#mainly because it’s been two years since my very first suicide attempt and it just weighs down on me sometimes

[stardust-sunset]

legitimate question

am i good enough?

[yukinokuro17]

Two original characters from my role of Hogwarts Mystery PART 2

OPEN COMISSIONS

Ethan Ophier Carter and Ruby Sellberg

Drawings of my Hogwarts Legacy characters:

Merctor (Merula x Hector)

Merctor Gender!Merula

OC from my role of Hogwarts Mytery PART 1 

OC from my role of Hogwarts Mytery PART 2

OC from my role of Hogwarts Mytery PART 3

Merctor year 8 and more.

(Ethan and “Rudy” one or two years ago before present)

Ethan Ophier Carter:

-Original name: Ethan Ophier Carter.

-Actual name (adoptive): Ethan Ophier Andrews.

-Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw.

-Data: He is cheerful, practical, intelligent, tender, sensitive and very affectionate. He likes to draw but because of his mood he hardly does it, he also likes to talk about all kinds of topics, especially the dark arts. He also has a guilty taste for romantic and tragic poetry. Parents: Qrathar and Dapianne Carter.

-Appearance: Straight light brown almost blond hair, hazel-green eyes, Caucasian skin, freckles on the nose and a slim body.

-Favorite class: History of magic, potions and defense against the dark arts.

-Summary of his story: He is a third year boy (13 years old) with serious emotional problems along with a huge depression and trauma to his back. He had a suicide attempt but was rescued by Hector, who later becomes his mentor, guide and almost older brother. For several years now he has been suffering physical and psychological abuse from his father, who also put a lot of pressure on him despite his young age. His mother was killed by his father during a heated argument and Ethan not only saw it, he lived it too. That is why his father had him threatened with death if he ever told anyone. At Hogwarts the situation is not the best either, since he suffered bullying from people in his class and also from people older than him, mainly due to his introversion caused by the depression he was dragging from home. The rest of the classmates contributed to the bullying by not intervening and simply bypassing him. Some others out of fear, as is the case of Ruby, who tried to include him so they would stop bothering him, but because of his low self-esteem, everyone ended up separating. The lack of friends and affection led him to be alone and misunderstood, fostering the thought of being a "weak" imposed by his abusive father. After being saved by Héctor, he began to be under observation and to take therapy, greatly improving his psychological condition. He also began to love himself and make friends like Ruby, with whom he had been in love since the first year. His father ends up in prison for murder plus using the Killing Curse and he is adopted by a lovely family in Hogsmeade.

Ruby Sellberg:

-Hogwarts House: Slytherin.

-Data: She is ambitious, funny, reserved, determined, and resilient like her father, a Slytherin of paternal heritage. She is a lover of adventure books. About Ruby's parents: Rupert is a highly regarded peddler among dark wizards. Previously he was in the old town where Hector lived with his parents and other dark wizards to whom he offered his services, but he ended up fleeing from there along with his wife and his newborn daughter. He is known above all for his magical toys and also for his huge store where you can find everything you want and Winona, a great sorceress and fortune teller.

-Appearance: Tall and slim, curly shoulder-length ash blonde hair, intense green eyes, Caucasian skin and freckles.

-Favorite class: Spells.

-Summary of his story: She is also a third-year trans girl (13 years old), Ethan's classmate who struggles to be recognized as just another girl. She has great difficulties consolidating her identity and her way of being because of the canons of what is supposedly feminine, luckily with the passage of time she stops making an effort and pretending to be as "feminine" as possible, beginning to accept herself as she is, because she is already a girl whether others like her or not. She is the only child of Rupert and Winona Sellberg who from the beginning accepted her true identity and supported her by changing her name from "Rudy" to "Ruby". Despite her parents' support and love, they didn't let her start her transition until she was 18, much to her chagrin. This caused him more problems throughout his adolescence with her gender dysphoria, but by becoming close to Ethan, he made her see that to many people she is beautiful, improving her confidence, despite continuing to cope with this. serious problem.

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/�� minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[melohax]

I’ve seen some people who finished Omori talking about how they don’t understand the game’s plot, what happens in the good ending or why the protagonist even decided to change his ways. So then, here’s my thoughts on Omori’s story.

Warning: SPOILERS AHOY. Only read this if you’ve already finished the game and seen the good or true ending. Or if you don’t plan on playing the game at all but still want to know the whole story.

I’ve seen some people around the internet talk about how Sunny’s character isn’t clear to them or how they feel Sunny doesn’t deserve a good ending. Here’s some thoughts I have on why I think Sunny’s growth was well depicted.

There’s two main routes you can go through in the game: the “Reality” route and the “Hikikomori” route.

In the “Hikikomori” route, Sunny stays in Headspace forever and we get to learn many additional details about him. Sunny’s parents are implied to have known what Sunny did to Mari all along. It’s also implied that Sunny’s mother covered the whole thing up and chose to present it as a suicide as well cus, in her own words, she can’t bear the thought of losing both of her kids.

Sunny’s mother insinuates her son isn’t a “good boy” even though she begs him to be good but she still sees him as her little boy (as seen by the overly-sweet and positive messages she leaves around the house and her voice mails) and needs him alive so she can survive her own grief. Sunny’s father is shown cutting down the hanging tree and telling Sunny he isn’t his son, presumably disowning Sunny. The father keeps being absent forever afterwards.

Fast forward to the present and the “Reality” route, Sunny’s moving in 3 days. He knows his time is up in the real world and the biggest catalyst for his personal growth is that he’s finally seeing his old friends in the REAL world after 4 years of only seeing their loving, idealized child version in dreams. For the first time, he gets to witness the collateral consequences of what he did to Mari in his now teenaged friends: Aubrey spirals into delinquency after feeling like she was thrown aside by everyone she loved. Hero is guilt ridden, can’t even go near Mari’s grave and gives up on his dreams of being a chef. Kel wants to make things better but feels powerless, useless and like a screwup. Basil lives in a miserable state of almost constant fear and psychosis.

Sunny finally gets to see the huge toll his lie took on his friends’ entire lives as they keep blaming themselves for not knowing about Mari’s supposed suicidal ideations. He’s finally forced to face reality and he still tries to hide in dreamworld but he can’t. The inhabitants of Headspace are all people or fictional characters he knows or likes in real life (that he changed in his dreams, like how Kim’s brother is a sweet gentle giant and Sweetheart looks just like the candy shop owner at the supermarket) and their quests end up leading him to events where he’s reminded over and over again his dreams will end soon (the end of the underwater highway, the tree near the whale, the shadows of Mari and Basil) and that he needs to delve into Blackspace.

This shows how his own subconscious mind knows well what needs to be done; he’s putting the mental and emotional effort of making himself face what he’s done, shown through the contrast between the whimsical nature of Headspace and the dark surrealism of Blackspace.

As this happens in Sunny’s psyche, in the real world he can try to “atone” a bit by doing good things for his little community like completing requests people around him have. He still has a lot of trouble being near Basil in the real world but considering his entire subconscious mainly revolves around finding and rescuing Basil, he wants and needs to face Basil sincerely before he runs out of time.

We’re shown through memories that Sunny’s personality was always quiet, wary, a bit distant and very bad at dealing with pressure. Some people even describe him as cowardly or mediocre but he was just a small kid who’s entire world ended when he was 12. Since then, he never left his house, spending most of his days asleep rather than awake. It’s no wonder his personality isn’t as developed as his friends. His friends, although they were also in immense pain, at least still continued to live beyond Mari’s death. Sunny didn’t. He only lived through sleep.

Subconsciously, it’s shown Sunny both loves and hates Basil. This is seen in Blackspace with the dialogue he has with the “strangers” walking in the void. They talk about how Sunny (as Omori) does horrible things to Basil in the darkness of Blackspace because he struggles with facing the truth of his own actions. It’s also revealed through datamine of Blackspace’s metaphorical photo album that Basil, in his attempts to save Sunny from the judgement of others and to get him to come out of catatonia, was the one who come up with the plan to hang Mari.

Sunny describes Mari as looking as if calmly asleep when he drags her up the stairs. Her eyes remained peacefully closed until Sunny and Basil hung her. Then, Sunny turned back to look at Mari’s corpse, her previously closed eyes were wide open. She might have even been still alive, might have opened her eyes during or after the noose was tied to her neck. Or the belief he saw her eyes open could have been a manifestation of Sunny’s guilt, instead.

Either way, the horrifying possibilities surrounding Mari’s death lead to Sunny handling his emotional pain by subconsciously taking it out on Basil. It’s why Basil in Blackspace is shown constantly suffering and dying in many different ways. It’s the only way Sunny has been able to deal with himself; by forcing Basil into the darkest corners of his mind, his perfect colorful dreamworld can’t be ruined by the ugly reality Basil’s mere presence represents. It’s less painful to try to forget Basil and to forever blame him for both of their sins.

Still, even with all these conflicted feelings, Sunny’s tried to come to terms with love he still feels for Basil many times before. The shadows point out how this isn’t the first time he’s tried to save the Flower Boy; how all the previous times before ended in Sunny failing to find redemption and so his mind turns back to torturing the Basil of his dreams instead.

However, one of the Blackspace shadows also mentions a very important detail that changes almost everything this time around: his time is almost up in the real world. Whether this means he’ll commit suicide or move away, it’s almost time for him to leave the friends he’s always loved so much behind.

Sunny is forced to do a lot of internal work and self-reflection in what little time he has left. It’s shown through his dream actions, the surreal imagery surrounding him and the characters with all the sub plots his subconscious makes up.

In the route to the good ending, he traverses Blackspace and manages to listen to every harsh truth Basil’s shadow has to tell him. His attempts to save Basil mean he’s fighting his own mind, forcing himself to accept the truth.

To achieve redemption for his greatest mistake, Sunny needs to start with accepting Basil entirely; he has to stop making Basil take the brunt of their combined regrets. It means being willing to finally face the REAL Basil instead of permanently burying him in the most painful place within Sunny’s mind.

So basically, it’s obvious to me that Sunny is forced out of his “comfortable” hikikomori misery the moment he opens the door to meet the REAL Kel.

Sunny and Basil have a confrontation in the real world. When Sunny entera Basil’s room, we see poor Basil suicidal and at his limit. He’s clearly in the throes of a psychotic episode and at the mercy of hallucinations and delusions he can’t escape from (“There’s no way out of this is there, Sunny?”). Basil attacks you in an attempt to save you by killing the “thing behind you” but as we know, there isn’t actually something behind you.

There was never any monster to take the blame for Basil’s regrets, nor yours. It’s always been just you.

Meanwhile, Sunny is trying his best not to completely lose his shit so he can save Basil and stop him from potentially killing the both of them. Sunny likely loses an eye in the fight, shown by the blood coming from your socket and the bandage over it in the hospital.

Incidentally, the eye you lose is on the same side as the eye that can be seen peeking through the hair of Mari’s face as she’s hanging from the tree.

In the good ending, the song at the end talks about how even after confessing the truth, Sunny is alone once again, so it’s not actually clear if Aubrey, Kel and Hero actually forgave him. I feel like this is deliberately left up to interpretation by the writers. The lyrics then continue on to say Sunny still finds it hard to wake up, still finds himself plagued some days with lingering regret, but that he still tries to take it all one step at a time to carry on living.

With the song’s lyrics in mind, the end scene that shows Basil and Sunny smiling at each other while Mari’s shadow leaves them doesn’t mean they’re completely fine all of a sudden. Whether their friends forgave them or not, they at least finally have the relief of honesty. The burden of their unbearable shared secret is now off their shoulders. It’s finally out in the open, which means they both can now start healing and working to find the redemption Sunny was looking for in Blackspace. It also means they can go back to loving each other again without the crushing pain they both felt in each other’s presence.

I agree that Aubrey and the gang get pretty left out in the good ending, though. I wish there was more of them and their reactions to the truth BUT I think it’s sadly a deliberate choice by the writers to leave their reaction up to the player’s interpretation. This can feel extremely unfulfilling to many people (me included, I hate when authors do that tbh) but also to many others that’s a good thing cus they get to apply their own personal meaning and feelings.

I personally feel like the friends forgiving Sunny and Basil right off the bat would be incredibly unrealistic. I think they would need a lot of time (especially Aubrey) for them to forgive the lie that wrecked their lives for years. Forgiveness isn’t impossible but it would probably come in the form of a slow, difficult, heartbreaking process. Bittersweet.

Redemption isn’t just about forgiveness, anyway.

Even if a person is never forgiven by the people they’ve hurt, they can still find redemption for their actions through doing good for the people around them and the world at large. An example of this is shown through what Sunny can do on his last days in his neighborhood. The gratitude and additional flowers he receives in the hospital from each person he’s helped are proof he can still do good for others even after something as horrible and unforgivable as accidental murder. In a way, it’s proof that his life is still worth living.

But ultimately that’s just my own interpretation of the ending and I understand other people would interpret it all differently. Some see forgiveness as a given in the story while there’s also others who think Sunny doesn’t deserve forgiveness or those who think Sunny is a sociopath/psychopath or that Basil is the true villain of the game. I think this is why the ending was left so open, to favor all the different interpretations people have of it.

ETA: Here’s a different take on Sunny’s parents. This post argues that, despite the initial implications, they actually didn’t know about the attempted coverup. It’s a really good writeup explaining the whys and hows and has me reconsidering that part of the story!

https://www.reddit.com/r/OMORI/comments/kr9nvx/major_spoilers_regarding_sunny_his_parents_and/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

[beenovel]

So I have been trying to decide whether or not to share any of this on tumblr, but I decided that I would while I was on my trip.

It was really hard for me to write this, I cried several times while doing so. It's very hard for me to be open and honest about how I'm feeling, so this is kind of a big step for me.

The really simple version is that I've been diagnosed with anxiety and depression and will be starting new medication tomorrow. If I go off the radar for a while it's likely because I'm trying to focus more on the external world and less on screens.

There's a more detailed explanation under the cut.

TW: anxiety, depression, thoughts about death, suicidal thoughts/attempts (attempted cutting and trying to jump out of a car, just mentioned as a past difficulty, not a current thing) under the cut

For about a year now I've been struggling with anxiety and depression. Normally this kind of stuff comes and goes for me (and it's normally mainly centered around my period) but for a year now there's been no break, just constant worst-case-scenario thinking mixed with "no one would miss me" and "being dead would be so much easier" and "I just screw everything up, I'm useless" type thinking. I mean I can't even mess up a little, this morning I was making a cream cheese filling for our crepes and I made it too liquidy and my first thought was "Oh god, I'm so useless".

I've struggled with suicidal tendencies for a long time since I was 6 or 7.

When I was 8 or 9 I would try to throw myself out of the car on the highway or I would hold a knife and really consider cutting myself (I never actually did, I got help before it got to that).

I went to therapy and was doing better for while, but it got bad again in middle school. My mom had to hide all the pill bottles.

I was doing better again until last summer. I didn't do anything, but I got scared of myself enough that I had my mom hide the knives for a month or two.

I thought I was better, but I think it was mostly just that I got used to those kinds of thoughts. My brain would tell me "it would be easier to die" and I'd go "yeah, probably" then go back to my knitting.

