visit: it was nice to be reminded of a loved one’s smile, their laugh, even if they were no longer around. Every May 2nd, a national holiday came into effect, a memorial service took place in the Hogwarts courtyard, and Professor Potter disappeared into the hallways of the castle, to walk through the battle he unwillingly started and finished too late to save so many of his friends, his family.

The first and second Wizarding Wars were covered in the History of Magic classes during every student’s third and fourth year, and the young teens were encouraged to write parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents, about the events that transpired, their take on turbulent time in the world’s history.

It was after one of these letters was sent home by a student that a flame of curiosity was sparked, a question posed by a distant relative who had long since left the country had enticed them to take their two closest friends on a quest through the castle one Autumn evening, as winds howled outside and the rain thundered down.

They were swift, quiet, and stealthy on their mission from their common room to the library, most particularly the Restricted Section of the school’s most active study space: it had been one of the few places that was salvageable after the war, and had amassed a great number of books in the years since. They dodged the Prefects and Teachers on patrol, one of them making the comment that the three were just like Professor Potter and his friends back in the day.

The restricted section of the library was still heavily guarded, containing works only seventh year students and teachers were allowed to peruse, but the three fourth years were fuelled by intrigue, and with their smartest learning a few special spells from a very funny red-haired portrait by the Gryffindor staircase, they had all the tools required to pick the lock without triggering alarms, and slip themselves amongst the bookshelves before the next Prefect patrol came round the corner.

“I still think this is a bad idea.” The first said, ironically the one who broke them into the forbidden area of the library. They were met with a chuckle from their companion.

“You read the letter the same as us, don’t you want to know more about the Death Eaters?” the second asked, only to be shushed by the third and final student. He was more jittery than the other two, albeit curious.

“Don’t say it out loud!” He hissed, looking around like one might appear out of nowhere and scoop them up. The organisation had been disbanded after the war, the majority of them thrown in prison to pay for their crimes.

“Oh, come on, stop your worrying. Now, what exactly do we do?” the second asked the first of the three, who pulled a notebook from their back pocket.

“Well, it looks like we just have to find the right book code for Death Eaters… Let’s each take a bookshelf. It’ll be faster, and hopefully we’ll get further than we did last year.” They muttered, the trio avoiding eye contact for a moment before splitting up. It wasn’t the first time they had attempted entry into the library Restricted Section, though it was the first time that had reason to.

The third student had received the letter that sparked the whole plan a month ago, the trio taking turns to monitor patrol schedules and hone their talents for that evening’s activity. He didn’t like knowing that some great uncle or something had fought with the bad guys, he felt it made him a worse person, though his companions had been quick to assure him otherwise. He couldn’t change the actions of some bigoted ancestor, he just needed to be a better person than they were.

As his eyes scanned the shelves on the section’s east side, his wand lighting up the titles on the leather bound book backs, his friends did the same in the west and south sections. They moved as fast as they could, reading titles as they hurried around looking for something, anything about the Death Eaters.

When they met back at the bookcase they had started at, all came back with the same report: there was no title under that name, no work in the library retaining to the information of the Death Eaters.

“It must be sorted by individual… Files on each of them?” The first suggested, the second muttered a soft cuss under her breath in response. They all looked rather defeated by the revelation, but their lock pick didn’t risk detention for nothing, and punched the third student on the arm. “Come on, we made it this far…”

“You’re acting like we just have to think of a terrible person and the book will pop out!” He hissed, the three glancing up as a light appeared at the library’s entrance. They were quick to rush round a corner, the three finding themselves sat side by side with their backs pressed to old wood and locked cupboard doors. Only once the light had disappeared, and the library plunged back to near darkness, with only the moonlight lighting up the room in a weary blue glow, did any of them let go of the breaths they held.

“This was a waste of time guys. We had fun, we got here, now let’s head back to our rooms before we get caught and miss out on Hogsmeade next week.” The third student proposed, clearly the most frightened of the three. He should have never shown his friends the letter, they were far too head strong to not act on information like that.

“Your…” The second paused for a moment, forgetting who on earth it had been that responded to third’s letter for class. “Look, some dying relative of yours said that there is always more to a story than meets the eye, right? Why don’t we find that out?!” She was more enthusiastic after her other companion’s vote of confidence in her idea, though it was rather short lived.

“You got further than last year, kids. I’m impressed.” A male voice spoke up from close by, the three letting out a combined sigh. The turning of a key and the swinging of the gate echoed in the large space, sure footsteps quickly headed their way. The three scrambled to their feet as the glow of their wands welcomed the kind face of their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Potter. He had a tired smile across his features, and gestured for the three to follow him from the Restricted Section. “I’m so impressed that I won’t punish you… This time. If I see any of you trying this again, no more trips to Hogsmeade for the rest of the year.” He warned, and a nod was shared amongst the three students.

“Yes sir…” The all muttered in unison, starting a defeated shuffle back to their rooms. Potter stayed behind a moment to lock the gate properly, his eyes unwavering from a book on the top row of a nearby bookcase, sliding back into its place amongst the stacks.

The contents of it were too vivid and complicated for such young minds to understand, and Harry left the library that night knowing he had done a good thing.

Documents of the war were all kept, an archive for the few cleared individuals to view, Potter was lucky enough to be one of them. He had read all the books in that Restricted Section at least twice, the particular book he had read many more. There were parts of the war people didn’t know happened, that people had no reason to know occurred. And it was better that way.

As far as the wizarding world was concerned, the people behind the Morana-Andstone letters stored in that book never existed, and it was better that way.

Some people deserve to be forgotten.

Tags: @im-a-writer-right

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin x hufflepuff #hufflepuff x slytherin #draco malfoy #hufflepuff #slytherin #hogwarts #oc fic #oc x oc #hp fic #the morana-andstone letters #hp au

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ariyadaivaris · 3 years

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im giving this very minimal editing. this is a very long post because i thought about gold standard last night and had an out of body experience. it is not very good because i wrote it and also it was like 4 in the morning and i was unwell. i don’t know why its worded the way it is it sounds like i was trying to sound professional and thoughtful or something and i dont know why the fuck i tried that how embarrassing cringe and fail blogger. i am posting it anyway because this is what i do is embarrass myself online. thank you <3

Tony after being betrayed said he was hurt, but he knew what teaming with That Guy offered, what the benefits were, and why someone would do it. This is the thing: WHY did the betrayal happen? It happened because Tony stood up to That One. Tony stood up to Enzo specifically because Ariya failed, and when Enzo chewed him out for it Tony stepped in. This was both righteous and kind, and it made everything harder.

Ariya participated in the betrayal because of this. BECAUSE Tony was kind to him! Because Tony saying the way Ariya was being treated was wrong, and if Ariya believes that, then he is suddenly in a LOT of danger at the champion's hands. Ariya has feuded with a few people already. He has been humiliated for no reason. He has been beaten down by someone who wanted it more. Ariya isn't in a great place to think he can leave and make it. Ariya made a deal with the devil, he's safe as a goon, he cannot fight what happens to him now. Tony and Drew have each other, if it breaks bad, and they're both friends with Ariya he guesses, but not in the same way. He has nowhere to go and no way to fight.

Tony, however, DOES fight. Tony challenges Ariya's idea that he has to suck it up and deal with it. If it's all three of them against him, then maybe they could get out. Ariya gets his idea about the shape of the world, the place everyone has in it, challenged. And he rejects it! He can't accept it! Tony is fighting to protect HIM! And he denies it!

And the thing is, this is something Tony understands. Tony confronts Drew instead of Ariya, because--well because dubya weighs their importance differently because of the racism but because Drew hasn't bought in the way Ariya has. If anyone is OVER enough to challenge Enzo at this time? It is Mister FUCKING PowerPoint babey!!!!!!!! Drew gets onboarded and accepts because it might make him more popular, more able to gain traction for his bullshit no fun allowed ideas! Ariya is backed into a corner of his own design, and its not good and it doesn't make him betraying Tony FINE, but Tony understands what happened. Why Ariya did that. In a way, he understands Drew, too, of course. The influence is too appealing, he knows that. But Drew /chose/ to join in when he was given a chance to help Tony.

Maybe Drew needed to regain confidence too, maybe he needed to get back on his stupid little feet, it's been awhile since I've seen that storyline play out and I dont remember all the details. But I think the other thing is...Tony and Drew were literally closer at the time. Ariya was still their friend, OBVIOUSLY, even if the canon was noncommittal about saying it, but Tony and Drew were like. I mean. YOU know. You were there. Drew turning on Tony, after all that they'd done together, held so much weight behind it. Tony doesn't demand an explanation from Ariya. But he NEEDS to know Drew is sorry. He needs things to be okay between them. But they're not, and they never are again.

This is...another thing. Drew doubles down on this to the point it turns him into something else entirely. Tony demands an apology from him, and he /refuses/. He offers some small, pathetic I'm Sorrys during the match, as long as he's getting hurt, as long as Tony has the upper hand, but when push comes to shove, he breaks in the other direction. He's not sorry. He didn't do anything wrong. Tony held him back, if you really think about it actually, because why would Drew have ever done anything wrong? Really, this is Tony's fault if you think about it (it was not Tony's fault)

Ariya isn't given a chance to apologize in the same way. Tony and Drew clash during the tournament. Ariya gets knocked out in round one, gets injured soon after (which breaks up a potential feud with Mustafa as well and every fucking day it makes me want to scream, I would do anything on this earth for them to feud, please God take me back) and spends most of 2018 out of action. There's just no time, and even if there was, its questionable if dubya would even care about the opportunity. The next time they meet, it's when Tony's the champion and Ariya has finally decided hes better off alone anyway.

Tony is different. He's the champion, and he's a face, at that. He's earned the title by seeking vengeance against someone who wronged him, and he found it. He's lost in a lot of ways, but he's trying to be confident, and he is trying to become the kind of person who can represent the championship. Not just as someone who got it on the way to a kind of small interpersonal victory, but as a Real Champion. The kind 205 (usually) fosters. The kind that didnt ruin his life.

Tony is also the same. He's Ariya's friend. In the middle of a sea of changes, Ariya is familiar. They can pick up where they left off, if Ariya wants. If Ariya just...if he just changes alignments for Tony. If he accepts that Tony wants him.

Ariya is different. Alone after abandoning Kenta during a failed attempt at vengeance against a mutual enemy. Akira, who Kenta discarded after a few too many losses. Akira, who beat Ariya in pursuit of the title, a loss that Ariya never really came back from. Ariya loses to Akira again, even playing support for someone else. And he lashes out. And he works on his own, because he doesn't trust anyone to help him.

Ariya's also the same. He lashes out, and he doesn't trust anyone to help him. Ariya carries his career around on his back. He carries, in reflection of someone else's experience, a chip on his shoulder. It weighs him down. When Tony offers him understanding, he does what he has always done, and he rejects it. Tony faces Drew, the ghost of their shared past, and Ariya is there to remind him exactly why he exists as he does now. "I didn't hurt you, but I could have. I just wanted you to know." Tony cannot trust Drew anymore. He shouldn't trust Ariya, Ariya warns him.

Ariya doesn't say sorry, because he can't, because he's too busy sabotaging his last remaining friendship for Tony's own good, for his own good, for him to convince himself he never cared in the first place, but he regrets it. He cuts Tony off because it's easier than apologizing because this motherfucker will NEVER admit to having problems, he will drink water with a lemon slice and that will fix everything, thank you, but he does this to warn Tony off before Ariya can hurt him again. Ariya lashes out. It's what he does. Its better this way, where Tony can't get hurt.