I've always had anxiety and it's hardly ever even lessened, whereas the depression has. I don't think I even know what it's like to not be anxious about something.

Currently, I'm not having any suicidal thoughts, just thoughts about death (if you need me to explain the difference just ask, I am more than willing to do that).

I had a doctor's appointment about two weeks ago and was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression. I start my medication tomorrow.

I'm a little nervous about the medication (it's Zoloft and it has a couple scary side effects), but I'm really also hoping it helps. However almost everyone I've spoken to in the past has said you hardly ever find the correct medication and/or dosage the first time around, so I'm trying not to get my hopes up.

My doctor wants me to go to a therapist, but I've been on waiting lists for several therapists for about 3 or 4 years now and I'm no closer. We're praying that I'll get an appointment but it's looking super unlikely at this point. Part of the reason it's so hard to find a therapist is we're trying to find someone that at least has a history with autism and that is really hard in Oklahoma (really anywhere in the middle and south of the country tbh).

Just wanted to keep you guys updated. I have no idea how active I'll be on this blog because I'm trying to focus more of my energy on the external world. The computer/music has become a way for me to disassociate and distance myself from the pain, and that's not healthy.

If you made it this far, thanks for listening, and know that I love you <3

[ectonurites]

heyyy can you talk about kons dating history or atleast with older women? ive seen a few posts but im not sure but thats so ://///

Ahhh yes. Kon’s dating history, I've finally now finished reading all his solo comics (and had already gone through his team books a while back) so it’s a perfect time to delve into this. I’m kinda broadening it to his love interests in general, as not all of them put an official ‘dating’ label on things, but are still worth bringing up. This is kinda long so sorry in advance about that, but I tried to be as brief as possible.

TW for pedophilia (in these specific cases discussing a 23 year old dating a 16 year old, and another woman without a specifically given age [but clearly an adult] with the same 16 year old) obviously i’m not talking about it positively here but it’s unfortunately necessary to discuss with this topic.

I consider Kon as having five primary love interests in the pre-reboot comics world, which is where most of his dating happened. The ‘criteria’ I guess i’m using to separate them from the others i’ll talk about after is a combination of ‘they interacted for a long time’ and/or ‘the relationship had a big impact on his story/him as a person’. 

I’m also mainly sticking in pre-New 52 world for this because aside from the 'fake married to Lophi to protect her and her kid on Gemworld' thing in Young Justice 2019, he hasn't done much with relationships since getting officially reintroduced. Then the New 52 version of Kon was a very separate person and even so he was mainly just (sorta) involved with Cassie.

ANYWAYS the main five are:

Tana Moon - Tana was a 23 year old (as stated in Superboy #32) reporter Kon initially met during Reign of the Supermen, the story he debuted in (meaning she was one of the first people he met), who also happened to move back to Hawaii around the time he ended up there on his press tour. The two of them had an on and off relationship from basically the start of the comic until she broke up with him in Superboy #46. She briefly came back into his life in Superboy #72 after having been kidnapped by The Agenda, before being killed by Amanda Spence in Superboy #74. Kon and several others refer to her as his ‘first love’ especially after her death, which weighed very heavily on him.

Knockout/Kay - A woman we find out was originally one of the Female Furies, who works as a stripper at the 'Boom Boom Room’ in Hawaii while trying to keep a low-profile after leaving Apokolips. We don't get an exact age for her but she's very much so implied to be an adult. She hits on Kon from the moment she meets him (she also quite literally uses the term ‘jailbait’ to describe him in her first appearance in Superboy #1) and kisses him several times, insisting on working with him and training him and eventually beginning a more formal relationship with him. She kills someone and he blindly defends her thinking she couldn’t have done it, and she tries to coerce him into killing someone by promising herself to him (before killing the guy herself when Kon wouldn’t do it). The arc mainly focused on their relationship is from Superboy #22-30, but she is a presence in the comic from the start. She is arrested for the murders she committed at the end of the arc, and doesn't interact with Kon much again after as she is in a high security prison, but she is referenced multiple times.

Roxy Leech - Roxy is the daughter of Rex Leech, Kon's agent. From the moment she meets Kon, also during Reign of the Supermen like Tana, she's got a thing for him. Her age is left a bit more unclear, as some bits of dialogue indicate she is actually close to Kon's age but other things like how she applies to the police academy, something you need to be like 20 to do, indicate she's a bit older. Regardless, she’s definitely younger than Tana as she comments on her age at least once. She actively dislikes both Tana and Knockout for being interested in Kon, and confesses her feelings to him during a 'the whole world might end tonight' situation (in Superboy #33). The two of them didn't really date, but there is a period of time where Kon feels torn between Tana and Roxy. Not too long after that she ends up volunteering herself to be used in a procedure to stabilize Kon's dna after it had been torn apart by The Agenda when they cloned him, as the method to save him required someone close in age to him be used as a genetic template. From that point on they considered each other more like siblings, ending the romantic aspect of their relationship (in Superboy #41)

Serling Roquette - Serling is a 16 year old (as first stated in Superboy #57) science prodigy who works in the genetics department of Cadmus, and is the person who manages to cure Kon's condition where he'd been stuck at age 16 (a side effect from the procedure with Roxy). Initially she had a crush on Guardian, but over time grew to like Kon, she was one of the first people at Cadmus he personally tells his name ‘Kon-El’ to. They only kinda start to get together before Tana comes back and then is killed. After a situation where Roxy came back and needed help, when he and Serling try to maybe pick things up again, Kon realizes Tana’s death is still too fresh for him to get involved in anything too serious with her and he breaks it off, leaving them very tense with one another. (Superboy #82) 

Wonder Girl/Cassie Sandsmark - Cassie had an interest in Kon before she even met him, more of a celebrity crush at first than anything else. They share their first kiss in Wonder Woman #153 after she had tried to change her look to impress him and he reassured her that she was already beautiful the way she is. Cassie was present for Tana's death in Superboy #74, and after that Kon is overly protective of her in a noticeable way that actively annoyed her (She points out to him that she can take care of herself a few times, like in Young Justice #29) but eventually at the end of Young Justice (in #55) he confesses feelings for her, and they share another kiss. Graduation Day bringing about the end of Young Justice as a team kinda throws a wrench in things, but early in Teen Titans Vol. 3 they begin to date more formally, and are getting pretty serious together (cough cough they uhh consummate their relationship in the Kent farm's barn in TT Annual #1) right before Kon is killed during Infinite Crisis. She takes his death very badly and joins a cult to try to bring him back, has her whole thing with Tim (who is coping equally poorly with the death... almost 100 cloning attempts babey), and befriends Kara as a surrogate Teen Kryptonian™, but eventually learns to accept what happened and move on. Then he comes back, and everything's a lot to process all over again. She had become the team leader and things were just different than they used to be. They tried to resume their relationship but eventually Kon decided to end it (Teen Titans Vol. 3 #91), because they both wanted different things at that point in their lives, but they remained friends and teammates.

So when people are talking about the ‘older women’ thing, it should be pretty clear from that list they’re talking about Tana and Knockout. Both were adult women dating a 16 year old boy, and neither situation did enough to handle it in a way that addressed it as the problem it was. Knockout’s situation did end up being seen as a bad thing by the end because of the murder parts at the very least, but the age difference didn’t come up nearly as much. With Tana a few people (Roxy, some of Tana’s coworkers, even Tana herself) did bring up the age difference as a potential problem, but they continued to stay together for a pretty long time regardless. The kicker is that she ultimately breaks up with him for being ‘immature’ after he gets stuck at age 16, when it’s like... he’s 16. You’re 23. No kidding you think he’s immature? It was just a whole mess and makes reading a lot of his solo incredibly uncomfortable.

Additionally he has a few other shorter-lived relationships/potential love interests. I’m categorizing them separately because they weren’t focused on in the same ways/for as much time as the girls I listed above:

Trixie (Superboy #94-100) - When Kon gets his own apartment in Suicide Slum, he repeatedly runs into Trixie and the rest of the Slaughterhouse Six, but Superboy inspires her to try to turn her life around. They didn’t formally date but that was definitely the direction things were starting to head towards before his apartment building blew up and he realized he needed to get away from the city where his presence was painting a target on innocent people, and so they decided to just be friends. (This was also when his solo ended, so possibly if the book hadn’t been ending they may have continued longer)

Batgirl/Cassandra Cain (Superboy #85, Batgirl #39-41) - They first met when Kon had been bugging Tim in Gotham, and had a little adventure together that resulted in Batman being PISSED because he didn’t want Cass interacting with Metas (especially not teenage boy ones that’ll flirt with her) and Kon volunteered to share her punishment so she didn’t have to do it alone. They later meet again shortly after Kon moved in with the Kents while on a cruise (and he’s her first kiss!) and afterwards she goes to Smallville to meet him. She’s actually like the first person outside the Kents we’re shown to know his new civilian name is ‘Conner Kent’. After their little attempt at a date they decide to just stay friends.

Lori Luthor (Various appearances with Kon in Adventure Comics (2009) & Superboy Vol. 5) - When Kon and Lori initially meet there’s definitely some interest and she kisses him, but it happens while he’s still dating Cassie so he makes it clear he’s unavailable. Afterwards he learns who she actually is and realizes ‘oh she’s sorta kinda my cousin on the Luthor side’ so he stops really being interested. She’s still interested because she feels like the cloning doesn’t make them really related, and they talk about it in Superboy Vol. 5 #4 after he and Cassie had broken up, but he still feels too raw from Cassie and too weirded out by the situation to have it go anywhere. Kon helps try to get Lex to cure Lori’s mom (Lex’s sister Lena), and eventually when Lex is an ass in the end he finds another way (Some Wayne money through Tim) to try to help her. Lori figures out Conner is Superboy and along with Simon and Sujan helps him to save Smallville from the Hollow Men.

Ravager/Rose Wilson (Teen Titans Vol. 3 #95-100, kinda some parts of Superboy Vol. 6 if ya squint) - This is another of those ‘they didn’t actually date but there was interest’ situations, in the very end of Teen Titans Vol. 3. A fake version of Rose had kissed Kon which was kinda the catalyst for it, where after that moment he became a bit more protective of her once the real her returned. They had a moment where Kon tried to trust her with something (Kryptonite to take him down if the situation arose) but she saw it more as him thinking she was the one ruthless enough to do it, rather than as a token of trust, and left upset. The reboot happened before this really went anywhere/got resolved though, but interestingly enough she became a bit of a support character in the New 52 version of Kon’s life, likely because of this connection they tried to do before the reboot. They never really dated there either, he just referred to her as cute a few times. New 52 Kon is a very separate person anyways, but it’s worth mentioning.

I might be forgetting a few other minor ones along the way (especially if there’s things that weren’t in his main books), and Kon (especially in the 90′s) was the kind of guy to flirt with pretty much every girl he saw, so bear that in mind. But yeah, I hope this helps! 

[shotos-angelic-whore]

The Breakup (2) - i. midoriya

Warnings: heartbreak, depressing thoughts, self degrading, mentions of self harm, mentions of suicide attempt in past, swearing (if there is anything else, lmk).

Pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader

It’s been a week since Izuku broke up with you. The first two days, you didn’t attend any of your classes. The rest of the week, you showed up late; today was no different.

Walking through the door of classroom 1-A, all attention turns to you.

“You’re late, again, [y/n],” Aizawa says, not seeming surprised anymore.

“Alarm didn’t go off,” you state, making your way towards your desk.

“That’s the third time this week, maybe you need a new alarm,” Aizawa states. You nod in agreement. “I’m gonna have to give you detention, since I’ve given you enough warnings,” he says.

“I understand,” you say, taking your seat next to your brother, not even looking at Izuku.

“You look like shit,” Katsuki mumbles. “Doesn’t even look like you slept,” he adds.

You just ignore him, and pay attention to what Aizawa is explaining.

“Tch, whatever,” Katsuki says, although internally he was very worried about you.

One Month Later

It has been an exact month since Izuku broke up with you; you haven’t been the same since.

Katsuki has come to notice this, so he’s been keeping a close eye on you.

You were currently having a mental breakdown in your dorm; pacing back and forth with your hands in your hair and tears streaming down your face.

“Why am I letting this get to me?!” You exclaim.

“It’s not like I deserve someone like him anyway!”

“I wasn’t worth his time!”

“He probably only dated me out of pity!”

“I’m a worthless piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to be loved!”

Before you even realized what you were doing, Katsuki was pulling the sharp object out of your hand and throwing it away. “[Y/n],” he says, tears in his eyes. “Why did you do this? You were so close to a year,” he cries, pulling your shaking body into his chest.

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you sob.

“You are not a worthless piece of shit,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “You do deserve to be loved, you hear me,” he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you in the eyes. You simply nod, pulling him back into a hug. “Don’t ever scare me like that! I almost lost you once, I will not go through that again!” he exclaims.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki,” you sniffle.

“It’s OK, sis. Just tell me who you were talking about. Who broke your heart.”

“It doesn’t matter, Katsuki.”

“Do you love him?” he questions, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and looking at you.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then it does matter.” he says, kissing your forehead. “Who is he?”

“Izuku,” you say sheepishly.

Katsuki tenses. “Deku? You’re in love with Deku? Deku broke your heart?!”

“He broke up with me because we were scared of how you’d react to us being together,” you admit.

“He broke up with you because of me?” his eyes fill with tears. “This is my fault?” he asks, mainly to himself.

“No, Katsuki, this is not your fault,” you try to pull him into another hug, but he’s already standing up.

“Don’t worry, [y/n], I’m going to make this right,” he leaves your dorm. Leaving you to wonder what the fuck he meant.

To Be Continued . . .

© shotos-angelic-whore

[7-wonders]

Circling the Drain

Summary: It's a race against time...wait, why do people say that? It's not a race against some outside force, it's a race against a crazed back-from-the-dead mafioso with a vengeance.

Word Count: 3454

A/N: I tried something a little different for this chapter in terms of formatting, mainly because there was so much I wanted to fit in different POVS. Uhhhhh let me know your thoughts and like, comments and reblogs make my world go round. ALSO that second gif is exactly how I imagine a certain scene (you'll know it when you read it).

Warnings: Very torture heavy chapter. Blood, torture methods, guns, knives, kidnappings, talk of death. You should probably go pet some puppies or kittens after you read this.

Previous chapters of Memento Mori: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Duncan

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed since Duncan was last outside of this small concrete room. There’s no windows to let light in, no clocks to denote the hour, and no sort of schedule that he can catch on to. Although, even if there were a schedule, he would be too delirious from sleep deprivation to realize that there was one. The only thing that Duncan can count on is the unending torture at the hands of his uncle.

All of the crisis training in the world wouldn’t have prepared him for the physical and mental torture that he’s been put through. Though he doesn’t know it, it’s been almost seventy-two hours of this absolute hell, of Bill beating him black and blue, taunting him, slowly ripping out fingernails one by one (somehow, he still has six, though one of the six is just barely hanging on), refusing to let him sleep, and tasing him back to consciousness whenever he tries to close his eyes. This most recent time, the throbbing of his head had begged him enough to where he finally closed his eyes, only to be jolted up with a rush of electricity running through his body and seizing his muscles.

“You still think you’re getting out of it that easy, huh? That you can fall asleep and bide your time until you’re ‘rescued?’” Bill chuckles. “No, it’s not that easy.”

“Just kill me already, if that’s what you’re planning on,” Duncan says through clenched teeth, glaring up at Bill through the one eye that’s not completely swollen shut.

“Is that what you want? You want me to kill you?” His obviously-fake concern would enough to make bile rise in Duncan’s throat, if he had actually had anything left in his stomach.

“You want me to beg for it, don’t you?”

“I guess I underestimated you. Turns out you do have some sort of critical thinking skills.”

Duncan defiantly turns his head, refusing to give Bill what he wants. Realizing this, Bill begins to walk towards the door. As he does, going to flick off the single light bulb in this place, Duncan’s chest tightens in anticipation of the claustrophobia he’ll surely begin to feel (most likely a side-effect of what he’s gone through, considering he’s never been scared of dark spaces before) and he scrambles to stall him. “So why are you keeping me alive?”

Bill stops for a moment before slowly turning around. “I already told you.”

“No, I know that you want revenge. But what’s your plan? Why waste your time? Surely you’ll at least give me the honor of knowing what I’m dying for?”

His jaw clenches, not pleased with that last question, but he doesn’t hit Duncan. Yet. “I’m taking back what’s mine, and then some.”

“And you think Mom’s going to be okay with that?”

“Your poor mother is going to be more than okay with that when she finds out that the Coven killed her only child.”

Slowly, it dawns on Duncan. “You’re the one that’s been killing people in the Coven’s style and leaving them in our territory?”

“Of course I am!” Bill holds his arms out as if to say ‘tah-dah!’ “Cordelia Goode would never be so bold as to do that! But after I kill you, drain you of your blood, cut your tongue out, dump you in the Potomac, and reappear into society, people won’t care about that little fact. Especially after I reveal that it was the Coven that prompted me to fake my own death and go into hiding for years.”

“How long were you planning this?”

“About a year before you stabbed me, when I realized that you were far too…” he grits his teeth, “charismatic to not end up with the family business eventually. That’s why I always made sure that the police and paramedics were well-paid, just in case the day ever came that I needed them to lie on my behalf.”

“You have it all planned then, so why not just do it and kill me now?”

“Well, there are a couple of minor issues I still need to work out.” Bill glances at Duncan slyly. “Such as what to do with that girlfriend of yours.”

In a flash, Duncan sees red. He lunges, forgetting the fact that he’s chained to the radiator and can only go so far until his ankle is jerked violently and he falls back to the ground. “You leave her alone, she’s done nothing wrong!”

“You’re right, she hasn’t, but (Y/N) knows too much.”

Duncan’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that Bill (predictably) knows more than he should.

“I’m thinking a suicide? It’s very believable, what with the grieving girlfriend and all.” Bill steps forward and, ever so slowly, places his foot on one of Duncan’s hands. “Maybe she slits her wrists in the bath? It’s very easy to overpower someone when they’re vulnerable. Or perhaps she overdoses? That’s not my preferred method, though, far too much room for someone to survive an overdose. Tell me, Duncan, how would you prefer that she die?” With each possible method, Bill continues to lay more pressure on Duncan’s hand until Duncan is moaning in pain.

“Don’t...hurt her,” Duncan pants.

Bill finally removes his foot, giving Duncan a moment to breathe before he stomps on his hand, digging the toe of his shoe in until Duncan is screaming and Bill is sure his hand is broken. “I think she’ll jump into the Potomac with a weight tied around her ankle. The poeticism--her drowning in the same river that your body will be found in--is something that’s just too good to pass up.”

“I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll kill you again and make sure that it sticks this time.” Tears are streaming down Duncan’s face, though whether that’s from the physical or emotional agony he’s in, he can’t be sure.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Bill smiles, walking to the light switch and flicking it off. “I’ll be back in a bit, and then our final act can finally begin.”

This time, Duncan doesn’t stop him before he leaves, barely letting the door close before his willpower crumbles and he begins to sob. Cradling his injured hand, he has to force himself to look at the now-mangled fingers. He gasps, attempting to straighten them out, but they refuse to even twitch in response. It’s now that Duncan realizes that the true torture is waiting. His mind and body shattered, he now has to be at the mercy of Bill Shepherd before he can finally die. He’s never wished for death before, but now, he feels a pang in his heart for every one of his victims that have had to wait, broken and bruised, for Duncan to kill them.

You

“Does this location have any significance to you?” Cordelia asks Annette, pointing to an address hastily written down on a scrap of paper. The address corresponds to a building, fairly nondescript, but obviously holding some sort of significance.

“No, it doesn’t.” Annette shakes her head.

“That’s because this is the location of the first school that I opened here in D.C. Bastard’s really going all in on trying to frame me for everything he’s done.”

(Y/N), who had previously been dozing off on Langdon’s lap (Langdon had already made her swear not to tell anybody or else he would kill her in her dreams like Freddy Kreuger), sits straight up at this moment. “What makes you think he’s there?” she asks.

“This car.” Cordelia pulls another paper out from the folder she had brought with her, this one a picture of a Mercedes E-Class. “It’s been back and forth from Umbra to the old school numerous times in the past two days. License plates are registered back to Umbra.”

“So it’s definitely Bill, then.”

“I’m not typically a betting woman, but I would put money on this. Surveillance indicates that this car has been parked in front of the Goode Academy for six straight hours now.”

(Y/N) doesn’t know much about hostage situations, but she has to assume that Bill being where Duncan is held captive for an extended amount of time means nothing good.

“We need to move now, then,” Annette says. There’s no question behind her voice; she’s going to get her son.

“Yes. Your team?”

“Myself, Langdon, and (Y/N).”

Cordelia glances warily at (Y/N). “Do you have combat experience?”

“Duncan trained me to fight, and also did some weapons training with me,” (Y/N) says.

“That’s good enough.” (Y/N) tries not to be offended. “I have myself, Madison, Misty, and Mallory.”

“We’re going?” Mallory, a brunette wearing a gold headband, says.

“I need my best girls, and you three have proven yourselves.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” Annette grabs a key from around her neck and unlocks what you thought to be a closet door, opening it to reveal a weapons cache large enough to rival a small government’s. “Stock up.”

“Which gun are you most comfortable with?” Langdon asks (Y/N), the two standing side-by-side after everybody else has had their turn.

“Uh, I don’t really know the names. It’s a handgun, and it’s black.”

“Probably a Springfield, then.” Langdon hands (Y/N) a gun that looks similar to ones that she’s handled before. “It’s already loaded.”

“Thanks.” She glances at Langdon after holstering her own weapon, watching as he selects numerous guns of different sizes. “What if we’re too late?”

“We won’t be.”

“But you heard what Cordelia said. Bill’s been there for six straight hours now. He could have--”

“You’re right, he could have,” Langdon interrupts. “But we can’t go in there assuming that the worst outcome has come true. We have to have hope. If nothing else, there’s always hope.”

“I have hope.”

“Good, because I do, too.” Langdon grabs a knife from the weapons closet, twirling the tip of the blade on his index finger. “Now let’s go get Duncan back.”

Duncan

Bill stands before Duncan, twirling the tip of a knife on his index finger. “I’ve held onto this for six years now. Do you recognize it?”

Of course Duncan recognizes the knife that he stabbed his uncle with. In his dreams, he can still feel the cool leather handle gripped tightly in his palm.

“It’s something of a treasure to me, although it certainly didn’t seem like it at first. I’ve come to recognize the significance of holding the thing that almost killed me, and I like to keep it as a reminder.” Bill holds the knife out to Duncan, knowing he’s too weak to fight him for it. “See that on the blade? Why don’t you read it for me?”

Cursive lettering is engraved on the blade, though it was not there when the knife had been in Duncan’s possession. “Memento mori,” Duncan mutters, trying to remember his Latin lessons from high school.

“It was an extremely popular phrase during the medieval period, specifically when it came to funerals. ‘Remember you must die.’ It’s a warning, a reminder. That’s what this knife has become to me, a reminder of the inevitability of death. It also reminds me that I’ve survived death before, and I’ll surely survive it again.”

“Quite the sense of humor,” Duncan remarks dryly.

Bill shrugs, bending down to Duncan’s level. “A little gauche, perhaps, but I enjoy the significance of the phrase.”

Duncan’s about to ask him what the point of this is when Bill shows him by shoving the knife into his abdomen. Duncan grunts in pain, gritting his teeth and glaring at him. “Of course you’re going to stab me just like I stabbed you.”

“Do you know how I managed to survive?” Bill asks.

“I’ve tried not to think about it much.”

“I survived,” Bill continues, “because you were too stupid to realize that you needed to pull the knife out. What do all of the medical professionals say when training civilians on dealing with stabbings? ‘Don’t remove the weapon.’ That’s the only thing keeping them from bleeding out, and it’s what kept me from bleeding out.”

“I had assumed I severed your abdominal aorta, what with all the blood.”

“Exactly, ‘assumed.’” Bill digs the knife around to watch the way that Duncan tries not to scream before pulling it out and watching as blood begins to pour out of the wound. For every beat of Duncan’s frantic heart, trying to pump blood to the source of the injury in an attempt to clot it, more blood pulses out. “Never assume things, my boy.”

Though his head is starting to spin, Duncan finds just enough rage to spit at Bill. “Go to hell.”

“From the looks of it, you’ll be there long before me,” he says almost gleefully before pulling out a gun and shooting him in the thigh. This time, Duncan openly screams. “Just wanted to make sure you actually die, if the stabbing wasn’t enough.” Bill’s extremely nonchalant, as if he’s discussing the nuances of the Nationals rather than talking about murder.

Bill grabs a key and unlocks the chain from around Duncan’s leg, knowing that he won’t have the strength to escape. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check on you.”

“Fuck you,” Duncan responds, but Bill’s already gone.

Duncan moans in pain as he stares at his wounds, feeling the stickiness of blood beginning to pool under him. Lifting a shaky hand, he presses it to his abdomen to try and slow the bleeding. As he swallows deeply, realizing that he very likely is going to die shortly, he thinks about a number of things, mainly regrets.

He wishes that he had realized earlier that his mom was just as much Bill’s victim as he was.

He wishes that he appreciated Michael more for the brother he had been to him.

He wishes that he had told (Y/N) that he loved her more often.

But most especially, Duncan wishes that he had just put a bullet in Bill’s head that night instead of stabbing him. Then, he wouldn’t be feeling this intense cold begin to settle in his bones as he’s forced to slowly die on the concrete floor of a basement. Facing the Grim Reaper head-on is not nearly as dramatic as he thought it would be.

You

Watching the Coven, Langdon, and Annette taking out the defectors is not nearly as dramatic as (Y/N) thought it would be. Wisely, they had requested that she stay behind until the perimeter was secured. It’s much quieter, and a lot less bloody; as it turns out, members of organized crime do have consciences, and chose to subdue those not directly a threat. After Langdon finishes tying those who had remained loyal to Bill together, Cordelia motions for (Y/N) to follow the group into the old school.

The proud sign that once declared this building the Goode Academy now lies in the dirt of the overgrown lawn. The doors are open, solely because the rusted hinges make it impossible for them to remain closed against a gentle breeze. The further that they make it inside, the more frantic (Y/N) is. She knows that they’re close to Duncan, she just doesn’t know what state they’ll find Duncan in. Before they can make it too far with Cordelia as their guide, Bill appears. Instead of holding a machine gun, which is kind of what (Y/N) had expected, he has a concerned look on his face.

“Annette, thank god you’re here! I know this must be confusing to you, but when I heard that Duncan was missing, I knew that I needed to save him from the bitches that had sent me into hiding years ago.”

Confusion blankets (Y/N)’s mind as she tries to figure out what’s going on, but Annette doesn’t feel the same. “Cut the shit, Bill. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Bill laughs. “You’re going to let Cordelia Goode manipulate you into believing her, after she tried to kill me?”

“You’re an idiot. You think I don’t smell the blood in the air?” Annette laughs viciously, a verbal slap in the face. “Where’s my son?”

Like a switch was flipped, the worry on Bill’s face falls into contempt. “You’ve always been too emotional for your own good, Annette.”

“‘Family over everything,’” Annette quotes. “Remember that? What happened to that?”

“That died the day that that--that mistake came back from boarding school and decided that our business, the empire we built from the ground up, was his birthright.”

“You never were good at sharing, were you?”

The siblings stare at each other for a moment before Bill sighs. “You could have just been complicit, but no. Guess I’ll have to think on the fly, then.” He pulls out a gun and cocks the hammer back.

Before he can fire, Madison and Mallory appear from behind him, having snuck into the back. Madison knocks the gun out of his hand, the weapon firing into the ceiling, as Mallory socks him in the face and drives him to his knees. Both women force his hands behind him, holding him still as Cordelia walks up to him.

“The door to the basement is in the kitchen, hidden behind the left wall of the pantry,” Cordelia says to the group.

(Y/N)’s off, moving as fast as she can while maneuvering through the unfamiliar house. “Wait, you can’t do this. Annette, you aren’t really going to let the Coven, of all people, do this to me?” Bill pleads.

“I can actually, and I will. After all,” Annette turns to Cordelia, “we have a deal.”

In the kitchen, (Y/N) throws open the pantry door, pushing and shoving and pulling at the left wall before it finally opens to reveal a set of stairs.

“Girls?” Annette calls just before she reaches the door. “Make it painful.”

(Y/N) runs down the stairs, hands scrambling along the wall until she comes across a light switch. Flicking it on, her eyes look around the room until she sees a lifeless figure on the floor that’s surrounded by a pool of blood. A cry is ripped from her chest as she falls to her knees beside Duncan, hands hovering above him as she tries to figure out what to do first.

He’s pale, scarily so, and he’s breathing so shallowly that she can’t tell he’s breathing at first. Somehow, with all the blood, he’s still breathing. All (Y/N) can focus on is the fact that he’s still alive (later, she’ll wonder how she didn’t even flinch at all of the injuries and the blood, oh, the blood) as she rips her shirt off and presses it firmly against the wound on his stomach, calling his name over and over again in increasing levels of desperation.

From behind her, she can hear Annette scream and yell for Langdon to call an ambulance. She can feel the presence of somebody next to her as they catalogue where Duncan’s hurt, but she can’t bring herself to look away from Duncan’s face. His perfect face, that she’s kissed over and over a thousand times and has taken immense pleasure in watching a blush rise to the surface. His perfect face that she’s now slapping to try and get him to at least show some sort of response.

“You don’t get to die like this,” she tells him, hoping that he’ll somehow manage to hear her. “You said that you didn’t want to be the reason I suffered, but look at you now, making me suffer. Don’t keep me suffering like this!”

Slowly, and just barely, his eyes crack open just enough that (Y/N) can see a hint of blue. His lips move, saying something without audible sound, and she brings her head down to his to try and catch what he’s saying.

“An angel.” She finally makes out what his reverent whisper is over the wail of the incoming ambulances, and laughs brokenly as her head falls onto his chest in relief.