(Ariya, who doesn't put himself in harm's way for anyone, who has Evasion as his middle name, who sneaks around conflicts every chance he gets, flattering and tricking and taking opportunities because he doesn't trust his own skills to get him wins, Ariya thinks he's protecting Tony. But maybe he's still protecting himself. Ariya saw Tony and Drew, saw them again, saw how they have something that he doesn't. Ariya can't trust anyone the way they trusted each other. Ariya will never, ever be to Tony what Drew was. The sooner Ariya prevents even the chance for that comparison to exist, the sooner they can forget it ever happened, the sooner he can stop thinking about it like Tony could want to be his friend all the same. Like Tony could be thinking he's just not a threat the way Drew is. Like Tony could know everything about Ariya and forgive him anyway, like Ariya could ever do right by that forgiveness. Like Ariya could /ever/ earn anything.)

It took a long time for them to get where they are even now! Tony and Ariya danced around the idea of teaming with each other for a long time, talking around it and avoiding each other and not thinking about it. Now that they are, we can actually see HOW their relationship has evolved since then. Ariya and Tony have remained a team, and Ariya has begun to risk things for people. He was doing it a bit before, with someone who definitely didn't deserve it, but Ariya is now trying to actively protect Tony in matches, after matches, when he's hurt. Ariya hasn't asked for Tony's help or really accepted it on a level deeper than Win Match yet (and honestly Ariya probably realistically needs more help than anyone can give him, help that has to come from himself), but he's offering his own. And when Ariya realizes he's not winning on his own, when he had his little Moment at the beginning of the year where he got ready to sabotage and run because he can't start depending on people and especially not on Tony, the LAST person who needs to be looking after Ariya again, when that happened, Tony took a step back and let Ariya work on his own. When Ariya does what he needs to to feel In Control, which is usually a little murder but I like him so it's okay, Tony leaves him to do it on his own or plays support for him instead.

Its like... there is a healing in the rift between them in the specific way it needed to heal, y'know? It's not perfect and there's always a chance the writers get bored again and do some bullshit, but like...tony and Ariya specifically have like. One of the most interesting relationships in wrestling right now. It's like. God. I could just die thinking about it. I care them

#long post -#meta tag #the gold standard #im not rereading all this sorry 5 in the morning buzz #ive probably written this about a million times but i will keep doing it because literally thinking about how this played out makes me sick #like physically makes me have to lie in bed and go to sleep. why did they do all of this

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johnnys-so · 4 years

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I recall you saying you don't know Day6 well enough for an analysis, but what about now? If you can, we'd love one. Thank you!

HEYOOO!

Umm a lot hasn’t changed on that front but I feel like the distance might be a good thing so I’m going to attach some small mini-analysis after the cut.

sungjin

Bob is literally the most dad friend ever and I think he really takes the cake (though GOT7′s JB comes a close second). He looks so constantly done with all of his members, and yet - probably the one who cleans the kitchen and makes sure to stock up on water/ramyeon/veggies etc.

I feel like he was born to be the hyung, you know? He is the responsible and primary caregiver type. Even though he doesn’t make a big show of it, it seems to be a big part of his personality that he takes care of other people

Also, my god his humour is just.... something commendable, truly. He can’t be funny to save his ass but atleast he keeps trying and i think THATS what so funny about him??? sungjin-ah.... never give up bby

I feel like he’s the least complicated of all members. He doesn’t seem to be the emotionally volatile type and seems very centred in his personality, he also seems oddly like he might have a sister? a younger one (does he? idk, mydays pls let me know). it’s just that other than the protective bear stereotype, he does seem emotionally well-adjusted. Maybe he’s just at that point in life where he can encounter a shitty day or some sort of hardship and look at it straight and say - ok, that’s fucked up. But I guess we gotta just work through it. (in comparison, wonpil would be shrieking through his lungs AND working through it)

in terms of a temper i think he most certainly has one but it takes him a while to get there and i don’t think he’d talk through it AT ALL. maybe cleanliness would be his pet peeve? (im just shooting in the dark here)

to wrap it up, sungjin is the sort of guy (in my opinion at least) who has a strong and steady value system and he’s sort of ok with dealing with the world as long as he has it figured out in his head. He knows who he is, and therefore there is little conflict he brings to the world. If he wasn’t playing in this band, I’d 1000% see him settle for the corporate life and clean9 to 5 job which lets him come back home by 7pm and have some cold beer while watching football and hearing his kids play in the living room

Jae

Aww man this skinny bitch. I feel like the fandom is sleeping on his ‘annoying prankster’ potential because i think he’d give peeves a run for his money

derives great joy from the misery and anguish of others (probably has Wonpil maniacally laughing in the background)

on a normal day Jae is the sort of person who’s probably going through memes on the phone while everyone’s having a serious conversation about their tour or like their everyday schedules. He has a few things he cares about in life and is okay to take a backseat when it comes to the other shit. As long as he gets what he needs (a possible slytherin mofo?)

But that’s not to say that he’s easygoing or wishywashy about the things that he does care about. Music, matters a lot to him. Even though he’s not academically musically instructed (as young k is) he has spent a whole lot of time and effort into educating himself to the point that it really shows in their albums (i could wax poetry about the complexity of Day6′s music and how its so refreshing in it’s personality of being both goth and peppy i-). So Jae is most certainly determined, goal driven and very intrinsically motivated

Also, very much in his head. If he doesn’t have a strong pisces placement, I’m willing to eat my foot. I feel like while Young K is very intense about his emotions, Jae gets very emotional about the people he surrounds himself with.

With people: not very trusting of everyone. Has a chosen few that he goes to certain things about. Might be the kind of person who distributes his troubles by categories to various confidants. But also, trust is something that is earned with jae. But that is not to say that he won’t get along with other people. He’s cordial and is good in engaging a crowd (as a performer, MC, friend, VJ) but he’s also good at drawing lines and boundaries

the most incredible part of his personality for me has always been his work-ethic and his drive to be better. He’s always challenging himself through his existing skill set, but also pushing himself to learn new things. Sounds like a bloody workaholic to me.

probably shit at figuring out his own feelings/emotions/attitude about certain things. But always up for being the wise advice-giver to other delinquents (read: jamie)

sarcastic wit to sass everyone for days. probably a loki over thor guy

Kink master extraordinaire. Likes cooking up shit and encourages people to sin.

Young K

emo baby af. But we all knew this so more on that later

The ultimate Onion of a personality. Young K, off the bat, seems like he hides so many layers. Not purposely at all, but simply because he’s unable to communicate the extent of his mental world to the public

one beautiful way he has found to channelise all of his thoughts and ideas about the world is clearly through his music and lyrics. But he’s also extremely creative in other ways (art and fashion). I feel like he’s the sort of person who feels most confident and assured in himself when he’s creating.

socially, what a mess. I wouldn’t say he has trust issues like Jae does but im pretty sure he’s made some foolish mistakes about choosing friends and not realising how to navigate that friendship (friendships where he has demanded too much or has been demanded too much of??). But otherwise a jovial fool the kind of person who laughs the loudest (and dorkiest) at a dinner with friends

how’s his alcohol intake? I have this super funny intake of a drunk young k trying to write mini love poems for all his friends and sungjin being called to take him home and the call actually begins with “did he try to be poetic again?”

while im trying to paint a picture of him as a jester (because young k also needs to be seen for beyond his emotionality) he’s the kind of guy that would surprise you with how brilliant he is. An actual wisecrack/genius, and very underappreciated. I wouldn’t be surprised if he someday returns to teaching

Right. Emotionality though. If he isn’t some pisces (sun or moon) i will actually yell. He’s the definition of ‘someone who navigates an alternate plane, is open to a world that most people don’t even begin to understand exists’. i feel like speaking to him about abstract concepts - such as the existence of truth, the point of life, the definition of beauty, other existential phenomenon - would be so much fun because he’s have such an interesting and unconventional take on things. I feel like he’s make me humble with the words he has (he already makes me feel so secure with all of his lyrics because i realize, even if the world is shit what a relief that someone like young k exists)

probably would be a guilt-ridden but a wonderfully emotionally supportive boyfriend. Someone who understands your demons all too well and would go the extra mile to provide whatever help he can

1000% has high neuroticism scores that would be cause for concern. someone give him a Beck’s depression inventory right away.

HAHAHAHAH probably the fucking kinkiest mofo, after Jae

Wonpil

An actual baby!!

No ok but wonpil has matured THE most in all of Day6 and i really didn’t realise it until i notice how his expressions have become more closed during airport pics, and his voice has gained a new level of emotionality in live stages, and he’s also a lot more reserved these days on variety shows

still the most extrovert in the group. I just think the fame, the crowd, the possible betrayals as a result of their growing fame and having to be an adult in this tough situation - has gotten to him. But that’s inevitable really. None of us can be protected from the reality of life that leeches away at our innocence

such a vibrant soul. Such a giver. As a friend, he’s literal sunshine. Not much of a protector, but more of an amicable I’ll-always-be-there-for-you sort of person (though im guessing the amount of people he extends this courtesy to nowadays has probably reduced.

fucking made to be an entertainer. He’s naturally funny and attracts all the energy (and eyes) in the room to himself. A very good mood maker if you will

in terms of neuroticism, I think he’d be more on the depression (from the constant stress workstyle and the increasing loneliness) than an anxious person. I think he probably is a bit volatile in his emotions but that’s because he gets lost in the moment. He’s literally someone who lives in the present far more than he lives in the past (sungjin or young k) or the future (jae)

don’t think he's intrinsically motivated much. Prone to a lot of lazy days, a lot of extreme gaming and just randomnly playing jokes and pranks on people. he’d need some strongly external guidance/deadlines to get his work ethic going

high extraversion and agreeableness, probably low on conscientiousness (especially discpline) but fascinated by aesthetic beauty (openness to experience).

Dowoon

Honest to god i cannot figure him out. I think it’s a case of - im trying to look deeper and harder but the truth is, it’s not even that complicated

underappreciated oppa potential 100000%

still comes through as a dork of a maknae. has zeROhand eye coordination outside of drumming. the kind of kid who breaks the glassware and blames it on his sibling (wonpil) and his parents totally believe him because he could do no wrong (aka sungjin grudginly yells at wonpil, again, about house rules)

just a man dedicated to his drums and his food. if he can play some solid beats, get some work done on the albums, play a nice set on a tour, have some chicken and beer while he is resting, have his hyungs fool around in the green room --> he good bruh

but by no means does that make him a fool (though i do think he’s a bit of a fool sometimes when it comes to picking up social cues about wonpil/jae making fun of him. he lacks the 눈치 you know what i mean)

Also (maybe I just love plot twists) but i think he’d be eerily good at picking up on people feeling sad/depressed/lonely/off in general. He’d be like that guy who just walks into the room and sees you just slinking away on the sofa and he thinks.... nah im just going to give them space and go get myself some food. But literally a few seconds later, he sits by you on the sofa, offers you food, and asks what’s on your mind. The silent supporter kind. Willing to listen, willing to be there for you

i don’t know much about dowoon so im just going to end this with: arms that can lift kids/ crush you in a bear hug/ pin you against a wall and leave bit marks on your neck

sorry if that didn’t cover much. I sort of only know day6 with their music. If im extremely wrong or way off about someone, please reach out and correct me!!