//

@sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @ajokeformur-ray @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @michaellangdon @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonslove @born-on-stgeorges-day @xavierplympton @michaelsapostle @venusxxlangdon @wroteclassicaly @idespac @tcc-gizmachine @dyns33 @hexqueensupreme @hecatemacbeth7 @youngandfleeting @lambofcairo @myluciferiscody @anacerta @ladyren33 @ladyrindt @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakewaterxx @9layerdevilfoodcake @angelicmichael @takingback-thecrown @etherealsxnder

[sleeplessandstubborn]

As I went through the (digital, no trees were killed during the making of this copy) pages of Gérard Davet and Fabrice Lhomme's book about Emmanuel Macron, Le traître et le néant (play of words with Sartre's L'être et le néant, they do these kind of things. And ah, we could translate this as The traitor and the void) I wondered if the authors attempt to do a psychological portrait of their president had not spectacularly backfired and given a not particularly flattering account of French political landscape. A bunch of obnoxious snobs, completely disoriented by the demise of traditional parties as if that was something completely unprecedented in the World (guys, stop navel gazing for a second and look at your neigbouring countries out of Eurovision week too) and nostalgic from the times they were just alternating in power. The President's true personality? Well, he keeps ellusive the whole time, the commonplace description of an habile seductor who can easily adapt to circunstances rather than having a clear ideology. Welcome to my very chaotic recap/review of this book, if Tumblr allows it. Because computer is being rebellious and this godforgotten site won't let me write long texts.

(Accurate depiction of me trying to make this site work on my computer)

First of all, who are these Davet & Lhomme (D&LH from now on) guys and why did I read their book? Are you behaving as a bad macroniste, oh Sleeplessandstubborn? Yes I am, but that's irrelevant for all us right now. So D&LH, nicknamed by their colleages Melon & Melon (Le Monde, their own workplace, lol) or Dupont & Dupond (by the one and only Canard Enchainé) are two journalists, authors of several books dedicated mainly to politics. However, their main bussiness model in the last 15 years and the thing that has made them more (in)famous are examples of the anti-presidential literature that is so mainstream in France. Since 2011 they have dedicated an unfavorable book to the three last presidents, and the three volumes have been published in the last months of their tenure. Of course they sell very well.

(Never read the one about Sarko, should I?)

The structure/format of these books is very similar. A series of personalities, many of these with an axe to grind, are interviewed about their relationship/experiences/misfortunes/whatever related to the main subject, that is, the sitting President. Personally I find their style annoying. With years, people has learned to talk less and less to D&LH because it usually mean problems. The long list (or 100 names or so) they have included at the end of their last book says volumes both about their debatable ethics as well as the distrust of French political landscape. In that list of people who wouldn't talk to them you can find members of Macron's government AND most of his potential adversaires for the reelection you can wonder with whom they are supposed to speak next time. Of these three books, the one that had more repercusions was Un Président ne devrait pas dire ça, in which Hollande was at the same time the main subject and the main source, as he was interviewed more than 60 times by D&LH.

It went horribly wrong and even foreign press talked about "political suicide". To this day the book is considered as one in a series of reasons why he couldn't run to be reelected. It angered everyone and even the right wing opposition who had been complaining because it was being written by the journalists who wrote against Sarkozy used Un Président ne devrait pas di on to trigger an impeachment process. The reason was that, during one of the interviews with D&LH, he claimed to have ordered several targeted killings. Ooops oops ooops. Of course all French Presidents do these things, but no one is supposed to talk openly about it because national security & stuff. He also insulted the judiciary, footballers, the members of his own party and/or government, told that there were too many immigrants and came across as a huge snob with the redeeming trait of telling good jokes now and then. But, as you can read on Le Traitre et le Néant, it traumatized everyone and is held as something you should never, ever, do.

It seems that Hollande didn't learn his lesson or that he hold selective grudges, since he has spoken to D&LH again, and his participation on this book has been widely mocked. He appears again under an unflattering light, everyone talked about the time his dog broke Brigitte Macron's glasses and how he should have offered to pay them instead of feigning outrage when the bill was sent to the presidential palace. He also manages to come across worse in certain anecdotes. E.g., the famous moment after Manette's death and how he failed to show an ounce of empathy towards a very distressed Macron who had just lost his beloved grandma.

I've read several accounts of this anecdote, this is the first one told from his point of view... and it's the one in which he cames across the worse; congratulations, François, you played yourself again. Then, one can smile at how the chapter dedicated to Valls starts.

The deflowering, eh? There are a few things worthy of Ao3 or Wattpad in this book. One of these is the title of this chapter, with his Angry!Valls as we learned to know in fanfic, even if they chose to tell the worst possible version of the (in)famous (verbal, but you can imagine it in other ways) dick contest at the National Assembly. No one can top Le Canard in that aspect. They have the best version of the zizigate. At least we have M. Pradié praising the presidential prostate too, it's the only quality this member (pun intended) of Les Républicains recognizes.

But, you are going to ask me, what the fuck does this book contain? Any revelation? No, not much that I haven't read previously, sometimes in worse books written by worse people. But, short story, I find the authors prententious, the politicians featured here whyny and delusional, the bunch of bitter haters that are the majority on its pages too petty and cartoonish, some of the people featured there behaving in a particularly pathetic way (the perfect example of that cathegory is Pierre Moscovici, that vents out during his interview then try to take is back). There's no allusion to economy, to foreing politics or to anything that it's not the "pursue" of the Macron Mystery (TM) that so many authors try to unveal. As if one could have an accurate portrait of a personality via the distorted mirror of people who hate him (the word hate is written often), or the kind of individual who spread rumours to damage him.

Meh; if you want to read an anti Macron book, at least read Ruffin's one from 2018 (9?). He's as obsessed as many of the guys featuring in this one, but when he's not writing about the feelings the President's nose awake in him he's capable of writing interesting and quite moving of people who have difficult lives (an then the next page he's talking about himself again). It contains less white middle age men trying to get right why their president has no children.

(The He Has No Children Brigade seems to be composed mainly from LR members).

So, you are asking, should you buy the D&LH? Nah, I don't think so. but when in doubt, go to the library and decide for yourself.

[soranihimawari]

Bella Donnas & Love

This is the final installment of the Hanahaki Disease AU featuring the Seijoh Four. This is a Mattsukawa Issei x Yin (YN/Reader) story.

Word Count: 4.3 K

Warnings: mentions of depression, suicidal attempts, mentions of burn out, and intrusive thoughts

Recommended Audience: 17+ (minors recommended to not read because of the warnings attached)

Pairing: Mattsukawa Issei x reader// MIA->MIF [Mattsukawa Issei angst to Mattsukawa Isei fluff]

Mattsukawa Issei is a simple man. He sees the world in copious amounts of black, white, and gray; it isn’t because he is colorblind either. It is because he knows his worth. Truthfully, his parental figures were always a bit worried about their son especially given the profession he has chosen to pursue. Being in the business of burning and or burying the dead, Mattsukawa Issei is a fan of the loneliest times in a lifetime: they say when we are brought into the world, we are alone, and when we pass on, we too exit the world alone. There is nothing wrong with finding a job in the business of death, but even angels have demons. And for Mattsukawa, you are an exquisite example of the dichotomy between his dark side and your eventual akin to the brighter side.

It is a known fact in Japan, the pressure to be perfect or to fit into the mold of society has been a fatal flaw throughout the years. This is the main reason why at exactly two fifty-five in the morning, Mattsukawa Issei notices a young person, hanging out on the edge of the skyscraper across his workplace. There was a late night arrival to the city morgue; he just needed to be there to sign the paperwork to turn over the embalming processes to his mentors. It was the deceased wishes to be buried in the mausoleum in the home town of their forefathers: the mountain side of Nagasaki.

You were having a rough day: you were told you by your employers that you’ve been slacking for too long getting numbers for the statistics presentation coming up with business partners across the South China Sea. Then your grandparent were strictly feeding toxic lies to your parent(s) about how you would never find a suitable partner to marry you. Quite frankly, because you put your career and studies first, you had no issues putting your family in their place. The intrusive thoughts, snide comments about your appearance, was enough for you to glance at the sleeping pills that were prescribed to you to assist in a normal pattern, to invade your subconscious. The events which led you to climb the fire escape up to the rooftop garden in your kitten heels made for a daring flirtation with death. There have been nights the last couple of months where your heart is heavy in your chest, your lungs are intoxicating you with the poisonous belladonna petals.

“What a time to find out I’m going to die a lot sooner than I thought,” you sighed into your palm. Your eyes scour the hazy city in the afterglow; after a tizzy of a day you had, you chose that perhaps this might be a sign of the universe you were better off dead. Either that or your soulmate would be in extreme pain and you didn’t want to disappoint their perception of your love. Then again, you wouldn’t know what love, honest, and kind would feel like even when you’re about to let it all go.

You are devoid of emotion as you bring yourself to your feet. A hand of yours drags across your face. The drop is high enough to entice little to severe damage like broken legs, or severe head trauma, but to be truly free, you wish to be put out of your misery as quickly as possible.

Mattsukawa sees the figure clad in a lighter powder blue and his eyes are wide with fear. The morgue worker and delivery driver had already gone off into the night to complete the rest of the deliveries of bodies to the funeral homes. As soon as he finished locking up and registering the corpses, Mattsukawa was determined to see your hair wind blowing on the rooftops. The blurred vision he sees makes the twenty-seven year old shiver. Even in his line of work, this was the second instance he wanted to save someone. He knew of you: the business woman who was suffering from a similar ailment to him. The belladonna hues from your rebellious highlights enticed him to notice how you seemed a bit off at the coffee house you frequent by the funeral parlour he had been working at.

“Excuse me,” you said, holding on to your mug. Your knuckles were white with tension, so Mattsukawa did something unexpected of himself: he gave you way, but instead of sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant cafe, he sat directly across from you. The crowd was getting to be a bit noisy, but you and him sat there staring off center, hyper fixating on the number of people sign in either direction.

“Why do you smell like belladonna?” You asked. You had a glance meet you with a harsh smile.

“It’s part of my line of work. I use it to bury the dead at the request for all nameless suiciders that wind up on my table,” Mattsukawa explains. The oils from his embalming course was enough to mimic actual belladonna, but has he noticed from her, it wasn’t coming from just his hands: it was coming from her hair. He asked a question about why you seemed so strung up lately and like a fool, you told him everything which was bothering you. If anything, this man was a silent confession box. He seemed like the genuine article, so when you check for the time, you realize it was time to leave and head back to the office to grab the final jump drive for the presentation. Things at work seemed to have gotten better since the next time you’d see your precious Mattsukawa would be in the next life. You never truly disclosed your name to him, so he made a note call you Bella or Donna (whichever you preferred really). His smile is flirtatiously coy and you felt your cheeks grow a bit warm from the moment he told you his name.

For whatever reason, perhaps Mattsukawa was feeling a bit lucky, he asked you to dinner the day before yesterday. He wanted to know you, truth and all, bruised and damaged as you were, the meds your doctor prescribed were starting to cushion the intrusive thoughts. However that changed the moment you give him a nod, he grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the cafe; gently he squeezes your fingers for reassurance.

“You’ll do great Miss. I believe in you,” Mattsukawa whispers in the last part. The cafe begins to echo again, so you couldn’t hear the last part, but you were sure it was an encouraging word. Mattsukawa was the first person in a long while to give you something so few in your battlefield mind would want (or need): hope.

“Goodbye Mattsukawa.”

With that said, you were gone from the cafe and headed back into the office where a different manager made your life hell because their normal assistant was very organized, but the constant comparison was enough to make your head explode.

Presently, you stand on the ledge, glancing down like a superhero vigilante, but just as you were about to take a dive, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist. The hands are interlocked under your empire waist line and if it wasn’t for the fact your hair was probably in a ponytail prior to this predicament, you’re sure your band was lost to gravity and the wind. You thrashed about in your captor’s arms, not realizing this person was about to save you from an awful mistake.

You see, Mattsukawa Issei is a funeral employee; he dresses sharply like an agent of the Grim Reaper. He is suave and debonair; he loves watching the life cycles of the various flower arrangements in his mentors stores go throughout the seasons. His heart and soul is full of vibrancy you have yet to comprehend; Mattsukawa was always a strong individual and you could ask anyone of his friends in school what kind of person he was. So, what made you so different? Sure you were stressed out, anybody could see that, but Mattsukawa picked up on the depressive aura you emanated. Did he really want to sit in front of you that afternoon? Sure; it was mainly because he couldn’t shake this feeling ever since you were ahead of him in line to order that he was supposed to meet you here (even if you were at your lowest post appointments at the business office downtown).

You struggle to let go, but the owner of these hands does not wish to loosen their grip on you; you ask twice kindly to be left alone and the soft ortund tone of the stranger’s voice from the cafe stops you from thrashing about further.

He tumbles back and lands on his arse with you sitting on his lap, pressed against his broad chest. His sleeves from the black oxford shirt he wears is rolled up to his elbows, and his hands still are in an interlocked position. Mattsukawa has seen some pretty fucked up causes of death recently, yet this time, he wanted to save you, not bury you. He wants to see you tomorrow night at dinner in the diner close to his loft; he wants you to understand maybe death isn’t all that grand and if you struggle with your mind everyday, he wishes to someday be of importance to you. You’re in charge of your own autonomous decisions, yet Mattsukawa wants you to give him a chance to prove to you that love, hope, and for the very fortunate, miracles exist (even if you weren’t shown any).

“You’re sick,” he closes his eyes. Apparently, you pick up on the frown in his voice and somehow, you’re sixth sense of empathy decides not to fight his tonality, but rather when you subconsciously agree and call your mental state one of a landmine, he doesn’t make a fuss. It was a short exam and you realize may be life is worth living for a nano-second. You could have an entire relationship with this man from the cafe in a span of two hours, if that. The fates must have had a wicked sense of humor when pairing either of you to the other: one who works with and around death, the other has an affinity to try and cross into the next life every moment things in the sea turn too rough.

You slowly stop trying to fight him the moment you hear his voice toss in the wind. Instead, you move your hands to hover limply on his, leaning back and letting his breathing calm you. The smell of belladonna from your hair oil wafts through the air. “Suicide is not how I want your story to end.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about or-o-or,” you stammer on. “Perhaps I don’t want to be alive anymore because people keep interfering.”

This causes Mattsukawa’s heart to gain a solid crack. You toss your head back and land harshly against his sternum, causing him to grunt and inhale sharply.

It rips seamlessly to his soul. In the past six to eight years since he entered his chosen profession, he has seen corpses from all ages, the youngest being eight who suffered from a myriad of health issues including Hanahaki because the playground friend in their preschool years was going to be theirs when the time properly came. Mattsukawa, the night he was on duty for the wake, anonymously donated the flowers that would have made the child laugh on wishes. Sure, life does have it’s moments when it tests us, yet he couldn’t wrap his head around the burn out business person from earlier this week, who was now in his arms, safe.

Unintentionally landing on his back with you on top of his chest was not how he had pictured becoming a hero. Just for one night, Mattsukawa Issei, the stern and most silent of the volleyball players in high school, was a hero worthy of saving a life.

“Argh,” he groans.

He coughs quietly away from your face when his hands loosen their hold. You chose to not chastise him about not wearing a sweater in the middle of autumn. After all, this man was the only one who would be daft enough to try and stop you. You curl into him, hiding your face in the satin finish of his dress shirt; you promise to buy him a new one as long as you let him hide your eyes and you break down. You’re crying over the smallest inconvenience and on top of feeling like a burden to the man, you consistently apologize by saying it’s no one’s fault especially his when you catch yourself in your darkest moment.

Mattsukawa listens to your request: with one hand, he covers your left side of your face, the right is patting your hair down, reassuring you that he will console you until the sobs stop and the sniffles remain.

“You’re lucky I live and work not too far from here doll,” he whispers into your hair. You’re calming down as you hiccup the last couple of bubbles of air. You nod in understanding the words he was saying, but you still have your eyes closed to shield himself (and keep your pride intact) when he would peer into your bloodshot ones.

“Don’t worry about me tryin’ anything either. You’ve been through enough tonight. Just let me take care of you for the rest, ok?”

“Mmhm,” you agree. He sits up half way and you rise with him, your eyes ever looking westward until you see one of his handkerchiefs from his back pants pocket dangle in your line of sight. You stifle a laugh, utter a thanks, and begin to dry your face. Mattsukawa, when you were done, doesn’t hold your face anymore, even if it pains him to do so. Your free hand decides for both of you: your left reaches for his and you bring the calloused hand, opened palm, to your cheek. Your skin is soft and sticky from the tears, but if anyone were to ask Mattsukawa what it felt like to save a life, he would humbly point you out in a crowd and say ‘Ask ‘em yourself.’

“I lost sight of the things that brought me joy,” you say quietly. You’re breathing in his cologne and it smells like whiskey sours. The scent grounds you, as you recall your therapist giving you stress-relieving tricks such as naming five to ten things your senses pick up on. Your cheeks feel soft like mochi ice against Mattsukawa’s open palm; you see the neon lights hazily glow in the city below you; and finally, you hear his shirt ruffle against the shell of your ear when you finally calm down.

“Everyone does,” Mattsukawa agrees. “Can you do something for me?”

“Mattsukawa-san,” you said his name and he chuckles in surprise. You remembered his name? This was even better than before. He finds himself falling gently in like with you. The love between long lost friends is what keeps him afloat. Unwillingly, you find yourself amusedly smiling at his tanned skin glowing with a soft hues under his eyes. Was this man blushing?

“Call me Issei or Mattsun,” his voice says when his other hand loops around your waist. He buried his head on your right shoulder.

Tonight you learn that even strong and by your standards of “fine men” do in fact cry. You blink a couple more times and he just cries a mixture of tears he has no control over.

“Mattsun,” you say, voice soft like the breeze sending a boat to sail. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“You could have said you weren’t feeling well if you didn’t want to go out with me,” Mattsukawa jokes, turning his head to the side so you wouldn’t see his tear stricken face to the side. He asks you, if you felt comfortable enough, to just stay still for a moment.

The rooftop rendezvous was not what you had in mind when you came home from clocking out, but considering you were heavily contemplating ending your existence earlier, this one request was not too hard to fulfill. The belladonna in your bronchioles seemed to dislodge itself into your lungs. You stay as still as your companion had asked and you breathe in time together. His curls are soft to the touch and when he relaxes his shoulders when you run a hand through his hair, you feel him grin on the right of your shoulder blades.

Was this what it felt like to be you every hour before you both met at the cafe? This profound sadness doesn’t leave his heart nor does he quite shake the feeling of the leaves of the belladonna flowers taking root in his lungs. The flowers bloomed slowly since his twenty-third birthday were the same ones you dyed your hair for. You’ve been suffering with the hanahaki disease for quite some time, you confess back to him.

“Is that why you were here? Trying to jump?” Mattsukawa asks an innocent inquiry. He seemed like he was about to be scolded for the first time in seven years, yet you thought it was kind of adorable. And so you do something you haven’t done in a very long time: you scoff (although you were sure it was closer to a giggle.

“No,” you reply. “I was contemplating jumping because all my triggers hit at once, so I’ve been in a depressive episode for quite some time before we met.”

“Oh,” Mattsukawa acknowledges. “Do you want to stay the night?”

“…that’s awfully forward of you,” you say. Your pragmatic inner voice says to decline, but there is a mischievous side of his mannerisms, nonetheless you are curious. It is late into the evening already, so perhaps the offer is a better one. After all, you think the change of scenery would do you some good, so you humbly agree.

Roughly an hour later, you find yourself in Mattsukawa’s living room area. Offering his shower to you, you ask if there is something he can lend you. It is an old shirt with his high school cactus logo on it, but the shorts he tosses to you has a VBC and his old number stitched on the back pocket. Mattsukawa hands you a spare towel and tells you how to work the shower in his bathroom. Twenty minutes later, you sit close to the kotatsu even if it’s not too cold outside at the moment, you tend to sleep better underneath one.

Prior to your shower, Mattsukawa-san graciously gave you a small tour of his loft when you arrived. The walk wasn’t too far from the rooftop building and so you two walk side by side until the loft complex came into view. Mattsukawa says hi to the doorman who makes a joke or two about how he had almost pulled another overnight at the funeral home.

“Be careful with that one miss, he’d work himself to death! Ha! Work himself to death,” the doorman says, wiping a faux tear from his eye. You snickered covering your smile with the back of your hand. When you put it to the side of your body, Mattsukawa notices how dazzling your smile is. How would someone who smiles this much at a pun, hold so much carnage of self-doubt and depressive thoughts in their heart? Is that why your flowers and your scent are wrapped in poisonous belladonna? Mattsukawa shakes this thought to the furthest parts of his mind. You’re here now, in the next room, safe under the same roof.

The master bedroom door is opened just a crack once Mattsukawa is half-dressed in his pajama pants, parading around shirtless fetching a glass of water from the kitchen. You were already seated on the barstool peering out the sliding glass door of the patio outside. Jumping was not the way to die for you, you think. Perhaps if you died with love, perhaps you’d have a better chance of reincarnation than you thought. The ambient sounds of the refrigerator and the water spout being used brought you back to hold the gaze of your host for the evening. You made a conscientious decision to cash in on your PTO at your work location for the next two weeks via e-mail. You explain to the HR representative you were feeling burn out and your therapist was working with you to battle the depressive episodes you were going through. The automotive message came back saying someone from the office of internal affairs would look into the chain of command in your division. However, you could care less about work at the moment, since you were enjoying the company of the person who helped kept you tied to this world.

“You like what you see?” Mattsukawa says smoothly. The water glass is placed on the counter in front of you. After graduation from Aoba Josai, running and other kinesthetic stretches were included in his workout regiment. You froze, placing your phone face down to the extreme left of the counter space. The granite glowed in the soft lamp from behind you, casting shadows in the grooves of his muscular features.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” you tease. “But I do like the person who saved me from making a huge mistake.”

Mattsukawa nods as he leans forward to rest his chin in his hand.

“I’ll always come running to you Yin,” he gives you a nickname close to the currency your country uses. This causes you to roll your eyes, yet you reassure him it was filled with endearment.

“You sound like you’re going to love me until the day I properly die Mattsun.”

He wasn’t expecting you to climb halfway across the granite counter, stretching your back further parallel to the floor (your feet are balancing your lower half on the chair).

His hand finds its way to the small of your back and he says a quick, “pardon me.” The onyx eyes he owns close and crinkle upward like small crescent moons before you feel his pursed lips press against your forehead.

“You’re safe here,” you hear him say. His warmth is a welcomed blanket of comfort for you; his words are kinder than your own thoughts.

“Will you kiss me properly?” You ask.

“In the morning, first thing,” he answers. “But first, sleep.”

Mattsukawa walks around his counter to keep you from hanging in the balance thus lowering the risk of you falling knees first on the floor.

“Remember how you fell on top of me?” Mattsukawa’s voice is low. You swallow nervously; you affirm that you do. “Good. Now hold on to me sweetheart.”

He leans back against your left side of your suspended body and he wraps an arm around your mid-section and you push off with your elbows. The next thing you are aware of, you are being carried like a drowsy child to the living room where you sit on Mattsukawa’s lap like before. You raise a hand to his smooth face, your fingers tracing the highest points of his features; his eyes flutter close to the sensational spell you are casting; he is about to fall in the in-between of sleep and lucidity when he feels your lips press firmly against his. When you back down, he stops you with one word: “More. One more time.”

You turn your head at an angle the moment you feel his hands turn you around to straddle him more comfortably.

“Better,” you confirm. Your nose teases his own and he languidly looks at you before he pushes your back playfully and your lips meet his again.

You sigh against his lips when your knees come into contact with his cushion; his arms move away from your hips to your ribs. The callouses he earned over the years of playing volleyball in high school memorizes the map of your skin. Together, the aroma of belladonna almost dissipates the pain in your lungs the longer you are breathing in everything the young man in front of you is giving.

This was as brave as you wanted to be right now. You’d be more adventurous months into your new found relationship with your restaurant-cafe rendezvous man. Your hands trace his collar bones before they found their purchase on the sides of his neck.

“I like that,” you say when you are given a chance to catch your breath. Mattsukawa’s hands rest on your love handles again and he pushes you into a loose embrace. Your hair tickles his shoulder when you rest your head against his pectoral.

“I like this too,” he says, running his fingers lightly up and down your spine. “Close your eyes and rest for a while Yin. We can talk about this in the morning, ok?”

You stifle a yawn, agreeing.

A few minutes later, after you are truly asleep, Mattsukawa supports you in his arms and he carries you like a child, careful to support your neck as your legs rest limply above his hips, to his room. He lays you down first and then proceeds to tuck you in; staying above the duvet, he watches over you breathing in and out steadily, the last small petals escaping your lips when you cough softly in your sleep. Mattsukawa stares at the last shriveled one on the corner of your lips and swats it away.

“Pretty angel, don’t scare me like that. I don’t want to lose you,” Mattsukawa reaches over to hold your hand; fingers intertwining around your own and you squeeze his back. “You’ll be alright and I will help you keep nightmares away.”

“Why?” Your voice is laced with sleep. “Why do you want to love me?”

“Because our story is just beginning my love.”

Mattsukawa rubs his thumb over your knuckles and when he lies down further on his bed next to you, he rests a protective arm over your shoulders.

[1-lightofjustice]

Justice for Awashima Seri

One of my latest posts made me want to re-watch K Project Return of Kings, especially Scepter 4 segment. And damn, there are so many things that happened to Awashima and frankly she didn’t deserve it. I’m not talking about GoRa’s overly disgusting fanservice attempts on Seri, although that’s indeed something that must be protested. I’m talking about how she was kept in dark by her two megane colleagues (mainly Munakata) even though she’s Second in Command of Scepter 4 and someone who has been working besides them for years. After I finished rewatching..... wow it’s worse than I remembered. My heart truly breaks for Seri, and I’m super glad that in the end she got her happy ending (by punching Munakata’s face). Like first, we know how worried she was about Munakata’s state, and after Reisaru’s fight in episode 8, Seri was so worried about Fushimi’s wellbeing and his bedding. Then at the very beginning of her role in episode 9, we have this :

For almost anyone besides Seri, maybe they will not think too much about the fact that they can’t understand what the hell are on Munakata and Fushimi’s heads, after all they’re not the easiest people to understand. But for Seri, it’s quite a new unpleasant territory for her. There’s a reason why she’s the Second in Command after Munakata, why she can easily command the rebel Fushimi without many protests from the said rebel, and why she can work alongside cryptic geniuses like Munakata and Fushimi. From R:B novel, we know that she’s an all-round achiever, but one of her main virtue is she’s goddamn observant. She more or less can understand Munakata’s unique mindset, and she mostly can see right through Fushimi’s bullshit. She more often can hit ‘100 point mark’ regarding the enigmatic Munakata and the ‘absolute tsundere’ Fushimi than any other human being except each other. Like on Munakata’s case, we have this :

Yoshino continued. “An ordinary man would have an interest in nude females, I think, but this is the Captain we’re talking about… How is it for him, what do you think?” She looked up at Awashima.

Awashima’s lips curved into a stiff smile as she took her time to think.

Then she drew a breath and, “I haven’t given that subject a thought until now. But well, if I had to answer…” She shook her head. “This is what I think: in the Captain’s case, it’s entirely possible that never once in his life he has so much as opened that kind of magazines or, alternatively, stores an entire thousand book collection of obscene materials in his room, and I won’t be surprised in the least in either case. Would this suffice as an answer?” Munakata Reishi’s right hand woman and Lieutenant, Awashima Seri, said with an even more strained smile.

 Case Files of Blue Chapter 1 (and looking at how eager Munakata asked Hidaka to show his collection, suffice to say that Awashima is absolutely correct about her answer).

Awashima: But, well, for the Captain it’s probably of equal value. Fushimi: Of equal value? What is? Awashima: Protecting this country’s peace and fulfilling his promise to a kindergartener.

Optician Drama CD

And on Fushimi’s case :

“…It might not be a misunderstanding, you know. What if I were in cahoots with Homura?” he retorted, lips pursed.

For a moment, Awashima’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing to slits as she humphed letting a slight smirk tug on her lips. “Suppose there really is a traitor who’s trembling while covered in cold sweat; I’d say at the very least it’s safe to assume he’s not switching sides because he likes it. It’s time for your report. The materials are ready, I hope?”

The King and The Traitor 

“It’s hard to call realistic, I have to agree with you on that. And on the off chance that it indeed is a strain’s doing, there is hardly any ground to claim harm sustained from the act. It’s the rainy season, after all. So I do find the idea of wasting time and manpower on investigating this possibility unreasonable, especially considering that we hardly have any to spare, but… if it’s an order from my superior officer, I will look into it though?”

It was said curtly and emotionlessly, but Awashima let out a little chuckle, hearing Fushimi’s answer. “Then look into it for me. Since like me, my competent and capable subordinate, too, seems to be concerned with this matter.”

Endless Rain

Also in anime, she noticed Yata’s worry for Mikoto and informed him about Mikoto’s condition to calm him. After breaking Sarumi’s fight, instead of asking apology, she demanded Fushimi to show her the result of his investigation, knowing full well that Fushimi already did some digging before he confronted Yata. She made the remark about only a King can attract another King. Heck, she already deduced that the reason why Munakata kept Zenjou-san on Scepter 4 is to kill Munakata one day, even though Munakata understandably never told anyone about it. During ROK, I kinda got feeling like Munakata and Fushimi were purposely ‘ghosting’ her, but looking at how observant she is, it’s quite understandable why Munakata and Fushimi kept Awashima in the dark to preserve their secret mission (still jerk move for them though). 

I think that’s one of the reason why Fushimi gave the hint about his secret mission only to Yata. Not only Yata is his best friend, but he also can count on Yata’s insensitiveness, having been the victim first-hand in the past. Like, Fushimi who is surprisingly responsible and dutiful for his job maybe thought “it’s fine to give Misaki a hint, it’s not like he can pick it up anyway”, so he can feel ‘less guilty’ for endangering the secrecy of his mission. Not that he’s wrong though, I mean Yata you’re a good guy but I have to say you really have a fine thick-head for not noticing and still saying that Fushimi betrayed the Blues, Fushimi jumped from sinking ship after Fushimi uttered such a vague sentence and after knowing that Fushimi secretly asked your brother to quit Jungle. Thank God Munakata gave him clear explanation later. Instead for Awashima, she only got this :

In that brief moment of silence, Fushimi let Awashima knew 3 things :

1. He joined Green clan and willing to attack his ‘former’ clansmen for them.

2. Not only joined Green clan, but he’s now one of J-ranker of Jungle. You know, the true Green clansmen, the one they have to be most cautious like Sukuna and Yukari.