#day6 #character analysis #sungjin #young k #jae #wonpil #dowoon

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superemeralds · 6 years

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fanon shadow beef

[ I’m going to ramble about headcanon shit and stuff that I see done out of character in fanon in no particular order. This might be very chaotic so bare w me. ]

Everyone else:

Shadow uses guns on a regular basis.

He is not repulsed by guns.

Shooting is one of his hobbies.

He probably owns at least one gun and keeps it at home.

Me:

Shadow is very uneasy around firearms and avoids using them at all costs.

The sound of gunshots (and similar loud sounds) makes him flinch.

(On new years he retreats into his cabin in the woods so e doesn’t have to hear the fireworks.)

There’s very obvious reasons for that yall.

He avoids demands to "do his job cleaner" by using guns.

Shadow is for gun control and strongly advocates for making it illegal for private households to own and store guns.

He Hates Guns.

He. Hates. Guns.

The reason he joined GUN despite it being a very triggering environment is because he has the mindset that he has to endure exactly this to overcome it.

+ he has to make sure that GUN doesn't go down that path again. You all know what I mean (and we all know that they will)

After all this time, the commander from ShTH and Shadow made up, after covering up all misunderstandings and acknowledging they were both young and heavily manipulated back then. For the short while that this commander is still in charge Shadow has great faith that GUN will take a good turn, which is what moved him to join (they probably discussed it at the dinner that the commander (canonically!) invited him to with his family.

Additionally, he wants access to their data bank to learn as much as he can about the planet and secrets that governments might have.

He never obeys his orders without question and often breaks rules and opposes GUN, sabotaging missions and just generally doing his thing while using his status in the organization to get what he wants.

Due to his position and the sheer fact that he is the ultimate life form (and way too valuable to not be “under GUN’s control”) the authorities can’t punish him in any way for his betrayals and kinda get used to it.

God I have So Much Beef with the wiki page for him lmao lemme just. :)

<< Shadow also has a ruthless and merciless edge in combat that all other characters in the series lack, and displays a natural "killer instinct". >>

He only intended to kill Sonic in SA2 because he was blinded by rage and he planned to destroy the entire planet anyways.

I hate when people call shadow merciless and murderous and “killer instinct”... That’s not him...

He was TRAINED to be like this but that’s not who he really is.

Of course that learned behaviour isn’t easily unlearned, even if he cant remember when and how he learned it, but he has his own morals, too, and he is very very much against senseless death. If he can prevent it, he sure as fuck will do all he can do to save a life.

In Shadow’s eyes life is precious, something extraordinary. He promised to Maria to protect it, and he, himself, thinks of it as something worth protecting. Its true that he has a lot of trouble to accept his own feelings and thoughts as important and valuable, but that is due to the way he was raised.

(as an experiment that is not treated like it has its own will, he was constantly told to comply in experiments, but they never even bothered to tell him what this was all for or engage in deeper conversation with him; as we can see in SA2 when shadow talks to Maria about how confused he is about his purpose of existence.)

More than enough I see him frown or be disgusted or just. plain angry at nothing in particular in fanart. (or the evil bloody murder type of character... or him proudly holding guns or shit :)))))) Hm... )

There’s a difference between an angry face and a person that just doesn’t smile as neutral expression. like… there just are people who have a neutral expression but look unhappy because their mouth naturally rests in a ^ position instead of a - or a v …

<< In the original Japanese version, where Shadow omits honorifics and speaks highly of himself (if not rudely), though contrasting this, in Japanese he normally uses the "boku" pronoun when referring to himself as opposed to the more arrogant/confident "ore" pronoun (which characters such as Sonic use). >>

okay so the difference between boku and ore is that ore is VERY casual and mostly used when talking to someone you are close to, or when you're just really sure of yourself. Boku is a pronoun used mostly by young boys or when someone speaks humbly abt themselves.

And I don’t know how this confuses anyone, since Shadow did grow up on a fucking space station and that’s all he’s known, and he was probably treated like a child, even when he was grown up. Plus, Shadow might be a little arrogant and think very highly of himself (which he mostly does because all his life he was taught that he is a very special and superior life form, mind you), he still very much respects whoever else he is talking to, and he doesn’t take credit for his powers or the things that make him special. He’s the “it’s not a big deal” kind of guy. And he doesn’t mean it in a derogatory way, he means it in a way, that he doesn’t want to trouble the other person.

Making the other person believe that he has everything under control and that he’s okay gives them a sense of security in tense situations, which can be vital to success.

The way he interact with people might come off as rude and arrogant, but he does act with the best intents for the people around him. It’s just that even when his intent is well, his thoughts might be destructive rather than productive. (for example him thinking his feelings don’t matter and bottling them up.)

<< On occasion, Shadow appears to have some degree of mental instability. This is demonstrated by his instances of post-traumatic flashbacks to Maria's face prior to and during the events of Shadow the Hedgehog, though it could be argued that they were simply an effect of his amnesia. >>

whoever wrote this please eat a cactus

PTSD is not a joke and it’s definitely not just amnesia induced stress.

I remember seeing someone repost a gif of Shadow looking around anxiously shortly before having a flashback and saying how “cute” it is how “observant” and “jumpy” he is……

Those are PTSD symptoms and I hate how people make them the joke of a comic oftentimes. Sure these people could be uninformed but im just… Think a little more about it before making this shit up bc it physically hurts to see.

<< In Sonic Forces, it's heavily implied that Shadow ruthlessly slaughtered an entire mercenary band not only in an extremely dismissive, nonchalant manner (not even remembering the incident a few months later), but also seemed slightly proud, mocking the mercenary defence squad by saying they themselves needed a defence squad. >>

Sonic forces can fuck off its bad writing and it’s not shadow.

I made a comic showing what REALLY happened in episode shadow because *rolls eyes* sega doesn’t know their own characters.

[ read it here ]

Shortly summarized and in reference to what I said before: Shadow deems life precious and worth protecting, he would never kill without having a good damn reason to do so. (Like when he sees no other way to prevent a GREAT catastrophe or when the person just really DESERVES it. )

<< Shadow also possesses some sense of identity, as evidenced when after falsely being told that he isn't the Ultimate Lifeform due to a lab report. He states to Rouge that even if his memories were fake, he is still Shadow the Hedgehog. Similarly in Sonic Heroes, during the Egg Fleet level, he mentions that even without his memories, he is still the Ultimate Lifeform, Shadow the Hedgehog. These qualities make him rarely susceptible to being manipulated by other forces. >>

LMAO YEAH BECAUSE HE’S BEEN MANIPULATED FAR TOO MANY TIMES IN THE PAST HE’S DONE WITH THAT.

:))))))) BACK TO THE PTSD SYMPTOMS

He is incredibly distrustful and keeps mostly to himself, because he can’t be sure that someone else would (a)buse him for their own gain :) betray him, or do something horrible to him (or someone he’s close to).

His identity as Shadow the Hedgehog, the ultimate life form, is literally ALL HE HAS LEFT IN THIS WORLD.

Everyone he knew and was close to DIED. He woke up 50 years in the future, all alone. He literally had NOTHING.

He didn’t even have a reason to live, which motivated him to carry out Geralds plan to destroy the planet.

<< Despite his apathetic nature, Shadow is not without compassion and has shown concern for others at certain times. >>

I think you mean….

Despite having trouble to convey his feelings of compassion and concern for others, he is shown to make attempts of support through his actions and carefully chosen words.

As already mentioned, Shadow never learned how to socialize, he’s awkward about it, and on top of it all he has trouble trusting and opening up to people. Stop saying he doesn't care, he just doesn’t know how to show that.

Also Shadow is a very logically thinking person, so he might look at things a different way than others and see things very dry and objectively. He doesn’t mean to be rude or evil, whatever he does is always with the other people’s possible concerns and feelings in mind. (He just has trouble to read their emotions and imagining what they might think/how they feel about a situation).

<< Shadow brushes off most kindness or sympathy that is sent his way; in Sonic Heroes, when Rouge showed concern for Shadow when he saw a broken android, Shadow curtly brushed her concern away. >>

GOD. That’s because he doesn’t know how he feels about the situation himself yet. He also feels like he doesn’t deserve concern or worry from other people; and he very strongly dislikes making others feel bad. Making other people worry about him makes him a bother, and he doesn’t want to be an inconvenience. He puts on this mask of strong ultimate soldier that has everything under control, so he doesn’t hinder anyone from reaching their own full potential.

I mean.. I mentioned this like 3 times now but this is SO important!!!!

He appreciates support, but often times he feels like it’s shallow or the person might have secret intentions; so he only ever truly accepts it when he feels like it was genuine and deserved.

<< Despite the fact that Shadow often fights for the greater good, he is considered an anti-hero by the most part due to his morality. He does whatever is necessary to get what he wants or feels is right, though this enthusiasm causes him to take risks and jump into situations without fully thinking it through. >>

B-But that is the definition of anti-hero….

SOMEONE WHO DOES WHAT THEY WANT/HAVE TO DO TO ACHIEVE WHATEVER THEY THINK IS RIGHT ???

He’s just chaotic neutral you fungus………

<< Shadow's fighting style focuses on brutal, unrestrained and powerful hand-to-hand combat. In line with his nature and potent abilities, Shadow has adopted a fighting style where he fights his opponents using powerful blows, such as karate chops, swift punches and roundhouse kicks, to which many of his attacks have a significant amount of force behind them. With the speeds Shadow can move at, he can disable the opponent through the force of his blows alone, while leaving them at the mercy at his incoming attacks. >>

HERE’S THE TEA:

He attacks his opponents with such heavy blows hoping to take them down with minimal effort, but without actively harming them too much.

His attacks are chosen very carefully. In 06 his chaos spears even just paralyzed his opponents asjfhsakj like. he can do that.

AS ALREADY MENTIONED: shadow is out to immobilize; not to kill.

putting opponents out of commission is the goal, not to end their life in vain…. it’s RIGHT THERE

<< With the speeds Shadow can move at, he can disable the opponent through the force of his blows alone, while leaving them at the mercy at his incoming attacks. >>

HE DISABLES EM WITH ONE BLOW SO HE CAN JUST GO ON WITH HIS MISSION ASJKHFASKJ

this whole “leaving them at mercy” bullshit is unnecessary and incorrect.

<< While not having any physical weakness, Shadow was initially a somewhat easy target for manipulation during the time he had amnesia due to his confusion about who he was. >>

THIS IS IT! MY ENTIRE BEEF WITH HOW THE FANDOM TREATS SHTH AS A GAME!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!!!! HOOOOOOOOLLLLYYYY SSSSHHIIIIIITTTTTT!!!!!!!!!! LET ME TELL YOU

okay so the whole POINT of the game is to show the player ALTERNATIVE TIMELINES in which shadow is manipulated in slightly different ways which lead to slight changes in his personality and like. with all the selective information he received he can be manipulated into becoming different kinds of people.

i don't see how people dismiss the entire game as not canon?????, IMO those are all very valid and canon alternative timelines??? like… canon AUs???????

you can't just throw the entire game under the rug???

and saying things like “shadow is an android now i guess bc of that one shth ending” im..,

he was MANIPULATED into BELIEVING so. Eggman lied to him so he would obey him. (or just to make him unstable enough to be able to restrain him)

(proof ^^^^^ dialogue of eggman speaking to shadow during the final boss, saying that he lied and that shadow is the real shadow)

OH BOY ........ THE TRUE ENDING!!!!!!!! HOOOLY SHIIIIT

people have so much beef with shadow “leacing the past behind him” and like the “sayonara shadow the hedgehog” in the last cutscene…….. im…………………….