3. He allied with one of Green clansman who participated on Anna’s kidnapping and former Scepter 4′s prisoner.

And he didn’t give Awashima and Kusanagi anything except complete silence and green-laced knife-throwing. Mission accomplished! The monkey succeeds on fooling the strong-willed and observant Lieutenant of Scepter 4. Just like the phrase “To fool your enemy, fool your friends”, there’s no way Awashima can perceive that except as complete betrayal. Haha.

(Truly, Fushimi was so good at executing his job. Too good, actually).

Then, after that shocking revelation that can shake someone’s mentality, she still had duty to report it toward her superior. Look at her reaction after Munakata said things about biting the giver’s hand.

(OMG watching that scene after knowing about Fushimi and Munakata’s secret mission made me truly itch to punch a certain King’s beautiful sparkly face).

She blamed herself for failing to look after Fushimi. I read some posts about Fushimi’s betrayal speculation before ROK episode 11 was aired, those who predicted that Fushimi joined Green for real, almost all expected Yata to stop Fushimi and made him go back to Scepter 4 (or Homra). While I understand the potential Sarumi heartbreaking angst and their another flashy fighting scene, I can’t help but think, can Yata do it? Not that I doubt strong bond between them, but Yata and Fushimi are equal in power. Okay, Yata is stronger in raw power, but Fushimi proved himself can accommodate his power effectively to match Yata. We know from their fight in Ashinaka Gakuen that Fushimi’s dual-color status can pass Yata’s defense, just like an attack can pass the defense from the same aura. Then Fushimi got his Green Aura. I didn’t say that Yata surely would lose to Fushimi on that situation, but it’s understandable if he lost and no one will blame him. But Seri? She’s canonly stronger than Fushimi, she’s usually can keep Fushimi on check in Scepter 4 and Seri is his direct superior after Munakata. I think if indeed Fushimi joined Green clan, the ones that have a chance to win battling him are Seri, Kusanagi, Kuro, and Kings. I can see Awashima blamed herself for failing to stop Fushimi and wanted to compensate for that failure by bringing Fushimi back to Scepter 4.

So, as if that burden is not heavy enough, Munakata brought Zenjou to his side and Awashima, who already worried about Munakata’s safety for a whole season and more, got an honor to watch on front seat as this happened :

Her King had a sword pointed toward his neck, but Awashima wasn’t fast enough to even touch her saber. Munakata’s Second in Command, who just realized that preventing her King’s Damocles Down is her responsibility, was shown the fact that she was not fast enough in comparison with Zenjou. Just, let’s imagine some time between episode 9 and 11 Seri looked at her saber, lamented at the fact that she failed to stop Fushimi and she was not fast enough to fulfil her most hurtful responsibility. Imagine Seri tried to get a hold of herself, readied herself to point her sword toward her closest comrades. 

Of course her torment didn’t end there. The Quack Prime Minister fired Munakata from his duty, removed him from Scepter 4. And Munakata, wordlessly, without giving any words or announcements toward his clansmen...  

(SERIOUSLY GIVE HER A BREAK! MUNAKATAAAAA!!!!)

I feel like that scene is the peak of Munakata’s “ghosting” toward Awashima. Not to mention, her (and Scepter 4) next order is :

(Help! My poor clueless ducklings are trapped while their genius jerk megane superiors are carelessly walking toward suicide plans!).

Honorary mention for the rest of poor lost ducklings :

(Yes, Munakata, you can’t just leave without any words toward your clansmen. Especially when you literally walked toward your death).

(BTW the meaning of “one unthinkable thing happening after another” is Fushimi’s betrayal followed by Munakata’s resignation. Little appreciation that they thought Fushimi’s betrayal is “unthinkable thing” even though the fact that Fushimi’s status as Homra’s “traitor” is widely known in Scepter 4).

 (Zenjou-san and the rest of Scepter 4 are not amused by your secret plan shenanigans, Munakata and Fushimi. Zenjou thought that those jerks truly ruin meganes’ reputation. Unbeknown to him, Enomoto thought the same).

Well, we know what happened after this. Seri and the rest of Special Squad got their first clue about what the heck is happened from a freaking TV, they rushed toward their King, the show was shifted to Silvers and Reds and NO SCEPTER 4 REUNION OR SETTLEMENT EVEN THOUGHT GORA CRAFTED SUCH A BIG AND COMPLEX CONFLICT IN SCEPTER 4.

Well, at least Seri got to punch Munakata in the face, even though in my opinion she truly deserved more after all the shits she had been through.

[kirboner]

The Curse of the Blood God

TW: Gore/blood descriptions, attempted suicide mentioned, major character death, swearing (not much).

WORD COUNT: 2,738

This is a mainly c!Technoblade centric along with c!Philza, other DSMP characters are also mentioned :] (if there are any tags I missed please tell me!)

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

Growing up, Technoblade was always surrounded by violence. With violence came death, so the concept of it was never unfamiliar to him. Never jarring, never shocking. It happens to those who are too weak to keep fighting, who make stupid decisions or let their guard down. It happens to those who lose, and Technoblade never loses. 

Technoblade never dies.

So, when the tip of his blade pierces through an enemy’s throat, or when their blood spurts against the snow, and they collapse in a heap against the frost- Techno feels nothing. Partially because he doesn’t know them, but mostly because they made a stupid decision and they lost. They challenged The Blade. The Blood God. To Techno, losing a life is like losing a game, a challenge, a bet. 

The L’Manburgians that suffered once he spawned the Wither let their guards’ down. The Butcher Army by challenging him had made a stupid decision, and those he challenged and triumphed against were weak. So, they lost a life, or a few.

Maybe that’s why betrayal hurts him so deeply, why the feeling aches in his very core. Someone has to be close to him to betray him, he has to put his trust in them, he has to care about them. For someone to then betray him, to betray The Blade, is a stupid decision on their behalf. However, that’s not the half of why it hurts so much, why the feeling stings and burns and engulfs him. It’s because he made the stupid decision to put his trust in someone traitorous. Yet, regardless of his stupid decisions,

Technoblade never dies.

Techno has few constants in his life, so he tends to gravitate to those he can control. Roasted potatoes and gapples, a royal gown he stole a long time ago that he wears as under-armor, a golden crown. Small things, items he carries with him as he flees location. However, one other thing remains a constant in his life, something he can’t pack in a suitcase or strap to his back- and that’s Phil. 

His memories of his life growing up in the Nether are a mix of vivid snippets and utter vagueness that he’s had to piece together through whisper and rumour. He remembers fighting with other Piglin half-breeds in The Pit, uncomfortable nights spent unslept on hard nether rack, fractures and purple bruises left blotched across his torso. Gashes that reopened, scabs that refused to heal. The jeering and hissing crowd that surrounded him, as he was forced to rip apart his opponents; orphans just like himself. Losing their parents was the worst thing that ever happened to them, Technoblade being a close second. He could recall the *clink* of golden nuggets pooling at his feet, quickly soaked in the ever-growing pool of his opponent’s blood- this time a larger Piglin boy who laid face down, iron pickaxe lodged firmly in his spine. The crowd cheering his victories and spurring him on. Shrieking for more.

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD--

How he left- or rather escaped- the Nether falls into the latter category of utter vagueness. Phil had told him he came across The Pit when trading rare spider eyes on the black market, as he heard the value was higher in the Nether due to the specific spiders only existing in the Overworld. However, upon discovering The Pit he had, in his words, “gotten into a bit of a domestic over it with the ringleader,” which Techno suspected to be an understatement. Phil, apparently, had “completely non-violently, and totally consensually” taken himself and the other half-breeds to the Overworld. Techno, again, believed this to be a massive understatement, as Phil and himself to this day could not enter the Nether without a fight of some kind. 

‘So, what ever happened to the other orphans?’ He asked, throwing a match on their fireplace. Living in a Tundra, while isolated and peaceful, required near constant temperature adjustment.

‘I spent a while rehousing them all across the Overworld, it took around two months to actually find homes for all of ‘em,’ Phil shifted more firewood closer to the hearth. A spruce log, dark and dense. Techno shifted in place, ‘Uh, what about me?’ He wanted to elaborate more on the question, rather than sound like a small child, but didn’t. Phil chuckled, ‘You were different, Techno,’ to this Techno quirked an eyebrow, ‘Different?’ He probed.

‘Well, let’s see... I did try a couple times to find you a family, y’know?’ Techno frowned, ‘Not because I didn’t like you, but because I was worried about you. I have a pretty dangerous line of work, and I thought you deserved a bit of a more stable life,’ Phil sighed. A beat of silence followed ‘So how well did that plan turn out?’ Techno asked sarcastically, earning a chuckle from Phil. His confidence rebuilt slightly. ‘I wanted you to have a constant in your life, but I also didn’t want you to be unsafe,’ Phil looked at the hearth, crackling quietly. ‘The more time I spent with you, I realized you already had a constant, Techno,’ He looked at the kindling, long charred and crumbling to ash. ‘Violence,’ Phil breathed, barely above a whisper. ‘You needed more than just violence in your life Techno- and trust me, I know I’m not always the best example- but I wanted to be that constant’ Phil continued, ‘And I’m glad I made that decision,’ he smiled.

A silence stretched for a moment, a tight feeling developing in Techno’s chest. He got this feeling whenever Phil said something particularly sappy, though the tightness was never painful. It was a pleasant feeling. It was kind. ‘Even if it means you can’t trade spider eyes on the black market anymore?’ Techno deadpanned, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Oh trust me, the market value for spider eyes has plummeted since the ‘90s, I was just trying to cut my losses,’ Phil smirked, leaning back on his hands. Techno rolled his eyes, ‘Christ you’re old, man,’ he said fondly.

A constant. Phil was a constant. He had been there to mend his tattered gown, tend to his wounds (now shallower, and fewer and further between). He had fought alongside him, brothers in arms, working together in the fight against tyranny. Phil was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, rightfully earning the title as The Angel of Death. 

‘Who first started givin’ you that name, anyway?’ Techno asked, swinging his axe down and splitting a spruce log down the middle, watching it splinter and fall in two smaller heaps. The chill of dawn was warmed little by the sun peaking over the horizon, a reminder of the Autumn season soon to come. ‘What name?’ Phil looked at him, confused before shoveling another mound of snow to make room for their new vegetable patch installment. ‘I know you well, mate, but I’m not a mind reader,’ he chuckled. ‘The Angel of Death- who first started callin’ you that?’ Techno elaborated. Phil heaved another shovel-full, ‘God, it’s been a while since someone’s called me that. I reckon it started way back, before the Antarctic Empire,’ he paused for a moment, his shoulders tense. ‘I remember when I was little, I had a pet bird and I used to let it sleep in my bed,’ Eyes downcast, the air seemed to grow chillier. ‘It was the night before my 6th birthday, and I had a dream that I was standing in a cave, the walls covered in this weird writing I couldn’t read and... I could hear a voice whispering to me, but there was no one there,’ Techno heard him suck in a breath before continuing, ‘It said: you are the angel of the men befallen to you, you are the choice you will wish to unchoose. An unvindicated angel, an angel of death.’ 

Techno’s axe was frozen in place, feeling significantly heavier than before. ‘The bird was dead when I woke up,’ Phil swallowed thickly, before plunging his shovel back into the slush. ‘That’s, uh... heavy stuff, Phil,’ Techno shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, it was a long time ago now, I don’t really think about it much. It is a bit weird how people started calling me that a while afterwards, though,’ Phil chuckled dryly. Techno blinked, deciding to continue chopping firewood rather than probe the topic. It’s not like he had much of a need to fight now anyways, Techno was perfectly capable and willing to take on the world for Phil. 

From then on, time passed by quietly.

The Syndicate was formed, consisting of his fellow anarchists. Small battles were fought, but nothing extreme. Well, at least the ones Phil participated in. Techno’s bloodshed, however, did not slow. He was never one to insert himself into battles he had no stake in, but he found the “stakes” he held in the battles he fought became less about what he gained, and more so existed for the sake of fighting. Time passed, yet Techno never felt the effects of it.

The same could not be said for Phil, nor his peers. As the years passed, Phil seemed significantly older. The timeless winged angel he knew growing up seemed... ancient. As isolated as they originally were in the Tundra, the people he once knew became even further and further away.

The Winter winds of Snowchester became harsher than what Tubbo’s infrastructure could withstand. The damage to the buildings became too severe, Tubbo and Jack resigning to move to a warmer climate. Tommy went with them, unsurprisingly. Ranboo and Niki left the Syndicate to join them.

Eventually the Egg and its cultists seemed to disappear below the surface. The dead bloodvines oozed a mix of light blue and red when cut, any residual whispers too quiet to make out. Sam wasn’t seen outside the prison anymore now, and new visitors were always refused. George and Sapnap allegedly left Eastward towards a mycelium biome, the looming walls of Pandora’s box an apparently unpleasant reminder for them.

More people disappeared; their reasons unknown to Techno. Some set sail across the ocean in search for something new, something untainted. Some died in smaller territorial battles, or over Casino winnings. Others went to the Nether and never came back. Phil could only fly for short periods of time now, and it took a great toll on his body.

‘So, see anything new out there birdman?’ Techno inquired, brewing a potion of Swiftness II. ‘I saw a gravestone I never saw before, near L’Canyon,’ Phil coughed, slowly adjusting himself in his chair. ‘L’Canyon... I don’t remember anyone being buried there. Who’s was it?’ Techno asked, mildly interested. ‘The hedge stone was too eroded, it could’ve been written in Endlish for all I know,’ Phil paused for a moment, ‘You might be able to read it, you have better eyesight than me, mate.’ Techno looked at Phil, surprised. ‘That’ll be a pretty long journey by horse, we’ll have to load up on supplies,’ Techno muttered, adding another cup of Redstone powder into his brewing stand. ‘I’ll fly us,’ Phil smiled as Techno looked dumbfounded at the fragile man before him. He was pale, the feathers on his wings greyed, his face lined and tired. Techno swallowed, ‘Phil, I don’t think--’ ‘C’mon, mate. Just like old times. If we leave now, we’ll have plenty of daylight,’ Phil interrupted, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. No matter his age, Phil was just as stubborn as always, so despite his better judgement Techno agreed on the trip. 

‘I’m still bringing a map, compass and overnight supplies in case we don’t make it before nightfall,’ Techno announced. ‘Of course, mate. I’m stubborn, not crazy-’ Phil was cut off by another fit of coughing. Techno eyed him nervously, ‘You’re sure you can hold my bodyweight, plus supplies?’ He inquired, dubiously. ‘Course, mate. Don’t stress about it,’ Phil reassured.

As anxious as Techno was, he trusted Phil’s judgement in his abilities. Plus, he couldn’t deny the rush he got from being in the sky. The wind flowing through his hair, the air fresh and crisp. He felt like a child again, riding on Phil’s back across the SMP. Soaring to the heavens at unimaginable speeds. He looked down at the pure whiteness that was their home, fading into dense spruce forestry, slowly becoming pure green Plains. Eventually, the green was abrupted by a deep, grey crater. 

They landed clunkily, more of a barely controlled fall than a proper landing. ‘You okay, Phil?’ Techno called out, standing up quickly, and wiping grass stains off his gleaming Netherite. Phil was further North of him, lying in a crowd of thistles. His body was contorted at a strange angle, ‘I’m ‘right,’ he called, his face wincing. Panic surged through Techno as he got closer, ‘Phil your bleeding, what the hell happened?’ He yelled, grabbing the medical kit out of his backpack. ‘It’s okay, mate. It was gonna happen soon, anyway,’ another labored breath, ‘Just wanted you to see the sky, one last time,’ He coughed, blood spurting across his chestplate. Techno hastily grabbed disinfecting wipes, Phil winced as his chestplate was removed.

A deep gash spread across Phil’s torso, below his ribs. His upper half impaled on a sharp tree stump shrouded within the thistles, his breath growing more ragged. ‘Phil- fuck. We’ve gotta get you off this thing,’ Techno swallowed, beads of sweat forming at his brow. ‘It’s too deep. The branch’s lodged in my intestines,’ he cringed, ‘at this angle, it’ll rip through my lung if you move me,’ Phil whispered, smiling weakly. He was right, the wood was splintered and lodged firmly in his core. Dark crimson blood leaked out from the gash like treacle, almost black and intense in volume. ‘I can- I’ll get healing potions from the house,’ Techno hyperventilated, wiping the disinfected cloth around the jagged and bloody stump. ‘If that doesn’t work, I’ll find a totem of undying-’ ‘Techno,’ Phil cut him off, placing a hand on his face. He hadn’t realized he had been crying until now. ‘It’s at least a 3 day walk back to the house on foot,’ Phil chuckled weakly, interrupted by a another fit of coughing. ‘Then what can- tell me what to do,’ Techno pleaded, wiping the cloth across the gash again and again as the crimson continued to leak out. 

‘Isn’t it painful, watching bleeding only to see more blood?’ Phil sighed, his breathing shallower, ‘It hurts but its undeniable, Techno...’

‘What is?’ Techno rasped, hands shaking.

‘...How good you are at wounding,’ Phil smiled, clasping his hand tightly. 

‘Phil, please’ Techno felt sick, his shoulders shaking. ‘It’s okay, Techno. I wanted this. I wanted to see the sky one more time,’ Phil swallowed, ‘-with you,’ His squeeze on Techno’s hand growing feebler. ‘Bury me at the gravestone I told you about,’ Phil’s eyes fluttered slightly. ‘But- I thought that was...’ Techno trailed off. 

It wasn’t fair. Phil had never betrayed him. He wasn’t stupid- his decision were always calculated. He was careful, he set traps around their base- he didn’t let his guard down. He wasn’t weak, he was an enemy’s worst nightmare on the battlefield. And yet, despite this, he died. Bleeding out, impaled and contorted near the shattered remains of his late son’s country. Phil died, just like everyone else.

Techno was alone. Phil, his constant, was gone. The other Syndicate members had disappeared, Wilbur died with L’Manburg and Tommy had long considered him an enemy. He was desolate and barren, the air felt cold as he sobbed loudly. His hands beat against the ground as he screamed until his throat grew hoarse. For the first time in his life, Techno ached. 

It had been weeks since Phil had passed, Techno felt too sick to eat or drink anything. The freezing nights did little to numb him, blistering days did little to warm him. His muscles did not deteriorate, nor did his legs give out beneath him. Physically, his body was fine. 

Back in the Tundra, his poison potions made him feel nauseous, potions of damage stung at his skin. No matter the mob, or the damage he sustained, he would respawn in his bed. The ache in his chest did not subside with time, the loneliness of the base encroaching upon him constantly. Yet, despite his stupid decisions, or letting his guard down around any mob he faced. Despite his weakness...

Technoblade never dies.

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Hi so that was an AU i wrote that got way too long lol. Hope you enjoyed! Likes/RBs appreciated :] <3.

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.5

If One Should Fall...

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 3120

Summary: In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.The reason being a special visit someone pays you.

Warnings!: skip to post-Infinity War and the summary of it - you can imagine; deaths, violence....briefly tho, + language, mention of the inability to bear children, brief suicidal thoughts, kinda religious motives because SPN

A/N: Enormous time skip, because obviously CA:CW didn’t happen and the timeline is changed from canon already. Also, the title (What I’d Never Say or Do had I been in my right mind) is reeeeeally applicable in this one and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?

Part 4

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Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You lived through both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, that felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. To only watch.

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, oh so many others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped half of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain forever. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see Steve alive, because God, please, let him live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever too.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list went on and on. All of them, gone. Forever.

The world changed. Avengers  ow officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ space, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a spaceship, in fact, survived.

The missions of the greatest defenders of Earth changed as well. Some members took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your lack of faith in being able to do the same had the opportunity rose ironically helped you to come to terms with the fact of your body was not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, yes, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never saying a word.

You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a forever, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted, reappeared, forever and never became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to time-travel.

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the circles under your eyes, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing; certainly on such big scale as everything could being as it had been, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it was possible and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read Steve, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye, before you could even move further.

Chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or what was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you’d be already lying here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, Crowley, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as if he was old friend. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ What. “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A witch. Rowena apparently had a son.

Well. Shit.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to help, so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am not a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“

Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the King of Hell having been Dean’s bestie for a while, which did not make you feel any better, only more confused.

“And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what you, my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech bewildering, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. Ever. But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the King of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, doing so more and more often these days.

Why.

Why were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she supposedly looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually help to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were only watching too long. Forever, one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- Steve’s wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why you came here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world not to end.”

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You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact that Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. Omitting the truth. Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue; for the source of your distress. As if the fact that they were – you all were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough to give one palpitations and serious stress-induced headache.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting enough.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend to have such haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were acknowledged by everyone, their heads snapping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely in an instant, but the look Steve gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a ‘watch me’ back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m not afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I just know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine concern was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and fuck him, how did he know—

He might not understand fully, he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, but still, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you ridiculous. His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with his, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to me. You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of a saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, knowing I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows drawn together, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that even if it came to you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to like it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced towards Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to run through his hair, the other balling in a fist.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, why – no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

Thanks, buddy.

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life. H poured all his emotions into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips on yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest; it was all too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, mirroring his action once you parted. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see that something in his expression shifted; you and Bruce won.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did something so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate.

Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get one scratch on you, doll, just one, I’ll hold you responsible.”

No, you won’t.

You charmed a guilty smile, a lame tiny thing, and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it would hurt…

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Part 6

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This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame…

Thanks for being here. I love you for your encouragement :-*

P.S. Here, have the last part of a SPN guide - visuals and references for Amara (God’s sister who gave back ‘reader’s’ memories) and Crowley (from this chapter).

[leonawriter]

Dazai’s background, clues in canon, and my theory.

Y’know, there’s a couple of things that I think are very informative about Dazai’s character, when trying to get a canon read on him (and not an AU or “I prefer it this way” or “but it’s good for the fic” one).

One of these is that I do not believe that Dazai has ever wanted for anything in his life - in a material sense - prior to going underground and then having only an ADA detective’s salary... and no, I’m not one of the ones who believes he has money saved away (from the mafia, at least) that he can use at any time - if he needs to keep his record clean, then that means not using dirty or laundered money. Those two ideas also do not cancel each other out. If he has alternate funds, they’re personal.

The other one might end up being another post, but here goes-

To back up this first point, are several things throughout the series. I know that someone once pointed out that Dazai uses a high-end smartphone. He also is still able to keep two of them - his old mafia phone and his personal one. 

I personally find it interesting how Dazai is *always* seen in a suit of some kind, especially in his younger years; it’s reminiscent of how young men in wealthy families are often characterised as not knowing how to dress down and be casual. Everything is formal. We see him in a suit at fourteen years old, and I think we can safely say that this isn’t just Mori saying that he has to dress that way, because Mori doesn’t seem to have any problem with assorted characters such as Q and Tachihara dressing in ways that are either strange, or much more in line with one being a punk teenager. Instead, Dazai is seen in a suit - and consistently - for four years. And even now, that’s still a suit, just a sloppily put together one.

Another aspect that informs us about Dazai’s origins is the way that he speaks.

At fifteen years old, when he isn’t talking to Chuuya (and that’s an important distinction to make, since Chuuya is one of the few, if not the only, person who makes Dazai act like a child) he tends to have a habit of speaking in measured tones and with a high vocabulary. He’s definitely still a child, but he knows how to talk to adults in a way that will get him listened to - specifically, adults in positions of power. Not just “power of him, as a child” but power. I think it’s important to remember also that the light novel of Fifteen makes note of how Mori and Dazai “colluded” - worked together on - the assassination of the previous Boss. 

So this wasn’t just drilled into him by Mori. Mori just found what was already there and utilised it.

Also relevant from Fifteen is this one line here:

“Dazai is not Mori’s subordinate. He isn’t even in the mafia. And he certainly isn’t an illegitimate child, or an orphan he picked up, or a medical assistant.”

Emphasis mine.

The important thing here is that Dazai isn’t an orphan. In a series where everyone is even in the present still recovering from a massive war, the fact that he’s pointedly not an orphan despite being with Mori like this and no parents ever mentioned, is interesting.

Now, as far as I’m aware, one of the popular things to do is to have him, in AUs, be Mori’s heir, or Mori’s adoptive son in some other respect. The thing is - I don’t think he needs to be. He clearly had a family he was with before Mori. And yet, they aren’t present.

I do have a particular theory about perhaps not who they are in a specific sense, but certainly who they are in a general sense, where even if the details change the idea stays the same.

The idea, which is just my theorising, is this: Dazai was born to someone of influence. Possibly a high-up government official or nouveau-riche, or possibly an old family. Either way, they had money, and they had power. His parents weren’t close with him. He may have had older siblings (he may even have young siblings, by this point, not that he’d recognise them). 

Dazai would have had notable issues regarding suicide well before he is first seen in the manga at fourteen; his family, however, effectively disowned him by leaving him with an underground doctor, assuming that he would not survive (remember: he had bandages over his head, as well as all of those other areas) or not caring if he did. Their family may have collectively decided that it would be easier to forget about him than to carry on with the shame of a child who would attempt suicide at such a young age. 

Dazai would have had the education of a young rich boy, a “bocchan,” and not taught that there was right and wrong as a child. Only that there were people who had, and people who took, about money and power and how to talk to people at stuffy parties, maybe expected to marry one day and have children to carry on the family name, in case his potential older siblings weren’t able to.

I also believe that Dazai at least in part chose to cut ties with his family, and that on the off-chance that, like with Mori Ougai and Elise calling him “Rintarou,” he had a different name as well in the past, he chose to change his name, and would never willingly go back to his prior name.

As for where I’m getting a lot of this?

Real Life Dazai’s own family were new money. His father held a high position in the government, which was respected at the time. It’s heavily implied through his works that he didn’t know how to relate to his family, feeling pressured into liking and wanting things he didn’t feel interested in, and scared of disappointing them. He mainly saw a specific servant woman as his mother figure more than his actual mother, since his actual mother was barely in his life. They had money, and could afford to get him a very good education, and the only reason why he didn’t is due to two different reasons: one of those was how he was involved in communist activities, and the other is, in a more impactful way, his suicide attempt/s. His inheritance was also cut off until he vowed to improve himself - several times, even!

You can read up on this more by looking up his real life self’s wikipedia page, but all one really has to do to get from this to what I wrote out as my personal ideas for BSD Dazai, is to adjust for the fact that he would be living in a more modern time period as opposed to having been born in 1909, and an alternate world history, and the fact that BSD Dazai takes less time to reach such a low point as he is at fourteen.

Bearing in mind that BSD is prone to changing things, it’s also prone to not changing things as much when it’s not necessary, or making stealth references. Which is why I said that although the details may shift and change and not be accurate, the idea that Dazai came from a wealthy family where his mental health problems were simply left unaddressed (and possibly made worse) for long enough for him to get to such a state as he’s in at fourteen years old only for them to ignore his existence after leaving him with Mori and for him to choose never go get back in contact, seems fairly in keeping with things.

It’d also give extra weight to what he says to Atsushi in Portrait of a Father. That he “doesn’t have much advice to give, except for one general thing - when one’s father dies, they tend to cry.” Dazai himself would in this case have complicated feelings about his own family, and much like Atsushi, would have later gone on to find that “positive father figure” in someone else, even if the older male figure themself is barely that much older than him. 

(I’d love to go deeper into this with the way this would affect him in his present situation, but for some reason I started this post when still very tired, so maybe when I have more energy.)

[springday-aus]

SVT’s Jeonghan: Love, War and Everything Between || part one

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: Created by Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Yoon Jeonghan

Other Characters: Nu’est’s Baekho [known as Dongho], Seventeen [Seungcheol and Jisoo, along with idiot squad!Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan], and more to be added along the way!

Genre: historical, romance, drama, royal!au, arranged marriage!au + gender role reversal 

None of this is even remotely historically accurate. This is all purely fiction!

Type: series 

prologue || part 01 || part 02 || part 03 → to be available! check the progress on our upcoming page! 

Word Count: approx. 2.6k 

Plot Summary: Korea’s most distinguished military general arrives home, carrying back glory and honor from the war. However, the general has been revealed to be a woman! Due to the prominent military accomplishments you have made as the highest ranking general, by orders of the Empress, you are arranged to be married to the second-eldest prince, Yoon Jeonghan. Only one problem lies between you two: your reputation as a ruthless killing machine, which scares the living daylights out of your new husband. 

→ Inspired by: the Chinese drama, Oh My General (also known as The General Above I Am Below)

Warnings: graphic violence, glorified war, murder, sexual harassment, sex discrimination (mainly against women), poly-relationships (i.e. concubines), political corruption, and homosexual tendencies

It had taken six months for the final battle to commence, and three full years of ruthless war, before they finally conceded. Needless to say, the new recruits were lucky to be under your jurisdiction. Had they not, the body count would have been much higher. 

Your grip tightens on the rein of your horse, feeling the guilt and anguish wash over you once more of those who have fallen. While it is inevitable to lose soldiers in war, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. 

You take a small breath in, calming yourself once more and settling back into the reality. 

The war had begun in the fall, whereas now, it is well into the summer season. You close your eyes, feeling the sun shine warmly on your skin. Taking another breath in, you open your eyes once more to take in the sights. 

White butterflies dance over the grass, teasing flowers as they move along. The flowers are in full bloom; even the dirt path, which was once wet and muddy, has patches of grass that pop out from the cracks. While you have traveled to many areas, you were never able to take in the sights—well, at least, the less violent ones. 

Ah, war. Politicians may declare war as much as they please, but they have yet to have seen how it destroys the average person—even a general as distinguished as yourself. 

“General?” 

“Yes,” you say. “What’s wrong, Dongho?” 

You don’t look back at him, but you can hear his horse’s footsteps catch up to yours—slowing down to remain a couple of paces behind. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

You smile to yourself. “Rather sentimental.” You turn to him. “When was the last time we ever allowed ourselves to take in nature like this?” 