“leaving the past behind” doesn’t mean just forgetting about everything and pretending it never happened, it means ACKNOWLEDGING that it happened, ACCEPTING IT…. learning from it and then…. MOVING FORWARD.

it means that you learned from your past and are now at peace with it, not stressing over it anymore… finally able to focus on the present moment and your feelings in the NOW; maybe even think about the future a little more.

just. yeah. it means he made peace with his past and wont let it define him (in the sense that its all he thinks about and that his haunting memories control him) and he is more confident in himself and perhaps regained some self-worth…

and that “sayonara shadow the hedgehog” is

a call to say that his old “self” is now gone, and that it's time for the new “self” to rise

just look at the room he’s in and the picture he's looking at…… those were maria's last words at him…… let him mourn one last time, let him make peace with her death. he’s been stressing over it long enough.

<< Professor Gerald's granddaughter, Maria Robotnik, is by far the one person that made Shadow the happiest. She was like a sister to him, and they shared the same dream; to visit Earth. >>

Can yall stop shipping them romantically? thanks.

I headcanon that Shadow adopts the Robotnik last name for a VERY GOOD reason.

okay im done w the wiki bye fuckface

I’m not done yet tho.

I want to talk about a thing I see in lots of fanart too...

Shadow smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol.

Shadow is a highly sensitive creature and alcohol has an unpleasant sting to it when you drink it and he KNOWS it’s bad for people’s health. He would never indulge wild parties or participate in “jolly drinking” where people drink for the purpose of getting drunk and having “fun”.

He very much appreciates having one drink with rouge at the bar (for the taste, purely) or a beer at a meal with someone else.

He doesn’t actively seek it, but he also is not totally repulsed by it.

What disgusts him is the abuse of alcohol and he doesn’t like associating with that behavior and stays away from people who do that.

why? easy. let’s just take a look at cigarettes.

each package has a warning and disgusting picture of the aftermath of smoking on it, and everyone is very well informed about how bad it is for their own health, and more so for the health of the people around them.

He does not accept people who put whatever benefit they think they receive from this, if they put it before the well being of others and willingly make themselves sick and rot.

Same goes for alcohol. Everyone is very well aware that its toxic to our bodies, but people get drunk and risky anyways. This way of fleeing their troubles is illogical and ungrateful.

Ungrateful to the gift of life, to the healthy bodies they posses. It has a lot to do with the unfairness he feels when he thinks about how Maria had a life expectancy of 9 or 10 years for something that wasn’t even her fault. And there are other, perfectly fine humans out there, that willingly destroy their bodies and willingly accept that they are harming the ones around them with their behavior too.

[ DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to call anyone who reads this that drinks or smokes out as a bad person; you can do what you want I’m not trying/going to try convincing you to stop or make you feel guilty. This is the standpoint of someone who has experienced health related loss, so it indeed is extreme. I am not trying to start a debate. ]

another beef i have is the weird idea that shadow is a lusty dominant rapist

[ warning that sexual themes might be discussed, but not explicit ]

shadow is MOST PROBABLY asexual; and even if he was interested in intercourse he would be polite about it, seek consent and so on and so on

just are many people forgetting that despite him being very mature, he had not had much life experience yet.

not to be reaching but he kinda fits the “born sexy yesterday-trope”; where he is mature, there’s a gray area on his age, and he is clueless about how life works and basically a man-child “that needs teaching”

just that for some weird reason i see a lot of people draw shadow as very flirtatious, and in fanfictions he gets very violent towards romantic partners and ofc the infamous sonadow rape porn (tho ive encountered stuff relating to the born sexy yesterday shit too)

[ im not here to discuss how WRONG the things above are in its own, im just here to talk abt characterization today. ]

i just want generally everything to stop........... its bad........ don’t put that shit up in public and then even untagged........

[ warning end ]

..........

before anyone comes at me like “uuummmm but things you said are bad are actually portrayed in canon like that”

sorry but

hate to say it but i know their character better than sega themselves.

I’m tired and my wrists hurt i need to stop typing now but you did not hear the last of me.

#character analysis #my opinion #shadcanon #kinda? idk #i just wanna find this post again asjkfhaskjfhaj #shadows logbook #meta/ shadow

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patriotsnet · 3 years

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What Do Republicans Believe About Taxes

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/what-do-republicans-believe-about-taxes/

What Do Republicans Believe About Taxes

What Is A Republican

As you can see, the dictionary definition of a Republican is very brief. And since a Republican is simply defined as a member of the Republican party of the U.S. it is important to understand what the Republican Party stands for. To understand what a Republican is you have to understand the Republican Party. And that is what the rest of this article examines.

Views Of Stricter Environmental Laws Climate Change

On environmental issues, 65% of adults say that stricter environmental laws and regulations are worth the cost, compared with 33% who say they cost too many jobs and hurt the economy.

A large majority of Democrats and Democratic leaners say stricter environmental laws are worth the cost, including 92% of liberal Democrats and 79% of conservative and moderate Democrats.

Republicans and Republican leaners are more likely to say stricter environmental laws cost jobs and hurt the economy than that they are worth the cost . However, there is a wide divide in views among Republicans by ideology. Two-thirds of conservative Republicans say stricter environmental laws hurt the economy. Views among moderate and liberal Republicans are nearly the reverse: 60% say stricter environmental laws are worth the cost.

Majorities across age groups and levels of educational attainment say stricter environmental laws are worth the cost. Adults younger than 30 and those with a postgraduate degree are among the most likely to say this.

As other surveys have found, there also continue to be wide partisan differences in opinions about climate change. Among the public overall, 52% say the Earth is getting warmer mostly because of human activity, while 17% say it is getting warmer mostly due to natural patterns in the environment. About two-in-ten say there is no solid evidence that the Earth is getting warmer, and 9% say they are not sure.

Gop Must Stop Believing In Magic

Im not making a plea for larger government just a plea for economic sanity. If Congress in its all-seeing wisdom wants to spend $700 billion on the military, billions of dollars on farm subsidies and so on, it must either raise enough money in taxes to pay for the programs it authorizes or reduce the size of government.

Instead, although Republicans controlled the White House, the Senate and the House from 2017 to 2019, they chose not to make any substantial cuts to government programs that would balance the revenue lost by their series of massive unfunded tax cuts.

Unquestioning and unsubstantiated belief in the magical power of tax cuts isnt a viable economic policy. The GOP is putting America on an unsustainable path that is disastrous both for its fiscal future and for the hopes of people trying to get ahead.

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Corporations Will Bring Back Profits Stashed Overseas

Republicans did their best to include as many corporate giveaways as possible in their tax cut, but spun them as a benefit to the greater economy. Take repatriated earnings. American multinational corporations like to keep their overseas profits away from the IRS, and the Republican tax plan aimed to change this by offering companies a temporary tax holiday. Earnings kept overseas would be subject to a one-time tax at a very low rate that could be paid over the course of eight years. President Trump promised that this would produce a flood of repatriated earnings amounting to $4$5 trillionnearly twice the amount that corporations were actually storing overseas.

This was just another lie, one that no serious economist believed for a moment. And indeed, after a brief boom in repatriated earnings after the tax cut passed, there was a bust. Repatriations to date have amounted to only $840 billion above normal, and the total amount of repatriations in the last quarter of 2019 is only $60 billion higher than it was before the tax cut passed. The total will never come anywhere close to $4$5 trillion.

But maybe foreign investors responded more positively to the tax cut than domestic investors did? Nope. Foreign investment increased briefly but then plunged. Apparently they didnt take Republican promises any more seriously than Americans did.

What Do Republicans Believe In

Do all Republicans believe the same things? Of course not. Rarely do members of a single political group agree on all issues. Even among Republicans, there are differences of opinion. As a group, they do not agree on every issue.

Some folks vote Republican because of fiscal concerns. Often, that trumps concerns they may have about social issues. Others are less interested in the fiscal position of the party. They vote they way they do because of religion. They believe Republicans are the party of morality. Some simply want less government. They believe only Republicans can solve the problem of big government. Republicans spend less . They lower taxes: some people vote for that alone.

However, the Republican Party does stand for certain things. So I’m answering with regard to the party as a whole. Call it a platform. Call them core beliefs. The vast majority of Republicans adhere to certain ideas.

So what do Republicans believe? Here are their basic tenets:

Republicans Can’t Handle The Truth About Taxes

Congressional Republicans are channeling one of my favorite political hacks, the late Massachusetts Congressman Jimmy Burke, who boasted he voted for spending bills, tax cuts and against any increase in the debt ceiling.

House and Senate Republicans voted against the COVID-stimulus bill and oppose the Biden infrastructure and tax measures. Yet, despite the votes, more than a few cite their support for popular provisions in each spending initiative, rail against deficits, and oppose tax increases.

Republicans complain the $2 trillion Biden initiative is full of stuff that really isn’t infrastructure. Sen. Roy BluntRoy Dean BluntA tale of two chambers: Trump’s power holds in House, wanes in Senate46 GOP senators warn they will not vote to raise debt ceiling says all that should be taken out and reduce the size to $600 billion.

The biggest, $400 billion over eight years, is to provide more personnel and resources for in-home care for the elderly or people with disabilities. We have a son with disabilities, and we can afford expensive good care; we have encountered many families who cannot. If you know anyone with a loved one with Alzheimer’s, you’ll look more kindly on this provision. Does Sen. Blunt believe this isn’t an urgent need?

But what really gets the conservative juices going is opposing the proposed tax increases; since the fall of the Berlin Wall, tax cuts have been the only glue that holds increasingly disparate Republicans together.

Poverty Must Solve Itself

Republicans believe that poor people are usually poor for a reason, be it laziness, choice or whatever. Unless we demand that people pull themselves up by the bootstraps and solve their own problems, people will not be motivated to do things. Therefore, the issue of poverty cannot be solved by the government. Charity should be the choice of individuals.

Gop Real Estate Owners Make Out Big

Besides the laws benefits to real estate pass-throughs, real estate in general was hugely favored by the tax law, allowing property exchanges to avoid taxation, the deduction of new capital expenses in just one year versus longer depreciation schedules, and an exemption from limits on interest deductions.

If you are a real estate developer, you never pay tax, said Ed Kleinbard, a former head of Congresss Joint Committee on Taxation.

Members of Congress own a lot of real estate. Public Integritys review of financial disclosures found that 29 of the 47 GOP members of the committees responsible for the tax bill hold interests in real estate, including small rental businesses, LLCs, and massive real estate investment trusts , which pay dividends to investors. The tax bill allows REIT investors to deduct 20 percent from their dividends for tax purposes.

Who We Are

The Center for Public Integrity is an independent, investigative newsroom that exposes betrayals of the public trust by powerful interests.

Republicans Invented Progressive Income Taxes Will They Turn Left Again

Rendering of a red elephant in a spotlight representing the Republican Political Party in front of … the American Flag.

getty

President Trumps sagging poll numbers have prompted some eager speculation about the future of the Republican Party.