His smile reflects yours. “I believe it was the last time we had been called to fulfill our duty.” 

You click your tongue, with a disapproved shake of your head. “We need to go on these outings more often.” 

“Well,” Dongho starts. “It’s hard to go on leisurely walks as one of the nation’s most notable figures.” 

“And this is why you’re my second-in-command.” You let out another sigh, a bit longer than the previous one. “It’s hard to roam around with such a large target on your back.” 

“In hindsight, you are very skilled in many areas. Whether it’s swordsmanship, archery, or taekkyon, only a suicidal fool would challenge you.” 

“A suicidal fool, such as yourself?” 

“Yes, General,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m a suicidal fool, who has yet to have learned his lesson.” 

Dongho has been by your side for as long as you can remember. The two of you lived as neighbors, and evidently best friends, for ten years. When your father and brothers died, there was a brief separation period until you turned fourteen—in which you had met again, when you were starting your military training on request of your grandfather. 

Since then, you two trained together, side-by-side in combat for the next twelve years. You rose the ranks together—you as the General and he as the military counselor. 

You hear a groan from your left side. “Are we there yet?” 

“Kim Jisoo,” you call. “You should know by now how long these journeys are.” 

Your bodyguard playfully scowls at you. “Pardon me for being used to having company on these trips.” 

From beside her, Namjoo, your other bodyguard, directs a punch to her sister’s arm. “You speak as if I’m dead.” She makes eye contact with you, before rolling her eyes at her sisters antics. “Father would be upset had he heard your inauspicious words.” 

Lieutenant Kim worked alongside your father and you’re lucky enough to have him by yours as well. He’s like another family member—practically a close uncle, who is more than aware of your peculiar situation. Along with Lieutenant Kim came his two daughters, Jisoo and Namjoo.

Because he spent all of his time in the military, so did they. They learned as he taught and trained the other soldiers, including yourself and Dongho. Then, when the time came, you gave the both of them the bodyguard positions.

Of course there was protest, especially from their male counterparts who wanted their positions. While the Kims had a good laugh, there were also rumors that spread on your part—you had become known as a playboy, who became desperate for female attention while serving in the military.

Eventually, those rumors had been shut down, considering how your military contributions outweighed the gossip that spread due to envious soldiers. Your status easily overpowered theirs (lack thereof) and you dealt with them... accordingly. 

(No one died, but it didn’t mean you didn’t cause some emotional trauma for them. You were nicknamed the Devil for a reason).

But, alas, this is also the root of your predicament. 

“You aren’t the company I was referring to,” Jisoo says. 

“If you’re referring to those pretty boys back at the capitol,” Namjoo says. “You might as well be the dead one.” 

You chuckle at their banter. Jisoo is right (although you would never tell her): it would be nice to have a pretty boy by your side. But, with the current conditions, you know it would only be difficult for him. 

Granted, this would be made a burdensome situation for you as well—the only difference being that you’re made of the tougher materials in life and will not hesitate to kill a man when crossed against. 

Their banter fades into the background, with Dongho attempting to separate the two before the duo of sisters suddenly becomes solo. 

You look up at the bright and clear sky once more, enjoying the moment of peace before the storm strikes. 

It’s been about three days before you determined a stopping point, in order to set up camp for the evening. Your soldiers have been on rotation since then; you figure that they should get a well-needed break. 

You smirk to yourself. The joke’s on them, considering how the lower ranks are the ones who actually set up: the tents, the cots, the fires. 

The sun has already set for the day; the moon shines brightly and the stars twinkle against the evening sky. It’s truly the countryside; in the city, you don’t get sights like these. Too much pollution and such. It only means you and your soldiers still have a long road back to the capitol. 

A long sigh escapes you as you stand outside your tent—naturally, with Namjoo on one side and Jisoo on the other. 

“What’s wrong, General?” Namjoo asks. 

Jisoo turns to you. “Is something bothering you?” 

You let out another sigh. “It’s less of a bother and more of a concern.” 

“What kinds of concerns?” Jisoo asks. “Could we be of any help to you?” 

“Considering we are your protectors,” Namjoo adds with a pointed look. 

“And your best friends,” Jisoo says. 

“Female best friends.” 

You crack a small smile—one that rarely showed during this period. “When do you think…” Your words trail off, trying to find the correct words. “When do you think this charade should be over and done with?” 

Namjoo blinks wordlessly, not seeming to understand your question. 

“What do you mean, General?” Jisoo asks. “Are you referring to…? Possibly…?” 

“When can I fully become (Y/N) rather than just a general?”

“You’re not just a general,” Namjoo says. “You have risen up to become the General. The one who serves and protects your kingdom best.” 

“It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with my accomplishments. I’m proud of them, but I would prefer them to be my own rather than the son of the (Y/L/N) family.” You laugh inwardly at your own words. 

Son. What a joke. 

You did what you’ve had to, but, what was the real cost? The countless men you have killed? The women and children who were left with no one to care for them in this patriarchal society? 

What about your own life? What would life had been like, had your father and brothers not been killed? Would you have been married off to a family as well? Or would you still be in the military, serving with the other soldiers like now? 

There’s a moment of silence and the two struggle to find their words—whereas you’re left again to your own thoughts. 

It’s Jisoo who speaks first. “I want to tell you it would all be okay and things would remain the same.”

“But?” 

“But it won’t.” She tilts her head up, the stars shimmering in her eyes. “Things will be hard and things will be difficult. And, whenever you make that decision, we’ll be right here by your side.” 

Namjoo elbows you with a mischievous smile. “Just as we have always done. We pride yourselves as your protector.” 

Your smile grows. “That’s a relief to hear.” You turn away from them, taking a step back to push back the fabric of your tent to take a step in. “It’s too late to back out anyways.” 

“Too late for what, General?” Jisoo asks. 

Your head turns to her and your smile doesn’t waver. “The letter has already been sent.”

“Your majesty,” the Vice Premier says. “What do you advise us to do now?” 

The King sits at this throne, setting down the newly passed message from General (Y/L/N)—only to come in view with the court. 

While he may not be downright angry, he is well aware of how the court may feel. He is also unsure of what will result in his best military general, especially since the war is not exactly over and done with—considering how King Wu may still hold resentments due to the aftermath. 

He glances at the letter once again, feeling his head throb. Why did you have to choose now of all times? 

Just moments ago, the second messenger from your troops arrived—announcing his arrival and reading the letter aloud for the rest of the court to hear. Upon the King’s request, he had left the letter to the King, still in shock with the present state of affairs. 

General (Y/L/N) is a woman. 

“Your majesty,” Official Chun says, stepping out from his spot. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“It is unacceptable for a woman to be of such a high position, nevertheless a man’s rightful position. I propose we remove and replace the General.” 

Official Lee steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“If I may remind some of us here that we are forever indebted to the General. We continue to be so, considering the current circumstances. While he—” He pauses, before correcting himself. “While she may be a woman, she is of the (Y/L/N) family. Not only have they been loyal to the throne, serving our country for many years, they have made many great sacrifices.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Official Lee is correct. We cannot just remove the General.” He pauses, not before glancing at Official Chun and his followers. “The war might be over but we still have to be alert. Allowing her removal is the equivalent of death for our country.” 

Sensing Chun’s anger from the indirect remarks, Official Mae steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“General (Y/L/N) is a woman. A woman with too much power shall be the root our demise.” He glances at the other side, spotting those behind the Vice Premier. “She must be put into her place before she gets too ambitious.” 

Official Song steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“From what we are aware, the (Y/L/N) family does not have any male heirs. Considering the circumstances, we cannot afford to replace her when there are still repercussions of the war to be settled.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Chun starts to say. 

However, the King puts his hand up, pausing the conversation from continuing any further. He has already made his decision: you were to keep your position. Your accomplishments have stacked up, leaving the entire country indebted to you and your trained troops. Your reputation in the military is the most impressive—no one can be compared to you. 

Although, it might be too unsettling for the officials for you to remain in your position. There must be some punishment—some kind of way to appease the court while you can still maintain your position, but not harsh enough for you to refute. 

“General (Y/L/N) is to keep her position,” the King announces. He continues, shutting down any more possible verbal opposition. “Our country is indebted to the General. She has obtained previous territories that have been lost in previous battles and she has won countless wars, including the one we have just won. Replacing her would only lead to our doom and, even then, we have no suitable replacement.” 

Official Jeong steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.”

“I believe that’s a wise decision, as expected from our King.” He swallows apprehensively. “However, we cannot leave her be. After all, she has deceived us—including you. What shall we do with her then?” 

The officials murmur and whispers are passed around. Removal is too drastic for the King, therefore an execution is already off the table. No one seems to have any ideas of a possible punishment. 

That is, anyone from the court. 

While the officials scramble for an idea, the Empress’ eunuch, Eunuch Hak, shuffles himself from her side to the King’s throne. 

There’s a hush that falls over the court officials. 

“The Empress requests an audience,” Eunuch Hak whispers to the King. 

“Accepted.” 

From behind her golden curtain, the Empress lifts herself from her spot and gracefully walks towards the court. Her head is held high with elegance and her footsteps are light—almost as if she’s gliding. The officials bow their heads as she walks between them, no one daring to look up at her. 

She stops in front of the throne, smiling as she looks up at the King. 

“Mother,” he says. “How do you suppose we deal with this predicament?”

“I am proposing a marriage.” 

The whispers start up again, unsure of what the Empress is trying to plan. 

“Your highness,” Official Kwon says. “To whom do you think the General shall be married to?” 

Her smile grows. “I believe that the second nephew is the most suitable candidate.” 

“Second nephew?” 

“She doesn’t mean—”

“The second prince?” 

The King straightens in his seat, intrigued with the idea. “You are proposing a marriage between the most distinguished figure in Korea and Yoon Jeonghan?” He takes a small breath in, leaning back with a cocked eyebrow as he contemplates the idea. 

Official Jeong speaks up once more. “Your highness, can you elaborate more as to how this is a suitable punishment?” 

“If you ask me, it’s explanatory,” Official Chun mumbles under his breath. 

Official Mae smirks at the comment, whispering back. “Prince Yoon is nothing more than a joke to the royal family.” 

The Empress lets out a small sigh, proceeding to pretend as if she didn’t hear the rude comments about her grandson. 

“It’s not about punishment.” she says. “It’s about balance.” Seeing the apprehensive look from the King, she continues. “Jeonghan is rather unorthodox. He spends much of his time dancing at the brothels and admiring artwork rather than martial arts or sports.” 

There’s a murmur of agreement amongst the officials. 

The Empress takes it as a sign to continue. “While he is a healthy man with three lovers, he is still uncommitted and unmarried. If the two were to be married, it can help solve the problems that are occurring for both parties.” 

The King nods silently, but awaits for the court. 

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says.

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Her highness makes a good argument. I agree.” He thinks for a moment. “Not only would the General be married off to produce a male heir, but the rumors of Prince Yoon could also settle down once he’s married.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Lee says. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“I agree with her highness and Official Kwon. This is more advantageous on our part,” he says. “I mean no offense when I say this, but Prince Yoon’s reputation is rather…” He pauses. “Unfavorable, at the moment. The General can help with that change and his with hers when the news spread in the villages.” 

“Your majesty,” the Vice Premier says. “Shall we proceed with the marriage then?” 

“Yes, we shall,” the King says with a nod. “From this day, we shall begin the wedding preparations. Once the General arrives back to the capital, Prince Yoon Jeonghan will become her husband.” 

The Empress moves herself to the sidelines as the King stands up, causing the officials to stop in their spots and lower their heads once more. He steps down from his throne, starting his descent down the stairs and onto the path laid out for him. 

The Vice Premier follows him from the right and his majesty’s eunuch, Eunuch Boo, follows him from the left—their conversation continuing in hushed tones. 

The Empress leaves shortly after the King’s departure with Eunuch Hak on one side and Court Lady Nam on the other, leaving the officials with themselves. 

“Court Lady Nam,” she says. “You shall inform Princess Consort Yoon.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She turns to her right. “Eunuch Hak.” 

“Yes, your highness?” 

“Begin the wedding preparations.” 

A/N: As always, thanks for reading! Please don’t ask for updates. If you would like status updates, check out the upcoming post we have with upcoming works that will be posted! 

[vetisntdead]

What are pathology internships/residencies like? I’ve been working as a tech at an ortho/neuro specialty hospital for about four years now, and watching the interns there has made me strongly question whether or not I want to go to vet school. They’re overworked and miserable. But I’ve also heard that surgical internships and residencies are some of the most intense out of any specialty. Pathology is the specialty that I’m most interested it, so I’m curious what your experience has been like so far.

So I have been in my residency position for a grand total of 5 weeks, but I will attempt to answer this anyway (please excuse any typos, I have stitches in my left index finger).  @lizziedoesvetpath​ will be able to tell you more from her side as she is a pathology resident in the USA.

I spent a year in clinical practice, mainly small animal welfare work, along with volunteer and reception work at a private practice since high school. While it’s gratifying to be able to help pet owners and their animals, it’s not what my heart is ultimately set on. I had known from a very young age that I wanted to work with dead animals and all it entails (I was a weird child). This hasn’t changed much throughout me growing up and going to university, it was in fact cemented. Are you more interested in anatomical/diagnostic pathology (post mortems and histopathology) or clinical pathology (blood work and cytology)? What I’ve said isn’t all these two specialties contain, it’s just to differentiate.

Residencies and internships are worse than regular work as they force you to work and learn at the same time, usually with a miserable salary. I can’t account for specialties other than my own. I do expect to be overworked and miserable at times, I knew this when I applied and I am (hopefully) prepared for it. My residency is 3 years long and requires me to complete a dissertation slightly smaller than your average master’s. I will also be expected to do clinical duty in the path hall once I know more or less what I’m doing. I’m fortunate in that the teaching I receive is fairly informal, since I’m at the only veterinary faculty in the country and I am the only first year resident. This informality doesn’t mean it’s easy though. I have a huge amount of self study ahead of me and I foresee long nights ahead reading articles and textbooks. But I really like what I’m doing. The work is physically challenging, I’m small and some of the carcasses I work on are enormous.

Now, about vet school. You won’t be able to become a veterinary pathologist without slaying this dragon. You need to ask yourself if you’re willing to push through. Vet school usually comes with a huge amount of debt, physical and mental exhaustion as well as the obligatory vet-school assigned mental illness. This is even before the incredibly long working hours, compassion fatigue, imposter syndrome and general disappointment in the average human being (you’re already in the industry so I assume you have experience of these things). I’m not trying to scare you, I just want to be realistic. It has taken me 5 years to come to terms with the fact that I was depressed to borderline suicidal because of the academic pressure (it started in high school already, since there’s only one veterinary faculty in the country, I had to get incredibly high marks to outcompete the other 7000+ applicants for one of the 180 places in first year.) I am in a much better place now, and I think the fact that I’m not dealing with Cushingoid yorkies and their anal glands on a daily basis any more.

I would suggest you speak to a student/new grad in the country and preferably the vet school you’re thinking of applying to as they will likely have insight and advice I do not. It would also be a good idea to speak to people in pathology close to where you are, they should be able to tell you more about what to expect when you start working.

Thank you for asking!