If Trump loses, will the GOP rethink its political strategy? Recast its policy agenda? Or will it double down on both on Trumpism, whatever that might mean?

Whether Trump wins or loses in November wont settle these questions.

The future of the Republican Party belongs to him, Matthew Walther in a recent analysis for The Week. His legacy arguments about its true value and how it should be understood, its relationship with previous right-wing insurgent movements such as the Tea Party will determine the course of the GOPs fortunes for the next decade.

Indeed, Trumps legacy will almost certainly endure for over a decade because its about more than just him. Trumpism is part of the Republican Partys broader historical evolution. It began to emerge long before Trump took his famous ride down the escalator in Trump Tower to announce his candidacy in 2015; it will persist long after he vacates the Oval Office, whether thats in January 2021 or January 2025.

American presidents even the transformational, disruptive ones exist as part of a process. They dont emerge from nowhere to upend and recast political institutions single-handedly. They channel and give expression to changes already underway in American society.

Inequality Poverty Divide Republicans More Than Democrats

Juliana Menasce Horowitz

In recent weeks, many political observers have described a rift between liberals and centrists in the Democratic Party over how to tackle poverty, income inequality, and broader issues of economic fairness. Some have framed the discussion around Elizabeth Warren vs. Hillary Clinton. Others have focused on between New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio, who has proposed raising taxes on the rich to pay for a citywide prekindergarten program, and Governor Andrew Cuomo, who has vowed to lower taxes.

But a new Pew Research Center/USA TODAY survey suggests that, at least for the moment, the issue of how best to deal with poverty and income inequality and whether the government should address these issues at all divides Republicans and those who lean toward the Republican Party more than it does Democrats and leaners.

To be sure, majorities of 60% or more among Republicans and Democrats across the ideological spectrum agree that inequality is on the rise, and about 90% of liberal and centrist Democrats say the government should do something about it. But while a 61%-majority of moderate and liberal Republicans say the government should do something to reduce the gap between the rich and everyone else, 55% of conservative Republicans dont want the government to do much or anything at all about inequality.

Most Welfare Recipients Are Makers Not Takers

The first myth, that people who receive public benefits are takers rather than makers, is flatly untrue for the vast majority of working-age recipients.

Consider Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits, formerly known as food stamps, which currently serve about 42 million Americans. At least one adult in more than half of SNAP-recipient households are working. And the average SNAP subsidy is $125 per month, or $1.40 per meal hardly enough to justify quitting a job.

As for Medicaid, nearly 80 percent of adults receiving Medicaid live in families where someone works, and more than half are working themselves.

In early December, House Speaker Paul Ryan said, We have a welfare system thats trapping people in poverty and effectively paying people not to work.

Not true. Welfare officially called Temporary Assistance to Needy Families has required work as a condition of eligibility since then-President Bill Clinton signed welfare reform into law in 1996. And the earned income tax credit, a tax credit for low- and moderate-income workers, by definition, supports only people who work.

Workers apply for public benefits because they need assistance to make ends meet. American workers are among the most productive in the world, but over the last 40 years the bottom half of income earners have seen no income growth. As a result, since 1973, worker productivity has grown almost six times faster than wages.

What Is A Republican Republican Definition

April 11, 2014 By

This article fully answers what a Republican is and gives the definition of a Republican in a fair, unbiased, and well-researched way. To start the article we list out the definition of a Republican, then we cover the Republican Partys core beliefs, then we list out the Republican Partys beliefs on all the major issues.

The Definition of a Republican: a member of the Republican party of the U.S.

The Economy Will Be Supercharged

If an investment boom was the big lie that drove everything, the arguments made to the general public in support of the tax cut mostly revolved around a better-known metric: economic growth. The usual way of measuring this is by looking at gross domestic product, the sum of all goods and services produced in the United States. In the decade since the end of the Great Recession, GDP growth has averaged 2.3 percent per year.

Republicans claimed that the investment growth spurred by the tax cut would drive GDP growth higher. predicted growth rates of 3 to 4 percent. Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin went with a more modest 2.9 percent. Trump himself told reporters at his Cabinet meeting that he was holding out for 6 percent growth. These projections were mostly just spun out of thin air.

So how did we do? Since the investment boom never materialized, its hardly a shock to learn that GDP growth didnt boom either. The growth rate increased modestly for two quarters and then dropped steadily. In the last quarter unaffected by the coronavirus crisis, it was barely above 2 percent. Not only didnt the tax cut usher in the growth that Republicans predicted, but growth rates started dropping soon after.

History Of The Republican Party

The Republican Party came into existence just prior to the Civil War due to their long-time stance in favor of abolition of slavery. They were a small third-party who nominated John C. Freemont for President in 1856. In 1860 they became an established political party when their nominee Abraham Lincoln was elected as President of the United States. Lincolns Presidency throughout the war, including his policies to end slavery for good helped solidify the Republican Party as a major force in American politics. The elephant was chosen as their symbol in 1874 based on a cartoon in Harpers Weekly that depicted the new party as an elephant.

Energy Issues And The Environment

There have always been clashes between the parties on the issues of energy and the environment. Democrats believe in restricting drilling for oil or other avenues of fossil fuels to protect the environment while Republicans favor expanded drilling to produce more energy at a lower cost to consumers. Democrats will push and support with tax dollars alternative energy solutions while the Republicans favor allowing the market to decide which forms of energy are practical.

Majority Of Americans Say Government Has Responsibility To Ensure Health Coverage

A majority of the public says that the federal government has a responsibility to make sure that all Americans have health care coverage, while 41% say this is not the governments responsibility.

However, most of those who say the government does not have a responsibility to provide health coverage nonetheless favor continuing programs like Medicare and Medicaid. Roughly a third of the public holds this view. Just 6% say the government should not be involved in providing health insurance at all.

Among those who say it is the governments responsibility to make sure all Americans have health care coverage, there are differences over how to achieve this goal.

Overall, 30% of adults say government is responsible for ensuring that all Americans have health care coverage and that health insurance should be provided through a single national health insurance system run by the government. A similar share of the public thinks health care for all Americans is a government responsibility but supports providing health insurance through a mix of private companies and government programs.

Seven-in-ten Republicans and Republican leaners say it is not the governments responsibility to make sure all Americans have health insurance. Among Republicans, conservatives are much more likely than moderates and liberals to take this view. Still, just 12% of conservative Republicans say the government should not be involved in health care at all.

Crime And Capital Punishment

Republicans generally believe in harsher penalties when someone has committed a crime, including for selling illegal drugs. They also generally favor capital punishment and back a system with many layers to ensure the proper punishment has been meted out. Democrats are more progressive in their views, believing that crimes do not involve violence, such as selling drugs, should have lighter penalties and rehabilitation. They are also against capital punishment in any form.

Trump Keeps Pretending To Want To Tax The Rich

Trump as a candidate promised to raise taxes on the rich, and after taking office he again promised to raise taxes on the rich. Trump said he believed in raising taxes on the wealthy, including myself and later promised that his administrations tax reform would not benefit the wealthy at all.

None of this was true, of course instead he backed a plan from congressional Republicans for a large regressive tax cut. Once that was enacted, House Republicans began to queue up a program they called Tax Reform 2.0 that would be an even larger and only modestly less regressive tax cut. Trump, again aware that this is not popular, tried to make up a fake middle-class tax cut during the waning days of the midterms, but as soon as the election was over .

This is all nonsense, but its telling nonsense.

Even very dishonest politicians dont routinely pretend to hold the opposite of their partys position on key issues. Trump isnt out there pretending to champion abortion rights, clean energy, or humane treatment of refugees. Hes trying to muddy the waters on taxes because he knows the standard Republican position on tax policy is unpopular.

Yet this is rarely covered as a striking, daring, or even noteworthy stance.

Most Americans Favor Expanding Renewable Energy Sources But Divides Remain Over Expanding Offshore Drilling Nuclear Power

Most Americans favor expanding solar power or wind power , including strong majorities of both Republicans and Democrats. The public, however, is evenly divided over whether to expand nuclear power . Fewer than half of Americans support more offshore oil and gas drilling , hydraulic fracturing for oil and natural gas, known as fracking or coal mining .

These findings are broadly in line with previous Center surveys, which found strong majorities in favor of increasing solar or wind power and more mixed views about expanding other energy sources. Support for more nuclear power plants has inched up 6 percentage points since 2016 . Support for coal mining has declined from 41% to 35% in the same period.

Sizable majorities of both Republicans and Democrats including those who lean to each party favor more solar panel farms or wind turbine farms . More Republicans than Democrats support expanding nuclear power plants; support for nuclear power is stronger among conservative Republicans than among moderate or liberal Republicans .

Conservative Republicans also stand out as more inclined to support expansion of hydraulic fracturing for oil and gas as well as coal mining . By comparison, fewer than half of moderate or liberal Republicans favor expanding these energy sources .

Foreign Policy And National Defense

Republicans supported Woodrow Wilson‘s call for American entry into World War I in 1917, complaining only that he was too slow to go to war. Republicans in 1919 opposed his call for entry into the League of Nations. A majority supported the League with reservations; a minority opposed membership on any terms. Republicans sponsored world disarmament in the 1920s, and isolationism in the 1930s. Most Republicans staunchly opposed intervention in World War II until the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. By 1945, however, internationalists became dominant in the party which supported the Cold War policies such as the Truman Doctrine, the Marshall Plan, and NATO.

Americans Want To Tax The Rich

Theres no polling on specific brackets or exactly who counts as rich that I can find, but surveys are very consistent that for some definition of rich the voters would like to see higher taxes:

The most recent poll on this I can find is an April 2018 Gallup survey which had 62 percent of respondents saying the wealthy do not pay their fair share in taxes, a number thats been consistently in the high 50s or low 60s in the 21st century.

Pew found in 2017 that said it was bothered a lot by the fact that rich people dont pay their fair share.

A 2017 CBS poll found that 56 percent of voters said wealthy people should pay higher taxes.

One person who gets this, incidentally, is President Donald Trump.

Political Positions Of The Republican Party

Republicanism in the United States

The platform of the Republican Party of the United States is generally based on American conservatism, contrasting with the modern liberalism of the Democratic Party. The positions of the Republican Party have evolved over time. Currently, the party’s fiscal conservatism includes support for lower taxes, free market, of corporations, and restrictions on labor unions. The party’s social conservatism includes support for gun rights and other traditional values, often with a foundation, including restrictions on abortion. In foreign policy, Republicans usually favor increased military spending and action. Other Republican positions include restrictions on immigration, opposition to drug legalization, and support for school choice.

Regulating The Economy Republican Style

The Republican Party is generally considered business-friendly and in favor of limited government regulation of the economy. This means favoring policies that put business interests ahead of environmental concerns, labor union interests, healthcare benefits and retirement benefits. Given this more pro-business bias, Republicans tend to receive support from business owners and capitalists, as opposed to support from labor.

Republicans Economic Views And How They Work In The Real World

Kimberly Amadeo is an expert on U.S. and world economies and investing, with over 20 years of experience in economic analysis and business strategy. She is the President of the economic website World Money Watch. As a writer for The Balance, Kimberly provides insight on the state of the present-day economy, as well as past events that have had a lasting impact.

Robert C. Kelly

Republican economic policies focus on what’s good for businesses and investors. Republicans say that prosperous companies will boost economic growth for everyone.

Republicans promote supply-side economics. That theory says reducing costs for business, trade, and investment is the best way to increase growth. Investors buy more companies or stocks. Banks increase business lending. Owners invest in their operations and hire workers. These workers spend their wages, driving both demand and economic growth.

Republicans define the American Dream as the right to pursue prosperity without government interference. That’s achieved by self-discipline, enterprise, saving, and investment by individuals. Warren Harding said, “Less government in business and more business in government.” Calvin Coolidge said, The chief business of the American people is business.

Here is a short list of the pros and cons of some Republican economic policies.

Compare And Contrast: How Do The Republican And Democratic Tax Plans Differ

Brown EdwardsLatest News

SEPTEMBER 29, 2020

With the presidential election only weeks away, many people are beginning to pay closer attention to each candidates positions on such issues as the COVID-19 pandemic, health care, the environment and taxes.

Among their many differences, President Donald Trump and former Vice President Joe Biden have widely divergent tax proposals. Their stances could have a major impact on the amount of taxes youll owe in the future. Heres an overview of each candidates tax proposals for both individuals and businesses.

Trumps tax proposals for individuals

The GOP-backed Tax Cuts and Jobs Act was signed into law in December 2017. It included a number of temporary federal tax cuts and breaks for individuals and families for 2018 through 2025. President Trump has indicated support for preserving tax reforms under the TCJA and possibly providing additional breaks for individuals and families.

The White House budget document for the governments 2021 fiscal year indicates support for extending these TCJA individual tax provisions beyond 2025:

The current federal income tax and estate tax regimes,

The expanded child and dependent tax credits ,

Increased standard deduction amounts ,

More favorable alternative minimum tax rules, and

Continued limitations on itemized deductions for home mortgage interest and state and local taxes .

Bidens tax proposals for individuals

Other elements of Bidens plan that would affect individual taxpayers include:

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rorahkeepgoing · 7 years

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Think i’ve barely mentioned how the sisters accomplish their spy job, so here i’ll try to show it, exposing a little of the main connection between the whole thing i’ve been shitposting around and the mysteries behind XCX (hope you can catch the winks).

Backstory

Special sis (p1)

Special sis (p2)

THE ELITE SPIES

*click music while you read*...[for ambient(?)]

*or here if there’s nothing to do (?)*.

youtube

They main propuse of the Shostakova’s sisters was to become spies, they born for it. All their life was specially dedicated to be the best.

Their education was based on a current program called “the prodigy child” but taken even further in a 24/7 program. The study time for each subject was strictly controlled by the scientist, even with induction during sleep to keep the stimulation in the neuronal cells to linking more while activate them. It covered all types of a level university subjects from an early age following a detailed study of the reception and assimilation of info that could hold a child.

The food was also rigorously controlled according to their age, weight and the activities that were to exercise for the efficiency in the nutrients ingestion.

They learned everything in 7 basic languages. Eventually became polyglot, understanding almost any idiom with the general basis around languages estructures.

The main purpose of their educational development was to use it as a further tool in the work of spying, since they had to investigate, analyze, deduce, interact, move and even defend themselves or murder if circumstances became risk.

For the interaction part, they incidentally became actresses, generated by a method of facial, tonal and corporal mimesis. In a room full of mirrors and cameras, the girls faced endless social trials recognizing emotions, moods, people with high self-esteem and low. At the time that they advanced with their corporal extension to the answer to the society also they became experts of human reading, identifying all the perceptible factors they projected to the most susceptible candidates that could provide a better and more optimal collaborations. A very useful tool to approach people and use them.

They also learned from these ancient methods based on the traditional ninjas. Women with these kind of training were called Kunoichi and their main method who distinguishing them from men was the use of seduction and the handling of poisons and substances with which they used to achieve their mission. In all, they were also highly efficient hush assassins.

Following these means, the girls resorted to paralyzers, poisons, drugs, even micro bacteria to control high-risk situations to get a job as clean as possible. They often were the responsible to make all their substances, the suppliers were often the managers who controlled the RKR although they could also take advantage of the chemicals they had at hand.

They needed to be painstaking when was about to kill. It as to be the minimum as possible, and in any case they had to resort to it was due to the circumstances they were found in. Their care into not leaving evidence was very meticulous, or nonetheless to ravel the evidence under the environment where were found, often making it appear the responsible were others. Killing had to be very clean, one silence shot, avoid bloodbaths as posible, fast and effective.

They were specially careful with their appearance, using from simple wigs or hair extensions, dyes, makeup, pupils to more sophisticated devices capable to generate the illusion of modifying facial features. Their special biological nature made them suitable for the use of substances that were just being tested for the modification of skin tone, hair and eyes. Something like a mimeosome, But in an orthodox way to an organic being. That’s why they were a blank canvas: no freckles,no beauty points, no tattoos, no scars or any singular feature that describes them. These features can be added and removed easy with makeup, so that is what they used to use. Indeed, they had lot of scars only visibles in a low level frequency of light.

The purpose was obviously, to not be detected, not to allow traces for they to gave some type of whereabouts of them, their origin or the people in charge, none possibility for blackmailing and such. Practically their task were to be ghosts, with no trace of existence. Hence the use of a myriad of identities created or taken.

It is worth mentioning the technology and the ways of spy were mainly through the systems hacking and sometimes the penetration (convince to the personnel of the interior to collaborate), reason why to have people trained to act the old school with the ability to perform the previous two were doubly effective.

They were never rewarded with money for their work by the RKR part, who, despite the fact that they obtained great profits, were only concerned with providing them with necessary supplements such as clothing, places to stay, necessary articles and equipment for some missions, necessary makeup among other things for their identity transformation, false documentation, transport, weaponry, etc.

The food ran on their own, so Rox always used to master their skills and get the food for free, used to say for live the money wasn't necessary, just be smart and confidence. Generally, she had no interest in money more than the use of it and its purposes. Despite this, Roxanne had numerous bank accounts around the world with distant names where she accumulated large sums of money that she hacked from other bank accounts, many of them, so it was not a matter of being poor either. Much of the money was given to the RKR to continue with the investment (and that they didn't ask but were quite good with the extra wealth). What was left was used to generate alliances, in the end, the world was moving through money.

Since the beginning of the encroachment with Elma's arrival to Earth, Natasha and Roxanne's parents were involved in the matter getting information from the vessels called mimeosomes up to 2 years after the birth of the second test (Nat). From there it was not much of a problem for Matahari to get some of the remaining information about the purpose of Elma's intentions, unfortunately she died with the secret at being considered as a traitor to the RKR.

Roxanne had a real early participation to detect the nexus that was working for such a program, however just after the execution of their parents she was entrusted to be totally in command of her younger sister (time she took to forge valuable contacts around the world) to lead a more concentrated education that will help them to be more productive and discard less useful subjects such as art, dance, music, etc.

Rox did not consider any kind of matter as useless, yet she didn't have the time to pay so much attention on them. If through the time in any of their missions it was necessary to rely on such knowledge they would have to inquire into them.

This was the case when Natasha had her own separate missions to derive information from Sakuraba Industries through the girls she could contact, interested passionately for trending things like fashion, music and boys. Always researching the target was important to establish a successful contact with the "link-ppl" so she took the identity of a model and some backup dancer from some kind of artist to become their friend.

Obtaining and generating their own mimeosomes had been easy for the RKR, but the process of the consciousness suspension was one of the last things they managed to do because of the setbacks caused by Roxanne, who had been commissioned to explain the origin of the purpose behind the salvation of the human race and steal the configuration codes for the consciousness preservation. Task she did and did not report, once again, causing another execution for betrayal.

Natasha was the one who ended up getting the materials, codes and, failing that, helping to recreate their own Lifehold-system since the world had only managed to manufacture three in total to sustain the life of the whole planet.

------

Throughout the spying process they also exposed all kinds of sub projects that were in an illegal way. Infinity of tests with artificial intelligence, or on trained soldiers, simple passers-by without any important skill, or bodies that remained in coma to carry out a way to over-exploit a mechanical body with more resistance to a certain type of exhaustion.

(and there’s more... with skells and the arcs, connections with some members like Lin’s parents, Irina and Lion, Gwin, Maurice, Vandham, HB, Doug, Hope, Nagi, Bozé, Lao, Yelv (when Natasha is In the art) and some NPCs like Justin along some criminals.... and don’t forget the winks around others corsses... im afraid i can show all that tho... is too much... and going to return to the comic thing SOON ENOUGH)

#i FEEL like writing today!!! º3º)9 #bored. ya know~ ¬u¬#sorry for recycling my own material... wish i could draw like before but... ya know #... im sure i miss something here...#anyways:#shostakova sestry #natasha (cross)#roxanne (cross)#about character info #text post #My art stuff #xcx #Headcanon #hell #backstory cross

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gastricpierrot · 7 years

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Title: When Stars Align

Series: Daiya no Ace

Pairing: KuraRyou

Rating: T

Summary: Nothing good ever comes out of an intimate relationship between a human and a youkai, Ryousuke knows. He’s heard more than enough stories on betrayal, on disasters, on families being shunned. And being an onmyouji, he knows better than anyone else.

And yet, he lets himself fall.

Warning: im late as hell wowzah

Also on AO3

[Ch.1][Ch.2]

[Ch. 3]

The first time Youichi sees Ryousuke performing an exorcism, he can’t help but wonder what sort of experience he’s gone through to reach that level.

Ryousuke being a ridiculously strong onmyouji is a fact Youichi has never doubted since the day he met him. The only thing is that knowing a fact and seeing for himself why it is so are two different matters. It takes conscious effort for Youichi to keep his mouth close as he watches Ryousuke banish the rampaging reiki trying to break through their barriers. Ryousuke has the youkai sealed and writhing within a circle of harsh light, his composure unruffled and his chants fluent despite the weight of those giant fists beating against his spell. The reiki emits so much malice and hatred that even Youichi finds himself on edge, expecting it to overpower Ryousuke’s spell any moment now.

Fortunately, Ryousuke swiftly finishes the job before that can happen.

An eerie silence settles around them the moment the last of the youkai’s screams fade away; it’s not a summer night if there are no cries of cicadas or crickets this distance away from civilization. Youichi resumes breathing only when Ryousuke moves and breaks the stillness in the air as though resuming the flow of time itself. Ryousuke raises his eyebrows slightly when he sees Youichi.

“Oh. You’re here,” he says as he brushes dust off his robes. For a moment, Youichi could only nod wordlessly. Despite how he seemed, exorcising that reiki must’ve taken a monstrous level of focus. Ryousuke would usually never miss a presence so close to himself, much less one as profound as Youichi’s. Youichi senses something else that’s not quite the usual too, but he can’t seem to figure out what that is.

“I was nearby and I felt a strong one facing you,” Youichi says, to which Ryousuke only hums to as a response. Huh. Youichi’s actually expected to receive a sarcastic remark or two about him not asking, so the lacklustre answer felt a tad bit anti-climactic.

It only clicks in when Ryousuke moves to close the distance between them. Youichi spots the barely visible tension in the onmyouji’s shoulders; the way strands of his short hair cling to the skin of his temples and forehead with sweat. He doesn’t know if Ryousuke’s even consciously trying not to show his tiredness at this point, but wow. Either his fatigue has been building up all this while, or that reiki took quite some out of him.

“Ryou-san,” Youichi starts to say before he can think things through. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Why ask?” Ryousuke inquires in return, not halting in his steps even as he walks past Youichi. Youichi thinks he hear him stifling a yawn behind him.

“You seem tired,” he blurts, instinctively tensing up when Ryousuke’s footsteps stop.

“It’s a few hours until sunrise and I’ve just exorcised an oni,” he says and Youichi swears he sounds unnecessarily defensive again. He notices how Ryousuke seems to have a thing against having his wellbeing questioned; it’d happened the last time on his mountain as well. Youichi’s chalked it up to a by-product of his ego all this while, but he has to admit there are times when he wonders if that’s really the case. “Contrary to what you might believe, even I need some sleep, Youichi.”

“I can give you a lift home, if you want?” Youichi offers half-jokingly with a flap of his wings. He winces when he’s reminded of the injury on his left wing where the youkai he faced earlier had clawed at him in the air. It could just be his imagination, but Ryousuke’s smile seems to soften by a tiny fraction.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to owe you any favours,” Ryousuke tells him, resuming his steady trudge towards the direction of his home. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Well if you say so,” Youichi mutters, knowing full well Ryousuke can’t hear him. He stays a few minutes more to survey the area, trying to pinpoint the source of the nagging feeling in his gut. He can’t tell if there are traces of malice left around that’s giving him bad vibes, or if it’s just the general knowledge of knowing something terrible is about to happen that’s throwing him off so badly. Youichi’s been noticing it too; how there seems to be a sharp increase in number of youkai that’s trying to either terrorize the village or steal power from his mountain. It’s been a little more than a month since Youichi took over from Tetsu and it’s not until recently that he finds Ryousuke and himself facing more and more high level youkai that normally should not be in these parts, let alone be as powerful as they are. Something’s obviously stirring, but what? What’s going to happen? What’s already happening?

A movement by his feet catches his eye, and Youichi’s sword is already drawn and stabbing towards the ground before his brain can fully process what it is. He hears a faint hiss of fury as the will o’ wisp fades to nothing; the last remnant of the reiki dissipating before it has the chance to fully regenerate. Youichi sheathes his sword, frowning. He’d enjoy the challenge of facing such strong opponents under normal circumstances, but his sense of responsibilities as a guardian does not allow him to be so carefree. Besides, there’s more to it than just Youichi wanting to do his job well. It’s the same for all subjects of worship—the moment he stepped into Tetsu’s shoes, his own life force has been woven together with that of those whom he’s supposed to watch over. Whether he likes it or not, Youichi depends on the villagers to exist as much as they depend on him to protect them from ravaging monsters. If the village were to be wiped out one day, Youichi too, will cease to exist. It doesn’t seem to be much of a fair exchange, but that’s just how it is.

Youichi keeps mulling over his unease even as he returns to his mountain, so much so that he almost flies right past the unusually large gathering of youkai by the waterfalls. Still rather high-strung with nerves from his earlier thoughts, he makes an abrupt stop, hovering in the air as he contemplates whether to find out whatever’s the matter. They could just be having a get-together like some other youkai communities that are fond of partying and socializing. The ones in his mountain are pretty chummy with one another despite their differences. But having fun would mean there’d be shouting and yelling and fooling around. The only noise Youichi can discern from this group is the hum of fervent murmuring among the youkai.

“What’s going on?” he finally decides to join them and ask. Heads turn towards him at the sound of his voice; Youichi doesn’t like those nervous faces.

“Good work again tonight, Youichi-sama,” the nearest youkai, an okuri inu, dips its head in greeting. Others shortly follow its lead, muttering assent.

“Well?” Youichi prompts when the only response he receives for his inquiry is silence. The gathered youkai glance around anxiously, each trying to have another explain the situation. With the way he’s kept in suspense, Youichi half expects it to turn out to be something absolutely unrelated to his concerns, possibly even something painfully insignificant compared to the scale of Ryousuke’s predicted calamity.

Until someone finally finds the courage to tell him.

And it’s…bad. It’s really, really bad and Youichi’s immediate thought is does Ryou-san know this? But hold on—it’s still just a rumour. However fast word has travelled, it has also travelled far. Youichi knows from experience how easy it is for details to be distorted and lost when passed along verbally from one to another. Words of youkai are especially prone to that; their love for mischief is well known. Youichi can’t fully trust what he’s told until he receives news from more credible sources.

But if it really is true…Youichi dreads just to think about it. He’s only heard of her in stories, in tales documenting her power, her cunningness, her sheer evil. In all of them, she was always only missing. She was never reported to have died, no matter how much time passes.

If the rumours are true, there’s going to be a huge problem.

xXx

Unsurprisingly, it rains on the night the Hyakki Yagyō passes the village.

On the bright side, it helps ward off a bit of the stifling summer heat. On the not-so bright side, the Parade can get obnoxiously rowdy and there’s nothing Ryousuke can do about it.

A good majority of youkai are playful in nature, and would probably never pass up the chance to party. It’s especially so in the case of the local youkai in Ryousuke’s village; he’s been keeping them under such firm restraint all this while, after all. They’d no doubt want to let loose with some of their kin when given the chance. Ryousuke only hopes he won’t have to go around hunting for missing people again the next day. No matter how many years it’s been happening, not everyone seems to understand that even he doesn’t have the power to bring back people who’s been spirited away by the Parade.

Ryousuke flips to the next page of his book, doing his best to filter out the commotion and only focus on the steady patter of rain against the roof. It’s well into the night, but it’s impossible to sleep with all that hollering and yowling and growling and whatever variety of noises youkai apparently make. He glances a little enviously at Haruichi and Eijun curled against each other on a spot to his left, blissfully oblivious to the din thanks to a handy spell and innate ignorance. Haruichi always did find more comfort by being near Ryousuke on nights of the Hyakki Yagyō. He’s probably skilled enough now to ward off relatively strong youkai on his own, but Ryousuke supposes it’s something that’s been ingrained in him when he was young. While Haruichi is born with strong spiritual power, Ryousuke isn’t born a skilled onmyouji.

Ryousuke huffs. He’d love to cast the spell to temporarily turn off his hearing as well, if it isn’t for the fact that he has to be ready in case of any emergencies. Besides, he’s hoping to expect some visitors. No, not the intruding youkai he’s consistently been working to ward off for the past week or so; he’s sure the Nurarihyon has that under control for the night. Ryousuke hasn’t actually met them face to face before, but from what he’s heard, the current Nurarihyon has—at the very least—a sense of moderation. Even though it’s mostly anything goes during the Parade, they’d probably refuse to tolerate anything excessive such as say, a violent attempt to take the local source of spiritual power.

Or, at least Ryousuke really hopes they would.

By the time there’s only a few hours left till sunrise, his ears have somehow eventually tuned themselves out to cope with the noise. Ryousuke snaps back into attention when he abruptly registers the dramatic drop in temperature around him, his gaze immediately drawn to the subtly glowing figure seated across him that’s appeared out of thin air. His visitor nods at him in greeting, lips set in a slight, but amiable smile.

“Good evening.”

Ryousuke allows himself a split-second to calm the spike in his heartbeat. “Well. Fancy meeting you tonight,” he returns with a wry smile of his own, feeling tension creep into his muscles despite the familiar face. He didn’t think he of all youkai would show up. He closes his book, setting it down by his foot. “I didn’t take you for someone who’d want to hang around with the Parade, Yuu-sama.”

“It’s not too difficult to bear in small doses,” Yuu reasons as he clasps his hands loosely together on his lap. “Maybe it’ll be nice if you could let loose a little once in a while like them too, Ryousuke.”

“Drinking to the point of losing consciousness and being a nuisance isn’t exactly my idea of letting loose.” Ryousuke’s fingers twitch when a particularly loud shriek of laughter cuts through the air. He forces back the urge to take a deep breath. “But enough with the small talk. Since you’ve appeared before me, I gather you have something to tell?”

Ryousuke finds himself holding his breath when Yuu’s smile fades, a shadow of graveness taking its place. Faint outline of light around the pseudo-god flickers as he glances at the two sleeping figures nearby.

“Ryousuke,” Yuu begins, looking up to meet his eyes once more. “There’s a kitsune in the Capital, hiding in the Imperial Palace.”

“And…?” Ryousuke prompts when he stops there, hearing the unvoiced continuation to his statement. There’s no way he would come all this way just to tell him about a common fox spirit. He makes conscious effort to uncurl his fingers from the fabric of his pants, bracing himself for the bombshell.

Yuu’s expression remains scarily passive as he says, “It’s her.”

Ryousuke feels his heart take an involuntary dive down his stomach before he even finishes.

He takes a sharp breath to reign his thoughts in before they could scatter. Sure, he’s been prepared to even hear of news regarding visits from a tatarigami, but to think that it’s the nine-tailed fox herself. She’s one of the few youkai who has the ability to trigger a chain of disasters if she wishes and isn’t afraid to use it, which is what makes her as dangerous as any other harbinger of calamity. What’s worse—she doesn’t seem to be vulnerable to death, having a ridiculously long life even in youkai years. Knowing they’re going against a possibly immortal being won’t exactly be the best morale booster.

Plus, her being a fox puts Ryousuke personally at jeopardy, too.

“It may be wise for you to sit this one out if you’re called, Ryousuke,” Yuu advises knowingly. Ryousuke’s better judgement agrees with him. Every single thing about this twist in events screams bad news for him. Getting involved would only spell deep trouble for him. It’d be best for him to keep his distance.

The only thing is that Ryousuke rarely does listen to that one inside voice when it comes to performing his duties. He’s spent so many years training to hell and back, pushed himself way past his limits in order to obtain the level of restraint and control he has now. There are risks, sure, but it’s not like being an onmyouji in general is free of them. Ryousuke’s never let risks hold him back from anything, and he doesn’t plan to start now. If anything, he looks forward to being able to sneer at the small, hesitating part of himself after he proves it wrong once again.

Even when there is a possibility of him dying in the process.

“And what would you like in return for giving me this information?” He chooses to skirt around the topic nonetheless, deciding to address a more immediate concern at the moment. Being a youkai famous for his wisdom, Yuu’s also notoriously known for the high prices he demands in return for his services. Despite them being on fairly good terms after that one time Ryousuke helped him with a favour, it’s difficult to tell what sort of compensation he might ask for this time.

“I told you what I told you because I consider you a friend, and because I know you,” Yuu says, a tiny smile once again tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just some tea would do nicely.”

“Alright.” Ryousuke stands, not at all inclined to question his leniency. He silently thanks him for not giving him one more thing to stress over. “I must tell you beforehand, though—I don’t exactly make the best tea around.”

xXx

True enough, a messenger shikigami is sent to summon Ryousuke to the Capital city two days later.

He’s to leave immediately to aid in performing a legendary holy ritual to smoke out the fox—who, according to Yuu, is currently an attendant in the palace going by the name of Tamamo no Mae. Ryousuke feels his palms dampen as he goes over the letter again to make sure he isn’t missing any details. He wills his stomach to stop doing flips on its own accord. He’ll be fine. He knows he’ll be.

He can’t not be. Not this time, not ever again.

“Aniki, is it true that— “Haruichi trails off the moment he steps in and sees Ryousuke staring disquietedly at the piece of parchment in his hands. Ryousuke takes a breath, spending a few seconds to erase all possible traces of anxiety from his expression before turning to face him. He shouldn’t make Haruichi worry more than he already will.

“Looks like I’ll have to set off to the Capital tomorrow morning,” he says, inwardly relieved that he’s managed to sound as nonchalant as he’s trying to be. Haruichi’s eyes widen, his shoulders tensing.

“So it’s real…?”

“I’m guessing you’ve been seeing some things yourself?” Haruichi couldn’t have heard his conversation with Yuu the other night; Yuu’s voice could only be heard by the people he wants to be heard by. “But yes—there seems to be a fox hiding in the Imperial Palace and they’re trying to flush it out.”

“Wouldn’t it be risky for you to go?” There’s a chance that it might act up and—“

He’s interrupted by a firm shake of Ryousuke’s head, everything else left unsaid spoken through his worried gaze alone. “It’s risky even if I don’t go, Haruichi,” Ryousuke reasons, idly folding the letter in halves until its limit. He glances at the sliding door across where they stood. “And there’s no use hiding, Eijun. I know you’re there.”

A few seconds pass before the door moves to leave a gap just enough for Eijun to peek in cautiously.

“I wish to apologize for my insolence but I swear I was only passing by when curiosity overwhelmed me and I promise you I only heard the last parts about— “Ryousuke tells him to go in before he launches himself into a full-length speech that could’ve lasted anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. It’s difficult to tell when it comes to Eijun. Fortunately for him, Ryousuke has got worse things to worry over than being eavesdropped by him.

“Onii-san’s going to the Capital again?” Eijun asks once he’s safely half-hidden behind Haruichi. When Ryousuke nods affirmative, he squares his shoulders, and adds with a thump of his fist against his chest, “In that case, leave it to me to take care of Harucchi!”

“Just try not to cause too much trouble for him, alright?” Ryousuke says, to which Eijun responds enthusiastically without getting the implication. Sadly, Haruichi’s way sharper than that, and easily sees through his subtle attempt to divert the topic of conversation.

“Aniki,” he persists, “you should really think it over.”

“There’s nothing left to think over at this point,” Ryousuke quips, clasping his hands behind his back and moving to leave. Just as Haruichi opens his mouth to argue further, he adds, “I’ll have to start preparing for tomorrow now, so I’ll be leaving for a bit.”

“Aniki— “

He slides the door shut behind him; a little harsh, but necessary, he supposes. He doesn’t need to waver more than he already has. Ryousuke’s done being wary of the suppressed power within himself years ago; he’s not going to let it bother him now.

He refuses to let it bother him now.

xXx

Of all things, Youichi would never have expected to be greeted by the Nurarihyon himself during the night of the Parade.

He’s not gonna lie; he’s pretty relieved he hadn’t been drunk out of his mind when the youkai leader approached him to exchange a few words of greeting. Don’t get him wrong, Youichi loves sake just as much as any other tengu and there’d even been times when he discovered he’d passed out for three whole days after some particularly…wild nights. It’s just that it’s pretty hard to be drinking without a care in the world after being told the Nine-tailed Fox herself is in the country again.

And just when Youichi’s beginning to successfully convince himself to stop being a wuss and calm the heck down because those are still rumours and surely it’s not as bad as his childhood fear is influencing him to think it is, Ryousuke appears at his shrine smack in the middle of the afternoon—which he never does. As if that doesn’t set off enough alarm bells and weird Youichi out enough as it does, Ryousuke’s apparently there to pray.

Youichi wonders if it’ll start snowing tomorrow.

“Is there a problem?” Ryousuke asks with a raised eyebrow, no doubt seeing the strange looks Youichi’s giving him. Youichi could only gesture vaguely as his immediate response.

“I don’t know—I just didn’t think you were the type— “to what? Pray? Even though he’s an onmyouji and a good part of his job requires him to do nothing but chant sutras for hours on end? Youichi abruptly realizes how ridiculous he’s about to sound. In his defence, to him Ryousuke has always been the sort who would rather rely on his own abilities than to seek help from anyone in general, let alone from deities. Even though he has agreed to let him join him in kicking some youkai butt lately, Youichi knows it’s only because of his physical limitations. Ryousuke’s agreed to let him help because he’s aware he could only be at so many places at once. But prayers—that involves more of a mental boost, if Youichi could word it any better. Humans know their prayers aren’t always necessarily heard nor granted, yet they keep doing it anyway because it helps give them a peace of heart, a bit of hope to hold on to. A bit of extra mental strength.

Needless to say, Youichi expected Ryousuke to have the mental strength with a solidness of a block of steel, hence his surprise.

“Sorry,” Youichi finds himself apologizing in the end, scratching the back of his head almost sheepishly. It’s probably best for him not to judge people’s reasons, even if it’s Ryousuke.

“You’re a strange one,” Ryousuke comments, his ever-present smile difficult to read as usual. He moves to sit under the shade of Youichi’s shrine, reaching into his robe before producing his bamboo flute. He holds the instrument up towards Youichi. “Would you accept a song as an offering?”

“Depends on how well you play it, I guess.” Youichi couldn’t help being snarky despite having heard Ryousuke’s playing enough to guess that even his worst would likely sound just fine. Ryousuke doesn’t seem at all affected by his pathetic attempt to be mischievous, though. Saying nothing more, he lifts his fue to his lips, blows a few experimental notes, and plays.

Ryousuke’s songs always have a haunting quality to it; the slow, long notes echoing deep into the mountain forests like the calls of mythical animals or songs of the dead. They’re beautiful, sure, but Youichi sometimes finds goosebumps rising across his skin when listening to them as well. He’s always got this irrational concern that something strange might be summoned by Ryousuke’s tune any moment (he’s a youkai himself, he knows and it’s embarrassing enough as it is). While the other mountain youkai seem to enjoy Ryousuke’s songs without much question, Youichi can’t help wondering if they’re just Ryousuke’s own preferences to learn or if the humans of this era simply have that bad taste in composing music.

All trivial things aside, Youichi also wonders what’s the reason for Ryousuke’s visit. With his shrine being as deep into the mountain as it is, only a few people actually go the lengths for routine prayers. Not even Ryousuke goes there often; he usually just sends someone to fetch Youichi after his performances if he ever needs to talk to him. It’s kind of obvious at this point that Ryousuke’s got something coming, and Youichi starts when he’s hit by an abrupt realization. No way. Are those rumours actually true?

“It’d be rude to be so obvious when ignoring someone else’s prayers, you know,” Ryousuke chides the moment he finishes playing. Youichi could only stare at him, almost too afraid to ask the question he wants to ask because what happens if it’s true? What’s going to happen if it’s true?

“Ryou-san, is— “

He doesn’t get to finish, the words halting in his throat when Ryousuke moves to kneel before his altar and claps twice before pressing his hands together. Youichi bites his lip, fighting down his own agitation. As much as he wants answers, it’s his job first and foremost to listen when he’s being prayed to. His questions could wait, maybe. Or perhaps Ryousuke’s obviously refusing to let him ask because he expects he’d be able to glean for clues on his own.

The system works like this: deities can hear the prayers of humans as long as the humans themselves are sincere. Famous deities usually have the power to choose who and what to hear, but those in charge of smaller areas like Youichi usually have no choice. That’s not the problem, in any case. The problem is that if Ryousuke himself needs a heartfelt prayer to Youichi, then there’s no doubt that there’s something huge about to happen.

“Your feet smells.” Ryousuke’s voice rings clear in his mind the moment he focuses. Youichi’s quick to make a sound of protest, receiving a playful smirk in response.

He can’t help noticing how quickly it fades.

“Please keep my brother safe while I’m gone.” Ryousuke’s tone takes an abrupt, grave turn the moment his mirth fades. “Please watch over the village as well; make sure there’s still a village for me to come back to when it’s all over.”

“Where are you going?”

It’s only when Ryousuke glances up at him with a strange look that Youichi realizes he hadn’t said that aloud. One of the abilities of a tengu include appearing in people’s dreams and speaking directly to them in their minds. Youichi admits he’s had a few chats with Haruichi that way, but he’s never bothered (and wanted) to try with Ryousuke. This form of telepathy involves creating temporary links between himself and the recipient, and Youichi doesn’t even need to try to know Ryosuke’s got a solid wall as his mental defences. He has to if he wants to avoid the chances of him being possessed himself. There’s no doubt plenty of spirits who’d want to get their hands on that sort of spiritual power over the years.

And now Youichi has practically invaded Ryousuke’s mind by accident while he still has his guard down during his prayer—probably not the most polite thing he could’ve done. With how uptight Ryousuke seems to be when it comes to respect and all that, Youichi tenses almost immediately, bracing himself to have his ass whooped any moment now. He’s scrambling trying to form the best apology that doesn’t involve him begging for forgiveness in a voice a pitch or two higher than usual when Ryousuke answers.

“Haven’t you heard? The Nine-tailed Fox is in the Capital.”

It takes Youichi half a second to register he’s heard him with his ears this time. Ryousuke’s tone retains its unreadable nonchalance, but Youichi has glimpsed enough during that quick moment of linkage to know better. Even the great onmyouji Kominato Ryousuke could be afraid of something. And with what the current ‘something’ he’s about to face is, Youichi doesn’t blame him. Even the gods have been struggling to stop her all this while; what chances would humans have?

“And you’re going there to face her?” It comes out sounding more incredulous, more involved than Youichi thinks should be necessary. They’re partners, their jobs complement each other’s—but they’re not exactly…friends. Or at least Youichi has never gotten the impression. His idea of friends sort of includes less instinctive flinching and a whole less verbal harassment.

“Technically, yes, but I won’t be doing it alone,” Ryousuke replies, and Youichi catches himself nearly sighing in relief. Still, Ryousuke tilts his head slightly, smiling in scarcely concealed amusement as though noticing his efforts. “Are you worried, Youichi?”

Youichi thanks whatever gods who are listening for his dark complexion because he feels his cheeks warming in betrayal. Then again, he’s never been much of a great liar and Ryousuke’s definitely shrewd enough to see a lie a mile away—Youichi resigns to the fact that he’ll probably only make things more embarrassing for himself for trying so unnecessarily hard.

“With that kind of danger so close by? You bet.” It’s surprisingly easy to admit. Youichi averts his gaze, expecting to bear the brunt of Ryousuke’s usual teasing.

“I won’t let her come this far even if all things fail.”

Youichi focuses on him once more, slightly taken aback by the unexpected declaration. Ryousuke moves to leave without another word, turning his back so Youichi isn’t able to see the expression he’s wearing.

…Right. If there’s someone who loathes openly showing his own weakness more than anyone else, it’s Ryousuke. With all that’s happened in the past few minutes alone, Youichi guesses he’s probably at his limit before his ego takes permanent damage. He’d cackle at the revelation under normal circumstances, but not now. Not with how it’s just dawned him anew how recklessly brave Ryousuke could be.

“Ryou-san.”

At the call of his name, Ryousuke pauses in his steps. Youichi waits until he glances a little over his shoulder, his profile obscured by his pink hair. He then takes a breath.

“Be careful.”

Youichi still isn’t quite sure until this time and day, but he thinks he hears a barely audible “thank you” before Ryousuke leaves.

*more on okuri inu,nurarihyon, and the Hyakki Yagyō

#kuraryou #kominato ryousuke #kuramochi youichi #diamond no ace #daiya no ace #//TRIPS IN 4720384 YEARS LATE WITH MY LIFE IN TATTERS HEY GUYS HOWS IT GOING #ive been having a massive writer's block since forever ugh i hope this is okay _(:D #fanfiction

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